Ross went around his desk and sat down. He looked pale and tired.
“This is the map of my territory,” he said, tapping the map spread out on his desk. “What you say makes sense, but there were very few motorists on the highway last night. I have a hunch that when Logan slid off the road and into a ditch, he took to the forest on foot. I think he could still be on my territory.”
Jacklin nodded.
“It’s a possibility, but he must know that the roads are now sealed off, and once in the forest, he wouldn’t have a chance to break out. No, Jeff, I still think he hijacked a car, killed the driver and is heading for Miami where he could get lost.”
“I know this territory like the back of my hand.” Ross tapped the map. “There are dozens of places where this man could hide, but the places I like most are the fishing lodges along the river.” He pointed to the map. “They are less than ten miles from where he ditched Tom’s car. There are footpaths through the forest that lead to the river. Now these fishing lodges are unoccupied. They are only used from time to time by people from Miami or from New York. If this man could find one of these places, he’d have no trouble breaking in. I know the owners leave food in their freezers. He could remain in hiding in one of these lodges for two or three weeks while your men hunt for him... These fishing lodges must be checked.”
Jacklin grunted. He wasn’t convinced.
“It’s an idea. What do you suggest?”
“I’m going to check them out,” Ross said. “As soon as this rain lessens, Hank and I are going.”
“Now, hold it!” Jacklin said sharply. “You two could get your heads blown off. This man has already killed six people. He’s as dangerous as a cornered tiger, and he has Mason’s gun. You keep out of it, Jeff.”
“This is my territory,” Ross said quietly. “If he’s hiding in the forest or in one of the fishing lodges, I’ll find him.”
Jacklin shrugged, then smiled. “You’re a stubborn old bastard Jeff— Okay. I’ll send four of the National Guards to you. I want you to take them with you.”
He got to his feet. “This rain will last another six or seven hours. I’ve got to get back to Jenner. I still think, by now, he’s in Miami, but if he’s still around here, you’ll need support.” He shook hands and ran out to his car.
Ross snorted.
“The National Guard? What good are they: goddam kids with rifles!”
“Yeah. They could get in the way,” Hollis said. “We can do without them.”
Ross regarded Hollis thoughtfully. Although he grieved that Tom Mason was dead, looking at Hollis, he could see this tall, lean man with his steady grey blue eyes and his hard, firm mouth was infinitely superior to Mason. This man had years of experience as a highway patrol officer.
He had also served in Vietnam. Ross was thankful to have him as his deputy.
Hollis walked to the window and looked out at the rain. Rockville’s main street was deserted. He shrugged and turned to see Ross staring down at the map on his desk.
“Hank, I’ve got to get this man,” Ross said in a low voice. “He killed my deputy and three of my friends. I can’t sit around here waiting for the rain to stop.” He looked up and stared at Hollis. “Feel like getting wet?”
Hollis grinned. “I was hoping you’d say that, Sheriff.”
Ross nodded. “Take a look at this map. We can drive to this point here.” He pointed to the map.
“Here, there is a footpath that leads down to the river. It’s a good two mile walk. There are five fishing lodges along the river. They are around half a mile apart. This is going to take time, Hank, but if he’s anywhere on my ground he’ll be in one of these lodges. What do you say?”
“I’m with you, Sheriff.”
“Okay. We could be out all day. Mary’s with Tom’s mother. I’ll leave her a note.”
Ross went to the gun rack, unlocked it and took out two rifles. He then went to his desk and found a box of ammunition.
“You load up, Hank, I’ll write a note to Mary,” and he sat down at his desk. The note written, he went into the kitchen and cut four thick ham sandwiches which he put in a plastic bag, then he returned to his office to find Hollis, guns under his arm, wearing his slicker and hat, waiting.
“I’ll call Jenner,” Ross said. “I don’t want him to try to contact me and get no answer.” Picking up the telephone receiver, he dialled.
When Jenner came on the line, Ross said, “This is Jeff. I’m closing the office, Carl. I’m taking a look at the fishing lodges. Could take me all day.”
“You’re crazy!” Jenner snapped. “You’ll never get down to the river. Anyway, I—”
“This line’s terrible,” Ross said. “I just wanted you to know,” and he hung up.
At Ross’s nod, Hollis ran out to the patrol car and slid under the steering wheel. Ross paused long enough to lock the office door, then he joined him.
“Let’s go,” he said.
With the windshield wipers scarcely coping with the pelting rain, Hollis drove down Rockville’s main street and headed for the highway.
Perry Weston came out of a sodden sleep like a man crawling out of quicksand.
He looked around the big bedroom, only half focussing, then he shut his eyes and groaned.
He became aware of the sound of rain slamming against the windows, and he groaned again.
What a dope he had been to have come down here, he thought. What a dope to have paid no attention to the Hertz girl who had warned him that the rain was going to be bad.
For some minutes, he lay still before his mind began to function. He vaguely remembered staggering up the stairs and dropping onto his bed. That seemed years ago. He found he was still wearing the sweatshirt and jeans, but he had kicked off his shoes.
Then into his mind floated an unpleasant vision of a powerfully built man with a cobra snake tattooed on his arm. Jim Brown!
Abruptly, he swung his legs off the bed and sat up.
How long had he slept? He looked at his strap watch. The time was 11:20 A.M.
Had the man gone?
Slowly, he dragged himself to his feet and went to the bedroom door.
He opened it, and stood listening. He heard movements downstairs.
He could smell coffee. So Jim Brown was still here! He shut the door and moved into the bathroom. He paused to look at himself in the mirror. What a goddam wreck! he thought. He should never have hit the bottle as he had done the previous night.
Making an effort, he shaved, then stripping off, he stood under a cold water shower. By the time he had dried himself, he was feeling a lot better.
Going to the closet, he put on a short-sleeved shirt and a pair of linen slacks.
While he was shaving, showering and dressing, he was thinking of Jim Brown.
This man, he decided, was either a nut-case or a fugitive. Whoever he was, he was dangerous. With the telephone dead, the rain hammering down, locked out from his car, there was nothing he could do except play this one off the cuff. He had no alternative.
Bracing himself, he left the bedroom and walked down the stairs. He paused in the lobby. To the smell of coffee was now added the sound of meat sizzling.
He pushed open the kitchen door and then paused.
Brown was standing over the infrared grill. His head jerked around and the two men stared at each other.
Brown was wearing the clothes Perry had given him. Around his waist was the gun belt. His thick lips parted in a grin.
“How’s about a steak, buster?” he said. “You’ve got good food in the freezer. Won’t take five minutes. Okay?”
“Fine,” Perry said. “I can’t remember when I ate last.” Brown turned back to the grill.