Page 56 of Haystacks and Hoaxes

“Yep, I see it,” he assured grimly. It wasn’t the usual tendril of smoke from a fire burning at a constant rate, either. It was puffing the same way she’d drawn it the other day. Big, fluffy balls of whiteness were coming from the chimney in unmistakable intervals of three. Puff. Puff. Puff. Pause. Puff. Puff. Puff. Pause. Rock’s brain scrambled to explain what he was seeing.

“I see it, too.” Hawk chimed in from the backseat.

“It’s possible there’s a damper installed inside the flue.” It was the only explanation Rock could come up with at the moment. “You might get those kinds of puffs if someone was repetitively opening and closing the damper.” Someone like Monty Chester, perhaps?

Hope leaped into his chest over the possibility that the aging farmer might still be alive. He hurriedly dialed the sheriff again, half afraid the guy wouldn’t pick up a second time.

He was wrong.

“Now what?” the sheriff’s voice barked across the line.

“We’ve got chimney smoke out at Chester Farm.” It was impossible to hide his excitement.

The sheriff snorted. “You know what? I’m not even going to ask what you’re doing out there.”

“I’ll tell you, anyway.” Rock was only too happy to explain. “It was a slow day at the office, so we’re out chasing our latest theory. We never expected to find more smoke. You know what this means, right?”

“Yep. The farmhouse isn’t empty after all.” He drew a deep breath and blew it out. “It could be where Troy is holed up.”

“Or where he may have stashed a prisoner,” Rock countered.

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Luke warned. “I’ll be on my way shortly with the fire department and a jackhammer.”

In less than twenty minutes, he roared up to the farmhouse, sirens screaming, and nosed his cruiser behind Rock’s SUV. Instead of honking or using his loudspeaker to order Rock out of the way, he hopped out of his vehicle and strode around the Lonestar vehicle to unlock the gate. Then he waved them through.

The fire engine arrived soon after, along with an ambulance and a whole cluster of deputies in their cruisers. They surrounded the house with their vehicles and stood behind their open driver’s doors with their weapons pointed at the house. Rock parked behind the policemen, careful to keep out of their way.

A pair of paramedics hopped out of the ambulance and opened the back door of it, poised to pull out a stretcher if their services were required. Only after the first responders were in position did the sheriff and a team of deputies burst through front and back doors of the farmhouse. They returned only seconds later to give the all-clear sign. Thefiremen rushed inside with their equipment and went to work.

Rock could hear the jarring sounds of a jackhammer. It went on and on. Then it grew abruptly silent. It felt like an eternity before one of the paramedics lifted a walkie talkie to speak into it. Then he and his fellow paramedic leaped into motion, pulling the stretcher from the back of the ambulance and rolling it toward the porch.

The limp figure of a man emerged from the house, carried between two firemen.

“It’s Mr. Monty,” Mila sobbed. Her fingers dug convulsively into Rock’s arm. Then she pushed open the passenger door and cannon balled from the armored vehicle.

“Mila, wait!” Rock lunged her way, reaching for her arm. Even with a bulletproof vest on, it was unwise to expose herself like that.

Fortunately, she’d launched herself straight into Hawk Chesney. Since he’d been seated behind her in the vehicle, there’d been less distance for him to exit the vehicle and reach her side.

Rock hurriedly leaped to the ground to join them, fully intending to help provide a human shield around Mila. He didn’t have the heart to keep her away from the beloved old farmer she’d thought was dead. He could only imagine what was going through her mind right now. After her mother’s arrest, she desperately needed some good news.

A gunshot echoed off the surrounding hills. “Get down!” He hit the ground and low-crawled the rest of the way around the hood of the vehicle to reach Mila and Hawk.

Hawk shoved her behind him, sandwiching her between his tall frame and the vehicle, while she scrambledinto the seat he’d recently vacated. As he spun around to follow her, a second bullet was fired.

Hawk’s body jerked violently. Then he dropped to the ground.

Rock low-crawled over to him, reaching up to slam the door behind Mila.

A third bullet slammed into the door only inches from his hand.

He yanked it back, circling his body around Hawk’s head. “You alright?” He shouted the question to the wheezing bodyguard.

A deputy cruiser skidded to a halt beside them, spraying dirt and gravel everywhere.

Rock curled to a sitting position, grateful for the buffer between him and the shooter. “Man down!” Surely the paramedics would have room to squeeze another patient into the back of the ambulance.

“It’s a war zone out there,” the deputy wheezed as he climbed outside through the passenger door and joined them on the ground. He had a First Aid kit in hand. “Where’s he hit?”

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