Page 57 of At Midnight Comes the Cry
“Yessir. His name’s Russ Van Alstyne.”
“He says he came here looking for you. How do you know him?”
Kevin didn’t hesitate. “He’s a cop.”
What the hell?Russ hadn’t known what to expect, but it wasn’t that bald truth.
“I used to work under him. He was the chief of police at Millers Kill.” Kevin turned toward the militia leader. “I ought to say he was a cop. He was forced to resign due to town politics. There’s an international business that’s got a resort in the area, and they wanted Chief Van Alstyne gone.”
The captain pursed his lips and nodded. He seemed utterly unsurprised by the news Kevin had worked in the police department, which meant, of course, that it wasn’t news at all. So much for cover stories. He was going to have to step very carefully until he found out how Kevin was positioning himself.
“I’d like to get verification of that before we go any further,” the smaller man said. “In the meanwhile,ChiefVan Alstyne will be aconfined guest.Austin, since you, ah, caught him, he’ll take your tent. You double-bunk with Dillon. He turned to another man. “You take first watch. He shares food and water rations, and gets regular turns at the latrine.”
He knew his POW conventions, at least.
“Van Alstyne, we’re not going to bind you, but if you give my men any trouble, you’re going to be restrained. Understand?”
“Copy that.”
Which is why the next morning, he found himself waiting for word of his fate. He wondered how they were going to get that verification the militia captain had wanted. Snowmobile down the mountain to the town, and a phone call once they were in range of a signal, but to whom? Someone tasked with searching for the news stories about Russ’s resignation? For once, he felt grateful for thePost-Star’s interest in him.
The tent flap zipped open, and a big, dumb face peered in. Dillon. “Cap’n says to come out.”
Russ eased his way through the tent opening and stretched to his full height, knees and spine cracking and complaining. The snow had stopped sometime in the evening, and it was a clear, crisp day; the kind where you could sit outside in your shirtsleeves if you were in the sun. Which was exactly what the militia leader and Kevin were doing, at a table that had been moved out of the mess tent to take advantage of the weather. Pathways had been cleared through the snow between all the tents; another professional touch. Russ hoped to hell the news had come back exactly as the captain wanted, because Russ had a feeling the man would be equally professional in disposing of the enemy.
“Van Alstyne. Join us.” There were three steaming coffee mugs on the table, which was a good sign. Russ picked his up and took a sip. Sugared, just as he liked it. He glanced at Kevin.
“I remember how you take your coffee, Chief.”
“Dillon, get a plate of breakfast for Mr. Van Alstyne.” The captain leaned forward, crossing his arms on the table. “We’ve confirmed your story. And one of our members personally vouched for you. Said he’d had you over to his place and the two of you went target shooting.”
Rick Smith. Thank God for Clare’s inability to stop reaching out to the most wayward sheep. It might have just saved his life.
“You said you were looking for Flynn. What for?”
No chance at a private conversation, obviously. Kevin’s face gave nothing away. Was he still sticking to the fake Chinese girlfriend story? Russ decided the truth was going to be his best defense. “Kevin’s parents contacted me and asked if I could find him. They hadn’t heard anything from him in months. They were worried.”
“Oh, crap.” That got a reaction. “I never even thought about Mom and Dad.” Kevin’s shoulders sagged.
The captain picked up his coffee. “How did you find him?”
“I was an MP and a CID investigator for over twenty years. Then I was civilian law enforcement for another ten years or so.” Russ decided a little disgruntlement wouldn’t go amiss. “I’d still be one if I hadn’t been forced out of the job.”
“Hmm. What happened? I mean, from your perspective.”
Again, the edited truth seemed the best bet. “I was chief of police in Millers Kill. The biggest employer for the past few years has been a resort that was built and owned by BIW. Which, as it turns out, was also ripping off millions from the Department of Defense. They caused the death of at least one veteran. I helped run the case, put the CEO behind bars. Forcing me to fall on my sword was payback.”
Kevin nodded. “The aldermen were going to close the police department. Every cop on the force was going to lose their jobs.” He gestured toward Russ. “The Algonquin Waters said they’d give up their tax breaks and pay the full property value to the town—ifthe chief resigned.”
The captain tapped the table, as if thinking. “The CEO was John Opperman.”
“Yeah.” Russ looked up as Dillon dropped a paper plate piled with scrambled evaporated eggs and sausage in front of him. “Fork?” Dillon glared at him and shambled back toward the kitchen.
“Sounds Jewish.”
Russ kept his face very neutral. “Yeah, I guess it does.”
The captain leaned back. “What would you tell Flynn’s parents, now you’ve seen him?”
