"Nancy Kress - Stinger" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kress Nancy)

honeysuckleтАФand of the river marshes below him
somewhere at the foot of the bluff. It smelled of
intrigue that brought the senses alert and the blood
soaring, of mysteries, of surprisesтАж The smell was a
lie. Nothing surprising was happening in
Rivermount, Maryland.
A small town almost straddling the borders of
Saint MaryтАЩs and Charles Counties, Rivermount was
seventeen miles from CavanaughтАЩs new FBI office in
Leonardtown. It really was a new office; until now,
the Bureau hadnтАЩt had a тАЬResident Agency,тАЭ its
term for a satellite office, in southern Maryland.
тАЬItтАЩs part of our expanded community presence,тАЭ his
new supervisor, Jerry Dunbar, had told him.
тАЬThereтАЩs no Bureau presence at all in the southern
three counties. And the Patuxent River Naval Air
Station needs closer attention, which Don will take
care of. You, Robert, will handle the rest of the
district. YouтАЩll be breaking new ground.тАЭ
Which was fine for Special Agent in Charge
Dunbar, who got to head the Baltimore Field Office.
Things happened in Baltimore. Things did not
happen in southern Maryland, at least not outside
of the naval air station. Not things requiring action
by Resident Agent Robert Cavanaugh. The kingpins
of serious crime simply didnтАЩt frequent salt
marshes, state parks, or tobacco farms losing
ground to golf courses.
His new and inactive fiefdom was a vast
peninsula, surrounded by the Patuxent and
Potomac Rivers as they emptied in all their delta
wideness into Chesapeake Bay. Every day
Cavanaugh drove from Rivermount to
Leonardtown, population 1,683, the county seat of
Saint MaryтАЩs County. Here he sat in his tiny office
on the second floor of a remodeled Victorian house
and scanned the dailies from D.C., hoping that
something was breaking that might involve him. So
far, this had not happened. His biggest
commitment for the upcoming week was a talk at
the local junior high, as part of the Federal Bureau
of Investigation Adopt-a-School program.
Cavanaugh stared moodily into his backyard,
invisible in the darkness. Probably the grass needed
cutting again. He had never before lived in a house;
when heтАЩd been married to Marcy, theyтАЩd always
lived in apartments in D.C. He had never before
realized how demanding grass could be. Certainly
the lawn demanded more of him than his job did.
тАЬHunt that crabgrass,тАЭ he said into the