"Staggs, Earl - The Missing Sniper" - читать интересную книгу автора (Staggs Earl)

"Now, Dillon, why don't you tell me why you called?"

"Well, Sir, we've got a case down here that's really got us stumped, and we were hoping you could give us a hand."

"What kind of case?"

"Someone tried to assassinate a state senator. They held a big campaign rally, and just as he started to speak a sniper opened fire. We know the shots came from a rooftop, but that's all we know. It happened three weeks ago, and so far we don't even have a suspect. If we don't stop him, we could have a dead senator on our hands."

Good. The young sheriff seemed more relaxed, which meant Adam might be able to pick up something. It didn't always work over the phone, but he thought he'd give it a try. He closed his eyes and concentrated. Fuzzy, vague images formed in his mind.

...an office...a desk...young man, blond hair, tan uniform...shelves on the wall behind him...books, pictures...bright sunshine now...a crowd, running, screaming...a man falling, his head covered in blood...water now, all around...someone swimming under water...

The images grew faint and faded away. Adam realized his caller was still speaking.

"...You might have seen it the papers or maybe on the news, Mr. Kingston."

"It's Adam, Dillon."

"Sorry. Adam. But it made a lot of papers, even up north."

"Yes, I remember seeing something in the paper. A politician speaking in front of a large crowd, some people injured when the crowd panicked and, I believe, someone was killed. I can't recall the senator's name.

"Thornton. William P. Thornton"

"The name sounds familiar," Adam said, suddenly struck by a change in the voice -- and emotions -- of the man on the other end of the line. Strong personal emotions suddenly coming through. What was it? He couldn't put his finger on it.

The sheriff interrupted his thoughts. "Would you consider coming down here to help us on this?"

There was nothing to consider. Adam had known he would be taking a trip from first light. "I'm willing to give it a try."

They talked a few minutes more. First, Adam's fee. No problem. The sheriff had even checked airline schedules for the next day. They agreed on the flight Adam would take and to meet at the airport in Jacksonville. When the Sheriff asked how they would recognize each other, Adam assured him that would not be a problem.

Adam called his travel agent to make his reservation, then called his daughters to let them know where he would be for the next few days. He was lucky enough to catch Chris, the elder, between meetings at work, then called Cindi, a stay-at-home mom. They told him to be careful. They always said that, just as their mother had always done when he went on a trip. He threw on a tank top and an old pair of shorts and went out to mow the lawn. Then he trimmed Caroline's azaleas. He still called them that even though she had planted them twelve years ago, the year before he lost her to cancer.

He came in, showered, took a short nap, and packed for his trip.

As he made his way up the ramp from the plane in Jacksonville, Adam easily spotted the young sheriff standing almost at attention behind a small crowd, his straw-colored hair cropped short around a round boyish face, his sharply pressed tan uniform accenting a solid athletic frame.

Adam walked up to him. "You must be Dillon Corbin."

"Yes, Sir," the sheriff said with a wide smile. "That'd make you Adam Kingston." Then he asked what people are required to ask in airports. "How was your flight?"

"The flight was fine," Adam replied, "but the coffee was terrible." He made a face to show how bad it had been.

Dillon Corbin laughed. It was a clean, wholesome laugh, and Adam decided he liked the young man already.

"I'm really sorry about the coffee," Dillon said. "We'll do better when we get to my office. If you're ready, we'll get your bags and be on our way."

"Ready if you are," Adam said. He fell in step beside him but quickly found it easier to walk a step behind. He always thought of people coming the opposite way in airports as a stampeding herd willing to trample anyone between them and their gate. Dillon did a good job of clearing a path. It may have been his badge. Or it may have been the fast pace he set that parted the herd. The young sheriff seemed to be in a great hurry.