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

A voice from three cubicles away called out, "Hey, Cooley. Phone call." The sergeant gave Adam a smirk that said he was quite pleased with himself and walked away.

Judy Wilson touched Adam's arm. "Don't mind him," she said with a hint of embarrassment at her colleague's behavior. "He runs off at the mouth just to hear his own voice."

"Don't give it a second thought, Deputy. I've seen too many of his kind to let it bother me."

"I'm glad," she said. "You'll find we're not all like him. And please call me Judy. We're pretty informal around here."

Adam said, "I like informal. And I'm Adam."

She favored him with the bright smile again. "I have to run now, but I'm really glad I had a chance to meet you. If there's anything I can do while you're here, just let me know."

Adam watched her disappear into a cubicle on the other side of the room before he returned to Dillon's office with his fresh coffee. He looked at the files on the desk and decided he'd read enough for now. He'd spend more time on them later. He already had the facts about the shooting and knew the ground Dillon and his force had covered. He needed to visit the scene.

He also needed to spend more time with Dillon Corbin. Something was eating at the young sheriff apart from an attempt on the life of a politician. He thought maybe he could pick up something here in Dillon's office. He walked slowly around the desk, letting his fingers slide across its surface. Nothing came to him. He did the same with Dillon's chair. Still nothing.

He turned his attention to the wall shelves behind the desk. On the lower shelf he noted the typical books on police procedures and the law, a dozen or so copies of Marksman Monthly and several other magazines on firearms, hunting and fishing.

The top shelf held two framed pictures. In one, a large group of uniformed young men stood in tightly packed rows. Graduation day at the academy. Dillon was undoubtedly in there somewhere.

The other was a small snapshot of a man and a boy by a body of water. The boy needed both arms to support the fish he held across his chest. Despite his heavy load, the very young Dillon Corbin looked ready to explode with excitement. Adam read the scrawled handwriting across the bottom:

"Congratulations on your first big one. Uncle Bill."

Adam looked at the picture again. The man's face, partially hidden by the shadow of his floppy yellow hat, looked familiar. He leaned closer for a better look.

"Adam, there you are."

Dillon's voice from the open doorway surprised him. Adam turned and smiled. "Just looking around a little. Hope you don't mind."

Dillon didn't respond. He went straight to his chair behind the desk and all but threw himself into it. Adam walked around the desk and sat in another chair. It didn't take psychic ability to see that Dillon was upset and on the verge of exploding.

After a long moment of silence, the sheriff spoke in a clipped, restrained tone. "I just talked to Thornton on the phone. I wanted to set you up with a meeting with him. He said no. He wants me to pull off the security detail, stop the surveillance during the campaign."

"Stop it? Why?"

Dillon turned his chair sideways and stared at a wall. "He said having a heavy guard around him is hindering his campaign, turning away voters. He's also convinced that whoever tried to kill him is gone, that there's no further danger. When I told him you were here, he said to thank you, but your help won't be needed." Dillon suddenly shot out of his chair, pushed it aside and turned to face the window. Adam watched Dillon's hands clench into tight fists at his sides and waited to see if he would punch out the window.

"I'm sorry about this, Adam," Dillon said without turning around. "Looks like I brought you all the way down here for nothing. Without Thornton's cooperation, it'll be practically impossible to track down the shooter. Without close surveillance..." His voice trailed off. He turned from the window and plopped into his chair.

Strange, Adam thought. Law enforcement officers always had more work than they could handle, and anything that lightened their load was a blessing. "What will you do now?" he asked.

Dillon sat without speaking for a few seconds, rubbing his hands together at chest level. Finally, he looked across the desk. "I'll tell you what I'm not going to do. I'm not going to let some sonofabitch kill a good man and get away with it." He slapped the arm of his chair with an open palm. "It just ain't gonna happen."

"In that case," Adam said, "I suggest we get out of here."

Dillon's expression of angry determination changed to a questioning one. "What do you mean?"

"I mean it's time you showed me where the shooting took place."