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

"Where?"

"One at each corner."

"The security guard who was shot, where was he standing?" Adam watched Dillon point to but not look at, what would have been the right front corner of the platform.

"There," Dillon said. "My deputies were at the other corners. As soon as the shooting started, they all ran toward the podium to protect Thornton."

"And where did Melvin Parsons fall?"

Again Dillon pointed - again without looking - to a spot on the concrete. "There."

Adam turned to look where Dillon had pointed. When he looked up, he saw Dillon had walked some twenty feet away and stood with his back turned. Adam walked over and stood beside him. He wanted to ask Dillon why he wouldn't look at the last two places he'd pointed to. Instead, he said, "Dillon, three of the security guards on the platform were uniformed deputies, but the man who was killed was a private security guard. Is that normal procedure?

Three deputies and a private guard?"

Dillon hesitated before answering. "No. It was supposed to be three deputies and me. Private guards are usually scattered in with the crowd."

"Where were you?"

Dillon's response could barely be heard. "On a dive."

"A dive?"

Dillon cleared his throat. Still facing away from Adam, he said, "A scuba dive. I belong to a club. We had a dive scheduled that weekend off Cedar Key. I asked him to fill in for me."

Bits and pieces came together for Adam: Dillon away on a scuba dive while the man filling in for him lay dying; Dillon's obsession with finding the sniper; the pictures he'd seen in Dillon's office of two men, one lying in a parking lot with a bullet wound in his head, the other standing behind young Dillon in an old snapshot.

"Dillon," he asked quietly, "was Melvin Parsons the man you knew as Uncle Bill?"

Dillon gave a small nod.

"And you blame yourself for his death?"

Again Dillon hesitated. When he finally spoke, his voice was that of someone close to tears. "If I hadn't gone on that dive..." "We need to talk," Adam said. "Let's go somewhere."

Patti, according to the name on her KrispyKreme shirt, was short and cute with dimples and a little girl's voice. "Two coffees?"

"Please," Adam replied.

"How about a couple of doughnuts with that?" Patti suggested as sweetly as anyone could.

Adam glanced at the clock above the counter. It was past four, and he remembered he hadn't had lunch. He was sorry they hadn't gone to Dunkin' Donuts, where they could have gotten sandwiches. "I'll have a couple of chocolate glazed. How about you, Dillon?"

Dillon shook his head.

Patti was back in less than a minute with their order. Adam waited until Dillon felt like talking and he was nearly finished his first doughnut when that time came.

"Melvin Parsons and my dad started out together on the state police force," Dillon began. "Over the years, they got to be as close as brothers. He hated the name Melvin and used his middle name, William. To me, he was always Uncle Bill."