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

Dillon paused to add creamer to his coffee, then turned his head to gaze out the window. "My dad died when I was nine, and Uncle Bill took me under his wing. He never married or had kids of his own. He took me places, taught me all about hunting, fishing, everything. As much as I missed my dad, it was like I still had one." He looked at Adam now with moist eyes. "Can you understand that?"

Adam nodded that he could. His mouth was full.

Dillon picked up a spoon and stirred his coffee in a slow circular motion. "As soon as I was old enough, I knew all I wanted to do was join the state police like them. But the state wasn't hiring, so I came with the county. Uncle Bill helped me get in, helped me study, coached me. I'm not sure I would've made it if it hadn't been for his help."

Adam watched a smile grow on Dillon's face, the soft smile people get when they recall fond memories. Patti suddenly appeared with a pot of coffee and refilled Adam's cup. She moved toward Dillon's cup, but he waved his hand over it. He hadn't touched it.

Dillon turned back to the window. "He retired five years ago. Said he was fed up with what he called the politickin' and pocket-pickin'. He kept busy, though. Set himself up as a private investigator, worked on divorce cases, sometimes for the state tracking down tax dodgers, crooked businesses, things like that. And whenever we needed outside help we always called on him. He was the best."

Adam washed down a mouthful. "I'm sure he was. Why didn't you tell me any of this before?"

Dillon shrugged, then turned his head to meet Adam's eyes with his own. "I saw no reason to. I thought it best to keep my personal feelings out of it, not let it get in the way of doing my job. I'm sorry if you thought I was keeping something from you."

It was Adam's turn to shrug. "Forget it. But tell me something. Were you aware that Thornton was receiving threats before the rally?"

"No. He said he didn't take them seriously and never said anything about the threats until after the shooting."

"Then you had no reason not to go on that dive, Dillon. You have to stop beating yourself up over this. You can't be sure what would have happened if you'd been there."

"Maybe that's what makes it so hard. Not knowing. But I don't want you to think I'm on some kind of Charles Bronson revenge trip. Sure, I want to get the man who killed Uncle Bill, even though it was accidental. I owe him that and much more. But I'm still sheriff of Mendes County, and there's a man out there trying to kill a public official. I have a job to do, and I don't think he's just gone away like Thornton said, do you?"

Adam took his time swallowing his last bite. He didn't want to tell Dillon what he suspected about the sniper at this point. He wanted to be sure.

"We can't be certain of anything just yet."

"But you're still willing to stay and help me?"

Adam smiled. "I can't guarantee anything, but we'll give it our best shot."

"Can't ask for any more than that," Dillon said, smiling back. "What do we do now? What do you want me to do?"

Adam raised his cup and drained it. "First, you can pay for my coffee and doughnuts, then you can tell me where I sleep. I want to go over the files again before I call it a day."

"That sounds fair," Dillon said, reaching in his pocket. "I made arrangements for you at the Ramada, if that's okay."

The room at the Ramada Inn was okay. Dillon gave Adam his office phone number, his beeper number, and his home number. "Just in case," he said. "You call, I'll come running."

Adam watched from the window of his room until Dillon drove away. Then he went to the motel office, found a map of the town, and went for a walk. Twenty minutes later, he stood in the Kmart parking lot, looking up at the holes in the wall from the sniper's first two shots. He estimated them to be three inches apart and seven feet above the pavement. Looking across the street to the rooftop where he and Dillon had stood earlier, he drew an imaginary line between the two points.

Satisfied with that, he walked out into the parking lot and found what he had seen earlier -- a faint brownish stain where Melvin Parsons had fallen from the platform. He knelt down on one knee, touched the faded bloodstain with his fingertips and concentrated. The images came quickly.

....blue sky, puffs of clouds...voices, screaming in panic...faces directly above, horrified, frantic faces...deputies, Thornton, others, staring down...something moving among them...thin, black, ribbon-like, swirling, circling...Thornton's face again...now a cloth or towel, old, ragged, dark green...the long, flat ribbon shape curling around it...music...a voice, singing...very faint...Dillon as a boy with Uncle Bill...the two of them in a boat, fishing, laughing...Dillon riding a pony...throwing a football...in uniform, hands pinning a badge on him...Dillon in scuba gear, swimming under water...fading...everything gray, growing darker...blackness.

Adam walked to the wall of Kmart, leaned back against it and closed his eyes. He felt weak, barely able to stand. He had seen the last things seen by a dying man, felt his last thoughts, his loving remembrances of the boy he'd raised like a son. It was several minutes before he regained himself. He had felt a man die.

On his way back to the Ramada, Adam stopped for dinner and tried to make sense of what he had seen and heard so far. He'd seen the strange ribbon shape again. Was it a rope? A snake? Then there had been some kind of old cloth, dark green and ragged. And the music, the singing voice, vaguely familiar but so swift and faint he couldn't identify it. The images swirled in his mind like pieces of a puzzle in a whirlpool. Nothing made any sense. Not yet anyway. He knew he had a long night ahead.

As soon as he was back in his room, Adam opened his suitcase and took out a small electric coffee maker and a bag of Maxwell House Master Blend. After starting the pot, taking a shower, brushing his teeth and putting on his sweats, he decided he needed a break and called his daughters. Chris was not home. He remembered her telling him she and her husband, Rick, were going to visit his parents for a few days. He left a message saying he would call again on Sunday.