The Empty Land (A Hunter Kincaid Novel) - Page 2

“I don’t think so, or we would have had signs showing a struggle.”

“He’s got no ID, not even a wallet or change in his pockets.” Hunter wiped the sweaty grime from her forehead and said, “I think Captain Kirk had Scotty beamed him down from the Enterprise. I’m going with that.”

Raymond studied the earthen walls and the dark, blade-shaped rock above him. “He fell from the sky.”

Hunter nodded, “From an airplane. Had to be.”

Raymond pointed, “Hit the rock there and sheared off his hand. Knocked a lot of dirt down with the impact, too.”

“So he was alive until he hit.”

“Yep. No parachute anywhere, so I’m thinking he either jumped or somebody pushed him.”

Hunter said, “The briefcase is closed. Should we open it?”

Raymond cupped his hand and ran the thumb and forefingers down his Zapata moustache. “No. Leave it for the Sheriff. It’ll be their case, when we can finally contact them about it.”

They studied the scene for several minutes, and then Hunter nudged the briefcase and hand back to its original position beside the man’s head.

“You don’t want to take the hand?” Raymond grinned.

“No sir, I do not. We can cover everything up to keep the coyotes off it, and then call the Sheriff’s office to report the body.”

Raymond said, “That’ll have to be when we can hit a repeater. I’ve got nothing out here on the handie-talkie, and no bars on my phone, either. Haven’t had for a while.”

“Those hills about four miles back, the one high point, I think we had reception there.”

“That would be good, and we can call while we take a breather.”

“At least give them a basic report of what we found and that we’re leaving everything here for their investigation. Well, we’ll report all that if the cell service is good enough.”

“The deputies can take care of the hand…and him. When we get to the office, you and I can look at the photos we took, then drop copies off at the Sheriff’s Office. Man, everybody’s going to need four-wheel drives and some chains and front-end winches to get to this place tomorrow. You about ready?”

Hunter said, “I’m ready. Here.” She pulled the last two sticks of Juicy Fruit gum from a pack in her pocket and handed one to him.

Raymond unwrapped it and held the flat stick in his fingers, “I’m taking it, but this doesn’t mean we’re going steady or anything.” He folded the gum in his mouth and chewed, winking at her. Hunter double-tapped him on the shoulder with her fist and grinned.

***

Hours later, Miguel stopped in the shade of a hundred-foot high ridgeline made of up-tilted rock slabs that resembled the back of a stegosaurus. He waited for the last sliver of sun to drop below the horizon and take the heat with it. Ten minutes later, he heard the helicopter before he spotted it coming along his back trail. It was flying low, maybe seventy feet above the ground and hard to see in the grayness of coming night.

For some reason, Miguel felt uneasy. When it was almost over him, he heard the motor’s noise change and the copter flared and hovered as a man leaned out the open side.

Miguel saw the rifle and jerked an instant before the man shot. A hard jolt, like electricity hit between his left shoulder and his neck. Miguel fell hard and it was as if his arm was not his anymore when he tried to move it. He rolled under the shelter of the rocks and heard the helicopter lowering to land.

A waist-high triangular tunnel formed by tilted rock slabs left an opening that penetrated farther into the ridge. He scurried into it, crawling as fast as he could with the one good arm and on his knees. The tunnel forked and he took the one that doubled back on the opposite side of the ridge from the helicopter. Miguel stopped forty yards further and caught his breath as he put pressure on the wound. Feeling was coming back to his arm: strong, prickly sensations ran from his fingertips to his shoulder, as if the entire arm had been asleep. He was close enough to hear the people from the helicopter talking, and he understood English.

The man in the sunglasses

said, “I hit him. There is blood on the rocks.”

Another man said, “Why’d you shoot him? I mean, he was just standing there.”

“Do not question my actions, do you understand?”

“Okay, okay. It’s getting dark fast, and we don’t have any night vision gear with us. What do you want to do?”

There was silence for twenty seconds, then the shooter said, “We will come back in the morning. There is only one ranch house within thirty miles he can try for, so we will have him tomorrow. Or better yet, we will find a cold, stiff corpse when we get here. Let us go, that body in the copter is already starting to smell.”

Tags: Billy Kring Thriller
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