Page 139 of The Fourth Option
Fucking creepy.
It’s about time anyway. Pop this dog and get the fuck out of here.
The creature whimpered again. He would be putting it out of its misery.
He put the light on the dog and flipped the selector lever on his rifle to the fire position, moving his barrel to the side of the animal’s head.
The sound startled him. At first, he thought his ribs had caught firebut that did not make any sense. The cigar dropped from his mouth and he looked down at his right side to see a stainless steel rod projecting from his rib cage. As he struggled to comprehend what was happening, he heard branches breaking. It sounded like he was being charged by a wounded animal, like a leopard or Cape buffalo that he had seen on the Outdoor Channel.
His brain still did not quite grasp the situation as a shirtless figure covered in mud sprinted from the undergrowth out of the darkness. The creature’s right hand held a stone. Dupuis was still struggling to make sense of it when the rock connected with his head.
Belle answered his call on the first ring.
“Why are you picking up the phone from a number you don’t know?”
“Chris, are you okay?”
“It’s after three a.m., what are you doing up?”
“I could ask you the same. I’m working on the manifests. I think I found something. What number is this? Did you get a new burner?”
Walker looked at the tailgate of the yellow monster truck and slowly ran his fingers through the damp hair on Paladin’s head. The dog was wrapped in an insulated poncho liner that Walker had found in the rear passenger area.
“I did.”
He had opened both of Dupuis’s phones using the dead officer’s face. One was clearly a burner, which was the phone Walker had used to call Belle. Being an analog guy and having to memorize phone numbers sometimes had its advantages.
“Well, why are you calling me at three a.m.? Find something in the SSE?”
“Not exactly.”
Paladin opened his eyes and looked up at his handler. He had swallowed a lot of water, and Walker assessed that he had a broken rib or two from the rollover. There was a danger that a rib had punctured an internal organ, but Walker did not think so. Still, he needed to get Paladin to a vet to be sure.
“Well?”
Walker moved his eyes to the bed of the truck, where he had placed Dupuis’s rifle, pistol, Emerson folding knife, handcuffs, light, badge, wallet,and a stack of cash in a paper bag that must have totaled close to ten thousand dollars. One of Dupuis’ boots was on it’s side. It had been at least three sizes too small for Walker’s foot.
After carrying Paladin to the tailgate and assessing him for injuries, he had wrapped him in the poncho liner. He had then retrieved his speargun from where he had dropped it, after sending the shaft into the dirty cop, and returned to where Dupuis lay face down in the mud. He extracted the shaft from the officer’s body, threw on the dead man’s rain jacket, and dragged him back to the truck, hoisting him into the passenger seat.
“I’ll explain when I see you. Do you remember where you dropped me off?”
“Yes.”
“Can you be there in twenty minutes?”
“Of course. Chris, you’re scaring me.”
“I’m okay. See you soon.”
He disconnected the call and continued to rub Paladin behind the ears.
“It’s okay, boy. You’re going to be okay.”
He then lifted Paladin from the tailgate and gently laid him on the ground next to the AR and bag of cash. Then he clipped Dupuis’s folder to the right pocket of his own jeans, slid the Staccato into the holster, shoved it inside his waistband, and ensured the clips were in place over his belt just behind his right hip. The handcuffs went in Walker’s back left pocket. The badge and wallet in his front left.
He then moved to the driver’s door and opened it, looking across at the corpse slumped in the passenger seat. Walker slid into the driver’s seat and started the vehicle, its heavy engine roaring to life in the darkness. He experimented with buttons and knobs until a light illuminated that indicated the car was in low four-wheel drive. He took an ASP baton he had found in the side door compartment and stepped from the vehicle, using the adjustable seat to wedge the baton against the gas pedal. He then reached across and put the truck in one low. It lurched forward slowly in its lowest gear setting, one made to pull it from mud, sand, or snow. Walker stood silent in the falling rain and watched it roll into and submerge beneath the waters of the Mississippi.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
