Page 21

21

Matt

“EISA,

NO!”

Matt lunged from the car to where she hovered over her husband, but not fast enough to keep her from bringing down the tenderizer again. She didn’t weigh much, maybe 110 soaking wet, but she put every ounce of herself into that next swing, and Matt knew from the deep thud that resonated from the man’s skull as the mallet cracked against his temple that Norman Heaton was dead. Eisa managed to hit Norman two more times before Matt was able to pry the mallet from her grip. She fought, clawed at him, spitting and kicking like some wild animal, then she simply went still. She collapsed on the pavement beside her dead husband like some kind of rag doll, like someone had reached in and pulled out her spine.

Matt quickly checked Norman for a pulse, didn’t find one, then snapped his fingers in front of the old woman’s eyes. “Eisa, can you hear me?”

There was no reaction. Her eyes were open, and she was breathing, but it was like she couldn’t see him.

A woman screamed.

Several neighbors had come out of their houses and surrounded them in the street. The scream had come from Pat Peterson, who twisted and buried her face in her husband’s chest. It was nearly noon, but both of them were still wearing pajamas under loosely tied robes.

“Take her back inside,” Matt told Stu Peterson. Then he looked around at the others and raised his voice. “All of you, get back inside your houses!”

A couple of them shuffled back a few steps, but nobody left the street. At least half had their phones out and were recording video.

Matt shook his head and quietly told Eisa, “Let’s get you in my car.”

She made no effort to stand. Her entire body was limp. He got both his arms under her, gently hefted her up, and carried her back to his car.

Without a free hand, he couldn’t open the back door. He was about to set her down when Stu Peterson came over and opened the back door for him. When he saw Josh Tatum already in the back, the two locked eyes for a moment, then Josh turned away and faced out the window. Matt eased the woman down on the seat and closed the door gently, as if he didn’t want to wake her. He was reaching for his radio microphone when Stu Peterson placed a hand on his shoulder and spoke in a low voice.

“Right before you got here, Pat and I heard gunshots. Three of them.”

“Hunters up on Mount Washington?”

Peterson shook his head. “Sounded like a pistol to me. Three quick shots, like a semiautomatic. The mountain adds an echo. I didn’t hear that.”

Stu Peterson did three tours in Afghanistan, and Matt regularly ran into him at the range up in North Hollow. Former special forces, he kept a large gun safe in his garage and several handguns around his home, all of them properly registered; Matt had helped him with the paperwork.

Peterson looked up and down the street. “Somewhere close. One of these houses, I think. We tried to phone it in but couldn’t get through. What the hell is going on?”

Matt didn’t answer that. He pressed the button on his microphone. “Sally, it’s Matt. I need an ambulance on Sumptner near the Peterson place. Over.”

A couple of seconds ticked by, and Matt tried again. “Sally?”

Nothing.

He tried his cell. Sally’s direct line rang twice, then disconnected and failed. The same thing happened when he called the coroner.

When he looked back over toward Norman’s body, Cliff Stubbs was busy covering him with a blue plastic tarp from his garage.

“Hey,” Matt shouted. “You can’t do that!”

Cliff tugged the corner down over Norman’s foot. “You can’t leave a dead body in the middle of the street. I don’t want my kids seeing this. You got plenty of witnesses who saw what happened. Hell, you got a camera right there on your dash, probably recorded the whole thing. Get him out of here.”

Matt rolled his eyes and tried the coroner again but couldn’t get through. Ellie wasn’t picking up, either.

“You gotta get him to the coroner’s office, right? We could use my truck,” Stu Peterson suggested.

“I can’t ask you to do that.”

“Well, Cliff’s an ass, but he’s right. You gotta get him out of the street.” He nodded at Josh and Eisa in the back of Matt’s cruiser. “You’ve got your hands full as it is.”

What Matt needed to do was tape off the street, get Ellie down here, get CSI down here, get someone down here to help him properly investigate and document everything.

A voice in the back of his mind mocked him. Sure. Right after the Tatum house, the mess on Main Street, and whatever Ellie is currently dealing with at the library. Three gunshots, too—don’t forget that. There might just be another body or three behind one of these doors. What you really need to do is get back to the sheriff’s office, regroup with Ellie, and figure out what the fuck is happening, then get some help out here.

Matt’s head was spinning. He asked Peterson, “Can you help me get him in the trunk of my cruiser?”

Peterson nodded.