Page 24 of Fish in a Barrel

Fair enough, but he didn’t see any way out. There was a table in front of the open bus set up with little cardboard boxes. Meals—hamburgers and hotdogs, most likely, with fries, but hot—as well as little paper cups with coffee. People were taking from the pile before hauling whatever sleeping bag or tent they’d been able to grab in the confusion and getting aboard the bus. Jackson heard the first protest from someone who realized he was leaving all his worldly possessions on the ground, and the wail of despair as he begged to go back to the shopping cart and get his little dog.

“He can’t stay without me. He needs me… and it’s cold and….”

Jackson winced as the baton made contact with flesh and the guy was thrown unceremoniously onto the bus and dragged to the back.

A gasp of shock coursed through the crowd, but not of surprise. It had been clear from the very beginning that this was not a choice.

“Keep moving,” Jackson murmured into Cody’s ear. “He doesn’t see us, and I’ve got backup. Here, have some food.” He grabbed a box and a coffee, handed them both to Cody, and nudged Cody carefully up the steps, fumbling in his pocket for his cell phone as he went. He resisted the urge to tap his earbud, knowing it was there and would pick up his voice, even mumbled. With a furtive look into his hand, he unlocked the phone and hit Henry’s preset before hiding the thing back in the front pocket of his hoodie.

“Jackson?” Henry’s voice, crisp and concerned in his ear, almost weakened his knees. “The fuck is going on?”

“Involuntary relocation,” he muttered, following Cody to the back of the bus. The old man was there, crouching in a corner, arms wrapped around his knees. Jackson could hear him crying for “Poppy, my poor Poppy,” and had to fight the sudden urge to beat the holy shit out of every cop involved in whatever the fuck this was.

“Do you need me to get you out?”

“Target acquired. All four witnesses present. Wait and follow us.”

“Copy that. Did you say all your witnesses? The cops who beat your defendant? They’reallthere?”

“What are the fucking odds,” Jackson muttered, watching as Cody slid into the seat in the very back, some of his cop’s instincts apparently kicking in. Jackson followed, angling his body toward the window a little, the better to shield his and Cody’s faces from the cop he was pretty sure would be coming to check on the back of the bus. “Need you to do me a favor before you follow us, though.”

“Jackson,youare my priority—”

“Look, they made an old man abandon his dog. His fucking dog is out in the rain.” Jackson’s voice rose, and the request was ridiculous and sentimental, which told him that he was not as all right as he was pretending. So be it. “Could you just get the fucking dog?”

“Yeah,” Henry said soothingly. “Name?”

“Poppy.”

“Groovy. As soon as the buses take off, I’ll go check. I’ve got some beef jerky here—me and Poppy will be fine as we tail your ass into the night. Where do you think you’re going?”

The police station in downtown Sac was right by Highway 16, which in turn led to Highways 80 and 5.

Highway 5 could either take them to Disneyland or Redding, and given their conversation earlier that evening, Jackson was betting it wasn’t Disneyland.

“Redding,” he said and heard Henry suck in a breath.

“Conspiracy theories for the win.”

“Bacon,” Jackson said, seeing Engall Goslar standing in the doorway of the bus, which was now packed full.

“Roger that. I’ll monitor, but don’t worry about me.”

The bus had grown silent as Goslar scoped out the passengers, as implacable as the Terminator. The only thing missing was the human half of his face.

“Poppy,” the old man whined. “Poppy!”

“Would you shut up!” Goslar shouted. “You worthless puke. Why would you evenhavea dog!”

The old man burst into a fresh spate of tears, and Goslar took two strides down the aisle. Jackson swallowed, getting ready to stand up and take this asshole and go down swinging when Freddy McMurphy called Goslar’s name sharply.

“We don’t got time for that. Both buses are loaded and we gots to go.”

“Fuckin’ hick,” Goslar said to McMurphy, but it was almost affectionate. “You can watch this one, then. I don’t see Gabriel, but under all this dirt who could? If he’s one of these assholes, remember the plan.”

“Yeah, sure. What do I do if someone starts jonesing?”

Goslar gave a rather nasty laugh. “Make them eat their burger box, man. Drink their coffee. You shouldn’t have any worries at all.”