AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“There’s a report of an accident on the bridge,” Carpenter relayed from his position, leaning close to the radio speaker.
“Bullshit. There’s no accident up there. Dean called this in as a distraction.” Shane was shifting, trying to find where Dean was.
“One minute,” Carpenter announced.
The door on the Town Car opened, and a tall, thin man with gray hair stepped out, holding a shiny metal briefcase. He was looking about, obviously unsure which direction Dean was coming from.
The sirens were getting closer as Shane reached out with his free hand and grabbed the rifle.
“You’re not going to shoot with cops around?” Carpenter asked.
Shane could hear the sirens go by and saw the flashing lights reflected in the windshield. But his focus was on the bridge. The consigliere suddenly reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his phone and answered.
“Dean’s making contact,” Shane said.
“One state patrol car and an ambulance, reaching the ramp for the bridge,” Carpenter reported. “And I’ve got another police car in the side mirror coming this way.”
This was definitely cramping his style. He couldn’t pop out the sunroof and blow Casey Dean away with one shot while the police were driving by. He squinted as the consigliere walked over to the side of the bridge and looked over the edge.
“Oh, shit. Dean’s underneath.” Shane slid into the passenger seat and put the rifle across his lap. “Drive!”
Carpenter threw the van into gear and pulled onto the road just as a sheriff’s car blew past. “Which way?”
“Ahead and then—” Shane thought fast. They couldn’t go onto the bridge with all the cops around. He still had the scope to his eye and he saw the consigliere drop the case over the side of the bridge and get back in his car. There was one exit before they hit the on-ramp.
“Take that exit,” Shane ordered.
Carpenter turned hard right. The road curved around and then under the ramp, but there was dense, impenetrable vegetation between the road and the Savannah River.
“We’ve got to see the water,” Shane said, powering down the passenger window.
“Hold on.” Carpenter jerked the wheel hard and they skidded onto a dirt trail. The van’s specially built suspension grappled with the ruts and rocks as Carpenter accelerated down the narrow track.
“Whoa!” Shane yelled as the Savannah River suddenly appeared ahead of them, a rusting chain-link fence indicating the end of the trail.
Carpenter had hit the brakes even as Shane gave the warning, and the van skidded to a halt, the front bumper less than two feet from the fence. Shane was moving as it stopped, throwing open the door and jumping out, the rifle in his hands.
He brought it up to his shoulder in the ready position, the muzzle resting on top of the fence, but he kept the eye closest to the scope closed, while he scanned with the free eye. There were three boats visible. An old tug chugging upriver, and two personal craft heading downriver. Shane put his gun eye to the scope and checked the farthest boat, a cabin cruiser about a half mile away. An old man and woman were visible in the flying bridge.
Not Casey Dean.
He shifted to the second boat, a smaller, faster craft that was kicking up quite a wake and expanding the distance between it and Shane’s gun at a rapid pace. A figure dressed in black, hood pulled up over the head, was at the center console.
Shane aimed at the figure and his finger caressed the trigger. He could feel his heart beating and begin to slow down as he got in the rhythm for the shot.
“You sure that’s Casey Dean?” Carpenter asked.
“No,” Shane said.
“Give me your phone and the card,” Carpenter said.
Shane kept the rifle in place, one eye on the boat, which was fast getting out of range and approaching a bend in the river, where it would be out of sight. He knew exactly what Carpenter wanted to do and preempted his partner by using his off-hand to pull out the phone and card and then dialing the cell phone number as fast as he could. He kept his firing hand on the rifle.
Shane was slightly surprised when there was a ring. Then another and another. The figure on the boat didn’t move. After four rings, a mechanical voice informed him he could leave a message.
“Casey Dean,” Shane said. “I’ve got you in my sight.”
The figure still didn’t move.
