Page 133 of Chill Factor

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Wes kicked Dutch’s leg beneath the bar to prevent him from saying anything more. He flashed his best smile at William. “We wouldn’t even have the nerve to ask that of you. It’s going to be a miserably cold trip. Besides . . .” He glanced at Dutch and gave a sympathetic wince, then lowered his voice and said to William, “We’re not sure what we’ll find when we get up there.”

“Of course. There’s that.” William gave Dutch a smile that even a blind man couldn’t mistake for sincere. “I’m sure she’s fine.”

“Yeah. Thanks. But Wes is right. We won’t know what we’ll be walking into until we get up there. We must assume that this Tierney character is armed and dangerous. I can’t ask you to share the risk.”

“You didn’t ask. I volunteered.”

“I realize that, but—”

“I know the road, Dutch. Better than you. Better than anyone. I drive it several times a week and have since I learned to drive.”

“All the same—”

“They’re my snowmobiles.”

The statement was a threat. Veiled, but a threat nonetheless. Wes could all but feel Dutch’s hackles rise. “That’s true, but I could impound them for taking up space in a garage paid for by taxpayers.”

“I have permission.”

“Not from me,” Wes said. Arguing hadn’t worked with the little bugger. Maybe two strong arms of authority would. “I’ll ask Dutch to impound your snowmobiles.”

“The school board said I could keep them there indefinitely.”

“I have more authority than the school board. They do what I tell them to.”

William shifted his angry gaze from Wes to Dutch. He stewed for as long as thirty seconds. Wes gave him the glare he gave to the running back who’d fumbled on the five-yard line. Dutch’s expression was similarly daunting.

Finally he said, “You give me no choice.”

Dutch came off his stool. “We’ll follow you to your house.”

William turned off the flame beneath the pan of water, which had almost boiled dry. “I’ll ask Marilee to make coffee. It’ll be better than this.”

“No need to get Marilee up,” Wes said.

“I’m sure she won’t mind.”

Dutch and Wes went out and climbed into the Bronco. Wes grinned. “Congratulations, Chief. You’ve got your snowmobiles.”

They watched William Ritt get into his car and back it out of the slot. Dutch followed him down Main Street. Thumping the steering wheel with his gloved fist, he growled, “After all this rigamarole, I had better get my crack at Tierney.”

“That’s the plan.”

“I want him to bleed, Wes.”

“I hear you. If he’s been boinking Lilly—”

“What?”

Wes looked over at Dutch with misapprehension. “What?”

Dutch said, “I’m worried he’s killed her.”

Wes moved his mouth, but for a moment no words came out. “Well, sure, Dutch. Naturally that’s what we’re all worried about.”

“Do you think they—”

“Look, I don’t know. All I’m saying is that anything you do to him, it’ll be justified for whatever he did to or with Lilly.”


Tags: Sandra Brown Mystery