A little over two hours later, three chairs were pulled close to the side of Mike's hospital bed. Olsen, Noble and KSP Sergeant Jim Pearson were now in attendance, the first two having arrived back from Kearney and their visits to the two 'crime scenes' along the country road: the ambush site, and the ditch where the Galaxie had come to rest after the blown tire.
Steve was sitting at the foot of the bed, facing his partner, his bandaged left leg on the edge of the bed; he had slid his crutches out of the way underneath.
Mike and Olsen had shared a subdued but warm reunion, the captain truly gratified to see his old friend looking better than anticipated after what he had seen. Mike was happy to have someone with a higher rank around to make any necessary decisions, but he was also just glad to have a familiar face with them.
After introductions were made, and the newcomers assured that Mike was feeling well enough to participate, Sergeant Pearson cleared his throat lightly and began. "Lieutenant Stone, you're aware, of course, that we will need to take formal statements from both you and Inspector Keller here, but right now we just need to get an informal take on what happened to you to decide if we want to pursue any charges. I'm sure you understand what I mean." The KSP officer had a pleasant southern twang that was instantly comforting.
Mike smiled and nodded. "Yes, Sergeant, I understand completely. And it's Mike, please. And I can tell you right now that as far as I am concerned, no charges need to be laid against anybody in regards to anything that happened to me after the inspector and I separated."
Three sets of eyes widened, while Steve sat up a little straighter and stared at his partner. After a beat of stunned hesitation, the younger man said, "Mike, come on, are you serious? They dragged your unconscious body out of the back of one of their pick-ups!"
Mike turned warm, impassive eyes towards him, a gentle smile playing over his lips. "That may be, but nothing that they… the father and his sons… did to me was responsible for that."
"You're talkin' J.B. here, am I right?" Pearson offered tentatively, and Mike looked at him and nodded.
"That's right, the old man." Mike looked back at his partner and there was calmness about him that made the younger man relax and lean back, brows knit. Smiling enigmatically, Mike turned to the KSP sergeant. "You want to know what I remember, right? Well, here goes." He took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. "I didn't know how much time had gone by after Steve and Rutter left me – it was too dark to see my watch and I know I was drifting in and out – but I'm sure it was at least an hour before I heard the dogs.
"That scared me. I figured it was just a matter to time till they found me, hidden or not. I mean, not only did they have my scent, I'm pretty sure they could smell the blood as well." He shook his head, his stare suddenly far away. "They got so close I could hear the dogs panting. I could hear voices yelling at each other… I'm sure the dogs were just yards from me… but all of a sudden they started moving further away… I couldn't understand it…" He looked up and met the sergeant's stare, as if seeking an answer.
"The dogs weren't after you, Mike," he said with a gentle smile. "I'm pretty sure they scented on Rutter, not you or Steve. Your scents were just…ancillary. Their primary target was Rutter and these are good tracking dogs, great tracking dogs. They'll never go off the primary target to go after a secondary one. You were lucky."
Mike had been nodding while the trooper spoke; it all made perfect sense. "Yeah, I kinda got that feeling when they started to disappear…" He paused, and looked towards the end of the bed at his partner, and everyone could see him swallow. "I'm not sure how much later it was when I heard a shot. It was too far away to figure out which direction it was coming from, or even how far away it was. Hell, I wasn't even sure it was a shot. But I knew if it was, it had to be a rifle; a handgun wouldn't carry that far. I know I also thought it must have come from where Steve and Rutter were." He paused and swallowed hard again, looking down. "It scared the hell out of me. I thought that whoever was after us had found them."
Steve reached out and laid a hand on Mike's leg and, when the older man looked up, he met the troubled blue eyes with a comforting smile.
Mike smiled back briefly, then took a deep breath, looked down and continued. "About thirty seconds after that, I heard the second shot. That pretty well convinced me they'd found Steve and Rutter, and that they were both probably dead." Mike's voice cracked slightly and Steve's grip on his leg tightened.
Nobody moved. The sympathetic silence lengthened as Mike struggled to regain his composure. He took a deep breath and threw his head back, then winced and grabbed for his right shoulder, pressing his hand against the bandage over his broken collarbone.
The others leaned forward, exchanging worried glances. "Mike, are you sure you want to continue? We can do this some other time…" Olsen began.
"No, Rudy, I'm okay, really," Mike hissed through a grimace, opening his eyes and shaking his head. "I just have to remember not to do that."
"They've scheduled the operation for tomorrow," Steve informed the others, and both Olsen and Pearson nodded in relief. Noble's brow furrowed and he glanced down; Steve caught the look and frowned curiously.
The pain receding, Mike leaned back and let his left hand drop back to the bed. He glanced at the others, smiled reassuringly and said, "Uh, where was I? Oh, yeah," he cocked his head and blew out a breath, "anyway, uh, I know I just laid there after that second shot, trying to hear something, anything, another shot maybe, I don't know, that would let me know… that maybe… just maybe it wasn't over, you know?" His voice had become so quiet they had to lean closer to hear him. He brought his left hand up to cover his mouth, breathing heavily through his nose, reliving the unbearable sense of loss he had felt at that moment.
Steve rubbed his hand on Mike's leg, leaning forward as far as possible. "I'm still here, Mike," he whispered, knowing only his partner could hear him. He saw his best friend close his eyes, and smile behind his hand. Then, with a quiet snort of relief, he looked up, took his hand away from his mouth and, as their eyes locked, he smiled. They could feel the others in the room relax and sit back.
"We, ah, we found out what those shots were," Pearson offered quietly into the uneasy silence, and four pairs of eyes turned in his direction. Self-consciously, he glanced at them all before clearing his throat. "Uh, well, those Scobies, they've never been ones to let a good opportunity slip through their fingers. We've got some pretty big boars in these hills, and they make mighty fine eatin'. Those dogs got a bunch of boars all rattled up and thrashing around in the bush, and the Scobies decided, I guess, to pick a couple of 'em off. Guess they were reckonin' to go back after they'd finished with you guys and pick up the carcasses and take 'em home."
"Boars?" Steve sounded awed. "You mean, really big pigs?"
Pearson shook his head and chuckled. "Ah, no, not pigs, Inspector – ah, sorry, Steve. Not pigs, boars. It's like the difference between a house cat and a tiger. You don't want to run into one of those big bastards without a gun, believe me. They're supposed to be plant eaters, but there's tales in these hills that say otherwise, if you know what I mean."
Steve stared at Pearson in astonishment, then looked from a slack-jawed Olsen back to Mike, who snorted in amazement as well. "Well, I'm really glad that's what it was. Wish I knew that at the time," he said quietly, and Steve tightened his grip again.
Noble, who had been watching the exchange about Kentucky wildlife with amusement, now looked down, waited a beat then asked gently. "So what happened next, Mike?"
"Next? Hunh, well, I have no idea what time it was when I was woken up. I guess I passed out again, or just fell asleep, I'm not sure. My shoulder'd gone numb, and I'm still not sure if that was a good thing or not. I definitely couldn't feel it anymore, couldn't use my arm. But the next thing I remember was something hitting me in the chest, not hard, just enough to wake me up. I guess they were poking me to see if I was still alive."
"Who was?" Olsen asked.
Mike looked at him and smiled. "Well, I didn't know it at the time, but it was one of the Caudill sons." Steve, Noble and Pearson smiled knowingly, but Olsen, who had just been given a very cursory overview of the 'Four Families' by the Kearney sheriff had yet to commit the names to memory and was at a loss.
"Do you know which one?" Pearson asked facetiously, not really expecting an answer but also not expecting Mike's almost jovial response.
"I never did get that figured out," he said with a quiet chuckle. "I know a cop is supposed to notice the subtle things in a person's appearance, but geez, they really all looked the same to me. The only real difference I could see was what they were wearing."
Pearson laughed knowingly, rocking back in the chair slightly. "I know exactly what you mean. You almost need a detailed scorecard. But try me – what was he wearing that was different from the others?"
Mike thought about it for a second. "He had denim overalls and a red… oh whadayacallit, Steve? Bandana. A red bandana around his neck. And a straw cowboy hat." He froze and cocked his head. "Wait a minute, I remember something else. He had a scar through his right eyebrow and he was missing the tip of the ring finger on his right hand."
"Good eye," Noble said with a grin. "That would be Charlie, the second born. You were lucky; he's not as aggressive as the rest of his brothers. He's actually what ya might call a thinker. But for God's sake never say that to his face; he'll slice you up a bit. Not enough to kill ya, mind; just enough to let ya know ya made a mistake."
Mike and Steve seemed to absorb this new information in stride; Olsen, on the other hand, stared at the sheriff in wide-eyed horror.
"Anyway," Mike continued, ignoring Olsen's perplexity, "I could tell that the sun was starting to come up so I knew it was morning. And this… big… mountain man was standing over me poking me in the chest with the barrel of a shotgun. I was aching all over and my shoulder was throbbing so bad I could hardly see. I think he asked me who I was, but I couldn't make out what he was saying. I really couldn't.
"There was someone else with him," he glanced up at Pearson with a wry smile. "Had to have been a brother, he was a carbon copy. Anyway, they pulled me up and said something else I couldn't understand, but I got the distinct impression they wanted me to go with them." He shrugged. "So I did."
"They made you walk?" Steve asked with a frown, once again tightening his grip on his partner's leg.
Nodding, the older man continued. "Yeah, they sure did. Hell of a thing though, we weren't all that far from a road. Well, not a real road, mind you, but a track through the brush wide enough for a pick-up truck. Which turned out to be a good thing 'cause I don't think I could've walked any further. As a matter of fact, I'm pretty sure I passed out the second I crawled onto the back of the truck."
Suddenly realizing his mouth was dry, Mike reached for the water pitcher on the nightstand. Springing to his feet, Noble got to the pitcher first, poured some into the glass and held it out for Mike to take, which he did with a nod of thanks. Finished drinking, he handed the glass back to Noble then leaned back against the pillows and closed his eyes.
Steve watched him worriedly while the others exchanged concerned glances. After several seconds, Mike opened his eyes and sat up again. "I'm okay," he assured them, taking a quick glance around and noticing the furrowed brows. He managed a small smile. "Where was I again? Oh yeah, well, anyway, I don't remember anything about the ride in the pick-up truck but I'm sure it must've been a bumpy one. Come to think of it, that could've been why I passed out. I have no idea.
"But I do remember what happened next," he said with raised eyebrows and a dry chuckle. "When I finally woke up again I was lying on a wooden floor in someone's house looking up at the barrels of a shotgun being held in my face by a very big, very old man. He said his name was J.B. Caudill and then he asked me why he shouldn't kill me."