Bill Crider - Dan Rhodes 20 - Compound Murder (26 page)

“
I’m
going over the fence,” Rhodes said.

Chapter 23

Never having besieged a compound before, Rhodes didn’t know what the inhabitants expected him to do. He did, however, have a pretty good idea of what they didn’t expect.

They didn’t expect he’d go back to town, at least not right away.

They didn’t expect he’d start shooting, because they remembered Waco for sure. Able probably showed videos now and then just to remind them.

They certainly didn’t expect a fat old man like him to come over the fence.

Not that Rhodes thought of himself as being either fat or old, but he suspected the men behind the fence did. They wouldn’t have a lot of respect for any kind of lawman, and even less for the local sheriff. They wouldn’t think he could scale a ten-foot fence.

Neither did the deputies, for that matter.

“You’re kidding us,” Buddy said.

Ruth and Duke didn’t say anything, but Rhodes could tell from the looks on their faces that they didn’t believe for a second that he could do it. Maybe he couldn’t, but he thought it was worth a try.

“We could bring in ladders,” he said, “but they’d have too much time to prepare if we tried something like that. They’ll be so surprised at one person coming over the wall that I’ll have time to do plenty before they know what’s happening. They might not even see me.”

“For them not to see you,” Buddy said, “you have to get over the fence.”

“I get the impression you don’t have a lot of confidence in my abilities,” Rhodes said.

Buddy backtracked a little. “It’s not that. It’s just that the fence is really high. It won’t be easy.”

“Ten feet,” Rhodes said. “That’s no hill for a climber.”

Buddy looked at the fence. He looked back at Rhodes. “It’s a fence, not a hill, and you can’t climb it. You’d have to jump it.”

“That’s the plan,” Rhodes said.

“Plan B,” Duke said.

“Right.”

“Go for it,” Ruth said. “If you break a leg, we’ll get you to the ER in five minutes.”

“Thanks for the encouragement.”

“Just kidding,” Ruth said, but Rhodes wasn’t sure that was true.

“They’re bound to be watching us,” Duke said. “They’ll see you.”

Rhodes had thought of that. “No they won’t. You’re going to distract them.”

“How will we do that?” Buddy asked, so Rhodes told him.

*   *   *

Rhodes slipped through the trees as quietly as he could, circling around to the back of the compound. What he hoped to do was simple enough. He’d sprint across the open space between the trees and the fence, go over the fence, and drop down inside the compound.

The only problems as he saw them were sprinting, going over the fence, and dropping down inside the compound. Aside from those things, it would be a cinch.

Rhodes knew how to sprint. In high school they’d called him the Will o’ the Wisp because of his speed and elusiveness. That was before he’d injured his knee, of course, and he hadn’t sprinted in a while. Since high school, maybe. Running, sure, he’d done some of that. Sprinting, not so much.

He knew the theory of going over the fence well enough. The problem was doing it.

Dropping down inside should be easy. Gravity would take care of that if Rhodes could pull himself over the top of the fence, but landing might be a little dicier. Rhodes wasn’t as elastic as he’d once been.

What it came down to was that they had to get the gate open, and to do that someone had to get inside. Rhodes was the sheriff, so it was his job. He could have delegated it, but Buddy and Ruth were too short, and Duke was too heavy. Besides, he looked even less like a sprinter than Rhodes did. So Rhodes was elected.

He’d brought some gloves with him, and he slipped them on. They’d help him grip the top of the fence if he managed to reach it. He’d also brought a .38 revolver that he wore in a holster at the small of his back. His little ankle pistol wasn’t going to be enough if he needed a gun inside the compound. For that matter, even the .38 might not be enough. He was counting on surprise and confusion to help him out before Duffy gunned him down with an AR-15.

Rhodes got to the rear of the compound a little quicker than he’d thought, so he stopped at the edge of the trees and waited for the distraction. The sky had clouded over, and it was dark back toward the west. A little wind had kicked up, and Rhodes smelled rain on the air. It hadn’t rained for a long time, and Rhodes hoped they’d get a drenching, but not until after he’d done what he came to do.

The distraction came a minute or so later. Rhodes had asked the deputies to turn on their sirens and lightbars at the same time. The noise and the flashing lights would be enough to draw the attention of everyone in the compound to the front. Rhodes didn’t know how long their attention would be diverted, so he’d just have to hope it was long enough for him to get inside. Assuming he could get inside.

As soon as the noise began, Rhodes took off. He knew that he had to hit the wall with his left foot about waist high. If he didn’t, his shoe wouldn’t grip. It would just slide down, and he’d bounce away from the wall. When his foot hit he had to use all the power of his leg to propel himself upward, keeping his hands and his chest away from the wall. When his leg straightened, he’d grab the top of the wall, get his chest above it, swing himself over, and drop down.

Rhodes tried not to think about any of that. If he thought about it, he wouldn’t be able to do it. Clear the mind. Let the body take over.

His foot touched the wall. He stepped as powerfully as he could. His arms shot up. He was over six feet tall and had a good reach. He could do it.

His fingers cleared the top of the fence, and he gripped it hard, pushing down with his arms and using his momentum to shove his chest above the top of the fence. He swung his right leg up, rested it for a fraction of a second on top, and pushed himself over. He caught the top of the fence as he swung around and hung on. He let himself dangle for a beat, then dropped to the ground.

Sage Barton couldn’t have done it better. Nothing to it.

Nothing except that if anybody came at Rhodes at that moment, he was doomed, because unlike Sage Barton he had to stand there for a while to catch his breath, let his heartbeat slow down, and calm the quivering in his arms.

The sound of the sirens crashed in on him, and Rhodes realized he hadn’t heard them since he’d sprinted for the fence. It wasn’t that they’d stopped. He’d blocked them out somehow.

As his breathing returned to normal, Rhodes looked around the compound. He didn’t see anyone. He picked out Able’s house, went to the back door, and turned the knob. The door wasn’t locked, but why should it be? Who would Able be locking out? The few people in the compound would all trust each other. It wasn’t as if they were living in the wicked outside world.

Rhodes opened the door and went inside. He found himself in the kitchen. It still smelled a little like beans. They must eat a lot of beans in the compound. Cheap, and if they were dried they’d keep forever. The door to the right was closed, but the doorway in front of Rhodes led to the room where he’d met with Duffy and Able.

Rhodes had started across the kitchen when he heard something thump against the door to his right. The noise of the sirens was loud even in the house, and he wasn’t sure. He stopped and went to the door. Something thumped against it again. Rhodes drew the .38 from the small of his back and tried the knob. It turned, and he opened the door to discover Able Terrell trussed up in a storage closet with silver duct tape over his mouth.

“Hey, Able,” Rhodes said, not really expecting Terrell to hear him.

Terrell looked at him and mumbled something. Rhodes knew because he could see his mouth working behind the tape. Rhodes couldn’t decide whether to risk removing the tape or not.

“Should I let you talk?” Rhodes asked. He holstered the pistol. “I guess so. You seem to be on the outs with the folks here.”

Rhodes reached out and got a grip on the left edge of the tape. “Ready?”

Even if Able couldn’t hear, he understood what Rhodes meant. He nodded, and Rhodes ripped the tape off his face.

“You and Duffy having some differences?” Rhodes said, loudly enough for Able to hear.

Able took a couple of deep breaths. “That son of a bitch. Untie me.”

Rhodes couldn’t think of any reason why not. He went into the kitchen, found a butcher knife in a wooden knife block, and cut the ropes that held Able.

Able stood up, bracing himself on the door frame with one hand. “Duffy came in and held a gun on me while Alf tied me up. What the hell’s going on here?”

“You tell me,” Rhodes said. “Better yet, we can talk about it later. Where are your guns? We might need them.”

Able took Rhodes into another room, where a gun cabinet occupied about half of one wall. It wasn’t the collection that Rhodes had heard rumored, but it was impressive nevertheless: a couple of semiautomatic shotguns, both 12-gauge; a Winchester .30-30; a Winchester .44 Magnum; two AR-15s; and three AK-47s. No rocket launchers, however.

Able took one of the AK-47s. Rhodes grabbed a shotgun. It was loaded. Rhodes looked at Able.

“What’s the use of having an unloaded gun?” Able asked.

Rhodes didn’t have time for a discussion. “We’d better get outside before Duffy and his friends figure out what’s going on. Where are the women and children?”

“I don’t know. Duffy probably stuck them in one of the other houses. He wouldn’t let anything happen to them.”

Rhodes wasn’t so sure about that, but he led the way to the front room and took a look out the window. Duffy and two other men, Alf and Cleon, Rhodes assumed, stood about ten yards away, looking toward the gate. All three were armed. Duffy had an AR-15, and the others had conventional rifles. They were talking, maybe about the noise and flashing lights, but they’d get tired of that soon enough.

Rhodes stood next to Able so he could speak into his ear. “I’m going out. I’m going to arrest Duffy.”

“What for?” Able asked.

“Theft. You must know what he’s been doing to bring in money.”

Able looked puzzled. “He told me he had an inheritance.”

Rhodes would have loved to hear more, but the men outside were getting bored with the sirens. “We’ll talk about it later. You can back me up on this. Go open the gate when I get things settled down.”

Rhodes went to the door and opened it. He stood in the doorway with the shotgun pointed at the three men. Duffy turned and saw him first. Without hesitation he brought up the AR-15, firing as he did so. He’d altered the rifle to fire on full auto, and the bullets stitched a line through the dirt and up the wall of the house. Duffy’s trigger finger was broken, so that explained why his shooting was a little off, Rhodes thought as he ducked back inside and hit the floor.

Alf and Cleon started shooting, too. The hammering of the gunfire was easy to hear even over the howling sirens. Window glass blew inside the room.

Rhodes looked around for Able and saw him lying behind the couch with his eyes closed. No matter how much training you had or thought you had, the real test was whether you could act when you were under fire. Able apparently wasn’t able. Rhodes grinned at his own sad attempt at humor. Even if nobody else liked his jokes, he had an appreciative audience of one.

Meanwhile, Duffy and his pals were plenty able. They’d switched out magazines and were firing again. Bullets buzzed above Rhodes’s head and smacked into the wall.

Rhodes slithered to the window, took a quick look outside, and cut loose with the shotgun, spraying number 12 buckshot all around the yard. He heard a couple of yells and took another look. One man was down. It wasn’t Duffy. He and the other man were running for cover.

Rhodes got up and went into the compound. He heard barking. The hounds had been released.

Rhodes didn’t like the idea of killing dogs. He’d never had to do that in the course of his job before, not even a rabid one, and he didn’t want to start now. The dogs, all four of them, came around the corner of the house, nearly tumbling over each other in their eagerness to get at Rhodes. They barked and snarled and showed their teeth. There was no doubt that they intended to rip Rhodes into bite-sized chunks and dine on sheriff until they were full. They weren’t giving Rhodes much choice. He raised the shotgun.

“Stop!” Able called out. He’d come out of the house and stood behind Rhodes. “John! Paul! George! Ringo! Stop! Sit! Stay!”

The dogs were well trained. They stopped and sat and stayed. That is, they stayed until the jeep came roaring in their direction. Then they scattered like frightened chickens.

The jeep was headed straight for Rhodes. He fired the shotgun at the radiator and dived to the side. The jeep swerved away from him, and Rhodes caught a glimpse of the man fighting the wheel. It wasn’t Duffy.

The jeep came to a dead stop. Rhodes hopped to his feet and yelled at Able to open the gate. He didn’t wait to see whether Able responded. He ran toward the back of the house to find Duffy, but he didn’t see him anywhere.

Rhodes didn’t think Duffy had gone over the fence. He must still be somewhere inside the compound, so Rhodes looked around for any signs of where Duffy might be hiding. Not many places presented themselves, other than the hay bales and the Pontiac.

The sirens stopped. Rhodes heard thunder in the west, and it was followed by the crack and flash of lightning. The wind picked up dust from the ground and stirred it around.

Rhodes looked at the house. Concrete blocks held it about a foot off the ground. Duffy might have squeezed under it. Rhodes went to see if he could spot any marks in the dirt. As he bent down near the back steps, he heard something behind him. He turned to see Duffy rising above the hay bales.

Rhodes got the shotgun to his shoulder in time to trigger off a couple of rounds into the hay. Hay flew everywhere, the wind carrying it up and around, and Duffy dropped out of sight behind what remained of the bales. Rhodes went after him.

Duffy still had his AR-15, but he didn’t see Rhodes because he was pawing straw and dust out of his eyes with his left hand.