Free The Coptic Secret by Gregg Loomis

the sun. Blue eyes twinkled from under his John Deere cap. A reddish beard streaked with gray covered his lower face but not the broad lips that were curled into a smile. He was clad in bib overalls. His step had a confidence to it, a manner that seemed to say shooting a couple of men was a normal night's work.
    Stereotypes exist. A lot. That's why they keep showing up in life.
    The other man was much smaller and looked Latino. His eyes darted back and forth as though anticipating an attack at any moment.
    The big man turned back and stooped to examine the body at his feet.
    He stood and rolled it over with his brogan. "Ain't nobody I know."
    Lang lowered his shotgun. "I'm happy for you."
    Behind him he heard Gurt moving toward the bedroom and the gun in her purse.
    Both strangers stopped at the door. "Mind if we come in?"
    Lang stepped back and they both entered. The larger of the two surveyed the room. The cabin's thin frame and Sheetrock hadn't stopped many bullets. "Looks like somebody didn't much want you here."
    Lang shrugged. "A man makes enemies."
    The man in overalls continued to look around, nodding as though understanding a basic truth. "I'd say."
    He turned his attention to Gurt as she entered the room, making no effort to hide his admiration. He doffed his cap. "Evenin', ma'am."
    She held a SIG Sauer, having left Manfred in the other room despite his howls of protest. Lang felt relief as he saw Grumps slink out from behind the kitchen counter and follow the sounds of Manfred's displeasure. Everybody had made it through OK.
    Gurt studied the stranger as intently as he was her. "You are to thank?"
    He leaned forward, an imitation of a bear trying to bow. "My pleasure, ma'am" He extended a hand the size of a football. "Larry Henderson. I'm your neighbor."
    "And a good one," Gurt said, smiling as she transferred the automatic to her left hand to slip her right into the huge paw.
    If Larry noticed the weapon, he said nothing. Maybe pistol-packing mommas were the norm around here.
    The little one said something Lang didn't catch.
    Larry nodded. "He's right, we need to clean up this mess 'fore daylight"
    Perplexed, Gurt glanced from one to the other. " 'Clean up'? Should we not call the police?"
    Larry took off his cap again and clenched it in a hand, a gesture Lang guessed was a habit. He shifted from one foot to the other like a schoolboy caught passing a note in class. "Well, ma'am, I'm not sure thass a good idea. See, first, we ain' got no phones out here an'..." He shuffled shoes die size of rowboats. Then he spoke, staring into Lang's eyes as if seeking an answer to an unasked question. "An', well, I'd soon as not involve the law if you take my meaning An' if done, 'tis best done quickly."
    Was that a line from Shakespeare? Unlikely. But Lang got the message loud and clear. Whatever Larry was doing was something that the long arm of the law wasn't going to help. The man had just saved Lang's ass by blowing away a couple of unknowns, voting them totally off the island- Now he was asking, almost pleading, not to involve the cops.
    "Will not somebody come looking for them?" Gurt asked.
    Larry shook his head. "Doubt it. They're all dressed the same like some sorta army an' carryin' those Russian guns..." "AK-47's?"
    "Thass the one. Ennyhow, ain' nobody from 'round here. They's from off. I kin take a tractor, tow that car so deep in the woods they's have to send in th' hounds to find it, bury those guys where nobody'd ever look even if they wanted to find 'em. An' I got a feelin' nobody does."
    There was a certain logic to what Lang's new friend said. If, as he was certain, these would-be assassins were from the same group that had killed Eon, it was unlikely anyone would be asking questions about their disappearance. Attempted arson, illegal automatic weapons and botched murders would invite the unwanted attention not only of local law enforcement but of the ATF, FBI and other federal and state agencies, not to mention