Free Known Dead by Donald Harstad Page A

0726, when I got a call from the office telling me that there had been a development and that I should be there within half an hour. Sue, who had been awakened by the phone, and who had been sort of listening to me, asked what time it was. I told her.
    ‘‘God.’’ Then: ‘‘What time did you get in last night?’’
    By that time I was sitting on the edge of the bed, trying to remember where I’d left the floor. ‘‘Oh, I dunno . . . four or five, I think . . .’’
    She was now sitting. ‘‘Three hours’ sleep?’’ Obviously she was more awake than I was. I could tell because she could do the math. I thought for a second, still trying to get the cobwebs out.
    ‘‘Yeah,’’ I said, ‘‘I guess you’re right.’’
    ‘‘That’s terrible,’’ she said, lying back down. ‘‘It was that state officer being killed, wasn’t it? The one I saw on TV.’’
    ‘‘Yep.’’ I thought for a second. ‘‘Actually, it’s bullshit.’’
    ‘‘What?’’
    ‘‘Nothing,’’ I said as I dialed the phone. ‘‘Just calling the office.’’
    The phone was portable, so I carried it into the hall as it rang.
    ‘‘Sheriff’s Department . . .’’
    ‘‘Yeah, hey, it’s Carl. What’s the development you called me about?’’
    ‘‘I don’t know, they didn’t say. Just said to call you.’’
    ‘‘Is this Brenda?’’
    ‘‘Yes.’’
    Brenda was pretty new at this. ‘‘Okay, Brenda, who told you to call me?’’
    ‘‘Nine.’’
    Nine was the call number for Deputy Eddie Heinz, also relatively new. We all liked Eddie. He was one of the most enthusiastic people I’d ever worked with.
    ‘‘Where is he?’’
    ‘‘In his car.’’
    ‘‘Right, Brenda, look . . . have him call me when he gets in.’’ I yawned.
    ‘‘Uh, he wasn’t going to come in. He wanted you at the scene.’’
    ‘‘What scene?’’ Regardless, I had now talked so long it would be impossible to get back to sleep.
    ‘‘Up near the park area. I think he’s found something . . .’’
    ‘‘All right, Brenda, thanks. I’ll get up there as soon as I wake up.’’
    I had a cup of coffee, and left the house at 0812. Sue had come downstairs with me, and tried to persuade me to eat something healthy. I scarfed down a banana with my vitamin pills and my blood pressure meds. Ten years ago, I thought, I would have been there by now. Closer to the truth than I wanted to dwell on.
    I kissed Sue as I left. ‘‘Thanks for the breakfast.’’

    I contacted Eddie via radio when I was about six miles from him, and got directions. It’s a fairly wild area up there, and I didn’t want to waste time looking for him. As I dropped down into the heavily wooded valleys, the fog was thick just below the tree line. The tops of the trees looked like islands sticking up out of the sea. Then I dropped below the ‘‘water level’’ and was in a fairly thick, very damp fog. Windshield wipers on. I still could see about fifty feet. I was almost past Eddie when I saw his car in one of the little picnic areas cleared by the state. He was outside, and motioned me in beside his car. I got out, and sloshed as much as walked through the wet grass over to where he was.
    ‘‘Hi, hope you don’t mind, but I thought you should see this.’’
    ‘‘Whaddya got?’’ Reserving judgment as to whether or not I ‘‘minded’’ until I saw why he’d called.
    He led me over to an area of very deep grass at the edge of the mowed picnic area and pointed to a spot where the grass appeared bent. There were what seemed to be several cardboard boxes, some just plain cardboard-colored, and some red, white, and blue printed boxes. They all appeared to be empty. The colorful ones said ‘‘USA Made Quality Assured’’ and ‘‘Famous Quality Ammunition.’’ And then, stamped in black on the white ends, ‘‘Cal. 5.56 mm FMJ.’’ As I peered over the pile, I could make out the printing on the brown boxes. ‘‘Republic of