Free Search and Destroy by James Hilton Page B

there?”
    Andrea pulled on her clothes. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
    * * *
    In the living room the men downed their third coffee. Danny was explaining to Tansen how they’d raced away from the burning RV, all three perched on the quad bike. They’d driven flat out any time they’d been on blacktop, with frequent detours to avoid oncoming traffic, veering onto a path that ran parallel to the road. After catching four hours of sleep on the hard ground, Clay had hot-wired a car in a motel parking lot. One guest would be wondering who had enough bad taste to pilfer their beat-up jalopy. With any luck it wouldn’t have been reported stolen until this morning. Danny and Andrea had travelled in the aged Honda while Clay had followed them on the quad bike. He’d then abandoned it in a low depression out of view from the road. That way the two vehicles were less likely to be linked by the cops, or more importantly, any operatives on their trail.
    As Andrea emerged from the bathroom the three men stopped their conversation mid-flow. Although still dressed in her tattered clothes, her face was almost unrecognisable, free from blood and dirt. She was attractive in a natural and unpretentious way. Clearly a little self-conscious at the stares, she took a seat next to Danny on the sofa.
    Danny was the first to catch himself. “Feel any better for that?”
    “Almost human again.” She smiled, with her mouth if not her eyes.
    Danny motioned to Clay. “You go next if you want, I’m going to check out the news. See if we’re on it yet.”
    Clay shrugged himself out of his seat and moved towards the bathroom without further comment.
    Tansen handed Danny the remote control for the wide-screen television. After clicking through a dozen channels, bypassing obligatory reruns of
Judge Judy
and
Everybody Loves Raymond
, he found the local morning news. After a short feature on a supposed military victory in Libya, the next story made him sit up. A blonde news anchor was doing her utmost to project gravitas. There was footage of Highway 375 and Officer Ryback’s patrol car. Her report was full of key media buzzwords—
murder
,
missing suspects, death toll
,
terror, destruction
—without giving any real facts. Two men found dead at the scene were as yet unidentified, she said. The camera panned in for lingering close-ups. Their bodies had been covered with sheets; only their boots could be seen.
    The third victim
had
been identified. A formal picture of Officer Ryback in uniform flashed on the screen. Then a picture showing the dead trooper standing with his wife and a young boy, all three smiling broadly. Andrea shifted in her seat. Danny could see she was upset—after all, the cop had died because
she
was a target. It wasn’t her fault but Danny knew that wouldn’t stop the guilt. Then again, what did he really know about her?
    The story flashed back to the anchor, her eyes opening dramatically as she picked up her dialogue. She promised the viewers that they would be going live to that location after the commercial break.
    Danny switched channels as the Nesquik Bunny broke into a song about chocolate milk. The next news channel had more information. Police were searching the area for the occupants of the Winnebago, now feared dead. No names were given, only that there were thought to be at least two men involved. There was no mention of Greg and Bruce. Clearly the police hadn’t connected the two crime scenes. Danny frowned. Unless the first crime scene hadn’t yet been found. He turned off the TV and turned to Andrea.
    “Well, they haven’t named anybody yet.”
    Andrea shook her head. “What about Greg and Bruce? Do you think that means they haven’t found them?” She looked pale, and Danny thought he knew what she was thinking: bodies in the heat of the desert would go downhill fast.
    He was saved from answering when Clay emerged from the bathroom, still towelling his hair. “Your turn.”
    With the bathroom door