“I only lie when it suits my purpose. I have to tie up the deputies in the house. Don’t make me kill them, because I will. Winter will come after he is done at the casino, and he and I will conclude our business.”
“He’ll kill you,” Alexa said.
“I promise I’ll be really careful.”
Styer laughed, but she didn’t. Alexa figured that he had to have made the mask he was wearing over his own features by casting it on the owner’s face, which meant he had most likely killed the subject before replicating his features. She gritted her teeth hard.
Alexa parked behind a cruiser as freezing rain pelted the hood of the truck. She believed Styer planned to kill her, the deputies, and everybody else, but she didn’t think he would as long as he needed them. Leigh might call, and if nobody answered, Winter would know it was because Styer was there.
Styer got out and came around. As promised, he cuffed Alexa’s hands behind her back before helping Cynthia from the extended cab. With rain pouring down on them, the three started toward the porch.
“Easy, girls,” Styer hissed.
110
Brad was putting the envelope containing the bonds in the evidence vault when Brad’s deputy, who was posted at the Gardner’s driveway, called to say that Cyn had arrived at the plantation with Agent Keen and Dr. Barnett. Brad asked him how the girl looked and the deputy said she looked the same as usual to him.
“Thank God,” Leigh said with a shaky sigh.
As they were leaving the building, Brad’s phone rang. “Sheriff Watson from next door,” Brad said, reading the caller ID. He listened for a few seconds, said, “I’m on my way,” and hung up. “There was a big explosion on six twelve. Seems it came from the levee right there at the county line. Sheriff Watson’s on his way out there with firefighters and units.”
“That’s out at the equipment barn by RRI’s land?” Winter asked.
Brad nodded.
Winter said, “I think I saw that explosion when we were in Klein’s suite.”
“I need to check it out,” Brad said. “I can have somebody take you home.”
“I’ll go with you,” Leigh said.
“If it’s going to take a while, Winter can drive you home and I’ll get a ride,” Brad said. “I know you want to see Cyn and I’m sure she wants to see you.”
“I think Cyn’s in good hands,” Leigh said, smiling and slapping his shoulder playfully from the backseat.
111
As soon as they drove out of Tunica County, they ran into a line of vehicles behind a highway patrol cruiser with flashing blue lights. Using the shoulder of the road, Winter pulled even with the cop. A patrolman wearing a Smokey the Bear hat with a plastic cover and a reflective vest over his raincoat was waving cars through, and he gave Winter an irritated glare. Brad climbed out and spoke to the patrolman, who nodded and waved Winter through.
At the gravel road ahead on the right, a sheriff’s department car illuminated the roadside. A female deputy looked in at Brad using her flashlight.
“Sheriff’s expecting me,” Brad said.
“He’s on up this road at an equipment shed, Sheriff Barnett,” the deputy said.
“What’s the deal?” Winter asked.
“Explosion. Big hole in the building, and what’s left of a limousine. Just park out of the way of the fire trucks. I’ll radio Sheriff Watson you’re coming in.”
As he drove in, Winter slowed and looked at the SUVs parked beside the graveled road at the mouth of the woods. A deputy was using his flashlight to peer into the last one, a Toyota Highlander with Tunica County tags. The other two parked behind it-a Yukon and a Trailblazer-had Tennessee plates and dark film on the windows.
Winter drove out into the open landscape. The fenced lot around the barn was alive with the flashing lights of cruisers, EMT buses, pickup trucks, and three fire trucks. Winter pulled through the open gates and parked. A dozen deputies were walking around the lot, shining flashlights on the ground to search for evidence.
There was indeed a hole in the barn, although the word hole didn’t begin to describe the opening in the shed, which was large enough to push an eighteen-wheeler rig through sideways. The aluminum roof that remained was blackened and peeled sharply back, and a fan-shaped blast crater extended out from it for fifty feet. The limousine, only distinguishable as such by its length, looked like a giant had picked it up, plucked off the tires, twisted it like a pretzel, and drop-kicked it through the hurricane fence. A section of the fence was down, and the poles that had held it up were bent over or snapped off.
“Stay here,” Brad told Leigh.
“Don’t worry,” she said, looking off to her right where her parcel was located. “I’m as close as I want to be.”
Winter followed Brad to the sheriff standing at the mouth of the hole, using a powerful battery-operated searchlight to peer into the building. Winter could see other moving light beams scattered around inside the structure. The sheriff saw Brad and handed the light to the deputy beside him.
“Brad,” Watson said.
“Sheriff Watson,” Brad said. “You know who was in there?”
“‘Was’ is the operational word,” he said. “I don’t know who they were, but they ain’t nothing at all now. I’ll get some dogs here from Jackson to help find the pieces. Doesn’t look like there are any survivors. They found a pair of boots with the feet still in ’em, some meat and scraps and cloth so far. Hopefully we can find some wallets or something. Whatever they were doing went wrong. I don’t imagine they knew what hit ’em. Looks like they must have had a few hundred pounds of dynamite in there that went up.”
“Sheriff!” a deputy hollered as he ran up, holding something pinched between his gloved fingers like it smelled bad. “It’s a gun with a silencer on it. Was back over there by the bottom of the fence.”
“Sure is,” Sheriff Watson said. “That ain’t any construction equipment I know about.”
“Destruction equipment’s more like it,” the deputy added.
Winter looked at the remains of an MP5SD with a blasted away stock and a bent suppresser. “Have you run the plate on that limo and the other SUVs?”
“I did,” Sheriff Watson said. “Limo belongs to an RRI corporation. You know of it?”
Brad looked at Winter, and Winter nodded his agreement that he should tell the sheriff. “The Roundtable casino is owned by RRI. They own all that land they’ve been clearing there in my county.”
“They own this land and the building too,” Watson said. “Why you suppose they had a machine gun?”
“I couldn’t tell you,” Brad said. “It’s a foreign corporation.”
“Foreign? Maybe it’s some terror mess going on and they were making those fertilizer bombs to attack Memphis with. I’m going to let the ATF figure it out. I called them soon as we rolled up.”
“Maybe you should call Homeland Security,” Winter said. “Give them those vehicle tag numbers.”
“First I’m going to search those vehicles,” Watson said. “Might get some idea of what they were doing here.”
“You could,” Winter said. “but they could be booby-trapped or some damned thing. If it’s a terror cell, the Feds will want to get right on it.”
“You run the other plates?” Brad asked.
Watson took out a notebook and opened it, using a penlight to read what he’d written. “The Toyota is registered to an Albert W. White, lives in your county.”
“He’s the security chief at the Roundtable,” Winter said.
“You know him?” Watson asked Winter.
“We know him,” Brad said. “He was assistant chief of police in West Memphis. Been with the casino since RRI bought it.”
“He clean?” Watson asked.
“Seemed all right.”
“The other two go to a Trinity Corporation. You know, I believe I’ll call the FBI, right now. They want to call in Homeland Security, they can do it,” Watson said. “Shit, we can’t do much. No fire, no bodies, no electricity. And we got this freezing rain that’s going to get a lot worse pretty quick. Who would you suggest I talk to at the casino about this?”