Every Second

74

Coyote Mountains, New York

Trooper Larry Mattise stood at the checkpoint near Fox Ridge, his patrol car blocking the road as he directed drivers to pull to the side. Traffic trickled at this extreme edge of the dragnet, the junction of Birch Creek Road and Red Hawk Way.

A dog’s bark pulled Mattise’s attention to where a trooper, a Greene County deputy and a K-9 unit from Albany were searching the van of a family from Vermont. Next in line, an older man and woman in a Mercedes from New Jersey waited their turn. Behind them in a polished Lincoln was an arrogant, “Do you know who I am?” injury lawyer, who did TV commercials promising sky’s-the-limit settlements.

Mattise’s job was to ensure all civilian and commercial traffic was checked by the roadside search teams at his point. He was also directing every newly arriving law enforcement vehicle to go down Birch Creek Road, where resources were needed most. They were still setting up and expanding the search boundaries miles in every direction, pulling in people from across the region.

He studied images of the suspects on his phone. Most of the photos were crisp: Jerricko Blaine, from Dallas; Doug Gerard Kimmett, from Binghamton, New York; Jake Sebastian Spencer from Minneapolis; and a grainy head shot of Adam Chisolm Patterson of Chicago. As he reread the key facts and threat summary, an alert and photos from the FBI came through concerning a new, fifth suspect: Todd Dalir Ghorbani, of Springfield, Massachusetts, believed to be driving a 2014 red Chevrolet Malibu.

This case was busting wide-open on all fronts, Mattise thought as a fixed wing plane flew overhead for the first time.

Good, they needed more help in the air, since it was impossible to cover every road, back trail and private path in this corner of the state. If you took in the Coyotes, the Blackheads and the Catskills, you were looking at something like a million acres to search. Sure, the report of gunfire near this end of Fox Ridge gave the SWAT teams a focal point for convergence, but man, these guys could be anywhere.

Who knew? They could be long gone from here.

Mattise resumed studying their faces, lifting his head at the rumble of an oncoming vehicle. It was a marked New York State Police SUV. He didn’t recognize it right off. The brakes emitted a gentle squeak as it halted and Mattise approached the trooper behind the wheel.

“Where you coming from, pal?”

“Hudson,” the driver said. “What’ve you got going here?”

“Roadside search. And way up there along the ridge-” he nodded to the mountains “-they’re trying to nail down a report of automatic weapons fire.”

“That right?”

“Yeah, it was on the radio. And they just updated the mugs and info on the suspects.”

“What do we have now?”

Mattise showed the driver the pictures on his phone. The new cop never removed his dark glasses. His jaw muscles bunched and he licked his lips a couple of times as he studied the five faces. He seemed to be sweating a bit. After a moment, Mattise pulled his phone back and asked: “You’re here to help, right?”

The man nodded.

“Then you keep going down Birch Creek a few miles,” Mattise said, pointing. “They’ll assign you down there.”

“No, I have to go down Red Hawk.”

“Orders are to send everybody to Birch Creek.”

A sudden wind kicked up and blew through.

“My staff sergeant will kick my ass if I don’t do as instructed,” the trooper said.

“Well, my lieutenant’s orders are clear-I gotta send everyone down Birch Creek Road.”

The dog searching the Vermont van barked and turned its head to Mattise and the trooper, who both glanced at it.

“Whose pup is that?” the trooper asked.

“Albany bomb squad. They haven’t detected anything here so far. Listen, buddy, I’ll call my lieutenant, get him to call your staff, sort this out.”

The dog started barking again, as if he wanted to have a go at them.

“Yo!” the dog’s handler called to them. “Everything okay over there?”

“We’re fine!” Mattise called back, then to the new guy he repeated, “So, want me to call my lieutenant?”

“Naw, I don’t have time for that,” the trooper said. “And my boss will kill me. I’ve got to take Red Hawk.”

“You’re not hearing me. Nothing’s going on there. It’s outside the current perimeter. Nothing’s set up yet. We need people at Birch Creek. I don’t advise going down there.”

“Well, that’s where I’m headed anyway. If you get any trouble from your boss, just blame me.”

Mattise stared at him for a moment, then stepped back.

“What’s your name?”

“Hennesy. Carl Hennesy.”

“Where’re you from, Hennesy?”

“D troop, but for the last month I’ve been on assignment with K. Look, let’s keep it simple and say we never talked. I gotta go.”

“Fine. It’s your ass, Hennesy.”

The trooper offered Mattise a casual parting salute and wheeled down Red Hawk Way. Mattise was frustrated as he searched in vain for the troop and zone prefix marking on the unit, but he managed to lock on to Hennesy’s license number.

He shook his head as the dog continued barking. That’s right, every now and then you encounter a prick, he thought, staring hard at the SUV before it vanished down Red Hawk. At least the jerk’s out of my zone.

But as Mattise walked back to his car, his disgust gave way to a feeling of unease that pinged in a far corner of his gut.