Private Rogue

Chapter 16

We made slow progress to Pleasant Valley. Powder was being dumped by thick gunship-gray clouds that hung low over the mountains. Jessie drove carefully — our journey was interspersed with glimpses of others who hadn’t been so cautious and had come off the roads. We’d always stop and ask if they needed help, but most already had all the aid they needed from other passing motorists, and those who didn’t were waiting for roadside assistance to tow them out of trouble.

“I’ll never understand people who don’t want to help,” Jessie said as we reached the outskirts of Pleasant Valley. A roadside sign told us it had a population of 9,608.

“It’s cold. Maybe people don’t want to risk catching a chill,” I replied.

Jessie shook her head. “No, I was talking about the chief of police. Why be such a stickler?”

I shrugged. I’d encountered plenty of sticklers over the years and it was impossible to say why they were so inflexible. They were generally almost impossible to reason with, and yet utterly convinced they were right.

“I think it’s a sign of a lack of confidence,” Jessie declared. “They can’t think creatively, so anything that requires them to step outside the rules is scary.”

“Maybe,” I replied. “Or maybe they just enjoy making life difficult for everyone else.”

Jessie smiled, and took a right onto a narrow drive that ran between two stretches of woodland. A set of fresh tire tracks had been carved in the new snow, and we followed them round a gentle bend to a parking area that lay in front of a single-story house. The tire tracks ran up to the adjacent double garage.

Jessie parked and we got out. I grabbed my coat from the back seat. Jessie did likewise and we started toward the house as we pulled them on. The snow fell so thick and fast I could already feel it beginning to soak through my clothes in the short time it took me to zip up my coat. The swirling storm muffled all sound, and even the crunch of our footsteps took on a muted quality as we approached the front door.

It opened before we reached it and a tall, gray-haired man with a muscular physique filled the frame. He wore a checked shirt, faded jeans and a pair of black socks. The glint in his eye and ramrod posture said ex-military.

“Mr. Eisner?” I guessed. “Edward Eisner?”

“That’s right. But only my dad called me Edward. It’s Ted,” he replied. “Whatever it is you’re selling, I’m not interested. I want you off my land.”

“We want to ask you about Elizabeth Singer,” I said.

“Haven’t seen her for years,” Ted replied, a little too quickly for my liking. “She left the army back when I had a lot less gray hair. I thought she was wasting her life and I told her so. We haven’t spoken since.”

I looked at Jessie and could tell she was picking up the same dishonesty.

“Now I already asked you to leave,” Ted said.

“We’re sorry to have troubled you, Mr. Eisner,” I said.

Jessie and I returned to the Nissan and jumped in. She started the engine. I watched Ted Eisner eyeball us as Jessie turned us around and drove away from his house.

“He was lying,” she noted.

I nodded. “Pull over once we’re out of sight.”

Jessie continued along the drive until we were almost at the intersection with the road. We were shielded from the house now by a thick screen of pine trees, so she pulled over, killed the engine and we jumped out.

We picked our way back through the trees. I was grateful for the snow, which enabled us to move silently. We followed the treeline around the edge of the parking area until we were level with the house. There was a yard, maybe twenty feet or so, separating the trees from the side of the building.

“Ready?” I asked.

Jessie nodded and we set off, crossing the gap in a matter of moments. We pressed against the wall of the house and worked our way along. We moved to the nearest window, and I glanced in to see a living room full of framed photographs of Ted Eisner in uniform, and caught the polished shine of medals and trophies everywhere. These weren’t for swimming. There was no mistaking this was the home of a decorated veteran.

I signaled Jessie and we crept toward the rear of the house. We passed another couple of windows that gave us views of a bedroom and a corridor. I could see shadows moving against the corridor wall. Ted Eisner was not alone.

We went on, round the back of the house, past another bedroom, until we came to a window beside the back door. I approached it carefully and glanced in to see Ted Eisner sitting in a chair by his kitchen table. He was facing me, but didn’t register my presence. His attention was on the two men in black tactical gear, standing directly in front of him. Both had pistols drawn, and the taller of the two used his to strike Ted’s shoulder. I could almost feel the force of the blow. The veteran groaned as it knocked him out of his chair.

“Tell us where she is,” his assailant demanded. The man had a thick Russian accent.

Ted looked up at the man with steel in his eyes. “Do your worst. I ain’t saying nothing.”