Supreme Justice

Chapter Thirty-nine

Tom Oswald had not told Jerry Swanson that he had scanned the fingerprint he’d lifted from the China Sea into AFIS, and he had not told him about his conversations with Monte Pike and Max Dietz, but the day after his meeting with Mary Garrett, he decided to bring his partner up to speed. He didn’t get the chance right away, because they were called to a traffic accident minutes after they got in their car. As soon as they were able to leave the accident scene, the dispatcher sent them to deal with a domestic beef. Swanson knew the husband and was able to talk him down before any real damage was done. After a whispered conference, the officers decided to leave the now weepy couple in each other’s embrace rather than make an arrest. Soon after they drove off, Oswald confessed.

“Fuck, Tom, the chief told you to forget about that fucking ship,” Swanson said.

“I said I’m sorry.”

Swanson looked away. He was very upset. They drove in silence for a while.

“Do you think we’ll have to testify?” Swanson asked.

“We might,” Oswald answered.

“I wish you’d talked to me before you did anything. I’m involved too.”

“You’re right. I was just pissed off by the way that asshole from Homeland Security treated us. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

“Amen to that.”

“If we do have to testify, we’ll just tell what happened. The whole thing stinks, and I’d love to expose the bastards who pulled this off.”

“Amen to that, too.”

“Anyway, it’s out of our hands now, and I’m sort of relieved that the ship is someone else’s problem.”

The next hour was quiet, and Oswald was starting to think that they were going to have it easy until their shift ended. Then dispatch sent them to an all-night convenience store/gas station on a deserted stretch of road near a group of rental cabins. The cabins were on a river that was heavily fished in summer, but there were few people around now that winter was creeping in.

Dispatch had told them to contact Jeff Costner, a store customer, who had called 911 to report that he’d been robbed at gunpoint in the parking lot of the store. He said he had not been injured, but the dispatcher said that Mr. Costner sounded very frightened. A cop working a small jurisdiction like Shelby knew every square inch of his beat and everyone in it. Oswald guessed that Costner must be a fisherman who was staying in one of the cabins, because he’d never heard of him.

The cabins and the convenience store were owned by Jed Truffant and his wife, Tiffany. The couple made their nut during tourist season and turned a small profit out of season. They were never going to get rich off the store, but they both loved to fish and seemed content with what they had. They were regular churchgoers and compassionate people, so Oswald assumed they would be comforting Mr. Costner in the warmth of the store. That’s why he was surprised to see a man in a windbreaker sitting on the curb outside the store with his head resting in his hands.

Swanson parked a few spots from the man, and the officers got out.

“Mr. Costner?” Tom asked as he walked in front of the patrol vehicle. The man stood up and smiled. When the officers were a few steps away, he pulled a coal black Glock 37 handgun out of his jacket and shot Swanson between the eyes. Oswald froze. Two bullets spiraled into his chest before he could reach for his weapon. The killer’s next bullet blew through his forehead, and he was dead when he hit the asphalt.

The door to the store opened, and the blond man who had identified himself as Arn Belson of Homeland Security at the China Sea walked out. He had hidden behind the counter next to the body of Tiffany Truffant when he saw the patrol car pull into the lot because he was worried that the officers would recognize him from the China Sea. Belson studied the officers.

“It’s them,” he told the shooter. “Good work. Let’s adios before anyone else shows up.”

They walked around the corner to where their black SUV was waiting in the shadows.

Later that night, Jed Truffant would find the bodies of the officers and his wife when he came from their cabin to spell Tiffany. By that time, the killers were almost in Seattle.