The Edge

Chapter 55

“My God, Devine, you are a one-man trouble magnet,” exclaimed Fuss as she examined Devine’s shot-up car outside the police station. “Did you get a good look at them?”

“The shooter I saw had on a ski mask. I already told you about the vehicle. I didn’t get the plate because there were no plates. They had at least one shotgun and one MP5.”

“How in the hell did you get away, again?”

He didn’t want to tell her about the unexpected aid from quarters unknown. “Outdrove them.”

“But this happened last night and you didn’t call us,” she said. “Why?”

“I didn’t want you guys walking into a trap where you were outmanned and outgunned. I did pass it along to my superiors. They’re following it up.”

“Same people as the other time, you figure?”

“Probably, with a fresh crew,” noted Devine. “Where’s the closest airport?”

“The closest major airport is in Bar Harbor. They have twin asphalt runways, and commercial and private jets can land there.”

“Then my people can check the flight data there for the last couple of days and see if something pops.”

“What are you going to do for wheels? You’ll freeze to death in that thing. And the windshield crack’s gotten so big I’d have to ticket you. And there’s no rental place around.”

“I made other arrangements.”

As he finished speaking, Annie Palmer drove up in her grandfather’s old pickup truck. Her scooter was tied down in the truck bed.

She rolled down the window. “It’s not fancy but it does run and the heater works. And it has one of those old track tape player things and a box of tapes. My granddad was a big fan of some guy named Hendrix and a band called... the Doors?”

Devine cracked a grin. “Jimi Hendrix and Jim Morrison, what more does one need? I’ll drive you back to the Brew and offload your scooter.”

“Thanks.”

Devine turned to Fuss. “I’ll let you know what we find out.”

“Thanks. And don’t get this truck shot up, okay?” warned Fuss.

Palmer looked surprised and then noted the shattered condition of Devine’s Tahoe, with particular focus on the small holes in the windshield.

“Wait, are those—”

Devine opened the driver’s side door. “Slide over. You have hungry customers also craving caffeine and I’m one of them.”

As they drove off she said, “What did you mean last night when you said someone killed my grandfather?”

“I’ll explain all that later, I promise. But I need to think it through and then dig up some more facts, okay?”

“Okay,” she said, though she didn’t look or sound happy about it.

He dropped Palmer and her scooter off at Maine Brew, had some breakfast, and got back into the truck.

He saw Earl’s box of tapes, which was on the floorboard. “Damn,” he said to himself as he looked at the array of works by iconic musicians.

A master sergeant he’d served with overseas had taught him about sixties rock-and-roll and it was now Devine’s favorite genre of music. A minute later he was listening to Hendrix bang out “The Star Spangled Banner” like no one else ever could, even with the left-handed Hendrix playing the right-handed guitar upside down. And the Kinks, the Who, and the Grateful Dead were all up on deck.

He tapped the steering wheel in rhythm with the music while he drove to the location where he’d seen the light on the shore. He pulled onto the shoulder, got out, and walked in that direction. And then he understood why this spot had been chosen. Amid the rock there was a short stretch of sandy beach. He didn’t think anyone would want to wade through waist-high icy water to get to shore once the rocks kept the smaller boat from proceeding any further. But here they could have run right up on the beach, dropped off whatever, and the boat would have returned to the larger vessel out in the Gulf of Maine. He walked around to see if he could find any evidence of the people who had been here the previous night, like a cigarette butt or a footprint, but there was nothing. They had come and gone without leaving a trace. Devine figured this was not their first rodeo doing whatever they were doing.

He got back into the truck and drove the short distance to where the Escalade had rammed the Tahoe and started firing at him. He saw lots of shiny glass shards from his back window and the windshield, and the part of the Tahoe’s rear bumper that had been torn off with the impact between the two trucks. He found some shell casings and pocketed them. He doubted he would ever find a gun to match them to, but one never knew.

Devine then walked to the spot where the Escalade had spun off the road. The ground was all chewed up here but he could see the tire tracks clearly. He also noted where the SUV had gone back on the road. So it had not been disabled, but merely knocked out of the chase by the anonymous shots.

He stood off to the side of the road and tried to re-create the scene in his mind.

Devine had performed a J-turn and was heading in the opposite direction. The Escalade had mimicked this maneuver and was speeding after him when the shots had struck the larger SUV.

He looked in front of him and then behind, trying to configure a rough trajectory of the third party’s shooting lanes in his head.

Devine walked along the side of the road about a hundred yards and stopped, then looked up and down the road. It was all open field except for this spot where a towering multilimbed evergreen sat.

He walked over to it and looked all around. A nice spot to do some decent sniping and not be seen, he concluded. But not a single shell casing could he find, so they had policed their brass, or maybe their polymer. But how had they gotten here? He’d seen or heard no other vehicle. And surely he would have under the darkened, isolated conditions. And they couldn’t have been simply waiting here, guns ready, for Devine and a chase car to just happen by.

There was clearly more here than met the eye. And then a thought occurred to him.

He called Campbell. “Is there a reason you didn’t mention you sent backup to cover my rear flank?”

“You had enough on your plate.”

“But I saw or heard nothing. And the only possible sniper position had no trace.”

“It wasn’t a person.”

“Come again?”

“It was an armed drone employing AI to fire a machine gun on a target, Devine.”

“Seriously?” said Devine.

“Yes.”

“Then real soldiers will be obsolete before long. Did you catch the guys, then?”

“Agents Saxon and Mann were close, but they found nothing.”

“Couldn’t the drone follow them, or shoot out the tires?”

“It would have, but it suffered a mechanical failure and had to be recalled. It might have been shot for all I know, and those things are not cheap, let me tell you. They’re examining it as we speak. We also checked the film footage from the drone’s camera, but there was nothing helpful. Nifty piece of driving on your part, by the way.”

“They might have flown into Bar Harbor airport. That’s the closest for jets.”

“We’re already checking the flight logs. Got anything new to report?”

Devine told him about Alex starting to remember details from that night. “It was a friend, someone she knew.”

“Think they’re still in town?”

“I believe Earl Palmer would say they are, if he could.”

“But again, we come back to how would someone leverage Palmer to pretend to find Jenny’s body? Does the man have skeletons in his closet?”

“By all accounts he’s a stand-up guy.”

“Everybody has some shit that stinks, Devine. Everybody. So find his, and maybe that leads you to where you need to go. Oh, and about saving your ass last night? You’re welcome. But don’t take that to mean you’re special or anything. I just don’t have time to train a new one.”

Campbell clicked off.