in Cossayuharie, even if they don't speak English. Get your men walking a search pattern. Tell 'em to shout
Huggins screwed up his face, as if he were swallowing something nasty. 'No soy del I-C- E. Eztoy ackee a-you-darrel.'
'Close enough.'
'Don't know why they can't just learn English,' Huggins said, stomping back to the pump truck.
'I didn't know you speak Spanish, chief.'
'The army likes its warrant officers to have a second language. Got the chance to polish it up in Panama and the Philippines.'
Flynn looked impressed. Of course, it didn't take much to impress a twenty-four-year-old who had never been out of New York State.
'C'mon, let's see if we can sort out these people.' He headed toward the battered van, Flynn falling in beside him. After a beat, so did Knox. 'You see or hear anything that might make you think they had another reason to flee?'
Flynn shook his head. 'Nope.'
'Well…' Knox sounded hesitant.
'What is it?' Russ stopped and faced his newest officer. She was biting the inside of her cheek. 'Listen,' he said. 'You know how you tell your kids there aren't any dumb questions? Well, there aren't any dumb details. Noticing things around you, at an accident, on a crime scene, patrolling, making a stop-someday it could make the difference between life and death.
She nodded. 'Okay. Yeah. Two of the guys left behind were talking about the accident. One of them was saying he heard two pops, you know, two noises like the tires were blowing out, and the other guy said he heard three.' She looked up at Flynn. 'But Officer Flynn said it was one tire blown out. When we got here.'
Next to him, Flynn stiffened. 'You speak Spanish, too? Why didn't you tell me? We coulda questioned those men!'
She shrugged. 'You told me our job was to secure the scene.'
Russ sighed. 'Hadley. We're a small department. We can't afford to have anybody sit on his ass and say, 'That's not my job.' Pardon my French.'
'I didn't-'
He held up one hand. 'We work as a team. If you have anything to contribute to the team, whether it's an observation, or a skill, or a piece of knowledge, I expect you to put it out there. Got it?'
'Yes, sir.'
He resumed his path toward the overturned van. Just outside his peripheral vision, he could feel Knox glaring daggers at Flynn. He decided to let it be.
He heard a distant whoop carried on the cooling air, and a moment later the Millers Kill ambulance crested the hill. It swung in as close to the van as possible, its EMTs on the ground and headed for the injured before the siren had died away.
No… that wasn't the echo of the ambulance. Far down the valley, where the road ran out of sight between the next mountain gap, he saw a whirl of red-and-whites, following the blazing headlights of a speeding vehicle.
'Christ on a crutch,' he said. Just what he needed, some jacked-up idiot thinking he could give one of their cruisers a run right through an accident site. 'Get back!' he bellowed to the Corinth paramedics, who had strapped a man onto a pallet and were now angling for the rear door of the ambulance. He turned back toward where Huggins was huddling with his volunteers. 'Everybody away from the road!'
IV
Where was-? He stalked toward the ambulance, his chest tightening, until he spotted Clare kneeling beside someone on another pallet, her BDUs pale in the gathering dark. Well away from the edge of the road. Okay. He saw a flicker of red hair out of the corner of his eye. 'Kevin, get on the radio,' Russ said. 'I want to know what the hell-' He broke off.
The speeding car was slowing down. Way down. Dust plumed beneath its tires as it veered onto the opposite shoulder and skidded to a stop. The MKPD cruiser rolled into place behind it.
Two men emerged from the car, a souped-up GTO that seemed too small for the size of its driver and passenger. Their dark-blond hair and long-limbed, powerful bodies were similar, although one had a russetty beard swallowing half his face and a couple inches on the other.
'Who're they?' Knox asked.
'Bruce Christie and his brother Donald,' Russ said.
'What're they doing out here?' Flynn said.
'Well, that's a question, isn't it?' Across the road, Eric McCrea was getting out of the squad car and settling his lid on his head. He was frowning at the Christies, but made no move to stop them. 'You two get over to the remaining passengers,' Russ said, without turning. 'Take their statements. Knox?'
'Yes, sir?'
'Remember what I said.'
'Yes, sir.'
The Christies struck out toward the van. Russ lengthened his stride, wanting to intercept them, wanting to appear casual. 'Can I help you two?' he asked, pitching his voice to carry above the babble of questions and complaints and radio reports filling the air.
The brothers stopped. Looked his way. The last time he had seen this pair, he had had his baton in his hand and was threatening to bust Donald Christie's kneecaps if he didn't back down and let his brother drive him home from the Dew Drop Inn.
Bruce, the smaller one-inasmuch as any of the Christie boys could be called smaller-laid a steadying hand on his bearded brother's chest. 'Chief Van Alstyne,' he said.
'Bruce.' Russ tipped his head toward their overheated muscle car. 'You two were in one all-fired hurry to get here.'
'Your guy was over to Donald's place when the call came in. We heard it was a van got rolled.' Bruce glanced over to where the van's undercarriage lay exposed. 'We got a van. Wanted to make sure it wan't ours.' Like all the Christies, Bruce had a strong up-country Cossayuharie accent.
Russ shook his head. 'Not unless you loaned it out to a nun.'
'A nun!' Donald Christie's eyes went wide over his red-gold beard. 'Hell, no. We don't know no nuns.' Russ caught a whiff of sheep and manure as the big man scraped his boots against the pavement.
'He knows that, Donald.' Bruce, widely acknowledged as the brains of the family, rolled his eyes. 'What happened?'
'Tire blew. She lost control.' Russ shrugged. 'We've got three or four injured but nothing life-threatening.'
Bruce gestured toward the pump and hose trucks with his squared-off chin. 'Is it likely to blow? Cast off any fire?'
'Nah.'
'Then why's the fire department trampin' around all over the place?'
Russ twisted, to see a line of Huggins's volunteers disappearing between the trees. He turned back to the Christies. 'Why so interested?'
Bruce nodded toward the woods. 'This is Christie land. All up and down this part of the mountain and the pasturage below.' He pointed to where, in the distance, house lights could be seen twinkling through the dusk. 'That's Donald's place, there. If there's gonna be a fire, we want to know.'
