The Terror of Living by Urban Waite Page A

bounced up and broke his right arm, beat in his face, and then snapped his neck."
        "Easy," Drake said. He looked at Sheri.
        Driscoll gave a quick laugh.
        "Is this something we should be worried about?" Drake asked.
        Driscoll went on chewing, and when he was finished, he said, "The only person who needs to be worried is that second man. The case we have is gone. We have some two hundred kilos of coke and no one to charge it on. I'd guess if he hasn't been shot, drowned, stabbed, or otherwise eliminated, it's coming to him soon. It's certainly easier to kill him than it is to kill someone like you."
        "Why do you say that?"
        "You're a deputy. That's an automatic death penalty in some states."
        "Not this one," Drake said.
        "Look, there's nothing here to worry about."
        Sheri gave Drake a worried look.
        "I'm just trying to say good-bye," Driscoll said. "In style." He lifted his cutlery and gave the room a little homage.
        "About that second man, I went down and checked out a few different stables today. Can't say I turned up much."
        Driscoll paused, fork held in his hand, frozen midway to his mouth. "Are you a detective now?"
        "No. But I can't just sit around with nothing to do."
        Driscoll gave Drake a cold little smile that said just about all Drake needed to hear. "We have absolutely no case. Unless that man decides to turn himself in, which I'll tell you now would be a tragic idea, considering. We might as well just file this one away and burn the evidence."
        "We still have the horses," Drake offered.
        "One is dead. And unless the other one learns to talk…"
        Drake chewed his food. Sheri was watching him. "Did anything come of the saddles?"
        "The saddles are too common. The map was unmarked and the GPS looked to be just as clean. No fingerprints from the second man on any of it. There was a set of keys on the kid, just a key ring and an ignition key."
        "I'll bet that key fits the lock of a car up near Silver Lake," Drake said.
        "Already picked it up and brought it down to Seattle. Nothing there. It looks like it was just transportation. The kid had only been out of Monroe for a week when you picked him up."
        "No kidding."
        "It's probably better this way. He would have been on the return flight for sure. Better not to waste the money on the ticket."
        "That's not a nice thing to say," Sheri said.
        "It's the truth," Driscoll said, pushing his plate away. He asked if they wanted dessert.
        Sheri looked disgusted. "I'm actually a little tired. I'd like to get back to the hotel."
        "That sounds fine," Driscoll said, "but do you mind if I hold on to your husband an hour longer? I'd like to talk him up a bit, see what his thoughts are on the whole thing."
        "If we're leaving tomorrow," Drake said, "I think we should get back to the hotel."
        "Don't be like that, Drake," Driscoll said, cleaning the food from his teeth with a toothpick he'd produced from his pocket. "Put her in a taxi and we'll talk."
        "I don't think that's -"
        "It's fine," Sheri interrupted. "You can talk a bit more. I'll be fine. Like he said, there is no danger now that the kid is dead."
        Driscoll waited for Drake to put Sheri in a cab. When Drake came back in and sat down, Driscoll said, "I don't think she liked what I had to say."
        
        
        HUNT SLOWED THE BOAT AND WATCHED IN THE DISTANCE as the ferry crossed on its way to Victoria. The sun had fallen, and for an hour he waited in a small cove south of the border. Light faded slow to the west, and for a while he simply sat and watched it go, the black coming over him, and where the sky and ocean met, a violet haze.
        Though Eddie had given it to him straight, Hunt didn't like the idea that he owed someone his life, or that everything they had worked