The Primal Connection (7 page)

* * * *

Benin slid out of the seat and drew his weapon. Hand motions directed a half-dozen agents to specified, predetermined areas. Say what you will about the FBI, they were efficient. The men slid into position without a sound. The gravel would be a barrier for them same as for Terry, but their constant training gave them enough of an edge to leap across the breadth of it almost easily.

The first agent was reaching for the doorknob when the first shot rang out. Every one of the agents dropped to their knees, swiveling their heads around to try and pinpoint the location of the sound.

The second drew a more direct response as Benin shouted, “Take the door! NOW!”

The first agent reared up. At six five and three hundred plus pounds, he was a monster of a man resembling a Viking in both size and coloring. He charged the door just as a third shot rang out. Slamming the door with his full weight, he smashed through just as another shot sounded. Catching his balance, he moved toward the door, followed by a second agent that could have been his twin but for the color of his skin. His Hispanic heritage gleamed through, along with an equal resolution to get his job done, which at this moment meant finding and neutralizing this shooter.

A second later, though, it all became moot as they heard a voice hollering, “Relax, boys! You can take a breather if you like. The shooting was just me cutting the chains here. Didn’t know if you guys were bringing a key.”

Benin felt himself flush to the point that his neck got hot. The son of a bitch did it again.

* * * *

It didn’t take long from there. A med team arrived in the last vehicle and took custody of the girl. Terry almost had to pry her arms from around his neck. Her grip was amazing. It took a moment for Terry to realize Charlie was doing what he could to repair anything he could internally. It probably wasn’t much, but it was something, and Charlie obviously felt guilty, given the role the Chrliti had played.

Benin, meanwhile, stood back patiently as the girl was extricated from Terry. He would not add to her misery. He was saving up all he could to land it on Terry.

His action didn’t surprise Terry. He knew he was going to say something, and he had no doubt it was not going to be any more pleasant than their last little get together.

As the girl finally seemed to lose her grip and the two giants lifted the prostrate form of their attacker, Terry readied himself for the onslaught he knew was coming. Benin was, if nothing else, predictable. Terry knew he was as happy about this outcome as anyone, but he also knew he wasn’t going to be happy about the way he had handled it. Nor was he going to let Terry bask in the warm glow of victory.

The problem for Benin was that while he was pleased and determined not to let anyone know it, the rest of the participants in this little drama were more than willing to let their feelings be known. Among them, arriving just after the girl had released her grip, were the girl’s parents, the sheriff and the mayor that had agreed to Terry coming on as a consultant. Amid tears and handshakes, Terry got the feeling he was going to be the talk of the town for a time.

He didn’t care. He’d be on his way tomorrow and that would be it. The girl would go home, and Benin would go write his reports. He would probably try to downplay his role, but Terry truly didn’t care.

He was in the middle of his thoughts when he felt a hand grasp his shoulder and spin him around. The next moment, a huge man with sandy blond hair and a huge square jaw, that reminded him immensely of Tina’s face, was hugging him. Behind him, a woman stood holding Tina’s hand as she watched the man embrace Terry. It was easy to guess it was the girl’s parents.

The big man confirmed that a moment later as he broke his grip and boomed at Terry, “They said you followed this guy all the way out here on a hunch! I don’t know if that is how you do what you do normally, but if it works this good all the time, keep on doin’ it! And thank you!”

Suddenly, the big man broke down in tears. He was a strong man, unused to crying or showing any emotion for that matter. Tonight, though, he was a father that had just been run through a gamut of emotions that he was equally unused to and finally decided that little display of emotion felt good.

The woman holding Tina’s hand fought back tears as she hugged the girl laying on the gurney then moved to Terry. Benin watched as the woman threw her arms around him and hugged him so hard, Terry swore she popped his back. Finally, she broke the hold and said simply, “The only thing I know to say is thank you! Thank you for saving my little girl!”

The father, Larry Mays, looked at the pair. His wife, Cheri, grabbed him again and applied another hug, which Larry joined in on adding to the pressure. Terry began to wonder if it was possible to be thanked to death.

As for Lloyd Benin? He watched the entire display silently. He had wanted to interrogate Bridger to find out what his secret was. Second to that, he wanted to find a way to see if he could get him on board at the bureau. It was just good sense. The man was good, but he would be better if they could get him under control. The problem was that he knew that would never fly with this guy. Still, he watched, looking for a hint of a way into the man’s psyche.

If only he had known.

While Benin bided his time, a local news crew, alerted by the same mystical process reporters have used since the beginning of time, showed up. Along with them came the local sheriff, Mike
Ironhand
Hanson, followed closely by the mayor of Lester, Raymond Hall. Given the shellacking the pair had taken after the first murder, he for one was beyond ecstatic to be present at the capture of the killer. Especially given the rescue of the local girl. Played right, he could easily use this to cement his re-election.

Hanson, as well, figured to use the rescue to further his career. To his mind though, the best way to handle this was to get this guy Bridger and these FBI agents out of the picture as soon as possible. Sharing the spotlight was not his idea of a smart move.

What neither of them knew was that there was another party to, if not their conversations or their inner thoughts, at least, their actions. The sheriff, as it turned out, was one of the occupied.

A weakened version, thanks to the sheriff’s low bioelectrical field, he had no contact with the sheriff and, to tell the truth, from what Charlie could pick up, no desire to. His Chrliti stayed mainly because he liked the slow laid-back nature of the town and was basically too lazy to go through the process of hunting down another host.

He was, however, an observant sort and a good judge of character. Good enough that he knew the sheriff was a two-timing bastard that had a bunch of irons in the fire, all of them crooked as a dog’s hind leg. He was behind several shady operations that put money in his pocket at the expense of others. Usually truckers who ran afoul of him and wound up paying fines just short of reaching the point one of them decided to report him to someone he didn’t intimidate. Another reason he wanted the FBI out of his county.

The mayor was, as Charlie’s newfound kinsman observed, as clueless as a politician in confession. Most of his days were spent trying to balance a twenty-first century budget with a nineteen fifties tax base. He was a good man trying to make the best of a bad situation, made worse by a crooked sheriff. His antics were known statewide, but like most minor despots, he was tolerated mainly because it was less trouble than trying to prosecute him.

Terry found the conversation interesting as Charlie translated it to him. It was an old story. And it was the same almost everywhere. Those in charge used that position for their own gain and anyone was just another mark.

The Chrliti was having the talk with another Chrliti occupying one of the FBI agents that had been first through the door. He was having trouble understanding the reasoning behind the love of the lifestyle the sheriff provided the occupant but it wasn’t his problem. Soon, he would be gone back to his office in Billings and all of this would be a memory that he wouldn’t have to visit ever. Although he enjoyed the action and pace of his host’s job, he did not like the cases like this one. He had been on the case here before and seen what this monster had done to the Regan girl when he came through before. He’d also been on the investigative team in Stokee, Montana when the hooker there had been brutally murdered. They had had no leads and no clues in that or any of the others, although there was plenty of forensic evidence to connect the crimes. There was no way this guy was getting away.

Through the connection between the two, Charlie learned that the man’s name was Alvin Cale. He was a cabbie and part-time car porter. Although his van was registered in Washington, he really had no permanent address. Thanks to the computers so prevalent in modern law enforcement, in minutes they had as much information as a dozen agents could have found and correlated in a week. There was no way this guy wasn’t going away.

Benin, meanwhile, was looking at their prisoner. Like always, there was nothing special about him really. No telltale sign that a sickness of the mind guided it. He looked like any other man approaching middle age. Just a normal guy that should have been worrying about bills and taxes and the like. To Benin, how the man had wound up here was a mystery. He thought to himself sadly that it always was.

Terry, on the other hand, was getting the four-one-one from Charlie in the form that Charlie could do best. He could tell Terry in English, but it would take time, and despite his intelligence, Charlie still had trouble expressing himself fully. So, he used a kind of pictographic language that he had developed for times like this. While fairly useless in a fast-moving situation, it was great when they had a little time.

With it, he was able to let Terry know the situation around him. He managed to get the whole thing out just as Mayor Hall sidled up, determined to get a picture with the hero of the hour. But to his surprise, Terry turned around and shielded his face from the reporter cameras, grabbing the mayor and pulling him close whispering, “I can’t be on the six o’clock news! Letting my picture out like this can screw up my thing, understand?”

The mayor frowned. Of course, he could see that. The trouble was that that left him without a hero to share the limelight with. Terry came up with a quick answer.

“Don’t be too disappointed, Mayor. A simple answer is the truth. You can make me anyone you want this way. And to show my appreciation, that ten grand reward the city council put up? I’ll make you a deal. You make sure that that girl gets all the psychological help she needs, and trust me, she will need a bunch, you can just pay me five grand and keep the rest. Just keep me out of the papers, and it’ll all be all right.”

The mayor might have been a hayseed, but he was still a politician. And five grand was a good payday. As for the girl, he could make sure he followed Terry’s instructions by proclamation, as an act of charity. Played right, he could get the same effect from that as he was looking for from riding Terry’s coattails. And he didn’t have to share anything. It would take a little doing, but he could make it work. A personal check to Terry and a little stroking of the council and it would all work out in his favor. Terry, though, was still talking.

“I need to get out of here before one of these vampires decides we’re taking too long. Any ideas?”

Already basking in the thoughts of what he could do with the extra money, the mayor popped back into the reality of the moment with a flourish. In less than a minute, he had Deputy Abbot escorting him away from the gathering crowd while the mayor went through a practiced rigmarole that confused and distracted the reporters and everyone else.

Everyone, that is, except Benin, who had watched the whole thing and recognized it from stories that he had heard about Bridger. He had done basically the same thing on the first case Benin had heard of him being part of. So, he had slipped away from his own men under the pretense of needing to relieve himself.

Walking off at an angle to the direction he saw the deputy walking Terry, he rushed up the short canyon wall, beating the pair to the top.

Not that it did him any good. Charlie detected him as soon as he came within range of him. He alerted Terry at once, only to find that Terry had spotted him as well. He had opted to keep it quiet as the deputy started talking.

“Listen, Mr. Bridger, I wanna apologize for the way I acted on the phone when you called. It was just that Agent Benin said you were just another hustler trying to cash in on the last killing we had here. It wasn’t like there was really anything to do for Astrid.”

Terry stopped him there. “Did you know her, too?”

For a moment, the deputy looked ambushed, like he hadn’t been ready for that question. He swallowed hard and then looked at Terry through forlorn eyes.

“I didn’t know her like I know Tina. She was a couple of years ahead of me in school. She left once to go to college, but she came back. Never did know why. She was all right though, just kinda standoffish. Nobody got into her world without permission, and she didn’t give it often.”

For some reason, Terry sensed that the deputy had tried on more than one occasion. He had probably given up and moved on long ago, but the memory remained. If she had lived, he might have found a way to wrangle that invitation sooner or later, but her death ended that line of thought. For a moment, Terry wondered if Cale was in more danger from Tina’s father or this guy. He doubted either would act on the thought, but he was ready to bet they had both had it.

For some reason, Terry felt a moment of camaraderie with the man. Even though he hadn’t lost anyone or anything in so brutal a manner, he could still relate.

He patted the man’s shoulder, saying simply, “I don’t know what you lost there, friend, but please believe me, it will get better.” He wanted to say more, but there was nothing else to say.

It appeared to be enough as the man’s eyes misted over. He tried to say something, but the words froze in his throat. All he could do was nod and walk away quickly, keeping his face averted.