In the Woods by Merry Jones

locals.
    â€˜Besides, it’s not a militia,’ Daniels insisted. ‘They’re just regular citizens, prepared for any disaster. I prefer to think of them as survivalists.’
    Jim sputtered. ‘Survivalists don’t shoot people.’
    â€˜Doesn’t matter what you call them.’ Slader eyed Jim. ‘It’s best not to mess with them. You hear me, Jim? Let the authorities investigate and work this out. For what it’s worth, I personally doubt that Hunt Club members had anything to do with Al’s death.’
    â€˜Because?’
    Slader blinked slowly, bit his lip. ‘Because I know these people. And that’s what I think.’
    Jim pursed his lips, nostrils flaring. ‘I’ll tell you what, Captain. I’m not about to let this go and neither’s my employer. If I were you, I’d do my job and catch Al’s killer quick, before the big guns bring the wrath of God down on you.’ He paused, met Slader’s eyes. ‘Anyone needs me, I’ll be back at our – at my campsite.’ He turned and marched out of the office, banging the door behind him.
    Slader’s eyes narrowed and he folded his arms. Before he could speak, Angela started up again.
    â€˜Can I just point out that nobody can help this dead guy, but my Phil might still be alive and saved? Can we please get back to looking for Phil?’
    Daniels reminded her that he had two teams and a number of volunteers out looking for him. ‘We’ve got a few more hours of daylight. I’m heading back out myself now. Want to join me?’ He looked at Hank and Harper, who looked at each other.
    â€˜You up for it?’ Harper asked.
    â€˜If you are.’
    â€˜I’m coming, too,’ Angela insisted. She stood and joined them.
    Daniels gave them each bottles of water, excused himself to exchange a few words privately with the captain, and led the little search party back out into the woods.
    Damn damn damn damn! This shooting was bad news. Those idiots. What were they thinking?
    The sector chief paced, lit a cigarette. Finally, he used his landline to contact his number-two man who was probably out picking pumpkins for his kids and didn’t pick up. He left a message, still steaming.
    â€˜Do you know what the hell is going on? Campers found one of those pipeline walkers shot this morning. Nobody said anything about shooting anybody. Now they’re going to send in state cops and industry people, maybe Feds. The woods will be crawling with who knows what kinds of badges—’
    In the middle of his sentence, Hiram picked up. ‘What was that, Chief?
    â€˜Oh, you’re there. Did you hear what I said?’
    â€˜I heard you say a pipeline walker got shot. Which one?’
    â€˜The dark-haired one. Named Al Rogers.’
    â€˜Shit. He wasn’t so bad. It’s the other one who’s the pain. You ever run into him?’
    The chief blew out a cloud of smoke. ‘What’s wrong with you, Hiram? Don’t you see what’s going to come down now? Cops. Investigators. The pipeline company’ll send an army—’
    â€˜Don’t get your panties in a knot. People get shot out in the woods every now and then. What’s the big deal?’
    The chief took a drag on his cigarette. Hiram sounded way too complacent. ‘Hiram. What do you know about this?’
    â€˜Nothing. This is the first I’ve heard about it.’
    â€˜Seriously? A man gets shot in these woods and you know nothing about it? You expect me to believe it? You have eyes and ears every-damn-where. And when I’m not around, you’re supposed to keep a handle on these people.’
    Hiram was quiet for a breath. ‘I’m not in charge of anybody.’
    â€˜Bullshit. We have a shared interest. We’ve agreed to agree on any action –
any
action – before implementing it. If you know something about this, Hiram—’
    â€˜I