Lethal by Sandra Brown Page A

cluster-you-know-what.” Doral took a cigarette from the pack in his shirt pocket and held a lighter to it. Noticing Stan’s frown of disapproval, he said, “Hell, I know, but this situation… And I was two weeks into being a nonsmoker.”
    “I’m sixty-five today, and I ran five miles before dawn,” Stan boasted.
    “Big deal. You run five miles before dawn every day.”
    “Unless there’s a hurricane blowing.”
    Doral rolled his eyes. “And then you only run two and a half.”
    It was an old joke between them.
    Doral angled his exhale away from Stan, looking at him askance. “I figured wild horses couldn’t keep you away for long.”
    “Well, I appreciate your returning my calls and keeping me updated, but there’s nothing like being in the thick of it.” He was watching Fred, who was gesturing broadly as he talked to the men around him.
    Following the direction of Stan’s gaze, Doral noddedat the tall, skinny man who was giving Fred his undivided attention. “Tom VanAllen just got here. Fred’s filling him in.”
    “What’s your take on him?”
    “He’s the best kind of feeb. Not too bright. Not too ambitious.”
    Stan chuckled. “So if this investigation goes south—”
    “He catches the flak. Most of it anyway. If the feds can’t get to the bottom of this, how the hell can the local P.D. be expected to?”
    “It makes good copy.”
    “That’s the idea. Shift the heat off Fred and onto the feds. ’Course we’ll be keeping close watch over everything they do.”
    “Give me the behind-the-scenes details.”
    Doral talked for several minutes, but didn’t tell Stan much that he didn’t already know or hadn’t surmised. When Doral wrapped up, Stan asked, “No eyewitnesses?”
    “Nope.”
    “Then how’s it being laid on this Coburn?”
    “Only seven employees clocked in last night. Count Sam coming in, and that means eight people were here at midnight when the shooting started. Coburn’s the only one unaccounted for. At the very least he’s a person of interest.”
    “What motive would he have had?”
    “He locked horns with the boss.”
    “Fact or conjecture?”
    Doral shrugged. “Fact. Until somebody says otherwise.”
    “What do you know about the man?”
    “Well, we know he ain’t caught yet,” Doral said with exasperation. “Men and dogs have been all over that area where it’s believed he ran into the woods, but nothing’s turned up. Lady who lives around there says her rowboat’s missing,but she suspects the neighbor’s kids took it and didn’t bring it back. Officers are checking out that lead. We’ll see.”
    “Why aren’t you out there searching? If anybody can find him—”
    “Fred wanted to escort VanAllen out there, make sure he got seen on TV, establish that the feds are on the case. As city manager I personally welcomed VanAllen into the fray.”
    Stan processed all that, then asked, “What about the murder weapon?”
    “Coroner says a large-caliber handgun killed Sam. The rest were shot with an automatic rifle.”
    “And?”
    Doral turned to his mentor. “Nary a firearm found at the scene.”
    “Leading us to assume that Coburn is heavily armed.”
    “And has nothing to lose, which makes him dangerous. Public enemy number one.” Doral noticed his brother waving at them. “That’s my cue to come rescue him.” He threw down his cigarette and ground it out.
    Stan said, “Tell Fred I’ll join the volunteers later this evening.”
    “Why not now?”
    “Honor’s cooking me a birthday dinner.”
    “Out at her place? Long way out there. When are you going to persuade her to move into town?”
    “I’m making headway,” Stan lied, knowing that Doral was ribbing him about his running argument with his daughter-in-law.
    Stan wanted her to move into town. She demurred. He understood her wanting to stay in the house that she and Eddie had moved into as newlyweds. They’d put a lot of themselves into making it a home, spending most