and that indicated the car had moved some after it came to a halt. No reversing marks though: the trail ended there at the water.
As well as the tire tracks he located two sets of footprints, flat-soled shoes on them both, that had to be the perp wearing Officer Michaels’ uniform and whoever it was he had with him. Moving a few paces into the brush, he picked up another set of prints that led back up the trail to the rise. No flat sole now, he recognized not only the pattern of the jungle boot, but also the nick in the heel.
For a moment he stared at the water then went back to his car. Unhooking the radio handset he rested an elbow on the roof.
‘Zero Six calling Marion County sheriff.’
It took a moment before a disembodied voice crackled back. ‘Copy that, Zero Six.’
‘I’m at Henry’s Bathtub, the old swimming hole on Route 49. Need you to put a call in to the police department in Winfield. Tell Chief Billings I think I might’ve found his cruiser.’
Eight
From his third-floor office Dr Beale could see the checkered barrier at the main gates where a young man in military uniform climbed into the back of the hospital Jeep. Below the window some of the male patients not confined to their cells were tending the lawns and flower beds under the watchful eye of an orderly.
From where he stood Beale was party to both sides of the ten-foot wall that separated the men from the women and he cast his eye across the grounds then looked back at the Jeep once more. At his desk he picked up a fountain pen and scribbled a couple of notes on a fold-over yellow pad, then screwed the top back on the pen and considered the telephone as if he was waiting for it to ring. After a moment he got to his feet and went back to the window. This time he concentrated on the far side of the wall where some of the female patients were gathered.
On his desk the phone rang and for a moment Beale seemed to study the little red light where it flashed at the base.
‘Yes, Alice?’ he said as he picked up. ‘What is it?’
‘Dr Beale, there’s a man downstairs to see you. He’s says his name is Isaac Bowen.’
The doctor seemed to hesitate. ‘All right,’ he said carefully. ‘Have one of the orderlies bring him up.’
He waited now, standing behind the desk with a little perspiration marking his brow and his eyes wrinkled at the corners. A few minutes later there was a knock on the door and orderly Briers came in wearing a short, white housecoat and green T-shirt: a big man, he was balding and heavyset with tufts of gray hair lifting from the neck of his T-shirt.
‘Doctor,’ he said. ‘Isaac Bowen is here to see you.’ He stepped to one side and the young man in uniform came in. Still the orderly hovered, but Beale was intent on his visitor. Blue-gray eyes, his hair slicked back from his forehead, the dress uniform he was wearing looked a little care worn but it was neatly pressed and there was shine to the toes of his shoes. For a moment Beale studied him and the young man looked back with neither of them saying anything, then Beale indicated for Briers to close the door.
When he was gone the young man approached the desk. ‘Thank you for seeing me, sir,’ he said. ‘My name is Isaac Bowen and I’m looking for my brother. I think he might be a patient here.’
Beale indicated an empty chair across the desk. ‘Take a seat, Mr Bowen. You look as if you’ve come a long way.’
‘I have, sir. From Vietnam.’ Wearily Isaac sat down. ‘My final tour. That’s three now and I guess they figure I’m done.’ Spreading a palm he gestured. ‘Did Ishmael tell you about me? My brother, sir, Ishmael Bowen. He doesn’t know I’m back yet. I wanted to surprise him before I go home to my dad.’
‘I see,’ Beale said.
‘Dad doesn’t know how I’m done over there yet. I was going to surprise him but only after I visited with Ish. The fact is our ship docked in San Francisco and the army flew me to Houston. I spoke to
As well as the tire tracks he located two sets of footprints, flat-soled shoes on them both, that had to be the perp wearing Officer Michaels’ uniform and whoever it was he had with him. Moving a few paces into the brush, he picked up another set of prints that led back up the trail to the rise. No flat sole now, he recognized not only the pattern of the jungle boot, but also the nick in the heel.
For a moment he stared at the water then went back to his car. Unhooking the radio handset he rested an elbow on the roof.
‘Zero Six calling Marion County sheriff.’
It took a moment before a disembodied voice crackled back. ‘Copy that, Zero Six.’
‘I’m at Henry’s Bathtub, the old swimming hole on Route 49. Need you to put a call in to the police department in Winfield. Tell Chief Billings I think I might’ve found his cruiser.’
Eight
From his third-floor office Dr Beale could see the checkered barrier at the main gates where a young man in military uniform climbed into the back of the hospital Jeep. Below the window some of the male patients not confined to their cells were tending the lawns and flower beds under the watchful eye of an orderly.
From where he stood Beale was party to both sides of the ten-foot wall that separated the men from the women and he cast his eye across the grounds then looked back at the Jeep once more. At his desk he picked up a fountain pen and scribbled a couple of notes on a fold-over yellow pad, then screwed the top back on the pen and considered the telephone as if he was waiting for it to ring. After a moment he got to his feet and went back to the window. This time he concentrated on the far side of the wall where some of the female patients were gathered.
On his desk the phone rang and for a moment Beale seemed to study the little red light where it flashed at the base.
‘Yes, Alice?’ he said as he picked up. ‘What is it?’
‘Dr Beale, there’s a man downstairs to see you. He’s says his name is Isaac Bowen.’
The doctor seemed to hesitate. ‘All right,’ he said carefully. ‘Have one of the orderlies bring him up.’
He waited now, standing behind the desk with a little perspiration marking his brow and his eyes wrinkled at the corners. A few minutes later there was a knock on the door and orderly Briers came in wearing a short, white housecoat and green T-shirt: a big man, he was balding and heavyset with tufts of gray hair lifting from the neck of his T-shirt.
‘Doctor,’ he said. ‘Isaac Bowen is here to see you.’ He stepped to one side and the young man in uniform came in. Still the orderly hovered, but Beale was intent on his visitor. Blue-gray eyes, his hair slicked back from his forehead, the dress uniform he was wearing looked a little care worn but it was neatly pressed and there was shine to the toes of his shoes. For a moment Beale studied him and the young man looked back with neither of them saying anything, then Beale indicated for Briers to close the door.
When he was gone the young man approached the desk. ‘Thank you for seeing me, sir,’ he said. ‘My name is Isaac Bowen and I’m looking for my brother. I think he might be a patient here.’
Beale indicated an empty chair across the desk. ‘Take a seat, Mr Bowen. You look as if you’ve come a long way.’
‘I have, sir. From Vietnam.’ Wearily Isaac sat down. ‘My final tour. That’s three now and I guess they figure I’m done.’ Spreading a palm he gestured. ‘Did Ishmael tell you about me? My brother, sir, Ishmael Bowen. He doesn’t know I’m back yet. I wanted to surprise him before I go home to my dad.’
‘I see,’ Beale said.
‘Dad doesn’t know how I’m done over there yet. I was going to surprise him but only after I visited with Ish. The fact is our ship docked in San Francisco and the army flew me to Houston. I spoke to
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