A muffled voice came from inside the house.
Pete Ashland rushed into the room, a shotgun in his hand, trained squarely on the intruder.
Zeb emptied the glass and placed it back.
‘Sir, I didn’t kill your son. Or any of those campers.’
Blue eyes pinning him down. Unwavering. Examining him. The weapon not moving an inch.
One of those salt-of-the-earth kind of men, Zeb decided.
He didn’t say any more, letting the grandfather make his mind up.
A refrigerator hummed somewhere, a clock ticked.
And then Ashland moved.
He lowered the shotgun and placed it on the table.
‘I am sorry, Mr. Carter,’ he replied formally. ‘Sara told me everything. Once the cops had gone. I was planning to come to the station. See what was happening. Bail you out if necessary.’
‘They released you?’ the girl couldn’t contain herself.
‘I released myself.’
‘Well,’ Pete Ashland fingered his beard, his eyes crinkling. ‘Looks like you’ll definitely need my help.’
Zeb forestalled any more questions. ‘Sir, I need a phone.’
‘Yes.’ He didn’t ask why. Dug into his pocket and withdrew one.
He sent a text message to a number.
Isambard.
The message let the recipient know that he was using an unsecure phone. And that there were civilians around.
The cell rang promptly.
‘Where are you? What happened?’
Clare, his boss, didn’t beat about the bush. She didn’t waste time on pleasantries. There would be time for questions. Such as why his sat phone had gone off the radar. Why his GPS trackers weren’t online.
Now wasn’t the time.
‘Erilyn, ma’am.’
He heard her fingers click.
‘Idaho?’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘What’s the problem?’
‘Namir is here.’
He heard an indrawn breath. She listened without interruption as he briefed her rapidly. He didn’t tell her about Joachim Tavez.
That, too, could wait.
He could feel Ashland and Sara’s eyes on him. Questions on their faces. Amazement. Worry.
‘Our team is scattered. I’ll organize SWAT. State police. I’ll get back to you.’
‘One more favor, ma’am.’
‘Ask.’
‘Pete Ashland,’ he smiled slightly when the grandfather’s bushy eyebrows twitched. ‘He still has some doubts.’
‘Give him the phone.’
‘My boss,’ Zeb explained and handed the cell over.
‘Hello?’ Ashland spoke uncertainly.
He turned sideways, looking at the back yard, hugging Sara as she tried to overhear.
‘You are, ma’am?’
‘The president, ma’am?’ His voice rose.
He stood straight. Meeting the girl’s eyes when her mouth rounded in an O.
‘No, ma’am. That won’t be necessary. I am sure he’s a busy man.’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ he replied drily, this time looking over Zeb. ‘He’s bleeding. Shoulder. Thigh. But he seems to be functioning.’
‘Yes, ma’am. I can see that. Thank you, ma’am. It is an honor.’
He ended the call and pocketed his cell.
His eyes were still wondering.
‘She said she could get the president to call me. If I still needed convincing. She can do that?’
‘Yeah.’
‘How can I help?’
A siren wailed as a cruiser rolled up the driveway.
Zeb thumbed towards the front of the house.
‘With that, for starters.’