Read Online In Harm's Way by Ridley Pearson - Free Book Online

you.”
    “And that four-way with the Braves and Phillies.”
    “You follow baseball, I see.”
    “Play a little. Softball. Leagues, you know?”
    “Let me guess.” He sized up Walt. “Catcher or outfield? I’m going with catcher.”
    Walt shook his head. “You are a pro.”
    “It’s what I do.”
    “And me,” Walt said, “I chase down complaints when neighbors hear a gun being shot in their backyard.”
    “My own backyard, but point taken.”
    “I’m not going to argue with you,” Walt said, still trying his best to sound awestruck. “You nearly talked Steinbrenner out of A-Rod. I’m supposed to argue with that?”
    “I wasn’t close. That got all blown out of proportion.”
    “And tonight,” Walt said. “How close were you tonight?”
    “Excuse me?”
    “There are laws about the discharge of firearms within a prescribed distance of a residence.”
    “It was a prowler.”
    “So you said.”
    “The guy was on my property. Sneaking around out there.” He threw the drink forward to point and sloshed the contents of the glass onto his hand.
    “Let me guess,” Walt said. “The call just now? Your lawyer?”
    Wynn licked the booze off his wrist. “Yeah, my lawyer. But it’s not him I was shooting at. It was Martel Gale,” Wynn said. “You follow football?”
    “Not so much. I’ve never heard of Martel Gale. Should I have? I’m a batboy through and through.”
    “New Orleans Saints. Pro Bowl center linebacker. Phenomenal quickness. Great hands. And vision—it’s all about speed and vision for a linebacker. Gale had it.”
    “Had,” Walt noted. “Retired?”
    “Imprisoned. Recently paroled. I’m on a list server,” Wynn said. “It’s a state DOJ thing from Louisiana. Because I’m at risk—a possible target. Turns out Gale was paroled two weeks ago. When he was convicted, the court awarded performance bonuses he was owed—a lot of money—to be donated to worthy causes, a halfway house for battered women, a legal fund for victims of abuse. I oversaw the distribution of that money. Gale took issue with that. Blames me. Thinks I cheated him. He thought the bonuses should have been donated to his savings account. Hence the threats and me being on the list server. Hence the e-mail I got that he’d been paroled. Never mind that they sent it out two weeks late.”
    “And you have reason to believe Martel Gale is here in Sun Valley?”
    “Mark my words: it was Gale out there tonight. If I hit him, lock me up, Sheriff. If I killed him, throw a parade. Check him out. You can do that, right? Look up his victims—the conditions of his victims. Look up a girl named Caroline Vetta.”
    “The homicide in Seattle,” Walt said, a spike of heat flooding him. He’d been looking for a way into a discussion of Boldt, and Wynn had just handed it to him.
    “Impressive.”
    “I’d wanted to talk to you about that.”
    “Me? Why would you want to talk to me about Caroline?” Back on his heels.
    “Was she on the list server?” Walt asked, beginning to draw tangents. “Did she have reason to fear Martel Gale?”
    “Any woman alive has reason to fear Gale. He eats ’em for breakfast. Treats ’em like his personal punching bags. Did Gale know her? Wouldn’t surprise me. He attracted the lookers like flies to shit. But if she was on the server, it didn’t do her any good, did it? The alert came two weeks late. You believe that shit?”
    “There’s a Seattle detective, a Sergeant Boldt, would like a word with you, in private, about Caroline Vetta. He’s suggesting you meet over here, not in Seattle, in order to avoid the press.”
    Wynn coughed a laugh. “Shit, you guys are all a piece of work. You’re telling me I’ve got to get back on the horn with my lawyer?”
    “If you want to involve your lawyer,” Walt said, “I think that might be agreeable. The idea is to keep it out of the press, not to pull an end run on you.”
    “As if the cops care.”
    “This one does, apparently.