Read Online Night Eyes (The Detective Temeke Crime Series Book 2) by Claire Stibbe - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Claire Stibbe
Ads: Link
glance at the sliding doors. A large bird exploded from the rail where a feeder hung, wings thudding against the wind. It took off when the trees began to bend in the downdraft of the helicopter.
Temeke headed for the front door and peered outside. Up there in the sky was a big gray belly and skids, and rotors that drowned out his thoughts. A duffel bag thudded to the ground about thirty feet from the cabin door, bouncing twice before rolling to a stop.
He heard an echo, heard the changing pitch of the helicopter engine as it lifted, banking to the left and rotor blades clawing for the sky. It was the acrid oil and smoke that bothered him. He couldn’t see what had caused it, not immediately.
The bag drove him outside and a shot from the woods. The helicopter seemed to buck like a horse with a throaty roar as bullets pinged off the tail boom and sparks lit up the sky. It was the one that ripped through fuel tank that brought it down, flames and shrapnel streaking through the trees. Like a great beast that had lost the battle to live, it lurched to one side, rotors pinned into the earth and squealing out a death rattle.
Instinct made Temeke reach for the fire extinguisher before running towards the wreckage. He was almost twenty feet away when he saw the flash, heard the explosion and his legs buckled at the tremor. The rain was coming down hard now, droplets patting the top of his bald head and trickling down his back. It was hot, too damned hot.
The helicopter lay in the brush on the opposite side of the track. Smoke trailed upwards into the sky and then the flames dimed to a ghostly amber.
It took him a few seconds to breathe again, heat searing his cheeks. He could hear Malin behind him, shouting for him to stay down. He covered his face, lungs burning from the smoke, could barely see the blackened co-pilot through the shattered glass on the flight deck still belted to his seat. There was another officer on the ground tangled in a burning clump of box elder.
“Danny,” he murmured. It was Danny Michael wasn’t it? Blond hair, stocky build, worked up at Twin Hawks regional airport. He’d met him over a month ago when they airlifted serial killer, Ole Eriksen from the Tolby Ranch. Now he was motionless, face melting like a wax doll.
The tingling came first and then the pressure in his chest. Temeke tasted the acrid bile in the back of his throat before he vomited. He hardly felt Malin’s strong arms pulling him back into the trees away from the smoke, shouting things he couldn’t hear.
He perched on the front bumper of the car trying to catch his breath and staring at a tangled frame of tail and struts. The debris had settled in a quarter-mile strip and sporadic fires flickered across the plain. He coughed again, tongue swollen and neck crawling with ash.
“Thank you,” Temeke said between coughs. He couldn’t stand. Couldn’t feel his legs either. “Call Hackett, love. We’re going after him.”
“I can’t get near them,” Malin moaned, fumbling for her radio.
Temeke heard her relay the terrible code for officers down … all patrols respond . He could hear her sobbing through one hand, the other pressing the radio to her chest. And then he remembered the drop.
“The bag,” he wheezed. “Get the sodding bag!”
Hand over mouth, she shuffled forward a step or two.
“Anything?” Temeke said. It was the words he was dreading, the words he knew she would say.
“It’s gone.”
ELEVEN
Something big fell out of the sky, and the explosion when it came brought Adam to his knees. He lay in a clump of wet leaves against the slope at the back of the house, watching a spire of gray smoke as it climbed above the trees. Then a whump of flames, sparks spitting onto the dead brown earth.
It was then he remembered the shot. A loud echo somewhere to the left of him where the wood glowed an angry red and something broke through the smoke on the crest of the hill. A face so pale against a tree,
Temeke headed for the front door and peered outside. Up there in the sky was a big gray belly and skids, and rotors that drowned out his thoughts. A duffel bag thudded to the ground about thirty feet from the cabin door, bouncing twice before rolling to a stop.
He heard an echo, heard the changing pitch of the helicopter engine as it lifted, banking to the left and rotor blades clawing for the sky. It was the acrid oil and smoke that bothered him. He couldn’t see what had caused it, not immediately.
The bag drove him outside and a shot from the woods. The helicopter seemed to buck like a horse with a throaty roar as bullets pinged off the tail boom and sparks lit up the sky. It was the one that ripped through fuel tank that brought it down, flames and shrapnel streaking through the trees. Like a great beast that had lost the battle to live, it lurched to one side, rotors pinned into the earth and squealing out a death rattle.
Instinct made Temeke reach for the fire extinguisher before running towards the wreckage. He was almost twenty feet away when he saw the flash, heard the explosion and his legs buckled at the tremor. The rain was coming down hard now, droplets patting the top of his bald head and trickling down his back. It was hot, too damned hot.
The helicopter lay in the brush on the opposite side of the track. Smoke trailed upwards into the sky and then the flames dimed to a ghostly amber.
It took him a few seconds to breathe again, heat searing his cheeks. He could hear Malin behind him, shouting for him to stay down. He covered his face, lungs burning from the smoke, could barely see the blackened co-pilot through the shattered glass on the flight deck still belted to his seat. There was another officer on the ground tangled in a burning clump of box elder.
“Danny,” he murmured. It was Danny Michael wasn’t it? Blond hair, stocky build, worked up at Twin Hawks regional airport. He’d met him over a month ago when they airlifted serial killer, Ole Eriksen from the Tolby Ranch. Now he was motionless, face melting like a wax doll.
The tingling came first and then the pressure in his chest. Temeke tasted the acrid bile in the back of his throat before he vomited. He hardly felt Malin’s strong arms pulling him back into the trees away from the smoke, shouting things he couldn’t hear.
He perched on the front bumper of the car trying to catch his breath and staring at a tangled frame of tail and struts. The debris had settled in a quarter-mile strip and sporadic fires flickered across the plain. He coughed again, tongue swollen and neck crawling with ash.
“Thank you,” Temeke said between coughs. He couldn’t stand. Couldn’t feel his legs either. “Call Hackett, love. We’re going after him.”
“I can’t get near them,” Malin moaned, fumbling for her radio.
Temeke heard her relay the terrible code for officers down … all patrols respond . He could hear her sobbing through one hand, the other pressing the radio to her chest. And then he remembered the drop.
“The bag,” he wheezed. “Get the sodding bag!”
Hand over mouth, she shuffled forward a step or two.
“Anything?” Temeke said. It was the words he was dreading, the words he knew she would say.
“It’s gone.”
ELEVEN
Something big fell out of the sky, and the explosion when it came brought Adam to his knees. He lay in a clump of wet leaves against the slope at the back of the house, watching a spire of gray smoke as it climbed above the trees. Then a whump of flames, sparks spitting onto the dead brown earth.
It was then he remembered the shot. A loud echo somewhere to the left of him where the wood glowed an angry red and something broke through the smoke on the crest of the hill. A face so pale against a tree,
Similar Books
