Read Online The Sword of God - John Milton #5 (John Milton Thrillers) by Mark Dawson - Free Book Online Page B

twenty years old, but he acts like he’s a big kid most of the time. But he’s sweet and honest and trusting, and he’s my brother, you know?” She swallowed. “Yeah, he’s my brother, so I love him.”
    Milton was still looking at her. “Okay,” he said, encouraging her on.
    “Last week he went out into the woods north of town, and he hasn’t come back. And I need someone to help me find him and bring him home. That’s why, well…” She gestured towards him. “That’s why I need your help.”
    “How many days has he been away?”
    “Four.”
    “What about your parents?”
    “My mother died when I was little. The cancer got her. My daddy died six months ago. It’s just me and Arty now.”
    “The police?”
    “They won’t do a thing. They say he’s a full-grown man and that means he can come and go as he pleases. But he’s not an adult, least not in his head. He can barely look after himself most times. He’s not fit to be out there in the woods.” She felt the tears come and furiously fought them back; she had promised herself that she wouldn’t cry in front of him. “It’s on me, Mr. Milton. I have to look after him.”
    “It’s all right,” he said, smiling at her.
    She stiffened her lip, determined not to show weakness in front of him.
    The waitress came back with Milton’s food and her coffee, and the pause gave her a moment to compose herself again. Milton sprinkled salt and pepper over his eggs and cut his bacon into smaller pieces. He put one of them into his mouth and chewed.
    “You know where he is?” he asked between mouthfuls.
    “I’m pretty sure.”
    “And the sheriff won’t go up there and get him back?”
    “If he’s in the woods, he’s right out in the woods. You’d have to trek to go find him. It’s not as simple as driving up there.”
    “So why me?”
    “You’re an outdoorsman, right?”
    “I suppose so.”
    She shrugged. “So that’s what I need.”
    “There are others, though, right? There are dozens of people here who know what they’re doing out in the woods. People who know these woods. I don’t know them at all. Why don’t you ask one of them?”
    “I didn’t tell you all of it yet. Not the worst part.”
    He started on his eggs. She found that she was clenching her fists, her fingers curled in so tightly that her knuckles were raised and red.
    “About six months ago, after my daddy died, these four young men came into town. I hadn’t seen them before, and none of the kids I went to school with had, either. Then, maybe a week after they showed up, they vanished just as fast as they arrived. Then we started hearing the rumours. People were saying that they were part of the gang who’ve been robbing banks around here, Michigan and Wisconsin, and over in Canada. Do you read the newspapers, Mr. Milton?”
    “Not for a few weeks.”
    “There was a robbery three months ago; a gang of four men went after a bank in Marquette. Took fifty thousand dollars, they were saying, but, this time, instead of getting away on motorbikes like they usually did, they had a problem. This security guard came out of the bank with a shotgun and told them to stop except they didn’t stop, they shot and killed him stone dead.”
    “And you think the men in town were the same as the men who’ve been carrying out these robberies?”
    “I don’t think it, I know it.” She paused to make sure it all came out right. “Arty has a job in the gas station. Well, he had one, before he went off up there, I doubt he’s got it now. There’s a store, a little one that sells things for cars, drinks and candy and stuff like that, and he’s in the booth serving people. One day he came home, and he told me that these four guys had come into the place to get gas for the car they were driving. He said that they started to talk to him and, the way he said it, they treated him like he was their best friend in the whole world. The thing with my brother, people normally just make