Page 29 of So Insane

Tooley moved gingerly down the slope, far more so than Faith, who had to wait several times to allow Tooley to move ahead of her. Michael saw the reason for that when both reached the ground. What he had assumed was simply Tooley's naturally moon-shaped face was actually a perfectly normal face swollen almost beyond recognition. When he saw the pulped nose and grotesquely bruised eyes, he was so shocked he forgot that his pistol was still drawn until Tooley tentatively lifted his hands.

He holstered his handgun and looked at Faith questioningly.

“He attacked me,” she explained. “He learned why that’s a bad idea.”

She looked at him, and Michael didn’t like what he saw behind her eyes. He pressed his lips together and said nothing.

Turk bounded into Faith’s arms, barking and wagging his tail exuberantly. Michael took Tooley from Faith and led him a few yards away.

He looked at the man, whose docile expression indicated he had no intention of trying to escape again. Considering how labored his breathing sounded, Michael wasn’t surprised.

The rumble of rotor blades cut through the night air. Michael pulled his flashlight out and shined it into the air, waving it back and forth like a beacon. A few minutes later, the helicopter’s lights came into view. The pilot deftly maneuvered it so its right skid rested on a wider part of the footpath a few dozen yards down the mountain. Its rotor barely cleared the mountain, but the pilot must have had military experience because he held the bird steady as a rock.

Marshal Kinzel waited for them at the helicopter. His eyes widened when he saw Tooley. “Jesus, agent Prince. What did you do to him?”

“It wasn’t me,” Michael said.

Kinzel’s eyes widened even further. He lifted his gaze to Faith, who said, “He attacked me and tried to push me off of the mountain. I had to defend myself.”

“With a jackhammer?” Kinzel asked, more to himself. He turned to Tooley. “Did you try to kill this agent?”

Tooley narrowed his eyes, which only accentuated the bruising on his face.

Kinzel’s jaw tightened. “There’s a beam inside the chopper next to the port side bench seat. Cuff him to that.”

Michael looked dubiously at the chopper. The right skid rested just on the edge of the path. If it moved while Michael was climbing aboard, it was a long way down.

Michael shook his head and muttered under his breath, “They don’t pay me enough for this.” Louder,” he said, “All right, Tooley. Nice and easy.”

Once everyone was aboard, the pilot pulled smoothly away from the mountain and headed back to town.

Faith looked as impressed with the pilot’s skill as Michael was. She tapped her headset and asked, “Marine Corps?”

“52nd Helicopter Squadron,” the pilot replied, “Seventeen years out of Norfolk except for three tours in Iraq.”

“22nd Infantry Brigade,” Faith replied. “That’s some damned fine flying, sir.”

“Just another day’s work,” the pilot said, clearly pleased with the praise. “Hoo rah.”

"Hoorah," Faith said with a grin.

She turned to Michael, and her grin faded when she saw his face.

“We’ll take him to the station in Granger first,” Kinzel said. “Once we’ve questioned him, we’ll arrange transport back to the Boise office and from there back to Florence.”

He looked pointedly at Tooley, who lowered his eyes as much as he could with his face beaten so badly.

Michael leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. He highly doubted he would sleep on the fifteen-minute flight back to Granger PD, but it gave him a reason not to look at Faith right now.

Come on, man, he thought to himself. He tried to kill her. You don’t think she’s lying about that, do you?

The truth was that he didn’t know what to think.

***

“You can understand why we have a hard time believing you.” Michael said.

Tooley looked from Michael to the stone-faced Kinzel, who stood with his arms folded across his chest and glared at him. Michael had a feeling that Tooley was in for a rough time of it back in Florence. It wouldn't surprise him if this was the last anyone saw of Tooley for a very, very long time.

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