Page 43 of Shelter for Martina

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I think so.”

“Here. Let me help you get the door open.” The man grasped the door’s handle. Bud pulled the inside handle and between the two of them, they managed to force the door open. His seat belt had tightened, and he struggled to get it off, but when he did, he climbed out with the man’s help and stood.

Yeah, everything seemed intact. He took a step or two. Nothing appeared to be broken. His ears were ringing, but that was about it. “Am I bleeding anywhere?” he asked the gentleman.

“No, sir, you don’t appear to be.”

“I called the police,” a lady yelled from a few dozen yards away.

“Iamthe police,” Bud managed to call back to her. “Call the state police post in Henderson. That’s my post.” He patted his pockets. “Where the hell is my phone?”

“Let’s look for it.” The man rounded the car, pulled open the passenger side door, and rooted around as Bud stood there, dazed. “Yeah, here it is.”

Bud tried to make sense of the screen, then hit a contact. “Travis.”

“Len, I just had an accident. Down near the store in Fordsville. I… I’m not really sure what just happened. Something wasn’t… Can you send somebody? Somebody to get me? And my cruiser? It’s pretty bad.”

“Jesus, Bud! I’ll be right there.” The phone went dead and Bud stood there, holding it. What the hell was happening? To his surprise, another car pulled up in just a few seconds.

The sheriff.

Four simple words rolled through his mind:What were the chances?That numb-nuts was never around, but he had a crash and the guy was right there? That didn’t seem right at all. “Well, well, well, trooper. Had a little too much to drink at lunch?” SheriffYoung cackled.

“I don’t drink on the clock. What the hell areyoudoing here?”

“Got a call that somebody crashed a car into a tree down here.” Bud took another look. Yep—that’s what he’d done and he hadn’t even realized it. Things were a little confusing at the moment. “What the fuck did you do, detective? Busy doing something else with your hands?”

Bud could remember opening the jerky, but that wasn’t… No. There hadn’t been a problem with that.

“You taking the accident report?” the man who’d stopped and helped him asked the sheriff.

“Yes, sir. Looks like I am.”

“Good. I need to tell you, something happened to his windows.”

Bud wheeled. “What do you mean, something happened to my windows?”

“I mean, I was right behind you. You were just driving along and all of a sudden, your front and back windows just exploded.”

Fuck. Somebody shot at me. There was no doubt in his mind. That was the only explanation. But who? And where?

And how convenient was it that Young was right there in minutes? Coincidence? Bud was pretty fucking sure it wasn’t.Keep him here. Don’t let him leave, Bud thought. He could hear sirens in the distance, and in seconds, cars started showing up. There was another deputy’s cruiser and two state cruisers. One of the state cars was TrooperMichaels, and the deputy was ArlenCole. Good. Two guys he trusted. He watched them walk toward the scene, watched Arlen stop and talk to SheriffYoung, and watched EldredMichaels come toward him.I’ll tell Eldred, not Arlen. He wasn’t sure why that thought crossed his mind, but it did, and even though he was a bit addled, he was going to trust his instincts. As soon as Eldred reached him, he grasped the younger trooper’s arm. “Don’t let Young leave the scene. Len’s on his way.”

Eldred’s eyes widened. “The captain’s coming?” Bud nodded. “Okay then. Young’s staying.”

“Good man. Can you just…” Bud could feel his knees shaking. “Can you help me? I need to sit down.”

“Sure, sure. Come on over here to my car.” In seconds, Bud was seated in Eldred’s open passenger side seat, leaning back just a little. Eldred handed him a stubby little bottle of water, and Bud sucked it down. God, his head hurt.

He felt a little spacey, and then another voice filled his surroundings. “Bud, you okay?”

When his eyes opened, Len was standing there. “Somebody shot out my windows.”

“What?” Len squatted in the open car door and looked up at Bud. “Are you sure?” he whispered.

“Go talk to that guy over there in the red tee shirt. He was right behind me. And don’t let Young leave. He was here in an unusually short amount of time. I don’t know how you’d work it out, but I’d love to have his gun and hands tested for gunshot residue.”

“I don’t know if I can justify that, but I hear what you’re saying. Okay. I’ll do what I can. There’s a bus coming. I want you to go to the hospital and—”

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