"Like I said, 'Give it up!'" Stalling, stalling ...

"Harvey, start up the plane!" Gabriel stepped forward with Volont, toward the opening to the shed. They stopped, so close to the front of the barn that Volont, a few feet in ahead of Gabriel, saw George. He only glanced at him, and then looked steadfastly over in my direction. Control.

There was a little commotion inside the shed, near the plane. I more sensed it than actually saw anything. But a few seconds later, Linda Grossman emerged, hesitant, with a gun in her hand. "I'm going to the house!" she yelled. "We're taking my daughter!"

I saw Gabriel's lips move, but didn't hear what he said. Linda stepped slowly into the yard area, obviously afraid of being shot any second. She was concentrating mostly on the house, and began to move more quickly the closer she got.

s.h.i.t. Now we'd have Carrie in the plane as well. No chance at all. Gabriel was just about home-free.

Just as Linda Grossman got to the porch door, she turned, looking toward Gabriel. That's when she spotted George. That's also when she screamed, and started to bring up her gun. Things happened very, very fast after that. In the s.p.a.ce of two seconds...

Hester stepped out of the porch door of the Grossman house and slammed into Linda, pitching her to the ground.

Carrie stood in the door, and screamed, "Mommy!"

Gabriel knocked Volont down, and stepped toward Linda Grossman, bringing his gun around toward Hester.

I fired two rounds at Gabriel, and missed. He shifted his aim toward me.

And George stepped out from the side of the barn, and fired once. There was a flash of pinkish halo around Gabriel's head, in the bright sunlight. He went to his knees, and pitched forward, facedown into the mud and snow. It was freaky, seeing him do that and make no attempt to break his fall. He was dead before he hit.

Hester, firmly pressing Linda Grossman's head into the snow with her knee, pointed her gun into the shed. "Come out, now!"

I stepped around the tire as I saw Harvey Grossman emerge from the shadows. His hands were in the air. I advanced slowly toward him, pointed my gun at his chest. "You're under arrest!"

In the silence that followed, Volont expressed his grat.i.tude to George. "You f.u.c.king idiot! I needed him alive!"

If George had decided to shoot again, I wouldn't have stopped him. In the distance, I could hear the wop, wop wop, wop of Huey rotor blades. Closer, I could hear Carrie crying and screaming at Hester. of Huey rotor blades. Closer, I could hear Carrie crying and screaming at Hester.

"Don't hurt my mommy, you ... you d.a.m.n cop!"

Epilogue.

As far as the Beauregard Beauregard goes, there was some truly great TV coverage, with her being pulled to sh.o.r.e by the two diesel locomotives. Endless interviews with the "survivors." A great print article by Nancy, with exclusive photos by Shamrock. The two of them covered the entire event, with a little help from their friends. If they ever were really angry at me, it didn't last too long. They sent me a tin of cookies with a note. WE FORGIVE YOU. JUST DON'T LET IT HAPPEN AGAIN. It was signed NANCY & SHAMROCK. goes, there was some truly great TV coverage, with her being pulled to sh.o.r.e by the two diesel locomotives. Endless interviews with the "survivors." A great print article by Nancy, with exclusive photos by Shamrock. The two of them covered the entire event, with a little help from their friends. If they ever were really angry at me, it didn't last too long. They sent me a tin of cookies with a note. WE FORGIVE YOU. JUST DON'T LET IT HAPPEN AGAIN. It was signed NANCY & SHAMROCK.

I'll tell you, they got some great great photos of Adams and me at the stretch van. photos of Adams and me at the stretch van.

ATF had a bomb team search the General Beauregard General Beauregard just as soon as the last person came off the boat. There were no more bombs. The marine engineers told us that if the railroad yard diesels hadn't been ready when they were, we likely would have lost the boat, and most of the pa.s.sengers. Points to Lamar on that one. just as soon as the last person came off the boat. There were no more bombs. The marine engineers told us that if the railroad yard diesels hadn't been ready when they were, we likely would have lost the boat, and most of the pa.s.sengers. Points to Lamar on that one.

At any rate, Cletus got two years for conspiracy. A plea bargain. He claimed he'd been duped. I sort of think that he was. Well, with a lot of his own effort.

Blitek was charged with attempted murder, but skated on a plea of insanity. Honest. I couldn't believe it. As far as I'm concerned, he was inept and fearful, not suicidal. But the prosecutor said we wouldn't be able to prove who he was trying to kill, since he hadn't actually killed or hit anybody. My argument was that we couldn't prove he was suicidal, since he was still alive. Prosecutors have no sense of humor. I'm told that all Blitek does at the Mental Health Inst.i.tute is argue politics with the doctors.

Freddie, the poor devil who started the whole thing off by missing his cousins, got a five-year suspended sentence for burglary. One of the few plea bargains I agree with. And I know Fred. We'll probably get him for burglary again someday. He won't be able to help it.

Freddie's aunt, the mother of the murdered Colsons, came to see me. She wanted to know what the man was doing in the house, when he killed her sons. Why he was there in the first place. I finally told her that he was a burglar, too, but a much more dangerous one than her sons.

The best news, from an evidentiary point of view, was that we finally had access to the real fingerprints for Gabriel. We were able to match them as far back as an ejected rifle cartridge found at the Stritch farm where the photographer was shot. Finally closed that case.

Both Harvey and Linda Grossman told us that Gabriel had, indeed, killed the two boys at the farm. He had thought they were cops, and never changed his mind. Harvey's in prison, doing an armed robbery stretch for the boat business, time plus fifteen years for having the handgun in his possession. He was, it turned out, a convicted felon. Federal. Volont had been onto him from the start, and made sure Gabriel was able to recruit him. Seemed kind of unfair to me. After all, he never would have been there in the first place if it weren't for Volont. Linda got a twenty-year suspended sentence. Her daughter, Carrie, was the main reason for that.

I never told anybody what Volont told me about the devices Gabriel wanted to buy. But I watch the news every night, waiting. Somebody, after all, has probably purchased them by now.

Volont said that when he was at the body of the first surveillance agent, he could hear somebody say, "He's where?" inside the shed. Turned out that Carrie was on the phone to her dad, telling everybody where we were. That's why he jumped over the snow pile. When he did, he just about landed on the second surveillance agent's dead body. Gabriel had apparently killed him just before we got there. As Volont was checking the body, Gabriel was behind him. Must have been quite a surprise.

Oh, one more thing. George told me that Volont was really mad at him. Kept making the claim that he could have gotten the gun away from Gabriel, and it wasn't necessary for George to shoot at all. Right. The thing was that, this way, we all d.a.m.ned well knew where Gabriel was now. For the first time.

The thing that bothered me most, though, was the hurt look on Hester's face when Carrie was yelling at her. She deserves so much better than that.

Glossary AG: Attorney General, either State or Federal Attorney General, either State or Federal ATF: Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms, sometimes referred to as BATF, a bureau under the U.S. Department of the Treasury Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms, sometimes referred to as BATF, a bureau under the U.S. Department of the Treasury CIA: Central Intelligence Agency. An agency of the U.S. Government Central Intelligence Agency. An agency of the U.S. Government COMM: Police Radio call sign of the Communications Center in Nation County Police Radio call sign of the Communications Center in Nation County DCI: Division of Criminal Investigation. A Division of the Iowa Department of Public Safety Division of Criminal Investigation. A Division of the Iowa Department of Public Safety DEA: Drug Enforcement Administration, an agency of the U.S. Government Drug Enforcement Administration, an agency of the U.S. Government DIA: Defense Intelligence Agency, the Intelligence a.n.a.lysis section of the U.S. Department of Defense Defense Intelligence Agency, the Intelligence a.n.a.lysis section of the U.S. Department of Defense DNE?: Division of Narcotics Enforcement, an agency of the State of Iowa, and an offshoot of DCI Division of Narcotics Enforcement, an agency of the State of Iowa, and an offshoot of DCI DNR: Department of Natural Resources, an agency of the State of Iowa Department of Natural Resources, an agency of the State of Iowa FBI: Federal Bureau of Investigation, a bureau of the U.S. Department of Justice Federal Bureau of Investigation, a bureau of the U.S. Department of Justice ISP: Iowa State Patrol, the uniformed division of the Department of Public Safety Iowa State Patrol, the uniformed division of the Department of Public Safety ME: Medical Examiner Medical Examiner NASA: National Aeronautics and s.p.a.ce Administration National Aeronautics and s.p.a.ce Administration NRO: National Reconnaissance Office National Reconnaissance Office NSA: National Security Agency National Security Agency SA: Special Agent, either of the Iowa DCI or the FBI Special Agent, either of the Iowa DCI or the FBI SAC: Special Agent in Charge, either of the DCI or the FBI Special Agent in Charge, either of the DCI or the FBI SO: Sheriff's Office Sheriff's Office

Some Useful "Ten Codes"

The so-called "ten codes" were developed in the early days of police radio communications. Many times, in those days, the first part of a transmission would be lost due to equipment vagaries, while the length of the transmissions and their clarity was improved by a.s.signing numbers to the most common messages. Therefore, the "10" was used to alert the listener that a message number was to follow. This system has remained in use, and seems likely to do so for the foreseeable future.

10-2 Good Signal, usually used to mean simply "good"

10-4 Acknowledged, frequently used to indicate agreement 10-5 Relay 10-6 Busy (as in doing cop work), often used as a "do not disturb" sign on the radio 10-7 Temporarily Out of Service (as in lunch) 10-8 Back in Service 10-9 Repeat 10-10 Fight 10-13 Weather and Road Conditions 10-16 Domestic Case 10-20 Location 10-21 Telephone, as in "ten-twenty-one the office"

10-22 Disregard 10-23 Arrived at Scene 10-24 a.s.signment Completed 10-25 Report in Person to Meet, usually used simply as "meet"

10-27 Operator's License Information 10-28 Vehicle Registration Information 10-29 Check Records for Stolen, modern usage also means "warrant" or "wanted"

10-32 Suspect with Gun, also used in reference to knives and other devices 10-33 Emergency 10-46 Disabled Vehicle 10-50 Motor Vehicle Crash 10-51 Wrecker 10-52 Ambulance 10-55 DWI 10-56 Intoxicated Pedestrian 10-61 Personnel in Area, frequently used to indicate that a civilian can hear the radio 10-70 Fire 10-76 En Route 10-78 Need a.s.sistance 10-79 Notify Medical Examiner, also used to indicate a deceased subject 10-80 High-Speed Pursuit 10-96 Mentally Disturbed Subject As an example, if you as an officer were to suddenly encounter an armed suspect, shots were fired, you needed help, and thought somebody had been injured, you might transmit: "ten-thirty-three, ten-thirty-two, need ten-seventy-eight, and get me a ten-fifty-two, this is ten-thirty-three!" (Note the use of 10-33 twice, which officers tend to do when emphasizing dire straits.) An excellent dispatcher will get the whole picture, and may merely try to discover your position by saying "ten-four, ten-twenty?" As with any system, the clarity and usefulness depends entirely on the quality of the personnel involved. An excited officer may be merely garbled, and the transmissions result in a "ten-nine?" An inattentive dispatcher may "tune in" halfway through the message, and receive incomplete data. This, too, can lead to additional risk and hazard.

This is only one example of why the retention of your top-notch people is so important.

About the Author.

DONALD HARSTAD is a twenty-six-year veteran of the Clayton County Sheriff's Department in northeastern Iowa, and the author of the acclaimed is a twenty-six-year veteran of the Clayton County Sheriff's Department in northeastern Iowa, and the author of the acclaimed Eleven Days Eleven Days. A former deputy sheriff, Harstad lives with his wife, Mary, in Elkader, Iowa.

If you enjoyed Donald Harstad's THE BIG THAW, you won't want to miss any of his suspense novels! Look for ELEVEN DAYS and KNOWN DEAD in paperback from Bantam Books at your favorite bookseller.

And turn the page for a sneak peek at his next suspense novel featuring Deputy Sheriff Carl Houseman, coming soon in hardcover from Doubleday.

Prologue.

My name is Carl Houseman, and I'm a deputy sheriff in Nation County, Iowa. I've been doing this for over twenty years now; long enough to be the Department's Investigator, and senior officer, as well. Senior in every sense of the term, unfortunately. Somehow, when you pa.s.s fifty and realize a twenty-five-year-old fellow officer was born about the same time you took the oath, you start to wonder if you might not begin to feel old pretty soon. I mean, maybe in another ten years or so.

The case I'm going to tell about has to be about the most bizarre of all the cases in our files. I think you'll see what I mean.

One.

Sat.u.r.day, October 7, 2000 0740 I was brushing my teeth in our upstairs bathroom when I thought I heard the phone ring. I turned off the water, and listened. Nothing. I turned the water back on, glad there hadn't been a call, because my wife, Sue, was asleep. She is a middle-school teacher, and Sat.u.r.day is about the only day she could sleep past six-thirty. was brushing my teeth in our upstairs bathroom when I thought I heard the phone ring. I turned off the water, and listened. Nothing. I turned the water back on, glad there hadn't been a call, because my wife, Sue, was asleep. She is a middle-school teacher, and Sat.u.r.day is about the only day she could sleep past six-thirty.

I was tapping the toothbrush on the side of the sink, and just reaching to turn off the water, when the bathroom door opened a few inches, and Sue's hand and arm came through, holding out the portable phone. "Okay," she said, her voice throaty with sleep, "he's right here." It would have been better if she'd said that into the phone, but I didn't think it prudent to bring that up. I was going to hear about this. I took the phone, and the hand disappeared.

"Houseman ..."

"Carl?" It was the voice of Norma, one of the newer dispatchers. Well, sure. Who else? "Yep."

"Uh, we got a call, at, ummm ... 0636 ... and I sent Eight up on it. He got there, and thinks we should, uh, probably have you come up and take a look." Her voice seemed to be about an octave higher than usual. Eight referred to Nation County Sheriff's Car Eight, the radio call sign of Tom Borman, a newish deputy with about two years' service. He seemed like a good sort, and pretty serious about his job.

"What's he got?" I asked, as I walked down the hall to our bedroom, to dress. I was pretty sure Tom didn't want me to show up in just my boxer shorts.

"The first call said there'd been an accident. That was on 911. Something about a lady in a tub. The caller wasn't really clear, female, just wanted help in a hurry."

"What's he want, help lifting her?" I asked. That wasn't a good enough reason to call me out early, and it was a h.e.l.l of a long way from being sufficient reason to wake Sue. I guess I sounded a little exasperated.

"No, no. No, we got a second call after the Frieberg Ambulance got there. I sent them right away. They said"-and she seemed to be reading right off her Dispatch log-"'this subject is code blue, and we think there should be a cop up here right away, it looks like a suicide.'"

Well, that explained the call to me. Department policy is to treat suicides as if they were homicides, at least until murder had been ruled out. Who do you call to deal with a possible homicide? The Investigator. Even if you were sure it was a suicide, the Investigator was now stuck with the report. "Right. I'll get dressed and ..."

"It's three-and-a-half miles south of Frieberg, off County Road X8G, then the second gravel to ..."

I hate to be rude, but I was trying to pull on my blue jeans and still talk on the phone. Writing the directions down was out of the question.

"Just tell me after I get in the car and headed up to Frieberg. I'll take X8G up, okay?"

"Sure," she said. Her voice got some crisp back into it, and I knew I'd hurt her feelings by implying criticism.

"I'm trying to put on my pants," I said, and grinned as I said it, to lighten my voice. "Only so many hands."

"Oh ... sure ... just one more thing, maybe, while I have you on the phone. I don't think this should be on the radio."

Having at least managed to get both legs in the jeans, I sat on the end of the bed, and said, "Sure."

"Eight called me on the phone, and said that this is a really bad one, but that it's a confirmed suicide."

"Oh?" I hate pulling on socks with one hand. I also hate junior officers making bald-faced statements like that. I mean, they're probably right most of the time, but all you need in a possible murder case is for some defense attorney to get his hands on a logged statement like that one. "But doesn't it say, right here, that the first officer on the scene determined this to be a suicide?" But the log couldn't be changed. Only amended, sort of. "Log it that I say that it's not a suicide until the ME's office says so," I said. "Anything else?" But the log couldn't be changed. Only amended, sort of. "Log it that I say that it's not a suicide until the ME's office says so," I said. "Anything else?"

"Really bad. That's all he said."

"Okay, kid. You call Lamar yet?" Lamar was our sheriff, and he liked to be kept well informed of tragic and disastrous happenings in the county. Mainly because he hated to go to breakfast at Phil's Cafe and have somebody ask him about a case before he knew we had had a case. Looked bad. I pushed my stocking feet into my tennis shoes. a case. Looked bad. I pushed my stocking feet into my tennis shoes.

"Yes, and he said to send you right up."

"Well, let's see if we can't arrange that," I said with a hissing sound as I bent over to tie my shoe laces, the phone pressed tightly between my shoulder and my ear.

"And he said to call him if you needed him to come, too."

"Fine. I'll call you on the radio...." I pressed the "off" b.u.t.ton on the phone and turned to put it back in the charger.

"You need any help?" came Sue's voice from the other side of the bed. "It sure looks like it from here."

"No."

"I'm going to try to go back to sleep ..."

I stood, pulled a dark gray polo shirt over my head, and slid my clip-on holster into my belt, on my right hip. I walked over to Sue, bent down, and gave her a kiss.

"Good luck."

"You, too," she said, nearly asleep again already.

I grabbed my gun, my walkie-talkie, my ID case, billfold, and car keys from their drawer downstairs in the dining room, and was in my unmarked patrol car and reporting in to the Dispatch Center at 0749.

"What time did you call me, Comm?" I asked. Curious.

"0740."

"10-4." Nine minutes. Getting old, I thought.

I left Maitland, the County Seat, where I lived and the Sheriff's Office was located, and headed up the state highway to the intersection with X8G. It was a really pretty morning, the leaves were turning, and the hillsides were bright yellows and reds, and the cornfields were a yellowish-tan that seemed to almost flow in the valleys and up the slopes of some of the hills. The sky was a brilliant blue, absolutely no clouds anywhere. It was about 50 degrees, and warming. I love October.

The police radio in my car was ominously quiet. Only officers can really know the spooky feeling that comes with that particular brand of silence. You know there's something really bad, you're going to the scene, and it's absolutely quiet because most of the communications traffic is either on the phones, or just not happening at all because you're the designated catalyst for the next phase, and you aren't there yet. Sort of undercurrents, I guess. But you learn to hate silence, sometimes.

I was moving about 70 or so, no lights or siren. Not really necessary, because there was absolutely no traffic anywhere. I became aware of intermittent sounds, like the faint patter of raindrops on the car. The sun was shining brightly. No clouds. Ah, it struck me. Ladybugs. There were unusually large flights of ladybugs this year. At least one mystery solved, today.