In the Woods

(Source)

The helicopter swept down US-40 again, the pilot glanced down and thought he spotted something.

"Rick, I'm going to come around a bit and go into a hover, look down at the road, there's a ravine, pretty sure that's Terrapin Run¹ down there."

As the helicopter came to a hover, Rick Johnson, Maryland State Police, brought his binoculars to bear. There was something shiny down there, like a windshield.

"Bring me down closer, Charlie."

The pilot, Charlie McIntosh, also with the Maryland State Police, started to lose altitude, "Gotta be careful here, Rick, you get gusts off these ridges which make things a bit tricky."

Johnson shook his head, "Take her up, I've seen enough, it's a vehicle."

He reported their find on the radio, within half an hour, troopers were on scene. It was definitely Corporal Campos' vehicle.

As they drove, Morgan had his map out. Rossi had noticed their turn coming up.

"Next right, right Jack?"

"Nah, Al, keep going. We can't take this truck to the drop off point. That trooper had to have radioed in the plates. We need to ditch the vehicle and go to Plan B."

"What's Plan B?"

"I dunno yet."

Glancing at his map, Morgan saw a turn off, something called "15 Mile Creek Road SE," which led to a campsite. Perhaps they could switch vehicles there, or at least switch the plates on the truck. The name of the rental company plastered all over the cargo box didn't bother him, that company had hundreds of those vehicles throughout the country. The cops would be matching plates.

"Take the next right, Al. I've got an idea."

When the turn came up, Rossi slowed and took the turn. It struck him that he should have a look at the brake lights when they stopped. Might be a fuse, might be a busted wire. After all, that's what had got them into this mess. Then he needed, somehow, to get shy of Morgan. The guy had gunned down a state trooper and seemed to have no remorse at all about that.

An hour after finding Corporal Campos' vehicle, they found her body.

Captain Leroy Jackson looked down, she had been shot twice. The first bullet had probably been fired from inside the cab of the rental truck. It was meant to kill her, but it hadn't.  The shot to the side of her head had been what killed her, at least according to the coroner.

A local sheriff had seen a pool of blood in the middle of the road. When he got out to investigate, he saw the drag marks. Whoever had killed Campos was in a hurry, they'd dragged her body into the woods, out of sight from the road, then had driven off.

"Captain?"

Jackson turned, "Yeah?"

"Word's gone out, nationwide BOLO² on the truck. But if they're smart, they'll ditch the vehicle or swap the plates at least. That rental company is pretty common."

"Not much out here, Billy, until you get to Flintstone. And Flintstone ain't much of a town."

Jackson checked his watch, then looked at the sky.

"Gonna be nightfall soon. Let's hope those fellows that killed Campos hole up for the night. I want helicopters up in the morning, as many as we can get. For now I want road blocks on every road leading in and out of this area. Fortunately that ain't a lot."

"Still a lot of ground to cover, Captain."

"I know, Burt, I know. But get things moving."

As Sergeant Burt Anderson moved off to put things in motion, Jackson shook his head again.

"I wonder if this has anything to do with all that bullshit down in Virginia a couple of weeks ago. Why are people suddenly gunning for cops?"

It was getting dark, Morgan realized that they'd have to go to ground somewhere until morning. As they headed up the road, he saw the signs for "Green Ridge State Forest Campsite #1," which was what he was looking for. Might be some early season campers around, at least he hoped so.

As they headed up the road, they went around a bend in the road, Morgan saw something off in the trees. A campfire!

"Pull over here, Al. There's people over there, might have a camper, or an RV, we could steal the plates from when it gets full dark."

Rossi eased the truck over to the side of the road and shut the engine off.

Morgan looked at his old Navy buddy and said, "Wait here."

Mike Taliaferro and Benji Lee were sitting at the small fire they'd built. Each man had a beer in hand, next to their camp chairs there was already a small pile of empties. They planned on staying up here tonight, then heading deeper into the park to do some fishing. Both men had taken the week off and enjoyed being away from their wives for a few days.

Their wives liked the peace it gave them as well. Those two "good old boys" could be a handful at times.

Taliaferro heard a twig snap behind him, he turned.

Morgan stopped, he cursed himself for not having seen the stick. But the flickering campfire was throwing shadows on the ground which made it hard to see anything.

He saw two men, both rather large, sitting, drinking beer in front of that campfire. When he stepped on the stick, one of them turned.

"Gentlemen, might I trouble you for the keys to your truck?" Morgan said.

The man who had turned said, "What the f**k ..."

Morgan shot him at nearly point blank range, he had continued to walk forward as he talked. Neither man had seen Morgan's Sig Sauer which he held down by his leg. Only when he brought it up did the two men realize the danger.

Benji Lee's eye were nearly bursting out of his head when he saw the top of Taliaferro's head come off.

"Son of a b ...," he managed to say as he drew his own pistol, a Browning Hi-Power in .40 caliber. He had his loaded with snake shot³ as it was not unusual to encounter timber rattlers here in the park. He managed to get off a round before he felt something which knocked the wind out of him.

"Mother ..." Morgan gasped as the snake shot hit his right side, low on his torso. Fortunately it missed his arm and hand.

"Bastard!" Morgan fired another round at the man he had just shot, the f**ker was still alive!

The man's head snapped back and he and his chair toppled over as the man slumped. He was certainly dead now.

Rossi had nearly jumped out of his skin when he had heard the gunshots. Had Morgan gone completely insane? He had to wonder.

As he pondered whether to run off into the woods and be done with this, he realized that Morgan had the only map of the area and he'd checked, it wasn't in the truck. He figured that he'd best stick with it and see what happened. He knew that he was now an accessory to at least one murder, of a cop no less, and now at least one more.

He heard an engine, he looked up the road and saw a vehicle approaching. As it got close, he saw it was a pickup, a big one, with a camper on the back. The pickup pulled up just behind the rental and he heard Morgan shout his name.

Walking to the back of the truck he saw Morgan opening the doors to the cargo area of the rental, the door to the pickup's camper was already open. He noticed that Morgan's shirt was very bloody on the right side.

"Jesus, Jack. You hit?"

"Yeah, f**ker shot me with snake shot, stings like crazy, but nothing really bad, I'm just really stiff. Hurt like hell when he did it."

"The guy who shot you, where is he?"

"Up there," he gestured up the road, "dead with his buddy."

"There were two of them?"

"Yeah, now shut up and help me move these MRE cases."

After loading the pickup, Morgan gave those keys to Rossi, then took the rental keys from Rossi and threw them into the woods.

"You drive," he told Rossi.

As they climbed into the pickup, Rossi asked, "Where to?"

"Back the way we came, it'll be a while before they figure out we're not in that rental anymore."

McIntosh and Johnson lifted off just as the sun was peeking up over the eastern horizon. They'd been detailed to search the Green Ridge State Park. Dispatch suggested they check the campsites in the area.

"Make a good spot to hole up for the night," dispatch had said. McIntosh had to agree.

As they flew out to the area, Johnson had his map out. "Let's fly up 15 Mile Creek Road first, there are a couple campsites out that way, one, that's #1, isn't far from US-40."

McIntosh was quickly over the area and it didn't take long for Johnson to spot a vehicle parked on the side of 15 Mile Creek Road, not far from Campsite #1. He got his binoculars out.

"That's the right rental company," he said, trying to steady his binoculars as a gust pushed the helicopter to one side, "plates match too. That's our vehicle. I'll radio it in."

Captain Jackson walked around the scene, careful not to disturb anything. He recognized one of the dead men, he'd been shot twice, once in the chest, once in the head. The latter was what killed him. The other man was missing the top of his head, his head was so damaged that no one recognized him. He shook his head, Rita Lee was out of town, up in Pennsylvania for the week on business. She was going to be shattered, as much as she and Benji fought, they still loved each other very much.

Jackson wondered what he had on his hands now, not just a triple homicide but something else was going on here. What had been in that truck that was worth killing for?

"Hey Captain!"

He turned, one of the crime scene guys had checked the bodies for ID. He was kneeling by the dead man missing the top of his head.

"According to the license in his wallet, this one is Mike Taliaferro." He pronounced it "Toliver."

"Damn. Alright, where's Sergeant Anderson?"

"He's checking out the rental."

"Okay, for now, keep this off the radio. The guys we're after might have a scanner. Let 'em think they've got a bigger head start than they already have. But put out a BOLO for a red Dodge TRX with a camper on the back, late model."

"How do you know that, Sir?" One of the technicians asked.

"It's what Mike drove."

¹ A run is a small stream or brook.

² Be On the Look Out

³ See here.