Deep Hurt - Eva Hudson Page 0,52

the local cops could find their own asses with a— What the f—”

Ingrid yanked the steering wheel hard right and stamped on the brake as an overhanging branch loomed up at the windshield in the twilight. She yanked the wheel in the opposite direction just a few inches from a dense thicket on the far side of the road. Her heart lurched in her chest. She felt as though Gurley was watching her every move, waiting for her to make a mistake. She was determined not to give him the satisfaction. “You must work with the cops here all the time. Are you seriously suggesting they can’t do their job?”

“I don’t work with them a whole lot. They leave us to deal with our men as the Air Force sees fit. They get on with their business and leave us to ours. And that’s just the way I like it.”

“I’m sure they’re really not as bad as you make out.” Ingrid didn’t know why she was defending the local force, but now she’d started she felt as though she had to follow through. “I’ve worked with a lot worse police departments Stateside.”

“Then maybe the whole world is screwed.”

“Yet military cops remain shining examples of perfect policing that everyone else should emulate? You don’t have such a great record yourselves. Maybe you should think twice before you start throwing stones.”

“I can only judge on what I’ve seen so far. And it don’t impress me much.”

“As long as you know I’m calling the cops as soon as we get Foster.” Ingrid squeezed the steering wheel harder.

“That’s just fine with me.”

“Good.”

“Great.”

After another couple of minutes twisting around tight bends, the road straightened and Ingrid could clearly see the taillights of Sherwood’s little Nissan a hundred or so yards ahead of them. Fifty yards later the silver car slowed right down and took a left. Ingrid drove past the dirt track Sherwood had disappeared down and stopped on the other side of the road. As she came to a halt, the driver side wheels sank into a ditch and the Land Rover lurched sideways.

Gurley huffed out a sigh.

“Maybe you should have brought along the night vision goggles.” Ingrid used the flashlight function on her phone to avoid landing in the ditch herself as she climbed out.

They both closed their doors quietly and jogged back to the dirt track. “She might be driving miles down here,” Ingrid whispered.

“Lucky we’re both in such good shape, wouldn’t you say?” Gurley lengthened his stride.

Unlike Gurley’s, Ingrid’s boots weren’t designed for uneven terrain. She did her best to tread carefully and avoid the worst of the exposed stones and random divots underfoot. Right now, straining or twisting her ankle would be nothing short of disaster. Forced to make two strides for every one of Gurley’s, she felt a little like a small child trying to keep up with its older sibling. After a few more strides she picked up pace a little and overtook him. As she passed, she noticed his breathing seemed labored. Maybe he wasn’t as fit as he’d claimed.

Less than two hundred yards down the track, Ingrid saw the Nissan parked up close to a wide wooden gate. The interior light was on, but there was no sign of Sherwood inside the vehicle. Ingrid shoved out her hand in front of Gurley, who had already slowed down. They ducked sideways into a nearby hedge.

“Where the hell is she?” Gurley whispered.

“Wait a second.”

A moment later, the top of Yvonne Sherwood’s head appeared above the headrest of the driver’s seat. As Ingrid had suspected, the woman had been bending low over the passenger seat, where she’d dumped the heavy sports bag and the groceries earlier. She then climbed out of the car, ran around to the passenger side and, with some effort, heaved the bag out. She hauled it onto her back and immediately seemed six inches shorter.

“What does she have in there?” Gurley leaned out of their hiding place to get a better look. “We have to move in closer.”

“Can we just wait for a moment?” Ingrid grabbed his arm and pulled him toward her.

They watched in silence as the petite manager of the Hare and Hands struggled to the wooden gate with the bag. She fumbled with something where the gate met the gate post, then shook the gate with both hands in frustration. With great effort she heaved the bag over the top of the gate and let it fall on the other side. It