Aftermath by Michael Kerr Read Free Book Online

name was Johnson, and that he hailed from Oklahoma City.”
    “What was he drivin’?”
    “Nothing.  He just walked in.  Didn’t even have any luggage, ‘cept for a little rucksack”
    “Thanks,” Sal said gruffly as he turned to leave.
    “You a cop?” Tom asked him.
    “No,” Sal said without breaking stride or looking back.  “A PI.  The woman’s husband is payin’ me to locate her.”
    Sal drove out onto the highway; told Roy what little he’d learned, and kept going till he came to a timber-built diner that looked as though it had been there since the Civil War.  He parked in the side lot and got out.
    “You want some take out?”  Sal asked Roy.
    “As if I could eat with my mouth wired up,” Roy said.  “Get me a Coke and a straw.”
    Sal gave him a hard look.  “This isn’t goin’ to work, Roy.  You can’t fuckin’ walk.  You’re a mess and a liability.  You need to be at home chewin’ pain killers, restin’ up and letting that bimbo you’re screwin’ look after you.”
    Roy thought it over while Sal was inside the diner.  He was in agony, and couldn’t ignore it and function properly.  Common-sense told him that Sal was right.  He needed timeout to recover.
    “OK, Sal,”  Roy said after taking a few sips of the soda and wishing he was able to eat the cheeseburger that his partner was working on.  “I don’t want to slow you down on this.  Get me back home, then find the woman and the guy and take them out.  And make the guy suffer for what he did to me.”
    Sal finished the burger, took a mouthful of coffee and then placed the plastic cup in a holder on the console.  Wiped his hands on a paper napkin and patted Roy on the shoulder.  “Good thinkin’, Roy.”  He said.  “You know how it is.  I’m gonna need to move fast and not have to worry about you.  I’ll find them, and blow the toes off the creep that did this to you, before I gut shoot him and watch him die.”
    “Do me a favor, use your phone to video him croaking,” Roy said.
    Sal grinned.  “You got it, pal.”
     
    Logan got the woodstove in the cabin going while Rita and Sharon checked the place out and selected the largest bedroom and unpacked what little they had.
    After a few minutes, Rita came back into the large kitchen/living area, found the coffeemaker, used a clean filter and coffee from the welcome pack on the counter and set it going.
    Sharon came through from the bedroom wearing a cream T-shirt, denim shorts and bulky air-trainers that made her feet look massive.
    “What now?”  Sharon said to Logan.
    “We eat, and then get a good night’s sleep.”
    “I mean about the trouble we’re in.”
    “I’ll work it out and fix it.”
    “How?”
    Logan sighed.  The girl was understandably uptight and fearful.  This was a situation outside her life experience.  She was obviously intelligent, but in an educated way.  The nearest she would have probably ever come to violent death, previous to this episode, was on TV or in movies, and that was easy to disassociate yourself from.  That her father had been murdered, and seeing the bodies of two friends that had been shot dead, and knowing that it was you that had been the principal target, must be a lot to take on board and cope with.  Most people were naïve.  They lived ordinary, orderly dull lives, and thought that a flat tyre or a sprained ankle was a big deal.
    “I don’t know yet,” he replied, and then blew the dust out of a mug, filled it with fresh coffee and went outside the cabin to be alone and think.
    All the cabins were angled to give a view of the lake behind them.  It was a nice setting.  The reflection of the mountain peaks on the smooth water looked like a painting.
    He walked down to a small landing that had several canoes and kayaks stacked next to it on the shore and sat at the end of the solid timber jetty with his legs over the edge and his feet just a couple of inches above the water.  He cleared his