‘‘Okay, I’m comin’ up. I should be about there.’’
‘‘Ten-four,’’ I said into the walkie-talkie. Way to go, Lamar. I knew you wouldn’t wait. ‘‘Be careful, but there has not, I repeat not, been any activity for ten minutes or so. But keep your eyes open.’’ And at least I won’t shoot at you until I know who you are, I thought. God, the idea of being blown away by Johansen sent a little shiver up my back, despite the heat. God, what a stupid way to go.
Lamar appeared around the corner, in uniform, with his shotgun pointing in front of him. He stopped and looked at the three of us.
‘‘Holy shit,’’ was all he could say.
Three
Two hours later, things were starting to sort themselves out, and get much more complicated at the same time. Typical investigation in that you just couldn’t simplify things, no matter how you tried.
Lamar and I were returning up the trail, after trying to direct the officers who were beginning to search the park. He and I had just gone back through the yellow crime-scene tape and past the hurriedly arriving media. I overheard some reporter, who had set up his own camera and was speaking into it, say ‘‘… there are known dead so far, but how many is still not certain…’’
‘‘They’re all known to somebody,’’ I said to Lamar.
‘‘What?’’ His hearing was going.
‘‘Never mind.’’ Known dead… I didn’t know how else to put it myself. The term just sort of offended me, with the implications of body counts and things. Known dead. Like they wouldn’t count, somehow, until they were known.
We’d also been briefing various investigative people as they showed up, and picking up items from our cars down on the road. The area search was a hopeless task, but it did serve to make those of us who were concerned with the crime scene feel a little more comfortable. As far as I was concerned, though, the shooters were long gone.