Home > Books > The Investigator (Letty Davenport, #1)(125)

The Investigator (Letty Davenport, #1)(125)

Author:John Sandford

“It’s a crying shame, is what it is. Those trees were there for a hundred years, I bet,” the waitress said. “You still want to eat, honey?”

Kaiser said, “Yes. We better. Don’t know what’s going on, or how long it’s gonna last, we better stock up now . . . What’s good?”

“Most everything, but I’d personally stay away from the open-faced beef sandwich . . .”

* * *

When the waitress came back with pancakes and hash browns, Letty asked, “Is there a thrift store here in town?”

“Yes, there is. You go on up the hill to the next street, turn right, and it’s two blocks. Mavis Thrift, it’s called. Run by Mavis Sparks.”

Kaiser was tasting the hash browns: “Gonna need ketchup.”

The waitress brought a bottle of ketchup, and Letty called Greet: “There was shooting down by the border station, a demonstration of firepower, and I think the Customs and Border Protection quit. Probably disarmed. We’ve also been told we can’t leave town because the militia cut down a grove of palm trees and dropped them across the highway and they’ve got armed men backing up the roadblock.”

“Jesus! It’s an invasion.”

“That’s exactly what it is,” Letty said. “There’s supposed to be a town meeting at noon, called by the militia. I’m not in a good place to talk. I’ll be calling you.”

“I’ll pass along what you have to say. People are freaking out, they’re talking about sending the Army down there.”

* * *

One of the men by the front windows turned and said, “Shouldn’t we be doing something?”

Another: “Like what? These people are like the Army.”

Another: “You think they’d really shoot us?”

Another: “You heard that gunfire.”

The first man said, “I’ll tell you all what: I’m going back up to my house. If they try to dig me outta there, they’ll have a problem on their hands. I got a shotgun and I’ll kill any asshole tries to come in there.”

A couple of other men agreed. One said, “That’s the best thing. Hole up in your house. They can’t dig us all out. I’ll kill a couple of them fuckers myself.”

Another: “Easy, easy, let’s see what they do . . .”

The argument was continuing when three men armed with AR-15s pushed through the door and one said, “Hiya, folks, hope you’re okay in here . . .”

One of the men near the windows asked, “What are you guys doing?”

“We’re borrowing your town for a couple of days,” the lead militiaman said. “There’s a caravan headed here and we’re not going to let it cross. But the main thing is, we don’t mean any of you harm. We really don’t want to hurt anyone. You heard that shooting, it all went up in the air, to convince the Customs people that they shouldn’t try to take us on. They agreed. They won’t do that. You shouldn’t do that, either: the fact is, you should be with us. We’ll be talking about that at a noon meeting down by the border station . . .”

* * *

One of the men was scanning the diner as the leader went on and his eyes stopped when they got to Letty. He looked at her for a moment, then turned to a man by the window, who said, “You know, there are a hell of a lot more guns in this town than you got . . .”

“We don’t want a war, no way,” the leader said. “But if you want one, we got it.”

* * *

When the militiamen left a minute later, Kaiser said quietly, “That guy was checking you out.”