“Is that what happened? Did I have a car accident on the highway?”
“No, David. You fell from the bank down to the Gooseberry River’s bed. Can you remember any of what happened after that?”
The fog shrouding his brain began to lift, and David tried to piece together the events of that day. “I seem to have an image of looking up at the sky and seeing a silhouette of someone. The sun behind was so bright I couldn’t make out any details. Then I heard a crash. No, wait. It was a gunshot, wasn’t it?”
“What else do you remember?” the nurse asked.
Again, David hesitated as more of the haze disappeared. “I remember hurting worse than I’ve ever hurt and seeing my leg bent at a terrible angle. Then I remember being placed on a board. After that, nothing. “Someone was shot, weren’t they? Who was it? Can you tell me?”
Just then there was a knock on the hospital door, and David looked across the room. “Hi, David. I guess that would have been me.”
Deidre smiled her warmest smile at him, but David reacted in shock, the expression on his face somewhat between surprise and angst.
“Deidre, what in the world … ?” he started to blurt out, but she shushed him.
“Take it easy. I look a lot worse than I feel right now.”
David took in the sight. The right side of her face was a mass of scabs, dried and discolored. She sported two blackened eyes, the result of falling face down on the bare rocks after she had been shot. Deidre was sitting in a wheelchair, her right arm in a sling, and an IV tube trailing behind her to a stand supporting a bag of liquid. John Erickson had his fingers wrapped around the chair’s handles, and he smiled. “Hello, David. Welcome back to the land of the living. I don’t know which of the two of you looks worse. But I do know that it’s absolutely wonderful to be here with you. The nurse buzzed us and asked that we come down. You and Deidre have some catching up to do. You’ve both got some stories to tell.”
Chapter Fifty-Eight
The day after the incident in the park, Ben received a visit at the Lake County Law Enforcement Center from Enos Pratt, the FBI director of the Duluth area. “Well, hello, Ben,” Enos said as he extended his hand.
Ben was impressed with the man’s bearing. “Hello, Director Pratt.”
“Enos is just fine with me. I’ve come to speak to you personally for two reasons. First, we need to know as much as possible about what happened at the park. If I understand it correctly, you were set up on a rock outcrop above the walkway. What were you able to observe from up there?”
“Well, sir,” Ben began. “I had a wide open view of the walkway under the bridge and a partially obstructed view of the trail running along the river gorge. I could cover whoever came and went pretty well from up there.”
“And I understand you had a sniper rifle with you.”
“Not really. Well, I suppose you could call it that. It was a Remington .270 with a scope, something that can be bought at any sporting goods store.”
Enos sat silent for a moment, thinking. “You handled it well.”
“Thanks,” Ben responded, shifting himself a little self-consciously in his chair.
“As best as you can remember, what exactly did you observe before your actions.”
Ben took a deep breath before beginning his story.
“I had just hunkered down on the flat rock above the trail when a pair of hikers, a young man and woman, came over the knob on the other side of the bridge. As they stepped around a clump of small balsam trees, one of the suspects stepped out from behind the evergreens. He had an assault rifle, and when they saw him, they sprinted across the bridge. He seemed to be as surprised as they were and ducked back under the cover of the branches.”
“I see,” Enos interjected. “Can you describe this couple?”
“They were both slender in build, looked to be in good physical shape. It was difficult to judge height from where I sat, but he was taller than she by about six inches. He had black curly hair. She had straight blond hair. Both were quite fair skinned.”
“You observed all that in the roughly five seconds you had as they ran across the bridge?” Enos’ right eye brow raised, quizzically.
“Yes, sir.” Ben shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
“What happened next?” Enos entered something on the notepad in front of him.
“David Craine came limping up the path, and he stopped, supporting himself on a bridge beam as he looked over the edge of the drop down to the river. As he leaned out, the edge of the bank gave way, and I saw him fall over the edge. Then I heard him hit the rocks below.
“Sheriff Johnson rushed up the trail and looked over the bank where David had fallen. It was then I heard a gunshot from my left. Deidre, Sheriff Johnson, was spun around and fell to the ground.”
“How long did it take her to get to the scene after David Craine fell?” Enos wanted to know.
“Only a few seconds. I can’t give you exact timing, because in this kind of situation, time seems to become compressed.”
“Then what?” Enos asked.
“Then the tallest of the suspects came running from my left. He stood over Deidre with his rifle raised. I could see his mouth move as he said something to her. That’s when I shot, and he went down.
“The other man, the one on the other side of the bridge, broke cover and was sprinting to the scene, and I took him out.”
“What did you do then?” the director wanted to know.
“I slid down the embankment as quickly as I could and rushed over to where Sheriff Johnson lay.”
“Why didn’t you pay more attention to the suspect you had shot on the bridge?”
“He was the farthest away, and anyway, I was quite certain he was dead.”
“How were you certain of that?
“The crosshairs were centered on his left thoracic quadrant when I pulled the trigger. It was a lethal shot.”
“Okay, so you reached Sheriff Johnson and the other suspect. What did you find?”
“Agent Erickson had arrived just before me. We checked Sheriff Johnson first. She was unconscious but breathing, although the wound on her chest was sucking with each breath. We applied compresses as best we could to seal the wound, and he assumed the care for her. Then I checked on the condition of the suspect. He was alive, barely.
“I left Agent Erickson with Deidre and scaled the bank to look at David Craine. Shortly after, the paramedics arrived and took over. I guess that’s all I can report to you, sir.”
Enos Pratt rocked back in his chair and tapped his pencil on the table. Otherwise the room was silent as the sweep second hand of the clock made two revolutions. Then he spoke.
“Ben, I have to tell you, I’m impressed with the way you conducted yourself up there. Your observations are right on, and everything you’ve told me matches the facts perfectly. Good work. That brings me to the second thing I wanted to talk to you about. The organization is always on the lookout for new talent. We’re currently accepting applications for prospective agents. I’d like you to submit your paperwork. I can’t make you any promises, Ben, but I think you stand a good chance of being accepted.” Enos smiled at Ben in a knowing way.
Ben was dumbfounded. He sat in stunned silence until finally he stammered, “Yes, sir, I’d like that.”
Enos stood and extended his hand. Ben followed suit, and they shook on it as if closing a business deal.
“Oh, and Ben. In your report, you said the suspected terrorist mumbled something in a foreign language. What was it again?”
“He kept repeating, ‘Dania, Dania.’ Do you have any idea what that means?”
“No, I don’t. Our interpreters don’t know either. It appears to be some inconsequential rambling of a dying man.
Epilogue
The warmth felt good on Deidre’s shoulders as she sat on the sandy bank of the Sucker River, her back to the mid-May sun. Her physical wounds had healed, and only when she faced the mirror in her bathroom and she saw the still purple-red s
cars did it seem real. Everything else seemed like a recurring bad dream. She thought over all that had happened these past few months.
Finally, John had been able to reveal to her all he knew. As soon as David had opened the flash drive left behind on his boat, he had contacted the FBI. They, in turn, had jumped at the opportunity to set up a sting operation, using David as their contact person. She still marveled at the courage he had shown by allowing himself to be placed in the crosshairs of a terrorist organization. His involvement had been kept a secret, not only to protect his cover, but also to ensure that everyone involved, including the Sheriff’s Department would not make any suspicious moves.
In the distance, far out on the lake, she saw the speck of a boat cruising on its way to the Wisconsin shore, and she wondered if it was her Mr. Craine, now more a hero in her eyes than ever before. It had taken time, but his wounds were healed sufficiently so that he was ready to take Crusader, Too out the first day that open water permitted. He had told her his plan was to cruise the Wisconsin shoreline the entire summer, spending as much time around the Apostle Islands as possible. He thought he would stay out of Canadian waters for a long time.
And then there was Ben. He had recommended to the county board that Jeff be appointed acting sheriff until Deidre could resume her duties, saying he thought Jeff deserved the chance. Along with the FBI, the department had requested a search warrant to go into the hunting shack up in Brimson. It was immediately granted by the sitting judge. Ben was in charge of the investigation from the Sheriff’s Department’s end, and he, along with several members of both agencies collected enough explosives and other items to form an airtight case against Jibril and Imad.
Three months later, Ben was informed that his application to join the FBI had been accepted. He resigned from Lake County and began the rigorous training required of his new post.
Deidre, her back still to the sun and her mind far away in thought picked up some pebbles and one by one tossed them into the smooth-running stream.
“So where are you now?” John asked her. He was lying on his side behind her, acting as her back rest.
Deidre rocked back, putting more of her weight on his chest. She reached back and ran her fingers through his hair.
“Thinking, just thinking,” she said.
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