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have been spotted long before he gets here but better safe than sorry.’
    ‘Got it. Anything else?’
    ‘Yep. The dead guy in back was also dressed as highway patrol. He’s not from Mineral County, but I’ll give you his badge number anyway. Check him out will you? I’m betting it’s fake, but just in case. And when you’re done with that throw a call in to the base commander up at the Depot, see if he’s missing anyone. The guy in surgery was wearing fatigues. No ’tags.’
    ‘Sure Sheriff.’
    ‘Oh, and get on to Carson City and have them send a forensics team down here soon as they can. A couple of orderlies have already done a real nice job rearranging all the evidence in the back of the van but you never know, we may get lucky and find something they haven’t touched. And Connie?’
    ‘Yes, Sheriff?’
    ‘When you’re done with all that give Ellie a call and tell her I won’t be home for dinner.’
    He climbed back out of the cruiser, taking another look at the growing crowd.
    Christ, what a mess .
    He’d been sheriff of Hawthorne for over twenty-five years but he’d never seen anything like this. And it would get worse once the TV crews showed up. He noticed Doug Whitley, the hospital administrator, hanging back near the entrance, a look of concern on his narrow face. The hospital was small but it was the county’s only medical center and road traffic accidents were not uncommon on that stretch of the highway. He went over to check with him that the emergency room could still function notwithstanding the commotion outside. Satisfied that the van could remain where it was for now he asked Whitley to post a security guard outside ICU the moment the wounded man got out of surgery.
    When he was certain he had dealt with everything that needed his immediate attention Lars returned to the van. Opening the rear doors he took a moment to survey the interior. It was a mess alright, blood splattered along the driver’s side, already starting to form into small pools that were now congealing on the floor. Strapped to one side panel were a couple of automatic weapons. Foreign, expensive-looking. The serial numbers had been filed off but he took out his notepad and jotted down the make. A semi-automatic pistol and a police issue taser sat on a bench seat, covered in blood. A couple of 9mm shell cases on the floor.  He bent down to sniff the barrel, confirming that the handgun had been fired recently.
    The other side of the van looked like it had been set up to carry someone who had been injured. In place of a bench seat there was a gurney with restraining straps and collapsible legs that clamped to the floor. At the head of the trolley an oxygen cylinder and mask and a bracket for a drip, together with what looked like a portable heart rate and blood pressure monitor, still switched on. Bolted to the bulkhead behind the passenger’s seat were several custom cabinets. He opened each, taking care not to leave any fingerprints. One of the cabinets housed a refrigerated compartment that contained three small vials of blood, as well as an assortment of medication. He copied the names printed on the front of the bottles into his notepad, making a mental note to get the hospital to confirm whether the blood in the vials belonged to the man who had been strapped to the gurney. From the bloodstains on the straps it seemed like the man had been shot while he was still restrained but he could check that with the orderlies when they returned.
    The single bullet hole on the driver’s side looked like it was the result of a shot fired from inside the van, most likely by the man who had been tied down. The metal had been punched outwards and there was no corresponding hole on the passenger’s side to show where the round might have entered. Another bullet hole in the bulkhead separating the cab from the back of the van, low down and to the right side of the back of the driver’s seat. When he checked the front of the seat