Blood trail

10

THE AFTERNOON got colder as they waited for darkness. Joe sat in his pickup next to Robey and glassed the timber and meadows through his spotting scope, looking for movement of any kind. He got the strange feeling that the birds and wildlife had subtly withdrawn from the area, clearing the stage for whatever was going to happen later. Robey nervously ate pieces of jerky from a cellophane bag he'd brought along. Piece after piece, chewing slowly. The cab of the truck smelled of teriyaki and anticipation.

Pope appeared at Joe's window, blocking his view through the scope.

"I'm heading back into town," Pope said, not meeting Joe's eye. "I can't run the agency with a cell phone that keeps going in and out of signal range. Let me know how things go tonight. Wally has agreed to stay here with you. Lothar's getting all of his stuff out of my Escalade. He'll have to wait with you."

"You're leaving?" Joe said.

"Do I have to repeat myself? You heard me." With that, he patted the hood of Joe's pickup and walked away.

"Bastard," Robey said through a mouthful of beef jerky.

"Would you rather have him here with us?" Joe said.

"No, but…"

"Let him go," Joe said. "Wacey Hedeman once said of Sheriff McLanahan-before he was sheriff-'Having him on the payroll is like having two good men gone.' That's how I feel about Pope being here."

"He's scared," Robey said.

"So am I," Joe said, getting out to help Lothar retrieve his gear from Pope's vehicle. AS DUSK approached, the wind died down and the forest went silent, as if shushed. Joe used his tailgate as a workbench and checked the loads in his Glock and shoved an extra twelve-shot magazine into the pocket on the front of his holster. He loaded his shotgun with double-ought buckshot and filled a coat pocket with extra shells. Because of the cold stillness, the metal-on-metal sounds of his work seemed to snap ominously through the air. He'd strapped on his body armor vest and pulled on his jacket over it, and filled a daypack with what he thought he might need: flashlight, radio, first-aid kit, bear spray, GPS unit, rope, evidence kit, Flex-Cuffs, a Nalgene bottle of water.

Lothar approached him. "I think it should just be the two of us," he said.

Joe looked up at the back of Robey's head in his pickup. He could see his friend's jaw working as he ate more jerky. "I hate to leave Robey alone," Joe said. "He's not used to this kind of thing."

Lothar said, "Man tracking isn't a group sport. The more people we have, the more likely we'll blow our advantage. You have the experience and the equipment and he doesn't. Simple as that. Besides, we need someone here in camp with a radio in case we need to relay information. If all of us are deep in the timber without a way to call for help if we need it, we're screwed."

Joe started to object when Robey swung out of the pickup. "I overheard," he said, "I'll be fine, Joe. I'm a big boy."

Wally Conway, who'd stood by silently watching Joe prepare his weapons, said, "I'll be here with him."

Joe felt bad about overlooking Conway, said, "You're right, I'm sorry. But at least call the sheriff's office so he can send up a couple of deputies. Or get those DCI boys back that Pope sent home. You may need help and we may need reinforcements."

"I said I'm fine," Robey said, adding some heat to his voice. Joe didn't want to press it at the risk of further alienating his friend. Robey had rodeoed in college until he broke both his pelvis and sternum in Deadwood, which is when he decided to get serious about law school. Although he'd gotten plump and soft over the years, he didn't want to acknowledge the fact.

"Robey-"

"Really," Robey said to Joe with force. "Just get me set up with a weapon and a radio and I'll be here when you guys get back."

"I can shoot," Conway said weakly. "I've hunted all my life. I can help out any way you want me to."

Lothar looked away as if he had nothing to do with the quarrel.

"I'm just wondering about our strategy here," Joe said to Lothar. "There's just four of us. I was thinking we might want, you know, an overwhelming show of force."

Lothar shook his head. "That's old school. We're going for a small, deadly force here. Matching wits with the bad guy and taking him down with as little fuss as possible. Isn't the idea here to get this guy before he makes the news? Isn't that what Pope and your governor want most of all?"

Joe grimaced. "Yup."

"Then let's do it this way," Lothar said. "We can always apply overwhelming force later if we need to. Your governor can fill the trees with the National Guard and the sky with helicopters. But in my experience, and we're talking fifteen years of it on just about every continent, it's better to go light and smart instead of dumb and big. If we can find this guy before he knows we're on him, we lessen the chance of unnecessary casualties. Plus, if we get him, we'll look damned good and maybe you can send this Klamath Moore guy home."

Joe looked at Robey and Conway. "You sure you don't want to call for backup?"

"I'm sure," Robey said.

Conway nodded, deferring to Robey.

Against his instincts, Joe let it lay. FAR ENOUGH AWAY from the vehicles not to be overheard, Joe pulled out his cell phone. Despite what Pope had said about signals fading in and out, he had all bars. "Pope…" Joe hissed, as if it were a swear word. He punched the speed dial for home. While he waited for someone to answer, he saw Lothar showing Robey and Conway how to arm and fire an AR-15. Robey was sighting down the open sights as Lothar talked him through it.

Sheridan answered.

"Hi, Sherry," Joe said. "Is your mom around?" I DON'T WANT to come out again, but I have no choice. When I saw him in the airport and found out why he's here and what he's doing, I knew I had an opportunity I may never get again. He has forced my hand. The question is whether or not he's doing it deliberately as part of his plan or it's something that just happened. But when I saw his face, heard his voice, saw that his attitude hadn't changed, I knew at that second that I would be out again, despite the fact that I'm physically tired and my absence may be noted.

I'm out of my vehicle and into the forest as the sun drops behind the mountains. I move much more quickly than before, more recklessly than I am comfortable with. I skirt the path I blazed but once again I have no choice but to walk right through the middle of the elk hunters' camp on the trail. Luck is with me because the hunters aren't back yet and the camp is empty. Luck is also with them.

My objective is to get to the saddle slope where I made my statement yesterday and isolate my target and kill him before he knows I'm back.

I know the terrain so well now. It seems to flow under my feet. I feel like I'm gliding…