Blood trail

29

RANDY POPE'S state Escalade was parked in the driveway of Joe's house and Joe pulled in behind it.

"Rude bastard," Nate said, "using your driveway like that."

Joe grunted, angry that Pope had the temerity to come to his home to wait. Joe hated to involve his family any more than they were already involved, and hoped Sheridan and Lucy had after-school activities that had kept them away.

"Back in a minute," Joe said, swinging out.

Randy Pope was sitting on the couch with a half-drunk cup of coffee and a plate of cookies in front of him. Marybeth was in the overstuffed chair in her work clothes, her knees tightly pressed together and her fingers interlaced on her lap. She was uncomfortable, and she turned to Joe as he entered with an expression on her face that seemed to say, "Help me!"

"I stopped home to grab some files and guess who was here waiting?" she said to Joe.

Pope stood up, brushing crumbs off his jeans. He looked pale, distressed, angry. But even Pope wouldn't start yelling at Joe in front of his wife.

"Gee, Joe," Pope said, "I was starting to wonder if you'd ever show up."

"Here I am."

"I've been very concerned. Mary said you called from the road, but my understanding was that you had to stay in town until they got that assault charge straightened out." He spoke evenly, without intonation.

"It's Marybeth," Joe said, "and I needed to follow a lead. I spent the morning talking with Vern Dunnegan." He paused. "Remember him?"

Pope's face froze into a wax mask.

"Can we step outside?" Joe said calmly. To Marybeth, "I hope you don't mind."

She shook her head, but her eyes stayed on him, cautioning Joe to stay cool.

"Are the girls here?" Joe asked.

"Sheridan's at practice, Lucy's at the Andersons' practicing a play."

Joe nodded. "Good."

Pope hadn't moved. The only thing that had changed about him were his pupils, which had dilated and looked like bullet holes.

"Randy?" Joe said, stepping aside.

Woodenly, Pope shuffled toward the front door with Joe following.

Over his shoulder, Joe said to Marybeth, "I'll call. Don't worry."

"Joe…"

The moment Pope opened the front door he broke to the left and slammed the door in Joe's face behind him. Joe threw the door open and fumbled for his weapon, shouted, "Randy!"

But Pope didn't get far. He stood in the middle of the neighbor's lawn, backing up with the.454 muzzle pressed against his forehead. Nate cocked the revolver and the cylinder turned.

"Can I shoot him now?" Nate asked.

"Not yet," Joe said.

"I'd really like to."

"Later, maybe."

Over Nate's shoulder, Joe saw his neighbor Ed wander out onto his lawn from his open garage. Ed was smoking his pipe, inspecting the lawn for stray leaves. When Ed looked over and saw what was happening-on his very own property-his pipe dropped out of his mouth.

"Evening, Ed," Joe said, as Nate backed Pope into Joe's pickup. Joe climbed in the driver's side and Nate shoved Pope inside between them. Ed was still standing there, openmouthed, as Joe roared away, headed for the mountains. "THIS IS kidnapping, assault, reckless endangerment…" Pope said, his voice trailing off.

"Insubordination," Nate said, "that too."

"Call the governor now," Pope said to Joe. "Let's get this thing straightened out."

"I've already talked to him," Joe said.

Pope mouthed something but no words came out.

"That's right," Joe said. "He's willing to trade you for Wolverine, if necessary."

"But we can work together," Pope said, pleading. "You don't have to do it this way. We can work something out now, and for the future."

Joe seemed to think it over, to Nate's consternation. Finally, Joe said, "Nope. I saw how you treat your friends." THEY WERE past Joe's old house on Bighorn Road when Pope said, "It wasn't like what you think."

"What is it I think?" Joe said.

"That we gang-raped her. It wasn't like that at all."

"How was it, then?"

"She was more than willing. I didn't even want her, but, you know, peer pressure and all. She was drinking and sitting in on the poker game, and she started rubbing herself all over Frank. We were all a little lit up by then, and Frank threw down his cards and took her to her tent. After a while, they came back and she started rubbing on Wally."

"So it was all her, then?" Joe said woodenly.

"It really, really was."

"But you all went along with it."

Pope shrugged. "Yes, of course."

"Even though you really didn't want to."

"In my case, yeah. I wasn't all that attracted to her."

"But you did it anyway."

"Yeah, I did it too."

"So why'd she try to get all of you arrested?"

Pope said, "It was extortion, maybe. And it was because she was ashamed. Of herself. She was ashamed of what she'd done, and she didn't want anyone to find out. So she blamed us and cried rape. I mean, if she really was raped, as she claimed, do you think we all would have stayed up there in that camp and waited to be caught? When she got angry and left to go to town… we realized how it would look."

Joe and Nate exchanged glances. Nate obviously didn't believe Pope's version. Joe wasn't so sure.

"What we did know was what would happen if the story got out," Pope said. "Five white guys, two married at the time, accused of gang-raping an innocent Native American girl in an elk camp. No matter what the facts were, do you think for one second that any of us would have had a chance? We'd have been tarred for the rest of our lives. I mean, all five of us grew apart after that incident and went on to become pretty successful. Frank was a bigshot in his community, and Wally was a great guy, head of his United Way campaign. I'm the director of the game and fish department. If she'd taken us to court, none of that would have happened, and for what good reason?"

Joe said, "So you made sure she'd be discredited and shamed. You contacted Vern Dunnegan and the sheriff and told them ahead of time she was off her rocker."

Pope shrugged, held out his hands in a "what else could we do" plea.

Joe didn't respond.

"What choice did we have?" Pope asked, heatedly. "And even if she sees things differently now than I do, how can anyone justify these murders? She obviously convinced someone-and I think we know who-the five of us were evil men."

Joe had never seen Pope so desperate, so scared. He could smell his fear in the cab of the truck.

"What bothers me," Joe said, "is how long you knew about the connection."

"I wasn't sure!"

"But you said nothing. You kept it to yourself. My guess is you thought about it for the first time after John Garrett was murdered. Especially when you heard about the poker chip. Am I right? That's why you shut me down so fast when I brought it up."

Pope said nothing. Joe took his silence as confirmation.

"And when Warren Tucker was killed, and again there was a poker chip, you knew there was a connection. Two of your old friends in a row. Each hunting at the time, each with a poker chip on them. You knew."

Pope stared ahead as if Joe wasn't speaking.

"That's what hacks me off so much," Joe said. "Neither you or Vern Dunnegan did the right thing. You sat there while two men were murdered, leaving behind widows, children, and grandchildren, and you didn't do a thing because all you could think of was yourselves."

"I wasn't sure," Pope said softly.

Joe shook his head. "You can say that now. But you knew. That's why you were all over this when Frank Urman was butchered. You were just waiting for it. So for the first time in your professional career, you were on the scene. You wanted to be in charge so if we caught the killer you could mitigate the damage to you. And you offered up your buddy Wally Conway to get him out of the way so he wouldn't start talking. You were appeasing the shooter, offering up Wally, hoping that would put a stop to it. But when you saw how Klamath could get to you, could put a severed head in your hotel room, well, you knew it wasn't over after all. You knew you'd be next no matter what. Am I right so far?"

Pope snorted, as if Joe were amusing him. It wasn't convincing.

"But more than anything, you were hoping we'd trail the shooter and take him out so nothing would ever get out. Right? That's why you were there to help spring Nate, right? Because whatever you think of him, you know he's lethal."

"Damned right," Nate said.

"You're insane," Pope said. But his shoulders slumped in defeat. THE TREES closed in around them as they ascended. The sky was gray, the air almost still. Two hours until dark. Joe pulled his truck off a two-track and turned off the motor.

"Recognize this place?" Joe asked Pope.

"Of course," Pope said, annoyed. "It's where Frank Urman was found."

"And where Randy Pope will be found," Joe said.

Pope's red-rimmed eyes filled with tears.