Endangered

28

Plumes of snow sprayed out from the tires as Joe barreled down the mountain in the foul-smelling cab of Bull’s Ford F-250 meat wagon. Brass casings that had been ejected during the fusillade danced across the dashboard.

The snow wasn’t falling as hard as it had been and there were breaks in the clouds. The big spring storm that had been predicted didn’t turn out to be all that big, he thought, although it had dumped six to eight inches that would remain in the forest overnight and it made the road down the mountain slick and treacherous. He had less than an hour of light.

Joe had left his own pickup where Bull had shot it up in the elk camp. He doubted it could be repaired after being hit twenty to thirty times with high-powered rifle rounds.

He thought: Another one.

—

DAISY WAS ON the bench seat beside him and Bull’s lifeless body rolled around in the back. Joe had tried to wrestle the mass into the bed, but it was too heavy and ungainly. At one point, he’d sprained a muscle in his back while trying to lift Bull’s upper torso onto the tailgate far enough that he could release his grip and push the legs up and over the lip, only to have the body slide off into the snow again. Bull’s body was slick with blood. It was worse than loading a dead elk. At least with an elk, there were antlers to grab on to.

Rather than leave the body to the snow and predators, Joe had wrapped a chain around the legs and used Bull’s own game winch to hoist the body into the air. He was then able to swing Cates’s 280 pounds up and over the bed wall, where he lowered it into the back.

Despite the situation and the gore, Joe admired how well the game winch had been welded together. Probably Eldon’s work, he thought. Bull was useless.

Had been useless.

—

JOE’S SHOTGUN LEANED AGAINST the bench seat, muzzle down. Next to it was Bull’s Ruger Mini-14. It was still warm to the touch.

The inside of the cab reeked of sour, spilled beer and whiskey, bloodstains, motor oil, and rotting food in fast-food wrappers on the passenger-side floorboard. There was a long crack through the front windshield and a dead rabbit on the console that Bull must have shot along the way to the camp.

But the pickup ran well, and the tires gripped the slick rocks on the road better than Joe’s pickup had on the way up. He was making good time.

He knew if the dispatcher was trying to reach him he was out of touch, since Bull’s pickup obviously didn’t have a radio. Joe realized he’d left his handheld radio in his pickup back at the elk camp and he cursed himself for forgetting it.

Then he checked his cell phone. Ten percent battery life and still no signal. Naturally, he’d left the charger back in his truck as well.

He glanced down at the gauges. Unless the fuel gauge was broken, it looked like the pickup was almost empty.

“Bull, you idiot,” Joe said aloud.

He’d never make it all the way to the highway, he thought. The closest place that might have gasoline was the Cates compound.

And it was where he was headed anyway.

—

WHEN THE TREES CLEARED, Joe’s phone came to life with a quick series of pings.

He pulled it from his pocket and saw there were five missed calls from Marybeth. His phone now had five percent battery life left, which would be just a few minutes of talk time.

Joe had a decision to make and he didn’t like it, but he punched the preset for Sheriff Reed’s cell phone. He didn’t have enough time to go through the office’s receptionist. When he raised the phone to his ear, he winced at the jolt of pain from the bullet wound.

“Joe?” Reed said through a mouthful of dinner.

“Mike, listen to me. I’m on my way down the mountain right now and my phone is about to die on me. I found Eldon’s elk camp and Nate’s van was ditched there. Bull showed up and started blasting away—”

“Are you hurt?”

“Mike, please. I’m fine. But Bull’s dead. I’m in his pickup because mine was shot up. I’m headed toward the Cates place right now. I need you to put out a high-priority call to your guys and any LEs in the area to converge on the compound as quickly as they can get there. I don’t even care if Chief Williamson fires up his MRAP, because we know Eldon will be armed. I don’t know the connection between Nate and Eldon, but it’s there.”

“Jesus,” Reed said.

Joe could picture the sheriff pushing his chair back from the table with one hand and wiping his mouth with a napkin held in the other.

“What about Olivia Brannan?” Reed asked.

“I didn’t find her body. It’s possible she’s buried on the compound or maybe even still alive. I don’t know.”

“How soon will you get there?”

“Ten, fifteen minutes,” Joe said.

He was on the two-track now. There were two sets of tire tracks in the road before him: his and Bull’s.

“We can’t get there that fast, Joe. Can you pull up and wait?”

He could look off the sagebrush bench now and catch glimpses of the Cates compound in the swale below. Although it was almost too dark to see, Joe could make out Eldon’s red pump truck cruising across the untracked snow in the equipment yard, headed toward the edge of the outbuildings. Puffs of exhaust rose in the cold air from dual pipes.

“No,” Joe said. “Something’s going on down there.”

“What?”

“I don’t know.”

“Okay,” Reed said. “I’ll put out the word and we’ll get there as soon as we can. Joe, don’t do anything stupid and don’t get yourself hurt.”

“Yup,” Joe said. “Please call Marybeth. Tell her I’m all right and I’ll call her as soon as—”

His phone died. He’d used up all of the battery and he had no idea whether Reed had heard any of his last message.