Savage Run

33

Did I wake you up?”

“Are you kidding? I haven’t slept,” Marybeth said, as she swung out of bed, the phone tight against her ear. The floor was cold beneath her bare feet. “Did you find Joe?”

Trey Crump hesitated.

“I located his pickup in the valley. It was parked just off the road.”

The phone reception was crackling and waves of static roared through the receiver. Marybeth looked at the clock on her bed stand-it was five forty-five A.M.

“You haven’t seen Joe?”

“Negative,” Crump yelled over the static. “I had to drive back up to the top of the mountain to get any radio or telephone signal, Marybeth. I might cut out at any minute.”

“I understand,” she shouted, surprised at the loudness of her voice in the empty room. “Tell me what you found. ”

“The pickup and the horse trailer are empty. The pickup’s been shot up. ” Marybeth gasped and covered her mouth with her other hand, “and somebody disabled the engine and deflated the tires. I found two other vehicles as well; one is a Mercedes SUV with Colorado plates and the other one I just located about a half-hour ago up on the other mountain. It appears to be a black pickup with a horse trailer. There’s no one at the scene of. ”

A whoosh of static drowned out the end of his sentence. Marybeth closed her eyes tightly, trying to hear through the roar and willing it to subside.

“. The cabin was burned to the ground just last night. It’s still smoking. There was a body inside that was not Joe. I repeat, it was not Joe!”

Marybeth realized that she was gripping the telephone receiver so tightly that she had lost feeling in her hand.

“Marybeth, can you hear me?”

“Yes, Trey!”

“I found your buckskin horse, and I’m sorry to say the horse has been killed. I searched the vicinity around the horse but couldn’t find any sign of Joe.”

She let out the breath she had been holding. It racketed out unevenly.

“Marybeth, I’ve contacted the sheriff and he is on his way now. He told me he will call for a helicopter out of Cody. It should be in the air above us by mid-morning.”

“The sheriff?” Marybeth recalled her conversation with Rowdy McBride from the night before. She recalled that McBride never actually confirmed. “When will the helicopter get there?”

“A couple of hours. But the sheriff should be here any minute. I just talked to him.”

“My God, Trey, what do you think happened?”

She missed the first part of his sentence. “. happened. I can’t tell who is who with these vehicles up here or if they’re even connected with Joe’s disappearance. I ran the plates with dispatch and the SUV belongs to a Denver lawyer but they can’t find anything on the plate on the black pickup.”

“You mean it can’t be traced to anyone?”

“That’s what they tell me. But they’re checking again.”

“Trey,” Marybeth said, increasing her volume again as a wall of static began to build, “It’s the Stockman’s Trust. That’s who is behind all of this. The pickup belongs, I think, to the Stockman’s Trust!”

“. Say again?”

She cursed. Someone was knocking on her bedroom door. Sheridan.

“The Stockman’s Trust!”

“I see Barnum’s vehicle now, Marybeth,” Trey Crump said, distracted. “I’ll call you back when I know more.”

“Trey!”

“Got to go now, Marybeth. Stay calm and don’t panic. It’s a good sign that I didn’t find Joe here because it probably means he’s in the area. Joe’s a smart one. He knows what to do. This is big country, but we’ll find him and I’ll advise you of our progress.”

The connection terminated and Marybeth couldn’t tell if it was because the signal was lost or Trey Crump had hung up.

She lowered the receiver to her lap. Sheridan entered, and sat down beside her on the bed.

“No, they haven’t found him yet,” Marybeth said, finding the strength to smile with reassurance. “But they’ve located his pickup.”

“Why were you yelling?” Sheridan asked.

“It was a bad connection.”