Someone talking in a bar, or telling the right person about it-that’s when we can cite them. And you’d be surprised how many of these miscreants show up and confess. Crimes against nature eat on some of these guys the way nothing else does.”
“It’s a puzzle,” Brueggemann said, withdrawing his cell phone and glancing at the screen.
“What’s even more of a puzzle,” Joe said, “is how those hunters saw a deer carcass in a blanket and thought it was Alice Thunder. There seems to be something strange in the air right now. The missing people and that triple homicide have everyone looking over their shoulders and seeing things that aren’t there, I think.”
When his trainee didn’t respond because he was concentrating on his phone, Joe said, “We’re still a few miles away from getting a signal.”
“I can wait.”
“You’ll have to.”
The snow had accumulated so quickly they couldn’t see their entry tracks in the rough two-track on the way out. The big rocks in the road made them pitch back and forth inside the cab like rag dolls.
“I’ll be glad to get back on asphalt,” Brueggemann said.
“Uh-oh,” Joe said, as his headlights lit up a dead tree that had fallen across the road in front of them, blocking their progress. Luckily, the tree didn’t look too large to push aside.
“When did that happen?” Brueggemann asked.
Joe said, “Heavy snow brings down those old dead trees. Try and push it out of the way. If that won’t work, I’ll get the saw out of the back.”
The trainee hesitated for a moment, as if preparing to argue, but apparently thought better of it. “It’ll just take a minute,” he said, pulling on leather gloves.
While Brueggemann walked toward the fallen tree, his back bathed in white headlights, Joe withdrew his own cell phone to check messages. No bars. He glanced to the bench seat and realized Brueggemann had absently left his there. Joe wondered if Brueggemann’s smart phone picked up a signal yet, and picked it up to check.
There was no signal yet, but the darkened screen hinted at the text thread underneath. Joe glanced up to make sure Brueggemann’s back was still to him-it was, as his trainee lifted the tree and walked it stiffly to the side-before tapping a key to light up the screen. Although Joe had no business looking at the extended text thread, he was curious. But the phone was locked and a password was required for access. He lowered the phone back to the seat, ashamed of his attempted spying.
Out on the road, Brueggemann stepped aside and brushed snow from his sleeves and signaled for Joe to drive forward. When he drew up alongside, Joe stopped for his trainee to crawl in. He noted that the first thing Brueggemann did when he swung inside was to immediately retrieve his cell phone from the seat and drop it in his breast pocket.
“Thank you,” Joe said.
“The pleasure is mine,” Brueggemann said sarcastically. “It’s snowing like a motherfu-” He caught himself before the curse came out. “Like crazy,” he said instead.
“It is,” Joe said. “But we’re not that far from the highway now, and we should be fine.”
“Late, though,” his trainee said, looking at his wristwatch. He seemed to be in a hurry to get back to his motel. Probably to talk to his girl. Joe wondered what her name was.
After being tumbled about the cab on the two-track, it felt like heaven to drive onto the snow-covered highway again, Joe thought. He turned right and began to climb toward the summit.
After shifting out of four-wheel-drive low, he snatched the mic from its cradle. They were now back in radio range. Since they were participating in the task force, the under-dash radio unit was still tuned to the mutual aid channel that included all the law enforcement agencies.
“This is GF-48,” Joe said. “We investigated the lead and it’s negative. We’re heading back to the barn now.”
“Roger that, GF-48,” the dispatcher said. The signal-and her voice-crackled with static. “I’ll inform the county sheriff’s department.”
“It was a dead mule deer wrapped in a blanket,” Joe said, and glanced to Brueggemann, who smiled.
“Roger that. A dead deer.”
“GF-48 out,” Joe said. As he leaned forward to cradle the mic, the dispatcher came back. “Joe, have you been in touch with your wife yet?”
Concerned, Joe said, “Negative. We just regained radio contact.”
“Better call her,” the dispatcher said.
“Right away.”
To Brueggemann, Joe asked, “Do we have cell service yet?”
The trainee looked at his phone and shook his head and said, “Must be the snow.”
There was an untracked foot of it on the summit of the mountain, and Joe used the reflections of the delineator posts to make sure he kept the pickup on the road. As they finally began to descend, he felt the vibration of an incoming message on his cell phone in his pocket. At the same time, Brueggemann’s cell phone chirped with received text messages.
As both men reached for their phones, the radio chatter increased in volume and was filled with distant voices.
Brueggemann reached forward to turn down the volume when Joe recognized the fast-clipped exchange of officers somewhere involved in a tense situation.
“Hold it,” Joe said to Brueggemann. “Something’s going on, and I want to hear what it is.”
They listened as Joe drove. One of the speakers identified himself as a Teton County sheriff’s deputy. The other was a Wyoming highway trooper. The third was the local dispatcher in Jackson Hole. Snatches of the conversation popped and crackled through the speakers of Joe’s pickup radio.
… One dead at the scene of the rollover…
… transporting a second victim now to Saint John’s…
… the vehicle is a Chevy Tahoe, Colorado plates, VIN number…
“Where’s Saint John’s?” Brueggemann asked Joe.
“Jackson,” Joe answered quickly, imploring his trainee to be quiet.
… need to alert the emergency room doctors that the victim is in bad shape… claims he was tortured and it sure as hell looks like it…
“Tortured!” Brueggemann yelped.
“Please,” Joe said, “I can’t hear.”
… The dead one at the scene appears to be male, late twenties to early thirties, no identification… massive head wound…
… The staff at Saint John’s has been informed…
… snowing like hell here… not sure if there are other victims around… can see tire tracks but no other vehicles…
… cannot send additional units because our personnel is currently across the border in Idaho…
… Idaho! We need them here…
… Teton Pass is closed because of the storm…
… We need an evidence tech on the scene ASAP. The snow is covering the tracks and we’re gonna lose the chance of figuring out what happened…
… Requesting once again any possible backup or assistance on the scene…
“Jesus,” Brueggemann said. “What do you think happened?”
Joe shook his head as if he didn’t have any idea, and raised his phone to listen to Marybeth’s message that had been left two hours before.
When he heard it, he felt his insides go ice cold. Despite the road conditions, he punched the accelerator.
“Jesus!” Brueggemann said. “What are you doing?”
“I’ve got to get home,” Joe said through clenched teeth.
