“We found her, this Maryland student,” Coon said. “Woke her up at her little off-campus apartment. After I swung by your daughter’s dormitory and woke her up. She’s fine, Joe.”
Joe felt a wave of relief. “Thank God.”
“But we have a problem,” Coon said, and Joe could hear the anger in his voice. “Or I should say you have a problem. In fact, a couple of them.”
“Yes?”
“This Maryland girl checks out, Joe. Her name is Jennifer Wellington-a blue-blood name if I ever heard one- and from what we can tell, she’s exactly who she says she is: an out-of-state student. Her record shows a straight line from high school to college. No gaps. No military service. Her parents check out, and right now they’re very angry with the FBI, and her old man threatened legal action unless we cut her loose, which we did.”
Joe said, “You let her go?”
“No reason to keep her, Joe. That’s what I’m telling you. She was upset and blubbering, and she had no idea why we were there. This whole trip over the mountain was a snafu of the highest order, thanks to you.”
“You’re sure?” Joe asked, feeling his stomach clench. “You’re absolutely positive she’s clean and her identity is solid?”
“As absolutely sure as I’ve ever been in my life,” Coon said, his voice rising. “You’ve wasted my time and used up your last favor.”
Joe sat back and looked at the phone in his hand. He was relieved his suspicions were incorrect and Sheridan was safe but disconcerted about how he’d been so wrong and so paranoid.
“Oh,” Coon said, “your daughter isn’t real happy with you right now, either. In fact, I’d call her, um, hopping mad.”
Joe could hear someone, another agent in Coon’s vehicle, laughing at that.
“Man, I’m sorry,” Joe said. “But it means there is someone still out there. Another female operator.”
“At this point,” Coon sighed, “it means this conversation is over.”
“Hold it,” Joe said, sitting forward again. “Did McLanahan request assistance from you? Is your team on the way?”
“Just a second,” Coon said, and Joe could envision Agent Coon covering the speaker while he asked somebody. When he came back, he said, “No word from your sheriff. Nothing. Nada.”
Joe let the words sink in.
“Where are you right now?” Coon asked. “The reception is terrible.”
Joe slumped to the side. It was getting colder inside the cab, and he could feel a tiny tongue of icy wind lick his earlobe from a gap in the doorframe.
“I’m stuck on top of a mountain with no backup and no plan,” Joe said sullenly. “And in the valley below is John Nemecek.”
34
Nate had caught two quick glimpses of a vehicle coming up the mountain behind them in his side mirrors. Each look was fleeting: a dark pickup rounding a switchback turn maybe a mile away, a glint of reflected sunlight on glass and chrome. But he’d seen enough to know the pursuing vehicle wasn’t just driving up the mountain-but flying.
“Who is it?” Haley asked, placing her hand on the rifle next to her on the seat.
“Don’t know.”
“Could it be just a local? A hunter or something like that?”
“Maybe,” Nate said, increasing the speed of the Tahoe. “But he’s in a hell of a hurry.”
“Do you think local law enforcement? Maybe that car dealer called on us?”
“I said I don’t know,” Nate said.
He made a switchback turn to the right that leaned into a quarter-mile straightaway climb. He roared up the stretch, noting that Haley was instinctively bracing herself by clutching the handhold above her shoulder in a white- knuckle grip. He appreciated that she wasn’t a backseat driver.
There was another switchback turn to the left, and he slowed to take it. He hoped he’d put a few more seconds of distance between them and the oncoming vehicle. He’d need them. There were a few old roads leading off the asphalt, but they were few and far between on the climb up the mountain. The campgrounds and logging roads didn’t appear until they crested the top.
Three-quarters of the way up the second straightaway, he said, “Is that an opening in the trees up ahead?”
“Looks like it, but I can’t tell what it is.”
“It’ll have to be good enough,” he said, slowing down.
As they passed it, he took its measure: it had been a road into the timber at one time, likely a Forest Service road, but a hundred feet in they’d used an earthmover to create a berm that would be impassable. It was one of the more annoying Forest Service tricks of the last few decades: blocking access roads to the public while purportedly serving the public. But it was good enough for what he was looking for.
“Hold on,” he said, hitting the brakes.
When the Tahoe was stopped, he quickly reversed and backed into the opening and kept going until his rear bumper rested against the berm. Ahead of them was a narrow opening slot through the trees where they could see fifty feet of the road and the rock wall beyond it.
He turned to her and said urgently, “If he sees our tracks, he might stop and block us in, but I’m hoping he’ll drive right by. Jump out with that rifle so you’re clear to fire if necessary. If he makes any moves that seem hinky, don’t overthink it. Just aim and fire.”
“Pumpkin on a post,” she said with a wink.
“Go,” he said, and bailed out the driver’s-side door.
He could hear the vehicle coming, tires sizzling through the slushy snow on the roadway. The vehicle was coming fast.
Nate looked through the Tahoe windows for Haley. She was leaning back on the SUV and raising the rifle. She had a calm and determined look on her face. That look made him want to run around the back of the Tahoe and kiss her.
Then he shook his head to clear it; thought, Yarak; and drew his heavy weapon from its shoulder holster.
The vehicle-a dark green pickup with an emblem on the door and a single occupant inside-flashed by the opening in the trees without slowing down. Nate listened as it sluiced up the mountain without slowing. The driver hadn’t so much as looked their way. His profile indicated he was leaning over the steering wheel, watching the road in front of him without a sideways glance, and very determined to get to where he was going.
“Whew,” Haley said, uncoiling. “False alarm, I guess.”
Nate squinted, a sour look on his face.
“What?” she said. “Did you know him?”
He shook his head. “I thought for a second it was my friend Joe, that he’d decided to stay. That would be like him: dumb and loyal. But it wasn’t him.”
“So who was it?”
Nate shrugged. “Game and Fish pickup, driver wearing a red uniform. But it wasn’t Joe. He’s the only game warden in this district, so I have no idea who it was.”
“I’m confused,” she said, climbing back into the Tahoe.
“You’re not the only one,” Nate said.
“Are you disappointed your friend didn’t stay to help you?” she asked.
“Of course not,” he snapped.
