On the way into town, Harris checked the ski patrol office at Highlands Resort, which employed Trexler.
“Hey Wes, it’s Duane. Do you know John Trexler’s location?”
“Yeah. He was in his cabin about ten minutes ago. But he’s planning on trying to beat the storm into Leadville. I think he’s got a lady friend there.”
“How’s he planning to go?”
“Route 82. It’s still open. Why?”
“Got a couple of visitors want to see him.”
“You may just miss him.”
“Thanks,” Harris said. He laid the radio mike on the seat beside him.
They drove through a small quaint village and a mile or so beyond it, Harris slowed down.
“This is the road up to his place,” Harris said. “It’s a mile or so up the trail. His cabin sits about two hundred yards off the road.” He looked out the side window as he turned into a narrow lane that led up through the trees. Mounds of virgin snow outlined the narrow roadway.
“We’re in luck,” Harris said. “No tracks. He must still be up there.”
“Any other road out of here?” Keegan asked.
“Nope, it dead-ends up at Soapie Kramer’s ranger station.”
“How far’s that?”
“Four, five miles.”
Harris dropped into low gear and turned up the road.
“How long’ve you known Trexler?” Keegan asked.
“Oh, Johnny’s been around these parts for a few years now.
He’s worked for all the resorts through the years. Half a dozen companies have tried to make a go of it and failed. He’s with the Highlands people now and it looks like they’re here to stay.”
“What’s he like?”
“Just one of the guys. Everybody likes him. Helluva skier. He and Soapie saved a couple of climbers trapped up on Mount Elbert last year. They were almost to the top, fourteen thousand feet, in weather worse than this. When you said you were from the White House I thought maybe the president was gonna give ‘em a medal or something.”
“I hadn’t heard that,” Keegan said sardonically. He reached under his arm, took out an army .45 and checked the clip. Dryman did the same. Harris looked over at Keegan with surprise.
“Hey,” he said. “What’s going on?”
“Duane, I’m going to level with you,” Keegan answered.
“John
“That’s right. This is the way we’re going to play it. The minute he opens the door, we’ll rush him and get the drop on him.”
“What did he do?” Harris asked. There was alarm in every syllable.
“For starters, he’s killed three people that we know about,” Keegan answered.
“Sweet Jesus!” Harris said.
“What if he gets crazy?” Dryman asked. “What if he’s got a gun?”
Keegan’s heart was pumping overtime but he was outwardly calm. “Then I’ll blow his brains out,” he answered without hesitation.
“Maybe I better call my boss,” Harris said nervously. “Maybe we ought to go back into town and get some help.”
“Don’t worry about it,” said Keegan. “He’s not expecting us. We’ll just stay calm. Be pleasant as we approach the place. If he’s outside, introduce us as a couple of rangers from the district office in Denver. Then we’ll take him.”
“I’ve never done anything like this before,” Harris said.
“That’s okay, neither have we,” Keegan answered.
Harris expertly negotiated the snow-piled drive, the back end of the vehicle groaning as its four-wheel drive urged it up the lane. When they reached the driveway leading to Trexler’s cabin, Harris stopped.
“Don’t see his car,” he said. He rolled down the window and checked the road.
The snow was falling harder and the wind was picking up. Harris knelt down and checked the tracks leading up the mountain.
“Funny, no tracks going down, they’re all going up the slope,” Harris said.
“What the hell’s up there, anyway?” Keegan asked.
