brush, his broad back reflecting moonlight. Nate dropped to his knees and bent over forward, as if praying or in pain.
Joe called, “Are you all right?”
“Fine.”
It took a moment for Joe to realize Nate was burrowing his face into the ground, breathing in the sweet dusky smell of sagebrush and grass, filling himself with fresh outdoor air as if fumigating his lungs of tainted, indoor oxygen.
While he waited for Nate, Joe called Marybeth on his cell phone.
“I’ve got him,” he said.
“Nate? How’s he doing?”
“I can’t tell yet.”
“Where is he now?”
“Outside the car smelling sagebrush.”
She chuckled.
“How’s Nancy?” he asked.
“Doing well, considering. I just left her at her house. She’s got relatives on the way. I’m going to go home and bake her a casserole and bring it by tomorrow.”
“How are the girls?”
“Fine. Joe, it’s only been two days since you went up into the mountains.”
“It seems longer than that.”
“A lot has happened, hasn’t it? You need to come home and get some sleep.”
“I need
“That’s sweet, Joe. But you need sleep even more.”
He shook his head, not thinking that she couldn’t see him. “Did you hear the governor’s press conference?”
She laughed drily. “Yes, it’s good to know you’re closing in on the bad guy.”
“We aren’t,” Joe said with a sigh.
“I didn’t think so. Maybe Nate can help you out.”
Joe looked up to see Nate shedding his jumpsuit and rolling it into a ball, which he threw into the darkness like a football. Nate turned and walked back toward the Escalade in his laceless boat shoes, kicking off his baggy, dingy jail boxers. He left them draped in the branches of a mountain mahogany bush.
“You might not say that if you could see him now,” Joe said.
“Tell him hello,” she said. “Tell him we missed him.”
“I’m going to tell him to put some clothes on,” Joe said.
“I’ll explain later,” Joe said.
“Call when you get close to town. Try to stay awake.”
Nate climbed into the passenger seat, briskly rubbing his arms, chest, and thighs.
“It feels good to get that shit off,” he said, closing the door.
Joe eased onto the highway and set his cruise control at two miles under the speed limit. He didn’t want to risk being pulled in the governor’s car over by a trooper and trying to explain why there was a naked man sitting next to him.
“JOE,” NATE SAID as they got back on the highway, “I’m not going back.”
“But—”
“I’m not going back.”
“We’ll discuss it later.”
“There’s nothing to discuss,” Nate said with absolute finality.
TO KEEP AWAKE and try to make some sense out of the last two days, Joe detailed to Nate what had happened to the hunters and the investigation thus far. Nate listened silently, grunting and shaking his head.
At a convenience store near Casper, Joe filled the Escalade with gas and bought a set of extra-large Wyoming Cowboys sweats inside from a discount rack. He handed them to Nate, said, “Put these on.”
“I was just starting to feel good again,” Nate said sourly.
THEY WERE south of Kaycee when Nate finally said, “Amateurs.”
“Who?”
“All of you. Everyone except the shooter. He’s been playing with you people.”
“Maybe I ought to take you back,” Joe said.
Nate snorted. “Don’t be so sensitive. When I think about what you’ve told me, there are some things that just
