“Back to your request,” Rulon said. “What’s it concerning?”
Joe swallowed. “It’s a family thing. I’d rather not say.”
Rulon smiled slightly and shook his head, his eyes never leaving Joe. “You ask me things no one else would ask me,” he said.
Joe nodded.
“Good thing I trust you,” the governor said, standing up quickly. He was around the desk before Joe could react.
Rulon placed his hand on Joe’s shoulder like a proud father. “Go, son. Do what you need to do.”
“Thank you, sir,” Joe said, taken aback.
“Do the right thing.”
Joe said, “That’s what you told me last time, and I let Nate escape.”
Rulon chuckled. “I’ll advise your new director that you’ll be out of pocket for a while but that you’re still on the payroll.”
“Thank you.”
“But Joe,” Rulon said, leaning forward so he was nose to nose with him, “if this thing, whatever it is, blows up—we did not discuss it here, did we?”
“No.”
“And you can’t expect me to bail you out again.”
“I wouldn’t even ask.”
“So we’re clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
Rulon said, “I can tell from your eyes this is important to you. Go with God, but keep me out of it.”
14
NORTH OF CHUGWATER ON I-25, JOE REMEMBERED HE HAD muted his cell while he met with the governor, and he checked it. Two messages—neither from Sheridan or Marybeth. He retrieved the earlier call because he recognized the Baggs prefix. It was the weary voice of Baggs deputy Rich Brokaw, saying Ron Connelly had been released on his own recognizance by the county judge and that Connelly had apparently skipped town. His neighbors reported seeing Connelly packing up his belongings into his pickup truck the night before. Brokaw had checked out the house—empty, garbage everywhere, holes punched in the drywall. The sheriff’s office had issued an APB on Connelly, but so far there had been no credible sightings. Brokaw apologized for the way things turned out and said he’d keep Joe informed. Joe snorted angrily. Connelly didn’t seem the type to have seen the error of his ways and split town to turn over a new leaf. He seemed the type, to Joe, to escalate into something worse. Men who thought nothing of killing or injuring animals for their pleasure were capable of anything. Connelly was like that; Joe could sense it. What was the judge thinking?
Joe made a mental note to be on the lookout for Connelly’s 4x4 with the Oklahoma plates. There weren’t
The second call was from an unknown number that turned out to be Special Agent Chuck Coon’s personal cell phone. “Joe, I looked up what we have on Stenko. You need to call me back as soon as you can. Call this number, not the office number.”
Joe pulled off the highway within sight of Glendo Reservoir. The lake was still and glassy, mirroring the vibrant fuchsia streaks of dusk, and he could see the small twinkling lights of trolling fishing boats working near shore, trying to pick up walleyes.
He caught Coon at dinner with his family, and Joe offered to call later but Coon said, “Hold on.” Joe could hear Coon tell his wife he’d be back in a minute, and a little boy say, “Where’s Daddy going?” The little boy’s voice made something inside him twang in a familiar way.
“Okay,” Coon said in a moment, “I’m in the other room now.”
“I’m on the highway headed north. There’s a pretty sunset.”
Coon ignored him. “Hey, I looked up Stenko, aka David Stenson of Chicago. I was right—we’re interested in him.”
“If his name is Stenson, why does he go by Stenko?”
“They do that,” Coon said.
Joe said, “Oh. Who does that?”
“Chicago mobsters.”
Joe took a breath and held it. The escalation from deviant game violators to . . . Chicago mobsters . . . made him suddenly light-headed. He said, “What do you mean you’re
Joe could picture Coon hunching over with his back toward the doorway so he could speak softly and not alarm his son. “Look, Joe, I can’t just give you everything without getting something back. Like how is it a game warden in Wyoming is suddenly asking me questions about tracking down a cell phone involving some guy named Stenko? I mean, how do we get there from here?”
Joe felt a shiver run up his back. Coon’s tone betrayed his intense interest, as did the fact that he’d left Joe his private number and asked him to call after hours. So who was this Stenko? And how was it April could be with him?
