events.
Sheridan was already sleeping hard, her head tilted back on the headrest. Joe reached over and gently lowered her to the bench seat and pulled his jacket over her.
As he drove out of the basin, he scanned the landscape. Oil wells, gas lines, survey stakes, metal signs adorned with the company logos of international energy conglomerates. He was exhausted and there was too much swirling in his head to make sense out of anything. But as he beheld the magnitude of the basin, the multimillion- dollar efforts being undertaken to extract fossil fuel from beneath the earth’s crust in this particular place, he thought about energy, about power, about Cyndi’s statement in regard to being looked down upon by people with their lights on.
He thought about the size of the carbon footprints in the basin from all that activity. Then something hit him.
What had April written when Sheridan asked her why she was in Aspen?
Joe thumped the steering wheel with the palm of his hand.
HOURS LATER, Sheridan moaned and woke up. “Where are we?” she asked. “I don’t recognize this.”
Joe said, “Ever hear of a place called Hole in the Wall? This is it.”
“Why are we here?”
“We’re gonna need some help, I think.”
She nodded, and realization crossed her face. “Nate. Where you brought the eagle.”
“Yup.”
“This is where he is?”
“Not far from here. We’ll need to do some hiking. Are you up for that?”
“Sure. What time is it?”
“Almost ten.”
“Dad?”
“Yes?”
“Where’s April?”
20
SHE OPENED HER EYES AND TRIED TO REMEMBER WHERE she was. It was late dawn. They were parked off the road, hidden in a thick knot of pine trees on the side of a hill. It was cool and still in the dark rolling hills, but above in the big azure sky there was a lot going on, she thought, the way those clouds scudded across from horizon to horizon like traffic on a highway, like they were being called in for emergency duty somewhere else. Up there, things were happening.
On the ground they were, too. Or soon would be. She just wasn’t sure about the details. Something about a ranch, a man named Leo, and the Talich Brothers. And about all that money.
THE NIGHT BEFORE, outside the bar, she’d decided to text Sheridan again and ask her to come and get her after all. The horrible incident in the drugstore haunted her. Up until that moment she’d assumed Stenko was in charge, that he’d protect her as he promised he would and give her the money he’d offered. And she still believed that was Stenko’s intention. But when she saw that look on Robert’s face as he aimed the gun at the pharmacist and pulled the trigger, she realized Robert had changed in front of her eyes. He was taking control as he hadn’t before. She could see he was capable of anything, and Robert seemed to realize that as well. What had changed him so quickly? It was obvious: all that money Stenko had. That’s what did it. Robert had a mission. And she needed to get away from him.
As she turned her phone on and waited for it to get a signal, she realized someone was standing outside the car in the parking lot watching her. For a moment she was terrified. Robert? If so, she didn’t know what she’d say, how she’d get out of it. Maybe she’d just start running away in the dark. But Robert was fit. He’d catch her.
But it wasn’t Robert. It was some drunk who’d come outside. He’d grinned at her while he urinated, and she was both disgusted and scared. But he’d seen her using the phone—she was sure of it. What if he went back inside and told Robert and Stenko? So once the drunk was gone, she pitched the phone toward the garbage barrels. It was nearly out of power, anyway, and she had a fresh one still in the package from the drugstore. Robert hadn’t even looked in the basket. So if Stenko or Robert came out and asked her about a phone, she could honestly say she didn’t have one on her. If Robert wanted to search her, she’d let him. And the new TracFone would stay in the package until she had some privacy and could activate it and text Sheridan.
ROBERT HAD TAKEN THE KEYS from Stenko once they’d finally come out of the bar at Savageton. She was worried about him driving drunk, but since Stenko was no better—in fact, he was sleeping— there was no choice. She kept quiet and pretended to sleep. It took two or three hours to get to where they were. Once the smooth road turned into dirt, Stenko awoke and gave Robert directions. She could smell the pine in the air. It had the same smell as that campground where Stenko shot the old couple, and that brought back bad memories. It was like they’d gone full circle and returned to the scene of the crime.
She’d slept fitfully in the back seat. Stenko had slept on the front seat and his wracking snores often woke them both up. Robert had gone off into the trees with a sleeping bag and a bottle of whiskey. She’d watched him try to start a fire, but he had no talent in that regard and had given up and angrily kicked the pile of wood away.
WHEN THE SUN CAME UP, she realized how hungry she was. They hadn’t eaten dinner the night before and now they were in the middle of nowhere. She wished she had grabbed snacks at the drugstore and had some in the basket with her TracFone. Her stomach growled so loudly Stenko stirred and grunted in the front seat. In a few seconds his hand, like a bear paw, flopped over the back of the front seat and he gripped the headrest to pull himself up into a sitting position. His hair was askew and his eyes were red.
“Makers Mark and morphine doesn’t mix well,” he croaked. “How you doing?”
“I’m hungry.”
