Below Zero

“But Sheridan said she might be hurt,” she said.

“We don’t know. They won’t let me inside the house. But she’s gone—that we know.”

“Did someone identify her?”

“Maybe. I couldn’t get much out of him.”

Marybeth sighed. “This is tough, Joe. It’s tough that you’re gone with Sheridan. And I understand you went and got Nate. I don’t know—is she ready for this? Is she okay?”

Joe assessed his daughter, who leaned against the door of the pickup pretending she wasn’t listening to every word. What he saw was a young woman who was lucid, calm, but worried. She’d never been out in the field on an investigation with him. All she knew were the results. She’d never been in the middle of a chaotic crime scene like this one with uniformed men cursing at each other and running around, the jockeying for status and position, the clash of jurisdictions among personnel from different agencies, the baseless speculation thrown around in regard to what might have happened. He wondered if she was questioning his acumen and clearly seeing his fallibility. Lord knows he was fallible. But he was her dad. He knew she always thought he had special abilities. Now, he thought, she’d know that he didn’t. That he could run around and speculate with the best of them.

“I think so,” he answered Marybeth, trying not to tip off the question.

But Sheridan sensed it and mouthed, “I’m fine, Dad.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. Then: “Maybe it’s time to bring her home, Joe. There haven’t been any calls from April. I know she’d rather be with you and Nate, but I’m not sure that’s the best idea.”

He looked up to see Sheridan glaring at him. He wondered if his face betrayed Marybeth’s question, and he tried to deaden his expression. “You may be right,” he said. And for Sheridan’s benefit: “I’m exhausted. We haven’t gotten any sleep for I don’t know how many nights. We would both probably welcome being in our own beds.” He nodded as he talked and looked to his daughter for agreement. The glare didn’t waver.

He turned away. “How’s Lucy doing?” he asked in a whisper.

“She’s not happy. She wishes she were with you and Sheridan. This morning at breakfast she looked at your empty chairs and said, ‘I’m sick of being the baby in the family.’ ”

“She said that?”

Before she could answer, there was a chirp on the phone that he disregarded. He assumed it was a bad cell connection.

“Yes, Joe. She’s growing up. She’s an interesting child. She observes the rest of us and makes up her own mind. And I’ve found when she says something, I’d better listen.”

“I can’t imagine being out here with the both of them,” Joe mumbled. “Especially with Nate.”

“Yes,” Marybeth said, “I heard about the ear collection.”

Joe cringed. “You know he really doesn’t have one, right? That it’s his way of joking?”

“I knew that. But does Sheridan?”

“I think so.” What was he doing to his daughter?

“Don’t worry,” Marybeth said, as if reading his mind. “Sheridan might just have a better understanding of Nate than either of us. She’s almost grown up with him around.”

He chuckled, despite himself. And the phone chirped again.

“Hold on,” he said to Marybeth. Cupping the mike, he said to Sheridan, “Your phone is making a funny beep. Does that mean you have to charge it or something?”

Her eyes shot open. “No, Dad. That means there’s a call coming in. Or a text.”

It took a moment to realize what she meant. But Joe quickly said to Marybeth, “Look, I’ve got to go.”

“What?”

He snapped the phone closed. He felt bad doing that to Marybeth, but he knew he could always call her back and explain. Quickly, he handed the phone to Sheridan, who took it and looked at the display.

She said, “It’s a number I don’t recognize. There’s no text or message. It says I missed two calls.”

Joe thought, April took a fresh TracFone from the pharmacy in Rawlins. It would have a new number. And if it was April, her situation was desperate enough that she finally decided to call, not text.

“I know,” Sheridan said, again reading his mind, again staring at her phone. Again, willing it to ring.

Although Joe had told her to stay in the truck, she jammed the phone into her pocket and stalked away into the meadow to regroup. Joe didn’t stop her.

“JOE, THIS ROBERT ANGLE you suggested may have legs,” Coon said. Joe hadn’t seen him walk over from the helicopter, and his sudden presence jarred him. “I just talked to our team in Washington. They’re going crazy with the linkages. I can’t believe we weren’t looking in his direction before this. Stenko’s such a big fat target that we didn’t really move the spotlight off him.”

Joe turned away from Sheridan and her cell phone, hoping Coon wouldn’t pick up on what might be happening.

“Sometimes we think in too much of a linear way in law enforcement,” Joe said, echoing Nate.

“What?”

“Never mind.” Joe was preoccupied. If all Portenson wanted was Stenko’s head on a platter, as he said, April could once again end up being collateral damage. Joe refused to open up that possibility. Which meant he couldn’t yet confide in Coon regarding the incoming calls. They were back to square one.