Back of Beyond

“Most of the time,” Gracie answered.

“You’ve ridden a little?”

“Quite a bit, actually,” she said.

He gave her a paternalistic smile. “We’ll see,” he said.

11

Cody Hoyt said, “So, do you have a headlight that will work?”

It was ten thirty in the morning and the mechanic leaned against a rolling, red-metal standing tool chest and drank a cup of coffee. Above his head was a Snap-On Tools calendar featuring a blonde winking while holding a wrench. The little garage was dark and close and smelled of oil and gasoline. Dust motes floated through the shafts of light from the cloudy windows. The mechanic wore gray coveralls and a Rocky Mountain Elk Foundation cap. He was short and wiry with deep-set eyes and short-cropped salt-and-pepper hair. He’d shaved but had missed a triangle of whiskers above his Adam’s apple. Cody had waited for him outside the shop for an hour while the mechanic had leisurely morning coffee with other locals at the diner next door.

“I might have one,” the mechanic said, “depending on your attitude.”

Cody nearly launched himself across the floor at the guy, but managed to take a deep breath and look away. Orange spangles danced around the edges of his vision. He wanted to flash his badge or show his gun. He wanted to put the mechanic in a sleeper hold and threaten his eyes with pepper spray-anything to get the guy moving. He hated being a civilian. And he hated the fact that he had to operate below the radar and on his own. If he’d told the trooper the night before where he was going and why, the patrolman would have been duty bound to call it in and check the story. Cody couldn’t afford to have the sheriff know he was gone, and Townsend was close enough to Helena that Bodean might send someone to get him and bring him back. So, gritting his teeth against his nature, he’d followed the trooper back to town and nodded meekly when ordered to “Park it.”

If he leaned on the mechanic the trooper would come back and he might never get out of Townsend, Montana, population 1,898.

“Look,” Cody said, “just please put your other jobs aside long enough to wire in a new headlight.”

The mechanic eyed Cody with a squint, sizing him up. Waiting for more groveling, Cody imagined.

“I’ve been here all night,” Cody said. “The trooper said you’re the only mechanic in town right now. I’m really desperate to get on the road and he won’t let me go until I’ve got a headlight that works.”

Finally, the mechanic said, “I doubt I can match the headlight. I might have to order one out of Helena or White Sulpher Springs-”

Cody broke in, “It doesn’t have to look pretty. It doesn’t even have to fit. It just has to light up.”

* * *

The morning was cool and sunny and there were no pedestrians on the street. The Commercial Bar across the road was open, as it always was. Cody watched as a ranch truck parked at the curb and a beat-up old cowboy got out and went in for his breakfast beer. He wore irrigation boots and a sweat-stained straw hat. Jesus, he thought, a breakfast beer.

As he walked he thought of Justin, and his stomach turned sour. Therefore, he had to keep it going. He had to find his son and keep that going. He owed the world the favor.

* * *

He pulled out his cell and speed-dialed Larry’s extension.

“Olson.”

“Larry, it’s me.”

There was a beat before Larry cleared his throat and said, “Excuse me, what did you say your name was?”

“Come on, Larry.”

“And you’re with what company again?”

“Ah,” Cody said, “Bodean’s in the room. Got it.”

“Yes,” Larry said, clipped.

“Can’t talk?”

“No. How did you get this number?”

“I’ll call back on your cell, then.”

Larry said, “I don’t purchase toner or anything else for the office, lady. I’m a detective for the sheriff’s department, for crying out loud. I’ve got important work to do.” And slammed his phone down.

* * *

Cody called back three minutes later to find out Larry’s cell phone had been turned off.

Cody closed his phone, puzzled. Larry never turned off his phone. So either Bodean was still in the room or something else was going on. What?

Cody’s phone went off. He looked at the display. It was an unknown number but had the Montana 406 area code.

“Yes,” Cody said.

“Me,” Larry said. By the background traffic noises from Larry’s cell, Cody guessed his partner had taken a walk outside.

“Don’t call me on my cell or the office number again,” Larry said. “They don’t know you’re gone. There can’t be a record of calls between us on either phone. And if they ask me if I’ve heard from you, I’ll tell them the truth. I can’t lie for you, Cody.”

“I understand. So what is this phone you’re using?”

“You know, it’s one I borrowed,” Larry stammered.

“You’re learning.” Cody smiled to himself. He remembered the afternoon when he showed Larry how many phones there were in the evidence room, each tagged for specific cases. Some still had a battery charge left. He’d told Larry how, down in Denver, he’d used confiscated phones to make calls that couldn’t be traced back to him and sometimes, to aggravate a criminal, he’d call random numbers in Bolivia and Ecuador just to run up astronomical phone charges.

“So, where are you?” Larry asked.

Cody sighed. “I made it as far as Townsend and an HP trooper picked me up and marched me back to town for that fucking missing headlight.”

Larry laughed. “Townsend? That’s all the further you got? You’re kidding.”

“So I spent the night bouncing off the walls of the Lariat Motor Lodge. I’d recommend it only because it’s probably the last place in America that still has black-and-white TVs in the rooms and bedspreads that remind you of your grandmother’s house.”

“You should have stayed home,” Larry said.

Cody grunted, “No way. I’ll be back on the road in a few minutes.”

Larry sighed.

“Have you heard anything back from ViCAP or RMIN?”

“Sort of,” Larry said. “RMIN is running the police reports from the most recent victim in Jackson Hole and they’ll be getting back to me. The case was classified as an accident but it sounds, well, real familiar. A woman named Karen Anthony, forty-six, divorced and living alone, was found dead in her home outside of Wilson. Same deal, Cody.