A reptilian stowaway? He didn’t believe it for a moment. Kenny was behind that stunt. What would have happened to Laney and the baby if she’d been bitten? Jaw clamped tight, he made a mental note as soon as he returned to be sure Laney had no intentions of taking any more groups into the park. He wasn’t sure how he would handle that job while keeping a firm eye on Laney, but somehow he’d manage. He wished his cousin Austin was not off on his latest climbing trip, no doubt in one of those places he could only access via his small plane. Austin had always been the first to help and the last to quit.
They rattled through the Boulder Peak Mobile Home Park entrance. The forty trailer units were permanently settled on both sides of the wide dirt streets. Some had rocky landscaping and neatly tended shrubbery. Others sat on bare patches of gravel. Most had sturdy porch structures to provide precious shade. Since it was only just dawn, there were no kids outside playing with the numerous bicycles parked under porch awnings.
One truck rumbled by, the older female driver waving to Jude in his official car. She shot Beckett a friendly look that immediately turned sour once she determined who he was. He didn’t remember ever meeting her, but she obviously knew him, maybe from the papers and newscasts that splashed his picture everywhere after the arrest. He kept his eyes fixed on Jude’s bumper. They found the trailer belonging to Leonard Sanderson, Kenny’s uncle. Beckett parked across the street and pulled the ball cap down over his brow in case any of the residents were peering from behind their blinds.
“Stay out of the way,” Jude cautioned to Beckett. With a hand on his sidearm, he and his officer stationed themselves on either side of the peeling front door.
Jude knocked. “This is the Inyo County police. We need to talk to Kenny Sanderson.”
There was no answer. Beckett judged from the cops’ rigid postures that they were feeling the same tension he was.
“Police,” Jude bellowed. “Open the door.”
Beckett got out, nerves taut, but he stayed by his truck, willing his feet to stay put. Jude rapped again at the door, repeating his command. A harrowing three minutes went by and he saw Jude tense as the door creaked open.
A man with greasy brown hair and an unkempt beard looked out. Beckett edged closer so he could hear the conversation.
“Leonard Sanderson?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m Sheriff Jude Duke. Where’s your nephew?”
“What’s it to you?”
“We’re executing a search on behalf of his parole officer.”
He threw up his hands. “What now? I don’t know why you guys gotta hassle him night and day. He ain’t done nothing.”
“We’re here to take a quick look. If there are no violations of his parole, we’ll leave you in peace,” Jude said.
“You all should leave him in peace anyway. Don’t you have any real criminals to go after?” Uncle Leonard spit.
“Is Kenny home now?”
“Nah. Left an hour or so ago.”
“To go where?”
“The supermarket,” Leonard sneered. “Check his parole officer’s paperwork. He’s cleared to grocery shop. Guy’s not in prison anymore.”
“We’ll search the premises, then, and talk to him later.”
Leonard glared. “You aren’t going to search anything.”
Jude grew a few inches taller. “Sir, I am not asking your permission. Please step aside. We’ll make this as quick and painless as we can.”
Leonard’s gaze swept to the curb and found Beckett. It took him a moment, but then his eyes narrowed to furious slits. “Beckett Duke? That’s the guy who should be in prison, right there. He killed my niece and he got off without paying his dues. Why don’t you go drag him back to jail, where he belongs?”
Jude’s tone was placating. “All we want to do is make sure Kenny doesn’t have a weapon in the home. Then we’ll head on over to the grocery store to find him. If he gets back here first, have him call me.” Jude pulled a business card from his pocket. Leonard made no move to take it, so Jude wedged it behind the mailbox that was affixed to the wall of the trailer.
Leonard reached out and snatched up the card and then threw it on the ground. Both cops were on high alert as he began to rant again. Beckett’s gaze drifted to a movement from the rear of the trailer. Someone was exiting through a window, someone long and lean, his blond hair grown out unevenly from a prison buzz cut. Kenny Sanderson.
Beckett’s nerves kicked like a mule. “Stop, Kenny,” he yelled.
Kenny dropped to the gravel below, knees bent and primed to run. A knife in a sheath was fastened to his belt. Beckett was already in motion, hollering to Jude and tearing after Kenny.
Kenny sprinted away from the trailer, toward the small fence that separated two yards. He leaped over it easily. Beckett pursued him, not nearly as deftly, but urgency fueled his big body up and over. Kenny raced through the yard, around a half-empty kids’ wading pool, and ran full tilt through the open side gate. Beckett was closing the gap when Kenny jagged right. He flew between two trailers and out into the gravel parking area designated for visitors. Boots slipping on the rocky surface, Beckett did the same. Pushing hard, Beckett edged closer until his outstretched hand grazed the hood of Kenny’s sweatshirt.
One more spurt of speed and
