by Sandra Brown
The pep rally speech was effective. Wes had painted an exciting picture, with Dutch as its focal point. He wanted badly for it to become a reality. But he’d been crushed by disappointment too many times to trust the flurry of optimism he was feeling. He was afraid even to hope that this time, when the stakes were incredibly high, he might finally catch a break.
“Only a crazy cop would arrest someone without evidence,” he said. “I don’t have any on Tierney. It’s all speculation and hearsay.”
“The feds—”
“Aren’t sharing. Begley threatened to lock me in my own jail if I went into Tierney’s cabin out at Old Man Elmer’s place.”
“He can’t do that.”
“Doesn’t matter if he can or can’t. Right now, I don’t know what they’ve got on Tierney, so how can I arrest him and make even a minor charge stick?”
“Do you think Begley would be guarding his rooms so closely if there wasn’t incriminating stuff in there? Bring the guy in and then worry about the evidence.”
“We have constitutional rights prohibiting that, Wes.”
“I know, but isn’t there a term for apprehending somebody believed to be . . .” He waved his hands as though trying to grasp the words.
“Probable cause.”
“That’s it!” he said. “Say the robbery alarm at the bank goes off, and you see a guy in a mask running out of it. The money bag isn’t visible, but you go after him anyway. You don’t wait to gather evidence.”
Dutch left his chair and paced a slow circle around his desk. The whiskey had helped dull the throbbing pain of his face, but another dose of ibuprofen tablets wouldn’t hurt.
“I agree with what you’re saying, Wes, but it’s impossible. Begley’s ordered the chopper for tomorrow morning. If it’s clear, if the wind dies, if the pilot makes it as far as Cleary, chances are good he’ll be able to take it up to the peak. But it’ll take days for us to get enough equipment and manpower in here to clear up that mess on the road.”
“The mess on the main road.” Wes was grinning like he’d just pulled the winning ace from his sleeve. “But what about the other one?”
It took Dutch a moment to catch his meaning. When he did, he barked a laugh. “The road on the mountain’s western face? That’s little more than a cow path.”
“A cow path covered in a foot and a half of snow, which levels it out and makes it easier to navigate.”
“If you’re a penguin.”
“Or a snowmobile.”
That checked Dutch’s next argument. He stopped and thought about it. “Can a snowmobile get up an incline that steep?”
“Worth a try. Besides, the inclines are more gradual on that road because of all the switchbacks.”
That was true. Dutch remembered taking a date up to a popular parking spot when he was in high school. By the time they’d reached the romantic lookout at the peak, she was green with car sickness, so ill he hadn’t made it even to first base with her.
“Okay, but who has snowmobiles?”
“Cal Hawkins.”
Dutch laughed so hard it made his face hurt worse. “Oh, that’s great. Just my luck. He’s the last person in the world who would invite me to use his snowmobiles.”
“He has no say in it. His old man bought four of them a few years back to rent to winter vacationers. The bank repossessed them after Cal put them up for collateral on a loan he didn’t pay back.”
“Again, great.”
Wes was still grinning. “I haven’t come to the best part yet. The bank is keeping them in storage. Guess where? In the school bus garage.”
Dutch was beginning to see the light. “To which you have a key.”
“Riiiiight,” Wes drawled. He toasted Dutch with the whiskey bottle and took another drink from it. “I also have a key to the office where the keys to all the Cleary Independent School District vehicles are kept.”
“How come you’re just now thinking of this?”
“Cut me some slack, will ya?” Wes said around a burp, sounding offended. “There’s been a lot going on.”
“Why didn’t Cal suggest we use the snowmobiles?”
“Because his brain is mincemeat. Besides, they’ve been out of sight, out of mind for over a year. He’s probably forgotten all about them. The bank, too, more than likely.”
“Let’s not remind anyone of them,” Dutch said, growing increasingly excited. “We need to keep this quiet. If Begley gets wind of it, he’ll stop us.”
Wes nodded. “Tonight, gather up everything you think you’ll need. Have you still got ski clothes?” Dutch nodded. “Good. Let’s meet just before daylight at the garage, ready to go. We’ll start up the mountain as soon as it’s light, before Begley has a chance to launch his helicopter.”
“We’ll have to go through town to get to the western face. What if somebody sees us or hears us? Those things are loud. What excuse will we give for taking them out of the garage and using them without the bank’s permission?”
“Dutch, for godsake, you’re the chief of police,” Wes said with annoyance. “If somebody questions you about it, you say you commandeered them to assess what’s needed to clear the road, to check out downed power lines, to rescue a cat. Christ, I don’t know. You’ll think of something.”
Dutch gnawed on his lower lip while reviewing the plan from several angles. He didn’t see a downside. Taking and using property belonging to someone else was glorified theft, but Wes was right. Who was going to challenge the chief of police for doing what was necessary to apprehend a suspect?
And doing something, even something shady for which he could later be reprimanded, was better than sitting here watching his face fester and letting the FBI humiliate him.
For the first time in two days he felt in control, and Jesus, it felt good.
He raised his cup. “Meet you at four-thirty.”
CHAPTER
27
THERE MUST HAVE BEEN SOMETHING terribly upsetting about that conversation,” Marilee said to her brother.
“How many times do I have to tell you—”
“Until I believe you, William.”
She had made coffee in an old-fashioned percolator that heated on the gas range. They were having it in the living room, sitting in chairs they’d moved close to the fireplace for warmth and light. For half an hour she’d been trying to get information out of William about his unprecedented and secretive conversation with Scott Hamer. She had yet to get a straight answer.
“Scott threw up before he got out of the yard. What were you talking about that was so awful?”
“If it had been any of your business, Scott wouldn’t have asked to speak to me alone. Take the hint, Marilee, and stop asking me about it. You’re becoming a nag.”
“And you’re a liar.”
“I haven’t lied,” he said smoothly.
“Why would Scott seek a private conversation with you?”
“Me of all people, you mean?”
“Don’t put words in my mouth, William. I wasn’t implying—”
“Of course you were.” He narrowed his gaze on her. “You know what I think this is about? Jealousy.”
“Jealousy?”
“It’s killing you that I’m more important to one of your pupils than you are.”
“That’s ridiculous!”
He studied her for a moment, his smirk indicating he believed otherwise. “Well, the cause for your interest really doesn’t matter, because as I’ve said, repeatedly, the topic of our conversation was private and no concern of yours.”
“When one of my students vomits in my yard, it’s my concern.” She hesitated, then asked the question she had dreaded asking. “Was it about Millicent?”
His expression shifted. He looked at her with curiosity of a different sort. Speaking slowly, he said, “How odd that you would mention her.”
“Not that odd, since you were speculating on the reason for their breakup earlier today.”
“But Scott didn�
��t know that.”
“Did you talk about Millicent?”
He hesitated, then said, “Her name came up.”
“In what context?”
“In the context of Scott’s relationship with Wes.”
“Wes? What does he—”
“More than that I can’t say without violating confidences, Marilee.” He set his coffee cup on the end table and announced that he was going to bed. “I’ll be leaving early to open the store. Don’t bother getting up to see me off.”
“I had no intention of getting up to see you off.” It was a cheap shot, unworthy of her. William didn’t even acknowledge it as he left the room.
Because of the power outage, there would be no school tomorrow. She should be looking forward to another free day. Instead, she was deeply troubled.
Wes, Scott, and William. The chemistry of that trio made Marilee uneasy. Beyond living in the same town, they had nothing in common except furtive conversations about something that William refused to discuss, when ordinarily he loved being the purveyor of information and gossip. His reticence was annoying. It was also unsettling, especially since Millicent Gunn seemed to factor into it.
Marilee’s uneasiness kept her awake for hours, even after she’d gone to bed. She didn’t realize she’d fallen into a restless sleep until she was awakened by her lover. He was in bed with her, caressing her through her nightgown.
“Oh, I’m glad you’re here,” she said, lightly touching his face.
Within seconds he had the nightgown off her, holding her tightly against him, his penis hard and insistent. She placed her thigh on his hip, took him in hand, and guided him into her. But tonight he didn’t want fantasies or finesse. He pushed her onto her back. His thrusts were hard and fast, almost angry.
Afterward, he lay across her, heavy with exhaustion, his head on her breasts. She caressed the back of his neck, relieving the tension that had collected there. “You’ve had an awful day.”
He nodded.
“Talk to me about it.”
“I just want peace. I want you.”
“Me you have,” she whispered and folded her arms around his head.
• • •
“Can you believe this?”
“Shh, Dutch. You’re going to wake up the whole neighborhood.”
“So what? I don’t give a damn who hears me now. We’re screwed.” He slammed one fist into the palm of his other gloved hand. “I can’t buy a break.”
Wes shared Dutch’s exasperation, but one of them had to hold it together, and it wasn’t going to be Dutch. The guy had been clinging to his reason by his fingernails. This most recent obstacle just might cause him to lose it altogether.
Wes couldn’t let that happen. He needed Dutch. He needed the authority of Dutch’s badge even more. It was imperative they get up that goddamn mountain and arrest Tierney. Better yet, kill him. For reasons of his own, Wes had become as dedicated to that goal as his pal Dutch was.
Now they’d been dealt a setback, but it didn’t have to be as catastrophic as Dutch was making it out to be.
As arranged, they’d met at the school bus garage at four-thirty, both of them bleary-eyed from lack of sleep, jazzed on caffeine, and freezing their nuts off even though they were dressed like Eskimos.
The snowmobiles were where Wes had last seen them, parked out of the way in a far corner of the garage, covered with dark green tarpaulins. So far so good.
It was when they began looking for the keys to them that they ran into difficulty. They turned the garage office inside out but couldn’t find them. The keys to all the vehicles belonging to the Cleary ISD were labeled by license number. There were no keys for the snowmobiles.
Finally Wes gave up the search. “If they’re here, they’re well hidden, and we’re wasting time looking. We’ve got no choice but to go ask Morris where the hell the keys to these things are.”
Karl Morris was president of Cleary’s only bank. “At this hour?”
Wes said, “You have between here and his house to think up a convincing story, Chief. Create an emergency that couldn’t wait for daylight.”
They’d had to knock on the door several times before it was answered by Mrs. Morris, who was wrapped chin to ankles in some kind of horse blanket–looking thing, the ugliest robe Wes had ever seen. She had a face to match, made even uglier by her inhospitable scowl.
Dutch begged her forgiveness for the intrusion, saying they had to speak to Mr. Morris immediately. It was an emergency. She closed the door and went to get her husband, leaving Dutch and Wes to wait on the porch in the frigid temperature.
Eventually Morris came to the door, looking no more cordial than his wife. Dutch told a tale about some family being stranded in their car and how he desperately needed to use the snowmobiles the bank had repossessed from Cal Hawkins.
“I’d be glad to let you use them, Chief Burton. If they still belonged to the bank. We sold them, hmm . . . let’s see. Before Christmas, if I remember. We posted a notice about the auction of repos. Guess you missed it.”
“Guess so. Who bought them?”
“William Ritt. He got permission to leave them there in the school bus garage until he could move them, but he took the keys along with the bill of sale.”
They apologized again for getting him out of bed and thanked him for the information.
Now, as they were wading through the snow back to Dutch’s Bronco, he was in a high snit.
Wes’s patience with Dutch’s chronic pessimism had worn thin. “For crying out loud, Dutch, would you get a grip? This doesn’t have to be the end of it. We go to Ritt.”
“Right. Cleary’s information highway of renown.”
They climbed into the Bronco, and Dutch revved the motor, which he’d kept idling. “What choice do you have?” Wes asked. “Other than letting Special Agent in Charge Begley steal your suspect along with your thunder?”
Cursing, Dutch put the truck in reverse and backed out of the banker’s driveway.
They arrived at the drugstore five minutes later. There were no lights on inside, of course, but William’s car was parked in a slot at the curb next to Marilee’s, which had been there overnight. “Told you he’d be here,” Wes remarked.
The bell above the door jingled merrily. William was behind the lunch counter, boiling a pan of water on the propane stove. The only sources of light were the blue flame beneath the pan and a votive candle William had placed on the counter. It smelled like apples.
He greeted them with a cheery good morning. “You two are the only other people I’ve seen out this morning. Would you like some coffee? It’s freeze dried, but that’s the best I can do.”
Wes sat down on one of the chrome bar stools and removed his gloves. “As long as it’s hot, I’d love some.”
“Me too.” Dutch sat next to Wes.
“Your face doesn’t look too good, Dutch.”
“Yeah, I think I may need some stronger antibiotic cream.”
“Then you’ve come to the right place. I’ll get it for you as soon as the coffee is ready.” Their unusual attire hadn’t escaped him. He remarked on it as he spooned instant coffee crystals into three mugs. “Are you going skiing?”
Wes glanced at Dutch, yielding the floor to him. Before they got there, he had coached Dutch on the best way to approach William Ritt. “He’s a nerd. He’s always been a nerd, an outsider who wanted to be in our circle when there wasn’t a chance in hell of his ever getting in. So flatter him. Make him feel that he’s on our team and essential to our plan.”
“He is essential to our plan,” Dutch had said. “That’s the hell of it.”
Dutch hadn’t been at all happy about having to suck up to a weasel like William Ritt. Now that it was time for him to make his pitch, Wes held his breath.
Dutch began by coughing behind his hand, then assuming a grave expression. “I didn’t come here this morning for coffee or medicine for my face.”
“Oh?”
“Thi
s may seem like an odd request, William,” he continued in the same solemn voice. “In order to even ask it, I must take you into my confidence about an official matter.”
Excellent, Wes thought.
“You know I’d never betray your trust,” William said.
“We need to use your snowmobiles.”
“Thought you’d never ask.”
If he had said he’d once been a body double for Tarzan movies, they couldn’t have been more stunned. Dutch was the first to find his voice. “Excuse me?”
William smiled. “As I was driving here this morning, thinking how bad the roads still are, and how long it was going to be before I could get back up to my folks’ place on the mountain and resume my restoration, it suddenly occurred to me that I don’t need a car to get up there. I can take one of my new snowmobiles. It then occurred to me that I could offer them to SAC Begley—”
“Not Begley.”
Wes had to curb the impulse to lay a restraining hand on Dutch’s arm. He’d spoken too sharply. William’s ears perked up. They needed a quick save, and Dutch didn’t have the reflexes for it. Wes said, “This is where the confidentiality comes in. No one’s supposed to know this, but Begley has ordered a helicopter up here later today.”
“Why isn’t anyone supposed to know?”
“Hell, his case got blown yesterday by those yahoos on the radio. Can’t begin to tell you how pissed he was over that snafu. Imagine what would happen if word of a chopper got out. One equipped with all the high-tech gewgaws the FBI has at its disposal, guys in black suits and ski masks, automatic weapons, ropes and stuff. Begley would be up to his armpits in gawkers who would endanger themselves as well as his rescue operation.”
“I see what you mean.”
“This morning Begley and Wise will be busy organizing that mission,” Dutch said, having caught on to the manipulation tactic. “Wes and I are serving as an advance team. That is, if we can use your snowmobiles.”
“Certainly. I’m only sorry I didn’t think of them yesterday. You could have been spared that disaster with Hawkins.”
“Yesterday it wouldn’t have been safe to drive them. It was snowing too hard, and that road is tricky on a clear day.”
