by Jeff Carson
After driving for ten minutes north on Highway 734, they’d taken a left on County 17, passing a couple of fisherman hanging lines off the bridge into the river, and continued at a steady pace up the dirt road into the forested mountains on the west side of the Chautauqua Valley.
Twenty minutes into the drive, the ringing in his ear had stopped and the nausea had dissipated, leaving only the normality of his throbbing leg and hip.
Now at the fortieth minute into their escape, Margaret finally let off the gas and started taking turns at reasonable speeds.
“What’s happening?” Wolf asked, observing Margaret as she leaned into the windshield.
“She’s supposed to be around here.”
Out the windshield, a woman jumped into the middle of the road, waving her hands. She was dressed in gray sweatpants and a black hooded sweatshirt.
Margaret gripped the wheel with both hands and jammed the brakes.
Wolf recognized the athletic build and movements of Kristen Luke as they ground to a halt in an explosion of dust.
“Crap.” Margaret watched as Luke jumped in the back seat and slammed the door.
“Let’s go!”
Margaret hesitated for a second, her jaw opening and closing, and then she pressed the gas.
There was no sign of Luke’s vehicle outside.
Wolf glanced at her in the back seat and thought of the three-month silent treatment he’d just gotten from her, and opted out of offering greeting.
Luke gave him a sideways glance and then stared past him out the windshield. “Have you talked to her?”
“No,” Margaret said.
“Who?” Wolf asked.
Luke leaned forward in between the seats. Her cinnamon eyes were so wide and fierce that Wolf wondered whether they might glow.
The cab filled with her scent, which Wolf knew to be her feminine deodorant and bathing soap, and not perfume, which she despised. He’d forgotten how impossibly smooth her facial skin was, like her face hadn’t aged since she was fifteen.
Her brown hair was pulled back tight against her scalp, striped with wheat colored strands that looked to be the recent handy work of a hair stylist.
She flicked him an annoyed glance. “What? It’s the workout clothes I keep in my car.”
He turned to the windshield. “I’m just wondering when you’re going to let me in on the plan.”
Luke’s finger jabbed past him. “There!”
They rounded a corner and saw an SUV coming at speed. It swerved past them and its brake lights glowed.
Margaret jammed the brakes as they entered a cloud of dust.
“Pull over there.”
Margaret did as she was told and Luke was out the door.
“Who’s that?”
Margaret put the SUV in park and pressed the emergency brake. “My sister.”
“From Aspen? Patterson’s mother?”
“Yep.” She got out. “Let’s go.”
“Son of a bitch.” Margaret’s sister climbed out of a new silver Ford pickup and squinted against the choking dust. “This him?”
Margaret hugged her sister and pointed a hand at Wolf. “Valerie, this is David Wolf.”
Valerie Patterson eyed Wolf with a hard gaze that reminded him instantly of her daughter. She stood the same height as Heather, which was to say the woman was short. But with hands on her hips, she presented herself as a much larger woman.
Wolf shook her hand, certain now that Patterson got her tenacity from her mother. “Nice to meet you.”
“Wish I could say the same.” She shook her head at Margaret and Luke. “I was in the line at the grocery store. You guys freaked me out. You mind telling me what’s going on?”
“Sorry,” Luke said, “there’s no time to chat. We have to move. They’re going to be all over these hills in no time.”
“Who?” Valerie asked, swiveling her gaze to each of them.
Wolf’s ear began to ring again, and when he stepped backward, he staggered and caught himself. “I’ve gotta go sit down,” he said, turning back toward Margaret’s vehicle.
“No, we’re going in Valerie’s truck,” Luke said. “Over here.”
Wolf stopped and walked toward the passenger side of the silver pickup.
“Christ, he’s in bad shape. Should we help him?” one of them asked.
He waved a hand. “I’m all right.” His words sounded like a muffled tuba in his head.
The three women stared at him.
“We need your truck,” Luke said. “You two go back in Margaret’s SUV.”
Valerie Patterson gave over her keys. “This dude better be worth it. Everyone’s always talking about how great Wolf is. Wolf did this, Wolf did that. Doesn’t look so great to me.”
“Val, shut up and let’s go. I’ll explain on the way to Rocky Points.”
“Rocky Points?”
The trees swirled and then Wolf fell to the ground.
Chapter 12
“One. Two. Three!” Luke heaved Wolf’s upper body into the passenger seat while the two sisters pushed his legs inside.
“Okay, back up.” She pushed on him and slammed the door, hoping all his limbs remained clear.
“What happens if the FBI pulls us over?” Margaret asked.
“FBI?” Valerie’s eyes popped. “What do you mean, FBI?”
Luke stepped around the front of the truck. “Just don’t worry about it. They won’t be looking for you and your sister. They’ll be looking for me and Wolf, in my car, not in yours.”
“FBI?” Valerie asked again. “What if they ask if we’ve seen you? I can’t lie. I suck at lying.”
“She can’t.” Margaret nodded.
Luke opened the door. “Thanks, girls. I owe you. Just … go home. We’re going to straighten all this out, and we’ll be in touch soon, all right?”
The two women stood with raised eyebrows.
Luke got in and fired up the engine, turned around, and drove west. She watched in the rearview mirror as the two sisters jogged to Margaret’s SUV, opened the door, and climbed in. And then they were out of sight around the bend.
Settling in, she adjusted the seat and mirrors and cruised on the well-maintained dirt road at forty miles per hour.
Wolf was quiet, bouncing in his seat and leaning against the window. She’d seen him only a few weeks after his fall off the cliff. Back then, he’d looked broken and pale, with a greasy mat of hair and an unkempt beard, an unmoving body that was ripe with the smell of sweat and Scotch. Now, three full months later, he scarcely looked any different, other than that he was fully clothed and not sitting in a hospital bed. His facial hair was short, but his features were sunken, his limbs thinner. He smelled normal. No smell at all, actually. At least that was an improvement.
He slept with his mouth gaping wide open, undisturbed by her violating assessment of him.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket and her heart leapt as she returned to the gravity of the present moment.
Pulling it out, she saw the one number she hoped to God it wouldn’t be—Special Agent in Charge Charles Keene.
“Wolf,” she said, slapping him in the leg.
He swallowed, and once again his jaw fell open.
She took a sharp breath and cleared her throat, then pushed the answer button.
“Agent Luke.”
“Luke, where the hell are you?”
“Sir?”
“Frye’s been trying to get hold of you.”
“He has? Sorry, I’m not sure what’s wrong with my phone.”
She pulled the phone away and looked at the screen. She was feigning confusion, but the truth was she hadn’t received any calls or messages. Probably because she’d been out in the middle of nowhere burrowing her vehicle in the forest.
“… with Tedescu?” Her boss’s voice was breaking up. “… without ... or not.”
“I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t catch that. Can you repeat?”
She jammed on the brakes and pulled
over.
Wolf slid forward, careening headfirst into the dashboard.
She reached over and pushed him back in the seat.
“I asked, where’s Tedescu? We can’t get hold of him, either.”
“He left me this morning, sir. Said he had a family emergency of some sort. I’m not sure where he went. Wouldn’t say.”
There was a long pause. Luke swallowed and shifted in the seat.
“Frye wants you up in Rocky Points. They’ve got a situation up there.”
“Yeah, I heard about it this morning. He told me to stay in Denver.”
“Well, I’m telling you to get up there, now. Your buddy Wolf has gone AWOL.”
When it came to the crunch, Keene always reverted to his military jargon.
“Yes, sir. I’ll get going now. Can you please let Frye know I’m on my way? There may be shoddy reception on the drive up.”
“Yeah. Just get your ass up there ASAP. If you talk to Tedescu, tell him to call me. Yesterday.”
“Yes, sir.”
The line went dead.
She powered off her phone, then pulled the battery and SIM and put them in the center console.
“Wolf, you’re killing me.”
Wolf grunted and then began snoring.
She let off the brake and coasted.
Shifting in his seat, Wolf’s arms flailed forward.
“Wolf.”
He started convulsing.
“Holy shit. Wolf.”
A stream of vomit came out his mouth.
She jammed the brakes and pulled over, got out and ran to his side, and opened the door.
He tumbled out and she pushed back, trying to figure out where to grip him without getting covered in puke herself.
A breeze fluttered past, and she thought she heard a thumping sound. She froze, and then she heard it again.
Shit. A helicopter was approaching.
She turned and searched the sky, and Wolf tipped out of the seat and face planted on the ground.
Stepping back, she felt a shock of horror at the unnatural position of his neck. Grabbing him around the torso, she lifted his bulky frame and laid him on the dirt none too gently.
The rotors thumped louder now.
She got to her knees and pushed him as hard as she could, trying to hide him underneath the truck.
He rolled a quarter-turn and she slipped and landed on her chest.
“Damn. Come on.”
She shut the door, bent down, and tried again. He moved a little, but it was like he was velcroed to the ground, so she climbed over him, crawled underneath the truck, and tried pulling.
The helicopter was here. Right here.
Planting one foot on the inside of the tire, she pulled him fully underneath the truck with an adrenaline-fueled burst of strength.
Then, without hesitating, she rolled over and over and out into the sunlight next to the driver’s side door. As she stood brushing herself off, the helicopter swung into view to the east, banking hard to follow the contours of the terrain.
The black fuselage of an FBI helicopter was immediately recognizable. Rocking back, the craft slowed to a stop in mid-air, twisted, and hovered, pointing its domed cockpit toward her like a huge eye.
She put up a hand as if blocking the sun, hoping she was shielding sight of her face well enough. Then she leaned back and studied the bird, because that’s what a normal person would’ve done.
The helicopter inched toward her and twisted, and she saw binoculars pasted to the passenger window.
She turned and walked away from it to the back of the truck.
Think, damn it. Think.
With unhurried deliberation, she walked past the rear bumper and stopped near a bush at the side of the road, where she then dropped her sweatpants to her ankles.
Squatting low, she relieved herself of a two cups of coffee and forty-five-mile drive pee onto the dirt.
She waited until she was almost done and glanced up at the helicopter again, adding a bashful wave.
The helicopter banked and sped away, disappearing behind the next mountain.
She pulled up her pants with numb, shaky fingers. Her body hummed.
As the rotor sound dissipated to nothing, she walked to the passenger-side door and bent down.
Wolf’s eyes were open. “That was interesting.”
“Shit, Wolf. Are you all right? I thought you might be dead.”
“Yeah. Just a little thirsty, despite what I just watched.”
She blushed. “What you just saw was me shaking off the FBI. My FBI. The people who employ me. The people who are going to lock me up in Florence and eat the key.”
Wolf rolled onto his stomach and crawled out from under the truck.
She helped him out and swiped the dirt off his back, then put the tailgate down and helped him sit.
“What’s that smell?”
“That is your vomit.”
He looked down and squirmed out of his fleece jacket, and then tossed it behind him.
“Just a second.” She opened a rear door of the truck cab and found four grocery bags. There was a gallon of water in one of them.
She cracked the seal, took a sip herself, and then brought it to Wolf.
His dark hair, normally a swirling wonder of the world, was matted on one side and sticking up and caked with dirt on the other. His skin, normally some degree of tan that defied season, was ghostly. His brown eyes, usually alert and calm, were puffy and distant-looking.
Doubt hit her like a pressure wave.
“What’s wrong?” Wolf asked.
“Nothing. Let’s get going.”
He took a long gulp and looked at her. “I haven’t told you yet.”
“What?”
“Thanks.”
“Yeah. Now get in.”
They climbed in and she gripped the wheel with both hands, keeping her speed right at what she considered safe and no more. There was no sense risking an accident or bringing any attention to themselves. They’d already dodged too many bullets as it was.
It was only a matter of an hour or so until they’d be down to the Carbondale area north of Aspen, to where she felt at home, because it had been home for most of her life.
Her brother was there. Her mother was there. But she’d have to avoid them like Wolf’s fleece jacket in the truck bed. She had the perfect place in the middle of nowhere for them to stay the night. They just had to get over these mountains first and open some distance between them and the federal government’s finest.
“I can’t believe we’ve gotten this far,” she said. “And if you hadn’t called when you did? You’d be getting cavity searched right now by a big man named Bruno.”
Wolf was slumped against his window, eyes closed. He swallowed and his jaw fell open.
“And … never mind.”
She reached over and pulled the open gallon bottle of water from his hand. Pausing to sniff the mouth, she wiped it with her sleeve and took a sip.
“Killing me.”
Chapter 13
“Just give me a quick update,” Rachette said into his phone. “They don’t have Wolf, do they?”
Another SBCSD vehicle sped past with motor revving high down Main Street. Rachette watched it slam on its brakes at the four-way stop a few blocks up and then accelerate through.
“There’s another one. Patty, you gotta tell me what’s going on.”
“No, they don’t.” There was a long pause and then Patterson exhaled into the phone. “He escaped down the river in his boat. I’m at a roadblock on Williams Pass and we haven’t seen him. Could still be in town.”
Rachette smiled to himself, glad Wolfie was giving them the slip.
“I have to go. Lurch is coming. Talk soon.” She hung up.
He pocketed his cell phone and walked.
He’d spent the past hour wandering down Main Street’s sidewalks, drinking two lattes and replaying the vision of Wolf being whisked away by Margaret.
&nb
sp; Her Land Rover had tinted windows, but not the blacked-out drug-dealer kind; just enough tint to make him doubt what he’d seen.
Margaret had ignored him. Not even a second glance. They were usually on a polite-wave basis when they saw each other around town. And he swore he’d seen Wolf in the passenger seat.
And now Patterson had all but confirmed it, and the fifth SBCSD vehicle screaming through town along with the speeding unmarked cruisers made sense.
Rachette’s smile evaporated when he saw two men milling around his car.
The unmarked Crown Vic parked on his tail bumper and their suits told him all he needed to know.
Both agents were tall men, late twenties, early thirties at most. One of them pressed his face to the window.
“Can I help you, gentlemen?”
They both sprang upright and drew pistols from their shoulder holsters. “Hands where we can see them.”
Rachette froze. “Easy. What the—”
“Now!”
He held up his arms and let the coffee cup drop to the pavement. “Easy, guys. I’m a cop. I’m not carrying.”
“Hands on the hood. Turn around. Spread your legs.”
He followed their orders and endured a thorough groping. A few seconds later, they cinched his hands behind his back, plastic ties digging into his wrists.
“Am I under arrest?”
One agent gripped him by the forearms and thrust him at their car.
“You two speak English?” he asked, stopping just short of slamming into the side of the vehicle.
Nothing.
“Hey, I just want to point out that this is bullshit. I said I’m a cop.”
One agent shoved him against the car, opened the rear door, and pushed him in.
His head hit the back of the seat and he ended up on the floor on his side.
“Okay. Now you’ve pissed off Tom Rachette. You’d better watch yourself when these zip ties come off, boys.”
The agent slammed the door, leaving Rachette panting between the front and back seats, the hump in the middle digging into his hip. He thought he felt a trickle of blood on his wrist.
Neither agent said anything as the car fired up, backed up, and then accelerated forward. It revved hard for a few blocks and then slammed to a stop, which put their stopping point in front of the new county building.
