Free Fire jp-7

by C. J. Box

  “Give me a name, Judy, and I promise I’ll get him. That’s a promise I will absolutely keep. I’ll get him.”

  She didn’t, couldn’t, or wouldn’t respond.

  He brushed her hair back, kissed her forehead, and told her Lars would be waiting for her in Billings.

  Joe was outside in the predawn, leaning against the brick building, listening for the sound of the helicopter in the utter stillness. His breath billowed with condensation. He rememberedhow he and Victor used to strike tough-guy poses against the fence in the backyard and “smoke” lengths of twig, blowing the steam out like he was doing now. The stars in the eastern sky were losing their pinprick hardness due to the mauve wash of the coming sun.

  Four-thirty. He’d decided to wait until six to call Marybeth and tell her not to come. It was too dangerous. He simply couldn’t let her take the chance now, as much as he wanted to see her and his girls.

  In the distance, the EMT van sped down the canyon, headlightsstrobing, but with none of the fanfare or sirens that accompaniedDemming’s arrival. Assault victim, the receptionist had said. The van slowed abruptly, with a screech of brakes, and Joe saw a coyote in the middle of the road, in no hurry, loping down the center stripe. Finally, the coyote ran into the brush and the van could continue down the hill until it turned off the highwayand wheeled to a stop beneath the alcove.

  The driver and assistant bailed out, the assistant filling in the doctor who had come outside and nodded at Joe. Joe nodded back.

  “What do you mean there’s two of them?” the doctor said, annoyed. “The call said one. We prepped inside for one.”

  “There’s two, all right,” the assistant said, lighting a cigarette while the driver strode to the back and threw open the door. “One’s in bad shape. The other one might just be passed out.”

  Joe froze as they pulled the gurney out and the legs unfolded,snapped into place, and locked. He saw the assault victim’s face clearly, recognized him despite the lumpy, misshapen appearance and all the blood. It was his father. And the second man, the one still slumped in the back of the van, moaning like a steer, was Doomsayer.

  The assistant rolled the gurney toward the entrance door, the doctor alongside, reaching under the bloodied sheet to find a pulse.

  “Somebody entered with a key or they let him in,” the assistanttold the doctor. “The rangers said there was no sign of forced entry. Then whoever it was just beat the shit out of these two old guys with a billy club or a baseball bat. Luckily in this case, both of these birds were too drunk to resist or it might have been worse. It was probably like hitting rag dolls-they just flopped around. But whoever it was just whaled the holy hell out of them. .”

  Stunned, joe identified the victims and confirmed that the assault had taken place in room 231 of the Mammoth Hotel.

  By the time he talked to the doctor, Demming had left in the helicopter and the sun had long ago burned off the frost.

  His father was in a coma, severe brain damage likely. The chopper was coming back for real this time. Doomsayer had a concussion but would live, and was being left behind for observation.

  Joe said, “The beating was meant for me.”

  The doctor simply looked at him and shook his head.

  In the confusion, Joe had forgotten to call Marybeth and by the time he did, no one was home. He tried her cell phone and got the recorded message that she was unavailable, out of range. He thought of trying to send a message to stop his family at the gate, but thought he was likely too late. He thought, What a night.

  As they rolled the gurney toward the helicopter, Joe walked alongside. His father was nearly unrecognizable, his lips swollen like overripe fruit, eyes swollen shut, eyebrows bulging like melons. Joe fished under the sheet for his father’s hand, squeezed it. No response.

  The hot tears came from nowhere as the chopper lifted off for Billings, and he angrily wiped them away.

  Joe was bone-tired as he drove Lars’s pickup through Mammoth village to the cabins. He was having trouble thinking clearly and was unable to stop his left eye from blinking furiouslywith stress.

  Marybeth’s van was parked in front of his cabin, doors open. Nate was helping her carry suitcases from the van into the cabin. They appeared to be chatting happily. Neither recognizedhim as he drove up in the pickup, although Nate shot an annoyed glance in his direction because of the burbling noise of the glasspacks. He could see Sheridan and Lucy wearing sweat-shirts,their blond hair tied back in twin ponytails, sneaking up on a cow elk and her calf eating grass in a meadow that borderedthe cabins.

  When he parked and got out, Marybeth saw him, beamed, then switched to a fake angry face. Joe could tell she was about to say: How nice of you to be here to greet us, or Thank goodnessNate was here to show us our cabin. . when she saw the expression on his face and became instantly, visibly concerned.

  “Dad!” Lucy cried, turning and running toward him with Sheridan just behind her.

  “One big happy!” Nate said, oblivious.

  24

  When the trusty brought his breakfast, McCannsaid, “I want to talk to the man in charge of the jail.”

  “You mean Ranger Layborn?”

  “Exactly.”

  “I’ll tell him.”

  “You do that. And take the food back. I can’t eat that crap. Leave the coffee, though.”

  He waited for twenty minutes, sitting on his cot drinking weak coffee until the plastic carafe was empty. His stomach hurt and he wondered if he was getting an ulcer. He tried to ignore the video camera aimed at him through the bars outside his cell. It was strange how, at times, he felt people watching him. Like yesterday,when he felt the presence of someone quite strongly, someone new. When it happened he did his best not to move so as not to provide his watchers with anything to see. He wanted to look comfortable, and content, even though he wasn’t. His goal was to show that he could wait them out, drive them crazy. Of course, he knew, as they did, he could walk out anytime. But that was the last thing on earth he wanted to do.

  Out of his view, a metal door opened and closed and he heard footsteps coming. He took a deep breath, straightened his back, set his cup aside.

  Layborn stopped short of the front of his cell and leaned forward,his face an annoyed mask. “What now?”

  “We need to talk.”

  “I’m busy.”

  “I promise you this will be the most important thing you hear today.”

  “You’re an asshole.”

  “And you, Ranger Layborn, need to know which side your bread is buttered. Grab a chair,” McCann said. “Let’s raise the level of discourse. Which means I talk, and you listen with your mouth shut for once.”

  Layborn’s good eye bulged, and McCann thought for a secondthat Layborn was going to come in after him. Something made the ranger think twice about it, and instead he withdrew his head, turned angrily while muttering curses, and marched back toward the door.

  “If you leave right now without hearing me out,” McCann called after him, “I swear to God I’ll blow this whole thing wide open and you’ll go down with them.”

  Silence. Layborn had stopped. He was thinking about it.

  “I’m not bluffing,” McCann said.

  “Fuck,” Layborn hissed.

  McCann heard the legs of a chair scraping against the concrete.Layborn reappeared reluctantly, raised the chair and slammed it down, sat heavily in it, said, “You’ve got five minutes.” McCann noted Layborn placed the chair far enough from the cell that it couldn’t be seen on the video monitor if anyone looked. He knew there was no sound accompanying the live video feed, so they couldn’t be overheard either.

  “That’s all I need. Are you listening? I mean, really listening?”

  Layborn’s good eye bored into him. His mouth was set; a vein throbbed angrily in his temple.

  “So,” McCann said, “were you the one they were going to send after me? I’d guess so, since you have nothing else to contributeto the deal except your willi
ngness to bash heads. I mean, I wouldn’t guess you’d have much to invest with a park ranger’s salary, right? And they’re not the types who do the dirty work themselves, so they need someone like you, a Neanderthalwith a badge. Your trusty told me about the two old men who got beaten last night. He said they were in a room registeredto Joe Pickett, but no one knows who they were. That was your handiwork, right?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “So when it comes to me, what were you going to do? Come to my office in West Yellowstone, shoot me in the head? Blame it on the angry locals? Was that the plan? Or were you going to bushwhack me somewhere?”

  Layborn glared at him, then raised his watch to signal that McCann’s time was quickly passing.

  McCann said, “When they didn’t pay or communicate, I knew they went to Plan B. Problem was, they didn’t have a Plan B so they had to come up with one. They’re schemers, but they’re not from the street like I am. I was ten steps ahead of them, as usual. By the time they figured out they had to get rid of me, here I was under protective custody. Maybe they’re finallyrealizing they’re just not smart enough to proceed without me. That’s something I knew all along.”

  While McCann talked, he watched blood drain from Layborn’s face, even though the ranger tried hard not to react to anything that he said. But the lack of reaction was a reaction in itself, McCann knew. He’d seen it in witnesses on the stand, and in his own clients. Outrageous accusations should be met with outraged denials if the person accused was innocent. Lack of reaction meant guilt. He had him.

  McCann paused, said, “I need you to get a message to them, and you need to get it right.”

  “Who are you talking about?”

  “I think you know. In fact, I know you do.”

  “You’re wasting my time. I don’t like talking to lawyers. Lawyers are the problem, not the solution, is the way I think about things.”

  “Until you need one.”

  “I don’t plan to.”

  McCann chanced a smile. “No one ever does.”

  “You guys are like wolves. You work the edges of the herd and go after the sick and weak.”

  “Wolves are an important part of the ecosystem, Ranger Layborn.”

  “I hate wolves.”

  “Like the ecosystem, our laws are far too complex for mere mortals to understand. That’s why we need lawyers. It’s not like our laws are moral codes-they’re just a set of rules dreamed up by politicians to keep themselves in power and placate their contributors. I’m a lawyer, and I help powerless mortals cope with the rules and sometimes circumvent them. It’s part of our ecosystem.”

  Layborn started to speak, then shook his head, sputtered, “That’s bullshit.”

  “No it isn’t, and you know it,” McCann said softly. “If our laws were honest and based on universal truth, I’d be on death row for six murders. Instead, I can walk out of here any damned time I please.”

  “I wish you would,” Layborn growled. “See how far you make it.”

  “Ah, now we’re getting to the crux of it.”

  “Crux of what? I don’t like this word-game shit.”

  “Of course you don’t,” McCann said. “You’re a simple man of the law. And when I say that, I mean it in the worst possible way.”

  “Are you insulting me?”

  McCann snorted, “Me? Never!”

  “I’m leaving,” the ranger said, rising to his feet.

  McCann leaped up. “Stop!”

  Layborn froze.

  “Tell them the slate is clean again. Tell them. No one knows except us. I took care of that for them yesterday. No charge.”

  Layborn showed no expression.

  “Tell them they have one choice, and one choice only. They can pay me what they owe me or I call the FBI tomorrow and work out a deal for immunity. Got that?”

  Layborn hesitated. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Oh, come on. Sure you do. Repeat the terms to me so I know they sunk in.”

  Layborn stared back with what looked like fear in his eyes. Thank God, McCann thought.

  “Repeat it,” he said.

  “Pay you what they owe you or you talk,” Layborn muttered.

  “Good! And when I say pay, I don’t mean another empty promise about sometime in the future. I want it all, every penny plus the penalty, now. Now! I don’t care what they do to get it. The transfer should be made immediately, in full. Do you understandthat?”

  “I guess.”

  “If my banker doesn’t confirm that the transfer has been made within twenty-four hours, I call in the FBI. Simple as that. If they want to negotiate, it’s the same as saying the deal is off. No more delays, no more Plan B’s. Tell them,” McCann said.

  “Tell who?” Layborn asked weakly.

  The lawyer rolled his eyes and snorted. “Too late for that. I can tell you know exactly what I’m talking about, and you know exactly who to talk to. Why pretend you don’t? It’s just us pals now, Ranger. Just us buddies. And we’ll all get rich, won’t we? In the meanwhile, I want you to personally start working on transferring me out of here to a federal facility. I’ve spent more than enough time in the Yellowstone jail.”

  Layborn shook his head. His face was pale. “All hell has broken loose out there,” he said, mumbling. “You’ve got no idea what’s happened in the last twelve hours. That game warden and the ranger, they’ve done all kinds of damage.”

  McCann thought this was interesting. The game warden? What was it with that guy? Suddenly, he knew who had been watching him the day before. The game warden should have gone away by now, it seemed. The park was about to close, and he was just a state employee. His business card wasn’t all that impressive, after all.

  “I really don’t care,” McCann said after a moment. “I’ve got more important matters to contend with. So do you, I suspect. And so do your bosses, although I’m sure you’d rather I call them your business partners. I hope they’re smarter now than they’ve been so far, don’t you? They need to forget about some stupid game warden and think about me. Me.”

  Layborn looked up. “The whole world doesn’t revolve around Clay McCann, you know.”

  McCann arched his eyebrows, said, “Actually, right now it does. You forget, I’m free to go. All I have to do is walk outside and talk to the first reporter I see. I know they’re out there, Ranger. Imagine what a scoop I can provide! It’ll make the story of the Zone of Death and my first incarceration here seem like small potatoes.”

  Layborn took a long breath, then blew it out. His shoulders slumped; he looked beaten down.

  McCann thought, That was easy.

  For the first time in two days, he allowed himself to visualize himself on that beach with a drink in hand, millions in his account,a girl at his side. Not Sheila, though. Too bad, he thought, he was really starting to like her. Killing Sheila was the only thing he really felt bad about.

  25

  Like any family on vacation in yellowstone National Park, the Picketts did the sights. First the Upper, then the Lower Loop; Yellowstone Falls; Hayden Valley; Fishing Bridge; Old Faithful (where they ate cheeseburgers for lunch in the snack bar because Old Faithful Inn was closed); FountainPaint Pots. Winter was held off for yet another day althoughit didn’t even attempt to hide its dark intentions anymore, and the weather was cool and clear. Pockets of aspen performed maudlin Technicolor death scenes on the mountain-sides,and brittle dry leaves choked the small streams and skitteredacross the road with breaths of wind. Sheridan and Lucy were delighted with the park, Marybeth was cautiously relaxed.Oncoming fall brought out the wildlife. Sheridan kept track of The Animal Count in a spiral notebook, noting elk (twenty-four), coyotes (one), bald eagles (two), moose (one), wolves (two), trumpeter swans (seven), Ridiculous-Looking Tourists (five), and buffalo (eighty-nine and counting). Lucy claimed to have seen a bear but it turned out to be a tree stump, thus was docked ten points in Sheridan’s counting system, which she se
emed to be making up as they drove along to ensurethat she would win.

  Marybeth played referee and awarded Lucy five points back for “looking cute,” despite Sheridan’s protests.

  Joe tried to join in, tried to relax, but he felt like an impostor. The.40 Glock was clipped to his belt and was uncomfortable. He felt his heart race every time he saw another vehicle, and his palms broke out in a sweat at the sight of a dark one.

  At norris geyser basin, the girls ran ahead on the boardwalk.Joe and Marybeth dawdled, holding hands, letting them get ahead.

  “Your heart’s not in this, is it?” she asked him once the girls were far enough ahead not to hear the conversation.

  “It’s not that,” Joe said. “I really want them to have a good time. I want you to have a good time. This is such a great place.”

  “You’re wound tight,” she said. “I feel like if I let go of your hand, you’d unravel. Is it because your father is here somewhere?”

  He tried to laugh but it sounded like a cough. “It’s not about my father. Well, maybe a little. He’s a distraction, but that’s all he is.”

  “Cold,” she said.

  “He’s nothing to me. I don’t want him involved in our girls’ lives, or in ours. I don’t want them to even meet him.”

  “It might be unavoidable.”

  “Not if I can help it.”

  “And that’s not all, is it?”

  “Nope.”

  “Don’t think I haven’t noticed,” she said softly. “You’ve got your gun with you even though you’re trying to hide it, and you keep checking the rearview mirror to make sure Nate’s Jeep is still behind us.”

  “You saw him back there, huh?”

  “I don’t miss much.”

  They walked along in silence, until Joe said, “It’s hard to believeso many bad things can happen in such a good place.”

  “Stay strong, Joe.”

  “I’m trying,” he said. “There’s so much going on, and so littleI’m able to change or figure out. I want Judy to recover. I want my father to recover. I want to know what causes a flamer, who killed Mark Cutler, and why Clay McCann assassinated six people. I want to talk to Chuck Ward and make sure the governor is still engaged and that I’m still employed. And I want to talk to you alone, and to Nate. He’s hovering, as you know. He knows something and he’s waiting for the right opportunityto tell us.”