by C. J. Box
Farkus thought, I may have just found my calling.
Before the mounted riders from the trailhead could reach them-dozens streamed up the trail-Joe reached back and got his satellite phone and called the governor’s direct line.
Rulon’s chief of staff, Carson, came to the phone.
“The governor’s in an emergency meeting,” Carson said. “He asked me to talk with you. We understand you killed those brothers and rescued Diane Shober. That’s outstanding.”
Joe grunted.
“And we’ve got good news of our own,” Carson said. “Senator McKinty of Michigan announced this morning he’s not running for reelection. We don’t have a reason. He’s been our biggest impediment for years now. The governor’s ecstatic.”
“Interesting,” Joe said.
“Look, you need to be available this evening. The governor’s planning a press conference about the rescue and he wants you here. He’s going to make you a hero, Joe.”
“Nope,” Joe said.
Carson coughed. “But you are a hero. We want the state to know. We want the country to know.”
As Carson talked, Joe glanced over to make sure there was no sign of Nate. They were gone. He didn’t know if he’d ever see Diane again, and wondered where Nate would take her. And how would he and Nate go on?
Finally, he said, “They aren’t with me.”
After a long pause, Carson said, “Who isn’t with you?”
“Diane Shober. I let her go.”
Carson stammered, “I’m not sure what to say. The governor is going to be very disappointed in you, Joe. Very disappointed.”
He shrugged, even though Carson had no idea what he was doing. Joe said, “He’s not the only one.”
He rode down the trail to meet the throng of law enforcement personnel, media, and hangers-on who waited for him. At the side of the crowd he saw Brent and Jenna Shober. They looked anxious.
Something flashed in his peripheral vision as he rode and he cocked his head. The lone wolf again, bidding him good-bye. He wondered how long they’d been tracked.
He turned in the saddle to make sure the bodies of the brothers were still tightly bound to the packhorses.
He thought: They were under control, at last. McKinty, Brent Shober, and Bobby Mc Cue would be pleased.
The sun doused as massive black thunderheads rolled across the sky. Storm coming.
FB2 document info
Document ID: fbd-e0c63c-3af8-0e4a-819e-40b4-b57f-f6bbc2
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 19.03.2013
Created using: calibre 0.8.56, Fiction Book Designer, FictionBook Editor Release 2.6.6 software
Document authors :
C. J. Box
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