“They must have turned off.”
I patted Tavis on the shoulder. “Can you get her turned around and go back?”
He nodded. “I think so.”
As he tried, I scoped the outside to try and get my bearings. “Shouldn’t we have met up with one of the Highway Patrol roadblocks by now?”
“Seems like, but maybe they’re just a little farther.” He pulled the cruiser ahead in an arc, and we slowly started back up the invisible road.
“How could you see that there were no more tracks?”
The Cheyenne Nation shrugged. “Did not see it—I felt it. And heard it; the snow feels and sounds different when it has not been driven on.” He raised a hand again. “Stop.” We slid and then rocked back and forth like a moored boat as the Bear unclicked his seat belt. “They went off the road here.”
I looked out my window. “That’s a road?”
Henry shook his head. “I cannot tell, but that is where they went.”
I tapped Tavis’s shoulder. “How ’bout it, troop?”
“What if it’s not a road?”
“Then we’re probably going to sink this Charger like a U-boat.”
“I’d rather not do that.”
I raised the collar on my coat and tugged down my hat. “Then we leave it where it’s more likely to be damaged and walk.”
He shook his head. “I’m not leaving this unit.”
Henry gestured toward the supposed road. “That, too, is a choice.”
Without warning, and I guess to show us that he was also ten feet tall and bulletproof, the kid spun the wheel and hit the gas. The big motor on the Dodge leapt at the opportunity and literally pounced into the tracks of the pickup, only to sink with a muffled thump like the plumping of four very large pillows.
I leaned forward between them and looked at the Bear. “What’d that sound like to you?”
He pursed his lips. “That we are, beyond even the slightest shadow of a doubt, stuck.”
Tavis threw the cruiser in reverse and stomped on the accelerator before either of us could advise him against it. The Charger spun its wheels and, if possible, dug itself in deeper. “Shit.” He turned to look at us.
“Looks like we walk after all.”
“Shit.”
Henry pushed open his door and climbed out. “My sentiments exactly.”
“You want to open the door for me? There aren’t any inside handles back here.”
Tavis got out on the other side and trudged back up to the road. “Shit.” He stood there and looked both ways. “I have no idea where we are.”
Henry looked around with me and then pointed toward something hanging in the fog. “Is that a sign?”
The patrolman walked toward it and slapped the pole with his hand, whereupon the majority of the snow slid off on top of him. “Shit.” He shook most of it off and then looked up and read the sign. “Oh, more than shit.”
I stooped and shone my flashlight on the tracks, which illuminated a few drips of coolant in the snow. “What?”
“It’s 16.”
“Meaning?”
Zipping up his duty parka, he walked back toward us. “We’re between the main roads leading to either Rapid City or Custer.” He looked around at the twenty feet that were visible. “Probably somewhere in Custer State Park.”
“I guess we’re lucky he didn’t go to Mount Rushmore.” I joined the young man. “Are there any structures around? Lodges they may be trying to get to?”
“There are a few—Blue Bell and Legion Lake Lodges maybe, but I’m not sure where they are in this soup.” He quickly added, “I’ve only been here once when I was a teenager, and we stayed at the State Game Lodge. I remember it because there was a photograph of Grace Coolidge holding a raccoon and she was a looker.”
“A raccoon?”
“Yeah, it was the summer White House and she had this pet raccoon. I thought that was kind of weird, right?”
I glanced at Henry, who shook his head and then nodded toward the two depressions leading into the whiteout. “We better get moving before the tracks fill in.” Henry and I took a few steps in that direction, but I noticed the kid wasn’t following, so I stopped and turned to look at him. “You coming?”
He shook his head. “I told you, I’m not leaving this vehicle.”
The Bear’s voice sounded from out of the wall of white, muffled by the frozen condensation. “I do not think anyone is going to be able to take it without a tandem of tow trucks.”
I stood there for a moment longer and then turned and followed the Bear. “Call the HPs and tell them where we are, would you?”
“Right.” I could hear him crunch toward the cruiser but then stop. “Hold on; let me get them on the radio and then get the keys.”
—
It was slow going; I was monkey in the middle with the Cheyenne Nation ahead and the puffing patrolman behind me.
“How far can they get?”
It was as if our voices were being struck by the tiny particles of snow and then steadfastly driven to the ground. Personally, I didn’t feel like talking, but the kid was nervous so I tried to make an effort. “Hard to say, but he’s got four-wheel drive. If there’s a road around here he’s got a better chance, but I’m betting that he’s going to get stuck just like we did, or his radiator will drain out and he’ll burn up the engine.”
We huffed along for a while in silence, but then he spoke again. “Do you think the other guy is dangerous?”
“I don’t know—either dangerous or stupid or both.”
“Why’s that?”
I pulled up, and he almost ran into me. “Would you be out here doing this without the right gear, if you had any choice?”
“No.”
“Smart boy.” I started off again but couldn’t see the Bear, and I was getting worried that he was outpacing us to the point of leaving us behind, so I doubled up on my efforts. Out of the corner of my eye, I could almost make out something moving alongside, but it disappeared.
I squeezed my eyes together and then quickly opened them but couldn’t see anything this time. I stared into the frozen fog, but the more I looked the more unsure I became. Off to my right, there was something dark outlined in the curtains of white gloom. Whatever it was, it must’ve moved fast to get ahead of us again. I didn’t have any worries that it was Willie, the mystery man, or Roberta because human beings couldn’t be that quick in snow that deep.
The kid’s voice came up from immediately behind me. “Something wrong?”
“No, nothing.”
I kept moving and scanned the area to my right but, responding to some kind of movement, I pivoted to the left and suddenly it materialized again. “What the hell . . .”
As soon as I spoke, the apparition disappeared.
Tavis was behind me and seemed spooked. “Hey, did you hear something?”
I stopped, and he caught up; now we were both looking outward in circles, like prey. “No, but I thought I saw something. Why, what did you hear?”
“Um . . . breathing.”
“Breathing?”
“Right.”
I stared at the path ahead. “We better catch up with Henry; I don’t want him coming up on those three alone.”
There was a thought that wavered in and out of my mind like the shadows in the snow, a déjà vu that reminded me of my time in the Bighorn Mountains a few years past and again when I’d been stalking some convicts in that same region only six months ago—it was not a welcome thought.
I was watching carefully as we moved on with more conviction, but there were no more shades in the claustrophobic storm. The kid had dropped directly behind me, and I listened to him breathe and sigh. “I bet you wish you’d never stumbled onto us back in Deadwood.”
His voice sounded remarkably cheery. “Are you kidding? Other than the odd biker fight, this is the biggest adventure I’ve had since I’ve been on the force.” Then he sighed again.