She blinked back sudden tears.
Said Joe, “We make a good team. You were great, darling.”
“But you’re leaving me behind.”
“This time, yes.” He said, trying not to look over at Marybeth, who was no doubt watching the exchange with concern.
Sheridan turned away and stared out the window into the dark.
Joe squeezed her shoulder as he left.
THE LAST TIME he’d been in a helicopter, Joe recalled, was when he was doing an elk trend count north of Buffalo. The experience had been harrowing and he’d been violently airsick, much to the amusement of the contract pilot who, he thought, made many unnecessary swoops and fast turns.
The feeling all came rushing back as the aircraft roared and lifted and the lights of Rapid City started to rush by outside his window. Instinctively, he shifted his weight toward the center of the craft. He tried not to look down.
There were four seats in the chopper. The pilot and Portenson were up front behind the Plexiglas bubble, and Joe and Coon were directly behind them. All were strapped in, and Joe was the only one without a headset. It was too loud inside to talk normally, so he observed. He was curious why they’d invited him along and suspected Portenson was up to something. The senior agent had not stopped talking on his headset since they lifted off. Coon was listening in, adding things, scanning the ground as it shot by. The wash of lights from town was soon behind them. He gripped the armrests with all of his strength and tried not to notice that his stomach was churning. Stars and the sliver of moon filled the Plexiglas and framed the pilot. The flight deck was awash in ambient-lighted gauges and digital numerical readouts.
He jumped when Coon tapped him on the hand. Joe looked over and saw Coon gesturing toward a headset hung up on the back of Portenson’s seat. Still gripping the chair with his right hand, Joe put his hat, crown down, on his lap and fumbled with the headset until it was free, and managed to adjust it on his head. Coon reached over and clicked a switch on Joe’s armrest to channel A, which was internal to the craft.
“You okay?” Coon asked. His voice was clear, if detached. It seemed odd to be talking through electronics to someone three feet away.
“I hate flying.”
“I can tell.”
“How long before we get there?”
“Thirty minutes, maybe.”
Joe groaned.
“Joe, there’s a lot going on right now. Agent Portenson is in contact with the Rangeland PD and Platte County Sheriff’s Office. They know Stenko and Robert are in town, but we’ve asked them not to intercept them yet until we can figure out what they might be doing. For all we know, they’re going to a hospital or getting a room at a motel. We don’t want the Stensons to know we’re on to them.”
“Okay,” Joe said.
“I’m also in contact with our HQ. Your cell phone has stopped moving. It’s been pinging the same tower for ten minutes. That might mean the Stensons have stopped moving, too. But we need to find out.”
Joe nodded, seeing where this was going.
“We need you to make a call to your phone and get some information.”
Joe shot a glance in front of him to confirm his suspicion that Portenson had stopped talking to the Rangeland PD and was listening in. Yup, he was. And now he knew the reason they’d brought him along.
“I’ll call on one condition,” Joe said. “That the two of you swear that you’ll confine your actions to apprehending the Stensons and nothing beyond that.”
“I knew it,” Portenson said, breaking in. “You’ve got Nate Romanowski down there.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Who the hell else would it be?” Portenson spat.
Coon and Joe exchanged looks. Joe could tell Coon would make the deal. Portenson was the wild card.
“He’s a fugitive,” Portenson said. “And he pisses me off.”
Joe didn’t push. He waited. He ran the scenario through his mind.
Finally, he saw Portenson fire a punch through the air and heard him say, “Okay, damn you. We’ll confine our operations to the Stensons only. We won’t even think about who is down there with your cell phone.”
“You’ve burned me before,” Joe said. “You better not dream of doing it again. Remember when you told me, ‘Never trust a fed’?”
“In a moment of triumph,” Portenson conceded. “I used to have them. They’ve pretty much gone away since I met Joe Pickett and Nate Romanowski.”
Joe chuckled at that. “So it’s a deal? I have your word?”
Coon said, “Yes.”
Portenson sighed and said, “Yes.”
Joe said, “I’ll make the call. Show me how to do it on this headset.”
Coon switched the channel again and gestured toward a keypad. Joe punched in the numbers. He heard the phone ring. As it did, he looked up and saw that Portenson had switched to the same channel so he could listen in. Joe reached up and snatched the headphones off Portenson’s head and shook them at Coon to warn him against trying the same thing.
Nate said, “Speak.”
“It’s Joe. I’m in the FBI chopper on the way to Rangeland. Do you have the Stensons in sight?” He turned his head so Portenson couldn’t read his lips. The agent was furious.
Nate hesitated.
“It’s okay,” Joe said. “I have a deal with Portenson not to arrest you.”
He heard Nate snort. Then: “I’ve got the Stensons under surveillance. They’ve got an old rancher with them, too. They stole his truck, made him drive. I followed them all the way.”
“Great work. What are they doing now?”
“They’re parked outside a bar. The old rancher and Stenko are still in the truck. Robert went inside.”
“What’s he doing?”
“How should I know?”
“Nate, the girl isn’t April. We don’t know who she is or if April’s alive. Stenko is the only man who could shed some light on it, so we need to keep him in one piece.”
“Gotcha.”
“Look,” Joe said, speaking very slowly and deliberately. He suspected someone might be listening in, perhaps at FBI headquarters. He chose his words carefully. “The feds have locked in on my cell phone. They know exactly where you are. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”
A beat. “Yes.”
“We’re thirty minutes away.”
Nate said, “I’ll be ready.”