Joe doubted it. Too much distance, and too quick of a look at a vehicle on the road.
But it gave him a pretense to pay them a visit. Director LGD would even approve of it.
Dulcie might be another story.
—
EVEN THOUGH the Cates compound was in plain view in the valley, it took twenty-five minutes for Joe to get there on ancient two-tracks that were barely roads at all. As the place got larger in his windshield and he bounced his tires over ruts and knee-high sagebrush, he thought that the family employed the same kind of defense sage grouse did: they hid in plain sight. The tough part wasn’t finding them. The tough part was getting there.
And it would be impossible to sneak up on them.
He circumnavigated the fence line that defined the Cates property from BLM land and passed under a hand-lettered sign that read:
DULL KNIFE OUTFITTERS
C&C SEWER AND SEPTIC TANK SERVICE
BIRTHPLACE OF PRCA WORLD CHAMPION COWBOY DALLAS CATES
Bull had emerged from inside the house and stood waiting for Joe with his hands on his hips outside the front door.
—
AS JOE SHUT OFF the engine and reached for the door handle, a pack of six big dogs thundered out, howling, from underneath the wooden porch Bull was standing on, and surrounded the pickup. They were mixed-breed short-haired mottled-color brutes with dark muzzles and flashing teeth. Joe guessed they were a mix of Rottweiler and Rhodesian ridgeback, a scary combination. One of them lunged at the passenger window and bounced off with a thump, leaving a smear of goo on the glass. Daisy cowered and backed up into Joe.
Bull whistled and called to them. The pack slunk back to the house. He opened the front door and one by one they went inside.
Joe told Daisy to get on the floor of the cab and stay. He shut off the engine and made a point of folding the seat down as he got out. Behind the seat, as always, was his 12-gauge shotgun.
Because if Bull opened the door and let the dogs out . . .
Bull rocked on the balls of his feet like a fighter in the ring and sneered at Joe.
“Hell of a brave dog you got there,” Bull shouted.
He had to shout because of the din of a loud motor—likely a generator or air compressor—racketing from the garage where the pump trucks were parked. The sound was distracting.
“Daisy loves everybody,” Joe shouted back. “She’s not used to being attacked for no good reason.”
“They got a reason,” Bull said. “They’re protecting their property from the man who dicked me around.”
Joe said, “Then I guess you know why I’m here.”
Bull’s eyelids fluttered. A tell. But of what? Joe wondered. He paused by the grille of his pickup and waited to see if Bull would spill something. There was no doubt in Joe’s mind he had something to hide.
Before Bull could respond, the screen door opened and hit him in the back.
“Move, son,” Brenda Cates said, annoyed. “Let me come out.” Behind her, the dogs barked to be let out.
Bull dropped his hands and stood to the side so his mother could come out on the porch. She squeezed out through the front door so the dogs were still inside.
Brenda emerged, wearing an apron embroidered with flowers, and she was in the process of cleaning her hands with a towel.
“You caught me in the middle of making some pies,” she said to Joe. “So what brings you out here?”
Joe couldn’t hear her well over the noise from the garage, but he could read her lips well enough to get the gist of what she was asking. He knew he’d lost his opportunity to get Bull to blurt something out or to come up with a lie. Brenda had saved her son whether she intended to or not.
“Can we get that racket back there shut off so we can talk?” Joe asked.
“Just say what you came to say,” Bull shouted.
“I was wondering who might have been home a week ago last Thursday, in the evening,” Joe said. “That would have been on March thirteenth.”
Brenda eyed Joe coolly. Her face was hard to read. But she’d stopped wiping off her hands.
Bull turned his head to her as if waiting to follow her lead.
Joe took a few steps forward until he stood directly beneath them on the porch so he could hear them better.
“A week ago Thursday,” she said. “Well, I was here. Dallas was here, of course. Bull and Cora Lee were out on a service call, right, Bull?”
“Yep,” Bull said. “We didn’t get back until late.”
“They take the second pump truck out if Eldon is already on a job,” Brenda said. “Sometimes when people call us, they can’t wait for Eldon to get there. You know, like if it’s a sewage emergency.”
Joe nodded like he understood.
She said, “Now, why are you asking about Thursday the thirteenth?”
Joe pointed to the north. “Someone was up there on BLM land causing mischief. I was wondering if you or anyone might have seen a vehicle or heard anything.”
Although Brenda had no reaction to the question, Joe saw Bull’s shoulders relax. He knew that whatever dilemma he might have been facing had passed. Yet Bull clearly felt guilty about something.
“What was I supposed to see?” Brenda asked. “I’m usually in the kitchen at night. The window looks out the front of the house, not the side. So I really can’t say I saw anything. Now, can I ask you a question?”
Joe nodded.
“What’s the real reason you’re here?”
“I just told you,” Joe said. But he was afraid his face might betray him.
“You’re here to see Dallas with your own eyes, aren’t you?” she said. “You still think my Dallas had something to do with what happened to April, even though he was here at home and they caught the man who did it and hauled him to jail.” She sounded both angry and disappointed with Joe. He felt a twinge of remorse.
A woman’s voice from inside the house called out, “Who’s out there, Bull?”
“Damned game warden,” Bull said without turning his head.
“The one who put you out of business? That motherfucker?”
Cora Lee, Joe thought.
“Yep, it’s him,” Bull said.
“Tell him to get the fuck off our property,” she said from inside. “Maybe I ought to let the dogs out to chase him away. He got no right comin’ on private property if we don’t invite him.”
Brenda’s eyes narrowed as she glared at Joe. “Is that true?” she asked.
“It is,” he said. “But I’m not here looking for any trouble. I’m here trying to get some information on an ongoing investigation.”
“An investigation of what?” Brenda asked, suspicious.
“I seen a truck up there,” Eldon said from behind Joe. It surprised him, and he jumped. Eldon had been in the garage working on one of the pumpers, judging by the grease and muck on his bib overalls. The whine of the motor in the garage had covered his approach. There was a long, heavy wrench in his right hand.
Joe said, “How long have you been behind me?”
“Long enough to hear what you asked,” Eldon said.
Joe nodded toward the garage. “Do you suppose you could shut that thing down so we can hear each other?”
“Naw,” Eldon said. “I’m usin’ it. I gotta power-wash them tanks out or they really start to smell rank. Especially now that it’s gettin’ warmer.”
Frustrated, Joe said, “You saw a truck up there last Thursday night?”
“I did,” Eldon said. “I got home in time for supper. I parked my pumper in the garage. As I was walkin’ to the house, I looked up there in the hills and saw it. Then I heard a bunch of shots. I didn’t think much of it at the time. People are always goin’ up there and shootin’ the shit out of things. There ain’t a BLM sign or marker that ain’t shot to shit.”
It was true. Joe asked, “What did the truck look like?”