What if they hadn’t even bothered to send it in?
If either thing had happened, Joe knew, he had nothing to tie the government vehicle to Lek 64 the night the sage grouse were wiped out.
—
JOE SHOOK HIS HEAD as he returned to his pickup. Before ducking around the side of the building, he looked up to see if he had any observers in the four-floor building.
At the second window on the third floor, Revis Wentworth stepped back. A moment later, the curtain was pulled shut.
Joe had been caught, he knew.
So how would he play it now?
—
HE PULLED HIMSELF inside his vehicle and started it up while punching the speed dial on his phone to his home number.
When Marybeth answered, he asked, “How long before dinner?”
“Why?” she asked, suspicious.
“I might have a break in the sage grouse case, and I have to act fast. I don’t want the suspects talking to each other before I get to them.”
Marybeth sighed. It was a familiar conversation to both of them. “We eat at seven,” she said. “You have an hour.”
“That should be enough,” he said, wheeling out of the parking lot.
—
WHILE JOE DROVE DOWN the streets of the subdivision Annie Hatch lived in, he mulled things over.
If his suspicions were correct, it meant two federal employees charged with preserving sage grouse and overseeing their protection had wiped out an entire flock.
It made no sense.
He again recalled what Lucy had observed out the front window of his house when Hatch and Wentworth had come to talk to him.
Maybe . . .
—
ANNIE HATCH lived in a small but well-appointed single-family home on Third Street. Next door was her Bighorn Valley Yoga Studio. A Prius in the driveway had bumper stickers that read CERTIFIED YOGA INSTRUCTOR and MY OTHER CAR IS A YOGA MAT. So she was home.
As he approached her door, he heard a phone buzzing from inside. He suspected it was Wentworth calling her to tell her what he’d seen in the parking lot. Joe knocked sharply, hoping she’d choose to answer her door before picking up her phone.
The phone continued to buzz and he heard no footfalls from inside. He knocked again, then leaned over the side of the porch so he could see into her living room from the nearby window. The television was on and a cat was curled up on top of a couch, staring at him. But no Annie.
For a moment, he thought the worst. Would an unanswered phone constitute enough probable cause to enter her home? He knew it wouldn’t, but he twisted the screen door handle anyway. It wasn’t locked. That wasn’t unusual anywhere in Saddlestring.
He knocked again while he tried the doorknob. It was unlocked as well.
Joe glanced right and left down the street. It was deserted except for parked cars and trucks. No doubt the cool weather had kept the kids inside. He cracked the door open and leaned his head into the house.
“Annie? It’s Joe Pickett.”
No response. He looked around. There was a crumpled afghan on the couch in front of the television. It looked as though she’d thrown it aside moments before. He could smell popcorn from the direction of the kitchen.
“Annie?”
Her cell phone danced unanswered across a breakfast bar within view. Joe entered and snatched the phone up.
The display read: REVIS.
He quickly put it down and backed out toward the door. The cat watched him the whole time with dead button eyes and never flinched.
He was stepping out onto the porch when Annie Hatch said, “Joe, what are you doing in my house?” She was coming from the yoga studio, carrying a mop and bucket. And she was angry.
After being startled, he recovered and said, “I think you know why I’m here.”
—
BUT SHE DIDN’T. Joe could tell from her expression and the way she lowered the bucket and crossed her arms over her breasts without taking her eyes off him that she was harboring no guilt about anything. She was just miffed she’d caught him coming out of her house.
“Just tell me what you were doing in there,” she said.
“I heard the phone ringing inside, and when you didn’t answer it, I got worried about your well-being,” he said.
“That’s nice, I guess,” she said. “Still, you shouldn’t enter someone’s house.”
“You’re right,” Joe said. “I shouldn’t.”
“Did you answer my phone?” she asked, curiosity working its way through her anger.
“Nope.”
“Well, that’s something, I suppose.” She seemed no longer suspicious, just puzzled. She had a sweet soul, Joe thought.
He said, “I got a lead on Lek Sixty-four.”
“You did?” She was genuinely surprised.
“Do you remember meeting the Cates family? They said they remember you.”
She cupped her chin in her hand and searched the clouds, then said, “Are they the people who live just to the south of Lek Sixty-four? Kind of a junky place?”
“That’s them.”
“What do they have to do with this?”
“Eldon, the old man, said he saw a vehicle up on the bench the night the lek was wiped out. He said he heard shooting immediately afterward but he didn’t think much about it at the time.”
Her eyes widened, prompting him for more.
“He said it was a new-model white pickup. He said it looked just like the government truck that you and Wentworth drove out to his place.”
She shook her head. “It couldn’t be ours,” she said. “We didn’t go up there until the next night, if you’ll remember. We went up there after you confirmed there had been a crime. Do you think Mr. Cates got his days wrong?”
“It’s possible,” Joe said. “But is there any chance you two were up there the night before? Like maybe you were lost or something?”
She looked at the underbelly of the clouds again, searching for the answer. Joe thought it must be some kind of yoga thing. He said, “It would have been Thursday, March thirteenth. I found the lek Friday.”
Hatch shook her head. “No, that can’t be right. I was in Casper at an agency meeting that day. I didn’t even get back until Friday morning.”
Joe let that settle, then asked, “Was Wentworth with you?”
“No. He stayed here . . .” And the doubt showed on her face. Everything Annie Hatch thought, it seemed, showed on her face.
“So Wentworth was here alone with his truck?” Joe asked.
“Why wouldn’t he be?”
“Just asking,” Joe said. “I remember you told me you first learned about Lek Sixty-four through a call to your tip line, right?”
“Right.”
“Who retrieved the information, you or Wentworth?”
“Revis did.”
“Did you ever figure out the identity of the tipster?” Joe asked.
“No, why?”
“Did you ever listen to the recording yourself?”
“No. But Revis heard it.”
“Right. Is it still recorded somewhere?”
She shook her head. “You’d have to ask Revis.”
She stepped back and put her hands on her hips. She shifted her gaze from the clouds to the lawn between her feet. “You’re saying you think Revis had something to do with this?” she asked.
“I’m not blaming anyone yet,” Joe said. “But I’ve got another question for you. Did you send that box of evidence to the lab in Denver?”
“Yes,” she said. Then after a moment, she said, “Well, we did. I didn’t personally send it.”
“Were you there when Wentworth took it to the post office, or FedEx or wherever?”
“No. But he told me he sent it in.”
Joe let that settle.
She shook her head again, as if ridding her hair of dust. “No,” she said adamantly. “There is no way Revis had anything to do with it. You just want to pin the blame on someone. You just don’t like him.”