“All right. I’m going to head down and have a word or two with my deputy.”
“Mind if I come along?” No Voice said.
“Be my guest, Andy. You two gentlemen just relax. I might want to talk some more after I hear what Dewey has to say.”
When the two law officers had gone, Cork said to Rude, “So, you’re the sheriff’s personal escort these days?”
Rude grinned. “I’m the fastest transport to a remote location. Around here we all lend a hand when we can. Truth is, when Kosmo called and told me what was going on, I wanted to see for myself. Any idea what’s going on?”
“I’ll tell you, Jon, I’ve been looking at it from every angle, and it’s got me stumped.”
“You think she’s alive?”
Cork rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, overcome with weariness. It was the long day, the hard labor of the dig, the fact that he had no answer to Rude’s question.
“I’m not going there yet, Jon,” he said.
“Sure.” Rude nodded. “I understand.”
Kosmo came back. “You two are free to go. I’d like you both in my office early tomorrow. I’ll need formal statements.”
“Did Quinn tell you anything?” Parmer asked.
“He’s reluctant at the moment, but I’ll be talking to Dewey all night. By the time I see you in the morning, there won’t be anything he knows that I don’t.” To Rude he said, “I’ll have one of No Voice’s men transport me and Dewey. Thanks for your help.” He didn’t leave immediately. Instead he turned to Cork. “O’Connor, I’m sorry I gave you such a hard time. I apologize. But this, hell, this is such a bizarre situation. Look, from here on in, I’ll do everything I possibly can to help you find your wife. That’s a promise.”
“Thanks,” Cork said.
Kosmo gave a parting nod and left.
“All right,” Rude said. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
The moon was up. All the way back, Cork stared at the ground below, a vast emptiness punctuated at great distances with solitary yard lights. It made him think of the cold universe where an eternity separated the stars. Jo was somewhere in all that hollow space. God alone knew where. Alive? No, that was too much, too painful a hope to lose again. If she was alive, wouldn’t she have let him know? And how could it possibly be? She’d been in the plane with the others. Mike shot her in the heart. There was no sign that she’d dug herself out. Hell, she couldn’t even have opened the door, the dirt had been packed against it so firmly. Yet she was not there. It was Houdini. It was magic. Or, it was a miracle.
They landed at Rude’s ranch. He gave them a ride from there to where they’d parked their Jeep on the Horseshoe Creek Trail that morning. By the time they were ready to separate, it was well after midnight. They stood among the cottonwoods beside the trickle of the creek. The moonlight was so bright it was like silver fire burning shadows into the ground.
“What do you have planned for tomorrow?” Rude asked.
Cork shook his head. “I’m fresh out of ideas. I’ve followed every lead I can. I expect Lame Nightwind knows we’re on his trail, and I’m guessing he’ll stay vanished. From what you told me, Jon, he knows those mountains well enough he could disappear there and never be found.”
“True. But he’d be leaving everything behind.”
“With Ellyn Grant dead, maybe there’s nothing for him to come back to,” Parmer said.
Rude crossed his arms and looked up at the moon. “You want my take on it, Lame won’t be satisfied until he’s dealt with whoever killed her. At the moment, he probably thinks that’s you.”
“We won’t have to worry about Nightwind. Gully and Mike’ll be gunning for him. Another thread they need to cut,” Cork said.
“I’d love to be there when those guys face off,” Parmer said. “Little Bighorn meets the St. Valentine’s Day Massacre.”
Rude extended his hand in parting. “You need anything from me, Cork, just holler.”
“Thanks, Jon.”
Rude took off, heading home, and Parmer got in the Jeep. Cork stood by himself, staring at his shadow, black against the ground. It seemed to him he was looking into a bottomless hole, and he felt empty. He’d been so close to finding Jo, and then he’d lost her. Again. And he had no idea anymore where to look.
“Cork?” Parmer called.
After a long moment, Cork said, “I’m coming.”
FORTY-ONE
The next morning, the ring of the phone in his hotel room startled Cork awake. He fumbled with the receiver.
“Yeah?”
“Mr. O’Connor? This is Father Frank Grisham.”
“Yeah, Father. Just a second.” Cork sat up and tried to blink the sleep from his eyes. The room was bright with sunlight. He looked at the clock on the nightstand. Eight thirty. “Okay, Father. What can I do for you?”
“I need to speak with you. It’s urgent.”
“Can we talk over the phone?”
“No, this needs to be done here at St. Alban, face-to-face.”
“All right, Father. I can be in Red Hawk in an hour.”
The call had awakened Parmer. Cork told him what was up, and Parmer threw back his covers and got out of bed.
Cork was dressed and had just finished brushing his teeth when Sheriff Kosmo called.
“O’Connor, I thought you’d like to know this. The DCI team from Cheyenne started working the scene at the plane first thing this morning. They figured out why those passengers just sat there and allowed themselves to be shot. The masks that dropped and they put over their faces? The oxygen tanks that fed them had been switched for nitrogen. The DCI people tell me that would have knocked out anyone wearing a mask. Except for the pilot. His mask was fed from an oxygen tank. These people, O’Connor, they thought of everything.”
“Has the DCI team found anything else?”
“Nothing we don’t already know about, but it’s early. I still want to see you and Parmer here at the department for a formal statement.”
“We’ll be there before lunch.”
Parmer had already gone downstairs for the hotel’s complimentary continental breakfast. Cork joined him and grabbed coffee and a roll to go. As they headed out to the mission in Red Hawk, he filled Parmer in on his conversation with Kosmo.
“So, Jo was probably unconscious like the others,” Parmer said. “And if what Gully and Mike said is correct, she was also in the plane when they buried it. Did she wake up and get herself out somehow?”
“If she did, why didn’t we see any evidence of her digging?” Cork replied. “And why didn’t I hear from her?”
“Maybe she got out and got lost in the area. Out there, there’s nothing for a million miles.”
“And the pixies filled in the hole she dug?”
“I know. Nothing makes sense.”
The morning sun was behind them. Cork was at the wheel. He looked west across the empty country toward the Absarokas, where a dark bank of clouds was pushing up from the back side of the range.
“You happen to hear a weather report?” he asked Parmer.
“Yeah, a front’s moving in. Rain down here, maybe a lot. Snow at the higher elevations.” He yawned and settled back against the head-rest. “Wonder what the priest wants to talk to you about.”
“I’m thinking it has to do with Ellyn Grant. Maybe he knows something about her and Nightwind that might be useful. We’ll find out soon enough.”
As they pulled into Red Hawk, they spotted Andy No Voice coming toward them in his Blazer. Both vehicles stopped as they came abreast, and No Voice leaned out his open window.
“What are you doing here, O’Connor?”
“Business with the priest at the mission. Any word on Lame Nightwind?”
“Nothing. Kosmo and me made a visit to his place at daybreak. He wasn’t there, hadn’t slept in his bed. Possible, I suppose, that those two men who took out Ellyn Grant did the same to him and left his body for the coyotes somewhere, but I’d be surprised if anybody could get the drop on Lame Nightwind. More likely he’s lying low, trying to figure his next move.
“I’ve got most of my force out patrolling the back roads, what of ’em we can. We might get lucky. I’m headed to the hospital in Hot Springs. They got Deputy Quinn there for observation. The DCI folks are going to interview him this morning. I want to be there for that.”