“Do we really want to have this discussion?”
Said Nate, “It might lead us into dark places.”
“Yup.”
“Speaking of dark places, where are you going to spread the ashes?”
“I have no idea,” Joe said. “I hardly knew him. I don’t know of any special places he liked except for barstools.”
“You can’t just drive around with him back there,” Nate said.
“I’ll think of something.”
Nate nodded and changed the subject back.
“One thing, though,” he said, pushing his seat as far back as it would go so he could cock a boot heel on the dashboard, “These boys may be losers, but damn. This is what happens when the government gets too big for its britches. Some folks get pushed out and they get angry.”
“You sound sympathetic to them,” Joe said.
Nate said, “Damned straight.”
“Great,” Joe said.
“I’m sympathetic to outliers among us,” Nate said. “I’m kind of one myself.” Then he paused and looked over at Joe, and said, “Government man.”
Joe said, “Quit calling me that.”
THEY WERE ROLLING DOWN the hard-packed gravel road into the forest, racing a plume of dust that threatened to overtake the cab, when Marybeth called back. Joe snatched his phone from the seat between them and opened it. Nate looked on, interested.
“It wasn’t hard to find a connection between Caryl Cline and Diane Shober,” Marybeth said. “In fact, it was so easy I’m amazed others haven’t been there before us.”
Joe said, “We don’t know they haven’t been.”
“Agreed. But it might also be an instance where no one has thought to look.”
“Go on,” Joe said. “Are you saying the two of them were associated with each other?”
“I can’t confirm it,” Marybeth said, “but it looks like they had the opportunity to meet each other at least once.”
“When and where?” Joe asked.
She said, “I just did a simple Google search with both of their names. I came up with a bunch of hits, but in most cases the names are used in the same essays or news roundups during that year. Except for one instance.”
“Fire away,” Joe said.
“Caryl and Diane appeared on the same local cable news show years ago. They were both in Detroit the same day. It wasn’t as if they were interviewed together. According to the schedule, Diane was on at the top of the hour to talk about her chances to make the Olympic team and Ma Cline was on at the bottom of the hour to talk about what it felt like to lose her appeal to the court. Like I said, they weren’t on together and I found the YouTube clips to confirm that, but they very likely could have met in the green room before the show. Maybe they struck up a relationship there that continued.”
“Goodness,” Joe said, his mind swirling, marveling how simple it been for Marybeth to investigate and come up with positive results.
She said, “So we’ve got a Michigan connection now between the Cline Family, Diane Shober, and Brent Shober. This is getting interesting, Joe.”
“Yup,” he said. Then: “This thing between Diane and Brent. It smells bad. I can see the basis of real animosity there.”
Marybeth said, “Me, too. The guy is more than a creep. He’s obsessed with her.”
“And the Clines somehow connect with both of them,” Joe said.
“Maybe Diane and the Clines figure they’ve got a common enemy,” Marybeth said.
“Can you keep looking into it?” Joe asked. “See if you can find anything that links them up further?”
“I doubt we’re going to find anything as public, but I’ll do some advance searches and get creative. I’ll also start adding in the Cline Brothers and see what we get.”
JOE BRIEFED Nate on what Marybeth had found.
Nate nodded his head, said, “The dispossessed.”
Joe said, “Talk about pure speculation, Nate.”
“Trust me on this. These are my people,” Nate said, only smiling a little.
THE SIERRA MADRE defined the muscular horizon of the west and south, and they appeared to flex slightly into the blue as Joe and Nate approached them. Joe used his service radio to call ahead to contact Sheriff Baird’s office. The county dispatcher put him through directly to Baird’s vehicle. Joe expected an immediate rebuke for being back in his county. Instead, the sheriff sounded relieved. “Are you close?” he asked.
“Yup,” Joe said. “I wanted to let you know we’re planning to take horses into the mountains this afternoon to go after those brothers.”
“I figured you’d come back,” Baird said. “How far are you from the trailhead now?”
Joe looked at the dashboard clock. “Twenty minutes.”
Baird said, “Can you divert for now and take the road straight up into the mountains? I’m up here now on the eastern side of the mountains about an hour and a half from you. I may need some help.”
Joe frowned. “What’s going on?”
“I’m not real sure,” Baird said, his voice low. “I got a call earlier today from a citizen about some vehicles sitting empty way up on the side of the mountain. A couple of pickups and a big stock trailer with out-of-state plates. That struck me as unusual since it’s a little early for hunting season, as you know. I had a meeting in Saratoga this morning so I thought I’d check them out on the way back. Looks like I’m not the only one.”
“Meaning what?” Joe asked.
“I’m parked up on a pullout where I can see into the trees below me where the vehicles and horse trailer are located. But as I started looking over the campsite, I saw two men dressed exactly alike in the same clothes come down out of the trees on the other side of the mountain and walk toward the camp.”
Joe felt the hair rise on his forearms and on the back of his neck. He reached down while he drove and turned up the volume on the radio so Nate could hear clearly.
“What’s their description?” Joe asked.
“Taller than hell, skinnier than poles,” Baird said. “Red flannel shirts with big checks on them. Dirty denims. Goofy-assed hats. Kind of zombie Elmer Fudds.”
“It’s them,” Joe said. “The brothers. I wonder why they’re on the wrong side of the mountain?”
“Beats me,” Baird said. “The last I saw ’em, they was crossing a little meadow up above headed toward the camp with the vehicles in it. They’re out of view in the trees, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve reached those trucks by now. Maybe they plan to take the trucks and hightail it out of here once and for all. That would be okay with me,” the sheriff said with a chuckle.
“One thing, though,” he said. “I see a pickup truck down there I recognize that doesn’t belong here. It belongs to Dave Farkus. You know him, don’t you?”
Joe said, “Yup. He’s on my watch list for poaching.”
“Good place for him,” Baird said. “Anyway, his county supervisor called our office yesterday and said he was AWOL. They haven’t filed a report or anything, but I said I’d keep a lookout for him. I have no idea why he’d be over here on this side of the mountain with some out-of-staters, but that sure looks like his wheels.”
“The brothers,” Joe said. “Do you still see them?”
“Naw. Once they went down into the trees, I lost ’em.”
Joe said, “Maybe you ought to pull back.”
“I don’t think they saw me.”
Joe and Nate exchanged a quick look. “Don’t be too sure of that,” Joe said. “Those boys don’t miss much, I don’t think. In fact, you may want to back on out of there.”
“I don’t back off,” Baird said, his voice hard.
“Where are your men?”
Baird sighed. “The timing of this couldn’t be worse. Two of my deputies are in Douglas taking classes at the Law Enforcement Academy—one of ’em is in Rawlins for court today, and the other is on vacation,” Baird said. “It’s just me and I could use some help. I tried to raise a state trooper or two earlier, but they were too far away to respond.”