At the top of the hill, he burst through the brush in a white explosion and found himself straddling the untracked center of the highway. He sat for a moment, his heart pounding.
Daisy licked the snow off the back of his neck with a warm, wet tongue.
He squinted through the snowfall to his left and saw the yellow glow of headlights around the second switchback turn. Joe hoped Latta would be able to see him in the middle of the road.
Latta’s truck didn’t stop until it was so close Joe could see the man’s troubled face through the windshield. Even with the wipers sweeping the glass, he could see Emily mouthing, Who is that, Dad?
Joe simply sat there on the ATV in the middle of the road with his engine idling, squinting against the snow.
Finally, Latta jammed the gearshift into park and opened his door. He left his pickup running so Emily wouldn’t get cold, Joe guessed. So he could hear better, Joe reached down and shut off the engine of his four-wheeler.
“Joe!” Latta called out. “What the hell?”
He was trying to sound naturally surprised, Joe thought. But he didn’t perform very well.
“Where the hell is your truck? Why are you out on a day like this on top of an ATV? And why are you in the middle of the damned road?”
Joe said, “To stop you.”
Latta paused between the grille of his truck and Joe.
“I take it that’s Emily with you.”
Emily had light brown hair parted in the middle and stylish black-framed glasses that showcased her large brown eyes. She looked guileless and quite sweet, and Joe couldn’t detect her physical impairment by looking at her.
Latta said, “Yes. They canceled school this morning, so she’s hanging out with me today.”
“I used to do that with my daughter Sheridan,” Joe said. “She used to ride along.”
Latta nodded, eyeing Joe carefully.
“Jim, I saw you in the sheriff’s SUV last night when Smith and Critchfield put those explosives under my truck. I kept hoping you weren’t involved with them up until that minute. But you’re dirty, Jim, and we both know it. What I don’t know is how dirty.”
Latta’s face didn’t flinch, but Joe could detect a quick slump of his shoulders, as if someone had let some air out of him.
“The FBI and DCI are on their way up here now,” Joe said. “They have a list of names and you’re on it.”
“Jesus,” Latta said.
Then Latta reached up and unzipped his parka. He brushed the right front of his coat back so the fabric hooked behind the butt of his sidearm. His right hand hung there within inches of the Glock. Unlike Joe, who treated his handgun as an afterthought and rarely kept a round in the chamber, Latta likely adhered to protocol and would be able to draw it and fire fourteen rounds quickly without racking the slide.
Joe chinned toward Emily and said, “What are we going to do here? Have a Wild West shootout in the middle of the road? Neither one of us wants her to see this, Jim.”
Latta’s expression was blank, his eyes flat. He said, “Everybody in the agency knows you can’t hit shit with your weapon.”
“That’s why I pack this,” Joe said, and nodded toward the exposed stock of his shotgun in the saddle scabbard. Latta’s eyes followed Joe’s gesture. Melted snow beaded on the varnished butt.
Joe let the silence between them take over. If Latta drew on him, he was prepared to lunge forward, pull the shotgun out, and fire while falling backward behind the ATV for cover. He wished the grille of Latta’s pickup — and Emily’s searching face — wasn’t directly behind the game warden in case his aim was off. And he couldn’t recall if he had racked a shell into the chamber previously or would have to pump in a round. He prayed silently Latta wouldn’t make a desperate move.
Joe said, “She’s wondering right now what’s going on between us. I can see her face. You don’t want to shoot at me in front of her and I don’t want to have to shoot back. She’s confused about what’s going on.”
Latta said, “So am I, goddamnit. You might have destroyed my life here. She thinks I’m a good man. What’s going to happen to her if I end up in Rawlins? What will she think of me?”
“I understand,” Joe said. “Believe me. But you can use your head now. If you work with me, the Feds will likely take it easy on you. If you tell them what you know and cooperate, there might be a way for you and Emily to stay together. You know how these things can work.”
“Sometimes they work. Sometimes they don’t.”
“It’s your only chance, Jim.”
Latta said, “What you don’t understand is what Templeton’s men do to people they consider turncoats. Family isn’t off-limits, and they’d go after Emily first.”
“Not if she’s in protective custody,” Joe said. “Not if all of them are in cages.”
Latta paused and took a deep breath that shuddered out when he exhaled. He was making his decision.
Joe said, “How about I ditch the four-wheeler and you give Daisy and me a ride? We can work out terms along the way.”
“I don’t want Emily knowing anything she doesn’t have to,” Latta said. Then: “Jesus, I can’t think of anything worse than to disappoint her. Life wouldn’t be worth living if that happened.”
Joe rose from the ATV and retrieved his shotgun from the scabbard. He handled it casually so Latta wouldn’t perceive a threat. Before propping it against the trunk of a tree on the side of the road, he glanced down at it. There was a shell in the receiver.
He turned to Latta and said, “Help me push this ATV off the road and we can get out of here.”
Latta stood for a moment, then zipped his coat and joined him. They each placed their outside hand on the handgrips of the machine and leaned into it to roll it over the side of the switchback. It rolled quickly out of sight but made plenty of racket crashing through snow-laden trees until it came to a stop out of view.
“C’mon, Daisy,” Joe said. Then, to Latta as they walked to his pickup, “Good choice, Jim. For sure they’ll check your house first. Do you have a place we can go to wait things out? A place where Critchfield and Smith and the others wouldn’t think to look?”
Latta grunted. “There’s a cabin on the other side of the mountain. Belongs to a guy who only lives here in the summer. I know where he keeps the keys.”
“That ought to do for now.”
Joe slung his bag into the bed of Latta’s pickup, and it nestled in between the metal gear box and Emily’s collapsed wheelchair.
In the cab, Latta immediately had to turn the interior fan on high to combat against the fogging windows. Joe’s clothes were soaked and steaming. He fought against trembling until he warmed up. Emily sat between Latta and Joe, with Daisy crammed tight between Joe’s knees on the floorboard.
After Latta said, “Emily, this is Joe Pickett. He’s a game warden like me and a friend of mine,” most of Emily’s attention was focused on Daisy, who licked her outstretched hand.
“Daisy is a sweet dog,” Emily said.
“She doesn’t smell so good when she’s wet, though,” Joe said.
“I don’t mind.”
To her father, Emily asked, “Where are we going now?”
“A place I know of. We can hang out there for a while until the weather gets better.”
Emily considered the answer, then said, “Okay, I guess. I’ve got my homework with me. Will Daisy be with us?”
“Yeah,” Latta said.
“Okay, then.”
Joe felt relieved but cautious. He couldn’t trust Latta yet, but he thought it unlikely the game warden would turn on him now with his daughter wedged between them. In a sense, Joe thought with dismay, Emily was a kind of hostage. He didn’t like that at all.