C. Box - Force of Nature

She thought about that for a moment, then said, “But he talked.”

“It took a while,” Nate said. “A lot longer than I’d hoped. Not until I started on his second hand, and even then he held back. For a while.”

“It’s just so inhuman,” she said. “I always knew Gabriel had seen things and even done things overseas, but he never talked about them. Now I think I hate him, too.”

“Don’t,” Nate said. “Cohen was like that poor son-of-a-bitch back there in the trucker cap. He was doing what he was hardwired to do and what he thought was right. It’s been going on for thousands of years, but you’ve had the wealth and comfort to go soft. Our whole country has. If it weren’t for men like those two, you’d see a lot more savagery, but you’d see it in the streets.”

He said, “They protect you from knowing what’s out there, and there’s no appreciation for them. No gratitude.”

“Don’t paint me like that,” she said defensively. “I know there’s violence in the world. I know there are people who want to kill us. I’m from a military family,” she said. “But I don’t have to enjoy what you did.”

“And I hope you never do,” Nate said, “or your world would turn into mine.”

They passed under a huge retro neon trout struggling on a fishing line that marked a closed sporting-goods store.

“I’m looking for a pay phone,” Nate said.

“They still have those?” she asked.

He ignored her. “I need to call a buddy of mine. He’s in big trouble, but he doesn’t know it.”

As they backtracked through town and Nate located a public phone mounted on the side of a sleeping grocery store, she said, “For a while there, it seemed like something was happening between us, didn’t it?”

He looked over, not sure how to respond.

“I’d like to say it ended back there,” she said, looking away.

“But it didn’t,” Nate said.

“I’m not so sure now.”

“Bad timing, I guess.”

“It always is,” she said, and sighed.

Joe felt a punch of panic in his gut when he saw the strange vehicle parked in front of his house through the cascading snow. It was a half hour from midnight: no one should be visiting. Worst-case scenarios corkscrewed through his mind, and he instinctively reached over and touched the shotgun-propped muzzle-down on the bench seat-to make sure it was there.

His anxiety level had climbed each time he’d tried to call Marybeth’s cell phone as he roared down the mountain, only to get her voice-mail message. She was either on her phone or the phone was turned off. The message he’d left was: “I’m on the way.” While he’d dropped off Luke Brueggemann at the hotel, he’d speed-dialed the house phone, but all he got was a tinny recording announcing that the number he’d called wasn’t “in service at this time.”

As he neared his home, he recognized the SUV as belonging to Deputy Mike Reed, and breathed a sigh of relief. Not until that moment did he realize how tightly he’d been gripping the wheel.

Nevertheless, he carried the shotgun with him as he skipped up the snow-covered porch steps and threw open the front door.

“Whoa, there, buckaroo,” Reed said when he looked up from a cup of coffee and saw the weapon. “Just us friendlies here.” He was seated on the couch in full uniform.

Joe lowered the weapon and propped it in the corner of the mudroom before entering the living room. He could hear Marybeth talking in the kitchen on her cell phone-the reason he couldn’t reach her earlier. He shook snow off his parka and hung it on a peg.

“It doesn’t look like it’s letting up much outside,” Reed said to Joe.

“Nope.”

“Road okay?”

“Hasn’t seen a plow, if that’s what you’re asking,” Joe said.

“I’m not surprised,” Reed said. “I don’t think the county road and bridge guys were ready for an October blizzard. No one was. The heavy snow knocked down some tree limbs south of town and took out the phone lines, too. They’re just now getting them fixed. The phone company didn’t have crews ready. You’d think they’d all just moved to Wyoming or something.”

Joe nodded, relieved by the explanation for not being able to reach his wife.

“So you found a dead deer in a cabin instead of a missing Indian woman?” Reed asked. When Joe looked up, Reed patted his handheld radio, from which he’d obviously been monitoring the transmissions.

“Yup.”

“What a waste of time,” Reed said, chuckling bitterly.

“That’s how it goes these days,” Joe said in the same tone. Then: “Have you heard anything more about that situation in Jackson with the rollover?”

“Not for a while,” Reed said. “I think we had a window there in the storm where we could hear them. But it’s closed now. I haven’t heard anything but static in that direction.”

Joe nodded, then said, “Be right back.”

He walked down the hallway and cracked open Lucy’s door. She was in bed. Her blond hair shimmered in the bar of light from the open door, and she turned over with her back to him and moaned in her sleep. Joe eased the door shut and went across the hall to April’s room. It was locked. He rapped on it with a knuckle.

“What?” she asked, her voice shot through with outrage.

“You okay?”

“Why shouldn’t I be?”

“No reason,” Joe said, turning back down the hall. Behind him, he could hear her voice trail off. Something about being grounded without a cell phone, practically a prisoner in her own home…

Situation normal, he said to himself.

He returned to the front room. Tube yawned and padded down the hall on his heels.

Joe stopped inside the threshold and squinted at Reed.

“Mike, why are you here?”

Reed chuckled, lowered his coffee cup, and said, “Your wife called and told me what happened at the library when the lines went down. I thought I might just come up here and check on her and kind of hang out until you got home. Just to make sure this Bob White guy-or whoever he is-didn’t decide to come by for another visit.”

“Thank you,” Joe said. He was touched.

“Don’t mention it,” Reed said. “To be honest, it feels kind of nice to get out of the office for a while. McLanahan is going crazy. He’s lashing out at everyone like Hitler in his bunker during the last days of Berlin. I don’t mind getting away from that.”

Marybeth peeked out at Joe from the kitchen. She held her cell phone to her ear and gestured with a “just a minute” finger in the air.

“Did you locate the guy who spooked Marybeth?” Joe asked Reed.

The deputy shook his head. “He was long gone, unfortunately. We’re circulating his description and the make of the vehicle she saw in the parking lot, though. If we get an identification I’ll let you know right away. This town isn’t big enough to hide in very long.”

“I know,” Joe said. “But it’s a hell of a big county.”

“Joe,” Reed said, “let us handle it if we find him. I don’t think it would be a good idea for you to be there. I’ve seen that look in your eye before.”

“Hmph.”

“Do you have any idea who it was?” Reed asked, shooting Joe his sidelong cop stare.

“Not for sure,” Joe said.

“Marybeth told me it might be a guy named”-he glanced at his notebook-“John Nemecek. We ran the name and came up with absolutely nothing. No priors, no record of any kind. We don’t even know where he’s from.”

“That sounds about right,” Joe said.

Reed said, “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

Joe thought about it for a few seconds and came clean. “Nate told me this John Nemecek might be after him. Apparently, they served together in Special Forces. I don’t know much more than that, but it’s possible Nemecek had something to do with all that’s been going on around here.”