C. Box - Force of Nature

Joe felt Schalk’s eyes on him as the sheriff talked.

“It’s been a while,” Joe said.

“What’s a while?” McLanahan asked. “I mean, being that you’re sworn to uphold the law and all? It’s hard to believe you know the location of a wanted man but you don’t find it within yourself to turn him in or arrest him.”

“It’s not that simple,” Joe said. He knew he was flushing. And he knew McLanahan had a point and was making it so the county attorney would hear it.

“Rumor is,” Sollis said, cutting in, “your buddy Nate has a history of violence. Some even say he had something to do with the disappearance of our former sheriff, although we could never get enough evidence to make that case. You wouldn’t know anything about any of this, would you?”

“Not really,” Joe said, grateful the sheriff hadn’t asked him about things he did know about, like Nate’s habit of ripping ears off suspects. In regard to the end of former Sheriff Bud Barnum, Joe had a suspicion about Nate’s involvement, but he’d never voiced it with anyone except Marybeth.

“So,” McLanahan said to Joe, shooting a glance at Dulcie Schalk to make sure she was fully engaged in the implication, “you probably wouldn’t want to go with us in a few minutes when we drive upriver to check out Nate Romanowski’s alleged place of residence? To see if he knows anything about these yahoos that lay before us?”

Joe avoided Schalk’s eyes. He said, “I’ll go.”

McLanahan feigned surprise. “You don’t need to put yourself out. Besides, you’ll probably get in the way. You always do.”

“I said I’m going.”

Behind Joe, he heard a sudden retching sound. He turned to see Luke Brueggemann covering his mouth. His eyes were bulging and wet. He turned and threw up on the concrete floor.

“For Christ’s sake,” McLanahan said to Sollis, “call maintenance and get them to clean that up.” To Joe he said, “Can’t you control your people?”

Joe put his hand under Brueggemann’s arm and led him outside. “It’s okay,” he told his trainee. “It happens.”

“Has it happened to you?”

“Yup.”

“Those guys aren’t going to let me forget about this, are they?”

Joe said, “No, they won’t.”

Brueggemann wiped at his mouth with the back of his sleeve. “I’ve seen plenty of dead things before. You know, deer and elk. And I’m not squeamish when it comes to things like that.”

Joe nodded, walking them toward a strip of grass on the edge of the parking area in case Brueggemann had to get sick again.

“I did a full head mount of an antelope once, and an eight-point buck,” Brueggemann continued, “and I like my venison bloody.”

“You can stop,” Joe said, wondering what it was his trainee had just said that struck an odd note. But before he could follow it up, Deputy Mike Reed called his name.

“Stay here,” Joe said to Brueggemann. He met Reed in the middle of the parking lot.

Reed spoke in low tones that likely couldn’t be overheard by his colleagues inside. “You know what’s going on here, don’t you?”

“What’s that?”

Reed said, “The sheriff needs a big win right now. He thinks he’s slipping with the voters. Bagging a guy like Romanowski and solving a triple murder would put him back on top.”

Joe nodded and looked closely at Reed. “Is this the candidate talking?”

Reed looked up sharply. “What do you mean?”

Joe said, “You know how I get along with the sheriff, but this is a triple homicide. He’s got to do everything he can to close it fast. I understand that.”

“Yeah,” Reed said, looking down at his boots. “I guess you’re right. But with this guy,” he said, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder toward the open garage, “there’s always an angle. We both know him well enough to know that.”

“What’s the angle?” Joe asked.

“You mean besides making you look bad in front of the county attorney?” Reed asked.

Joe sighed and conceded the point.

“All I’m saying,” Reed whispered, “is watch your back.”

Joe thanked him and said, “You, too.”

Reed smiled bitterly. “For me, it’s a twenty-four/seven operation.”

Joe nodded and left Brueggemann and went back inside the county garage.

While the sheriff gathered his deputies around him and issued orders for arming up for the raid, Dulcie Schalk gestured for Joe to follow her outside. Once they were clear of the garage and the odors inside, she said, “Tell me what he was saying isn’t true. Tell me you don’t know about a fugitive who might be a cop killer.”

Joe looked over his shoulder to make sure Brueggemann and Reed were out of earshot. Reed was back inside the garage. He saw the trainee over by his truck, leaning his head against the front bumper. Joe said to Dulcie, “Like I said. It’s complicated.”

Her eyes flared. “I’m riding out there with you, and you’re going to explain everything to me. And if I’m not satisfied, Joe, there will be hell to pay.”

He nodded and held her eyes. He said, “I’ll tell you the truth. But I want to give you some advice. It’s something Marybeth and I agreed to a long time ago when it comes to Nate Romanowski.”

“And that is?” she asked, skeptical.

“Don’t ask me things you may not want to know. Just think real hard about that before we talk.”

She looked at him quizzically. She whispered, “You aren’t threatening me, are you, Joe?”

He shook his head quickly. “Not at all, not at all. It’s just that sometimes it doesn’t help to know everything there is to know about someone else. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Marybeth knows Romanowski?” she asked.

“Oh, she does,” Joe said. “She does.”

Dulcie Schalk went to get fitted for body armor, and Joe used the opportunity to speed-dial Marybeth on his cell phone. His wife worked from nine to three at the Twelve Sleep County Library, and he knew she’d likely just dropped off April and Lucy at school and was settling into her desk. Marybeth was blond with green eyes, and she was slim and attractive. Joe was always surprised he’d landed her. So was his mother-in-law.

“I’m surprised you’re calling,” she said when she picked up. “I didn’t think you’d have a signal up there.”

“I’m not in the mountains,” he said, and quickly recapped the morning. He heard her gasp when he told her the sheriff was preparing to storm Nate’s home.

“Should I warn him?”

Joe closed his eyes. Nate had a satellite phone, and he’d given them both the private number. He’d asked them not to call him unless it was a dire emergency.

“No,” Joe said after a few beats. “You shouldn’t. I don’t want you to get involved in this. Who knows if the sheriff or the Feds can trace back a call? It’s possible, you know. And if Nate’s involved in this, you could go to jail for tipping him off.”

“I don’t mind taking that chance,” she said defiantly. “After what he’s done for us…”

“Marybeth, we can’t risk it. You can’t risk it. Besides, Nate is smart. If he’s involved, he’ll expect the sheriff to show up, and he’ll take precautions. And if he wasn’t involved, he has ways of knowing that we’re on the way.”

“This feels rotten, Joe.”

“It has to be this way.”

“I don’t have to like it, and I’m not making any promises.”

“I don’t like it, either,” he said. He said he’d call her as soon as he could to let her know what happened.

“Joe,” she said, “don’t let any of McLanahan’s goons get trigger-happy. I could see one of them going over the top.”

He agreed. After they’d disconnected, he made sure the coast was clear in all directions-Brueggemann was still recovering, and Schalk wasn’t back with her vest-before he stepped behind his pickup and called Nate’s number.