by Scott Blade
The guy had big, broad shoulders, but a gut the size of a tractor engine.
The guy had his keys in the door, trying to open it, but Harvard was haggling him. He looked annoyed.
Widow heard her going off on him. He must’ve said something rude to her to set her off.
She had her phone out. Probably showing the deputy that photo of her husband in dress uniform.
The deputy wore blue jeans, cowboy boots, and a button-down, denim shirt with the top three buttons undone like he thought he was some kind of Casanova with the local ladies. And maybe he was.
Widow startled him.
That was obvious because the guy spun around and put a quick hand on his gun, which was holstered on his right hip like he was being ambushed or something.
The gun was a .38 police special.
Widow guessed the gun, and the holster were both oiled up and ready to draw, but so oily that he was just as likely to throw the gun out of his hand as he was to shoot Widow dead .
Widow didn’t throw his hands up. He didn’t want to spook the guy any more than he already had. Getting shot by some hillbilly cop wannabe wasn’t on his bucket list.
“Relax!” he said.
“Who da hell are you?”
The deputy’s keys were still dangling in the lock.
Widow saw Harvard; she had taken a step back as the deputy was grabbing at his .38. She was in the guy’s left side blind spot. She had her Glock in hand, drawn and ready to use.
Widow squinted at her, furrowed his brow, and moved his hand down low and slow. It was clear to her. She saw it like she was on his recon team like they were in the desert. It was a signal telling her to stand down, to put the Glock away.
She picked up on it, loud and clear.
She gave him a nod, with a calm face, calm demeanor. She was a real pro. He wondered how many years she’d been a military cop for the Air Force.
Not bad, he thought.
“Relax,” Widow repeated.
“Who are you?” the cop asked again.
“I’m with Bridges.”
The deputy stared at him.
“Bull shit!”
“Not true. I rode in with Wagner. Yesterday. I met Bridges.”
“You rode in with Wagner?”
Widow nodded and said, “Yesterday.”
“Why? You don’t look like a trooper? ”
“I’m not. He gave me a ride. That’s all.”
The deputy relaxed but kept his hand near his gun.
“So what you want?”
“I’m with her. We need to talk to you.”
The deputy said, “Like I was telling her, wait a minute. Let me get the shop open. And I’ll listen to you.”
Widow shrugged.
“Ok.”
He moved next to Harvard, and they waited while the deputy opened the door and stepped in and closed the door behind him.
“What do you think?” Harvard asked.
“He’s a volunteer.”
“He’s got a badge.”
“I’m sure she has to take what she can get.”
“Where’s the marshal?”
“No idea. Sleeping in, maybe.”
“She’s in charge of a whole population on her own, and you think she’s sleeping in?”
“No. Not really.”
“So, where is she?”
“Maybe he’s got an explanation.”
Harvard said nothing to that.
Widow stood next to her as they waited. The landing was small, which forced him to stand near her, in her personal space. If she had had a large personal space, then she wasn’t showing any signs that she minded him being in it.
He felt her breathing on his face every time she looked up at him. She was taking long, deep breaths. This went on for a moment until he realized that she was taking deep breaths like a woman in labor.
He asked, “You ok?”
“Fine.”
Deep breath.
“Just need to…”
Deep breath.
“Sit down. Those stairs were no fun, “she said.
Widow thought for a moment.
“Do you know where their hospital is here?”
“I didn’t see one.”
“They should have one. No matter what size Hellbent is.”
“They do. Surely.”
She took another deep breath. This time she slowed it and seemed to be breathing normally again.
She said, “Why do you ask?”
“When’s that baby due?”
“Relax, he’s not due for three weeks.”
“Still, don’t they come early sometimes?”
“They?”
“It? Whatever.”
“It is a he. And no, they don’t usually come three weeks early.”
“I thought that happened.”
“It happens, but not very common. Or healthy. My boy is healthy. Trust me. I wouldn’t be out here looking for his father if he wasn’t up for the trip.”
Widow nodded .
Harvard was a tough woman, which reminded him of his mother for a moment. She had been a tough woman.
Harvard said, “Besides, the doctors back in Minot are great. They didn’t make a mistake. He’s coming in three weeks. No sooner.”
Widow thought of something else.
“Is that why you took the train?”
“What?”
“Why you didn’t fly here? You got off the train. I saw you. Is it cause your pregnant?”
“What is this? Biology class? Sex ed?”
“Just curious. I don’t know any other pregnant women.”
“Yeah, it’s why I took the train.”
“Ok.”
Just then the door opened, and the ancient bell dinged above it, and the deputy invited them both in.
Harvard entered first. Widow followed.
The marshal’s office was a small two-room thing. There were filing cabinets lines along the walls, an oscillating fan, a bookshelf, and one cluttered desk, that Widow guessed Bridges shared with the deputy.
On one wall, there was a table set up with a big CB radio that reminded him of the kind he seen in ranger stations out in the wilderness.
It had wires snaking out of it and up the wall, vanishing into the tiled ceiling above. It probably connected to a radio antenna on the roof.
There was a wall of windows behind him .
On the opposite wall, behind the marshal’s desk, was a huge map of the Hellbent and the whole county. It was detailed.
The deputy said, “My name’s Colin Cole.”
Colin Cole, Widow thought. Interesting.
Cole said, “What can I do you for?”
“Where’s Bridges?”
“I don’t know.”
“She sleeping in or something?” Harvard asked.
“Jo? Sleeping in? Not likely. She’s probably out there somewhere. I don’t know. She’s a grown woman. I’m not her keeper.”
Widow said, “Shouldn’t you know where she is?”
“I’m not repeating myself. What can I do for you?”
“Guess that’s why you’re a volunteer,” Harvard said.
“Pardon me?”
“Can you call her?” Widow asked.
“I could, but I done tried that.”
“You tried? When?”
“All afternoon yesterday.”
“She didn’t respond all afternoon?”
“No.”
“That unusual?”
Cole shrugged and said, “It’s not normal, but the woman is the boss. She’s entitled not to call me back.”
“What about Wagner? Where’s he? ”
This posed a problem for the deputy. The look on his face turned to one of concern, but only slight.
“That part is odd. Wagner’s car is down there, and you saw him. He doesn’t usually stay the night.”
A moment of silence passed and the deputy took out a small pack of gum, which turned out to be Nicotine gum.
Widow looked at the wrapper, and he knew the brand. He had used it himself once, to help him quit smoking.
Cole shoveled a stick of gum in his mouth and started smacking it immediately. He didn’t offer them any.
Cole shoved the pack back in a pocket somewhere in his jeans and smirked.
He said, “Maybe they spent the night together.”
Harvard narrowed her eyes and put her hands on her hips and stared him down.
She said, “Make you jealous?”
“I do not like your tone, little lady.”
“Little lady?” she squawked in an automatic response that was amplified by her hormones, Widow figured.
“Best not to piss her off, Deputy Cole.”
“Piss her off? This is my station. I’ll do whatever I want.”
There were getting nowhere. Widow thought it best to cool things down.
He used an old trick. He tried to include the deputy in actual police work .
He said, “Yesterday, Wagner and Bridges told me about new bikers coming into town? They were worried about them. They made it sound like they were here to cause trouble. You know anything about that?”
Cole took his eyes off Harvard.
“Yeah. We’ve seen some new faces on bikes. Don’t know if they’re bikers, per say.”
“Why you say that?”
“The local gangs have been gone for months.”
“Bridges said they might be a part of it.”
Cole shook his head.
“I doubt it. That gang ain’t coming back here. No money for them. They moved on. Only two of them losers left.”
“Two left?”
“Just a couple of local brothers. Nothing to worry about. Besides they’re all straight now. Got some nice folks. We haven’t had trouble out of them in months.”
Widow nodded. He had known the brothers that Cole spoke of. The Vape shop boys.
“Plus, these new guys were different.”
“How so?”
“They rode bikes, sure. But they look tougher than normal motorcycle gangs.”
“Tougher?”
“Yeah. And more professional.”
“Professional?”
“Yeah. Some of them, not all of them, but several of them looked like they were professional. They were all bearded and wearing biker gear, but they walked and talked and rode in unison like they were filming a movie.”
“A movie?”
“You know how on TV, motorcycle gangs always seem to ride in some kind of fancy formation, the leader in the front, and so on?”
Widow said, “Don’t have a TV.”
Harvard reached down and grabbed Widow’s hand and squeezed it like she was saying I’ll take over from here.
“Sure. What about it?”
“Real gangs don’t ride like that. They’re disorganized. There’s a hierarchy, sure, but there’s no rehearsal on how to ride. You don’t have one guy out in front of the rest. The only thing they're worried about is not hitting another bike with their own.”
Harvard asked, “You’re saying these guys looked rehearsed?”
“Yeah. Like they were playing parts.”
Widow said, “Wagner mentioned a fire yesterday. Out at a cabin.”
“Yeah. We got eyewitness report of smoke and fire. Yesterday. I figured that’s what Bridges is doing. Some of those cabins are way out there. Some are two-plus hours and all backroads.
“That’s where they are. Probably, went out there and decided to look around. Maybe they went way out and started asking the neighbors.”
“Neighbors?”
“Mountain men, mostly. Lots of them out there. These guys live far apart. Could take them a couple of days to reach everyone. That’s probably what they're doing.”
“You don’t seem concerned?” Harvard asked.
“Bridges can take care of herself. Besides, if she needed me, then she’d called.”
“Can she get service out there?”
“Some places. But not much I can do until she calls.”
Harvard remarked, “You’re pretty useless.”
Cole said nothing. He didn’t defend himself.
Widow knew that if he had said that then he’d probably be in handcuffs.
The power of pregnancy, he thought.
Harvard pulled her phone out and flicked at the screen and came up with that military photo of her husband, again.
She pointed the screen at Cole.
“You seen him?”
Cole leaned in and took a good look.
“No. Can’t say I have.”
Harvard slumped her shoulders like she was a little defeated.
Cole said, “But he could be one of those army guys.”
“What army guys?”
“There’s several of them.”
Widow said, “What are you talking about?”
“Some army guys come into town from time to time. They stock up on groceries or grab a bite to eat at Mables, stuff like that.”
“Army guys? Where from?”
Cole shrugged.
“Not sure. Probably one of the installations. ”
Harvard asked, “What installations?”
“There’s all kind of government property out there.”
He turned around and pointed north out into the wilderness.
“There’s a road out there that leads to some kind of installation.”
Widow stayed quiet.
Harvard said, “What the hell are you talking about? There’s a base here?”
“No base. Just a government road. There’s a fence around it. Chain-link. The area must be twenty miles.”
“What’s twenty miles?”
“The area of the fence. You know like a circle. We get calls from hunters every year, complaining that they can’t get past the fence. That’s the only reason we know about it.”
Widow said, “How you know the guys are army?”
Cole shrugged.
“Who else would they be?”
Harvard asked, “Could they be Air Force?”
“No way.”
“You’re sure?”
“Oh yeah. We never saw any planes coming in and out of here. We ain’t got no airport. There’s certainly no landing strip out there. I don’t think. We’d seen jets if they were Air Force.”
Widow and Harvard looked at each other.
Widow asked, “Where’s this installation?”
“I only know the road it’s on. ”
“Where?”
Cole turned around and took them over to the map on the wall. He stared at it and put two fat fingers on the center.
“We’re here.”
He traced his fingers up and north and west.
“There’s the road.”
He pointed to a tiny, thin vein on the map.
“How far is that from here?” Harvard asked.
Cole shrugged.
“Maybe, twenty-five miles. With that Jeep, you can probably get out there in thirty minutes, maybe forty. Lots of dirt roads.”
Widow saw something else.
He pointed at the map and asked, “This is the edge of town?”
“Yeah.”
“Is that where there’s motel row?”
“Motel row?”
“The motels that are full of itinerants?”
“Itinerants?”
“Temporary lumberjacks that come out here and work the mills?”
“Oh yeah. That’s all that stay there. Those motels are no questions asks sort of places.”
Widow nodded.
“What about the cabin fire? Can you pinpoint the cabin for us?”
Cole shook his head.
Widow asked, “How does this place work?”
“What do you mean?”
“How do people dial nine-one-one?”
“They dial nine-one-one on their phones. ”
Widow stared another deathly stare at the guy. He was getting annoyed.
Cole
sensed it and said, “A dispatcher in the next county gets the call. They call the Marshal.”
“If they can’t get her?”
“Goes to the machine.”
“Machine?”
“An answering machine.”
Harvard said, “You’re kidding?”
“No. It’s right there.”
Cole pointed behind her at Bridges’s desk.
There was paperwork stacked neatly to one side, and more scattered everywhere, and a huge calendar acting as a desktop, where she had scrawled a bunch of things to do on different days of the month.
There was an old computer monitor with wires stringing out the back and vanishing down behind the desk.
And there was alone, ancient answering machine. It used to be all white, but now was stained yellow from age and wear and probably numerous coffee fingers scraping across the surface.
The machine was ancient. It was the kind that came with a double-sided cassette tape. A miniature one.
A red-light indicator flashed on the front of the machine in quick, rapid beats like a warning light.
There was a digital number in the flash.
The number was one.
One missed call .
Widow said, “You gonna check it?”
“I will.”
Harvard said, “When?”
“When I get to it.”
Widow didn’t step to the guy. He didn’t move his hands. He didn’t shove the guy. He did nothing that would hold up in a court of law for assault if he was going to a court of law.
What he did was he stared at the deputy, a cold stare from the deathly stare he’d given earlier cranked up to eleven.
He said, “You’re a poor excuse for a man with a badge.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. You got a missing marshal, trooper, a pregnant woman telling you that her husband is missing.”
Cole stood up tall like he was bowing up to Widow. He walked over to him and got into his face.
He said, “Get out! Both of you!”
Widow stayed quiet.
Harvard shuffled back into Cole’s blind spot.
Cole said, “I said get out! Before I arrest you!”
Widow started to say something, but Harvard came out of the blind spot and grabbed Widow’s forearm.
“Come on, let’s go!”
She pulled him by the arm, and he followed.
Chapter 23
W HY DID YOU TAKE ME OUT? Widow asked.
They stood down by the Jeep.
Harvard smiled at him and said, “Get in.”
Widow walked around the hood and took another look at the Led Zeppelin SUV and frowned at it like it was alive. Then he climbed into the Jeep.