Dark Sky (Joe Pickett #21)(77)

Behind him was a smaller, younger, and darker man. He had a pinched expression, as if he were annoyed or in some kind of pain. The smaller one exuded menace, she thought. He appeared to be dangerous and tightly coiled. The hair on the back of her neck stood up.

Both were heavily armed. Rifle butts jutted up from saddle scabbards and the older man had a holster strapped to his right hip. She couldn’t see any handguns on the younger man, but he wore a bulky coat that could hide them. A long leather knife sheath ran the length of his thigh. She caught a glimpse of a bone handle on the knife.

“We didn’t expect to run into anyone up here,” the older man said to Nate. He displayed a boxlike smile that revealed yellow teeth. His flat, beady eyes were disconnected from the smile on his mouth, though.

He continued in a jaunty tone. “How are you folks doing out here on this cold fall morning? You doin’ all right?”

“We’re fine,” Nate said. “We really didn’t expect to run into anyone, either.”

She noticed as Nate spoke that he subtly squeezed his legs so Gin would know to take a step ahead. He was keeping himself between the horsemen and her as a barrier.

“I’m Earl Thomas and this is my son Kirby,” the older man said. “We’re outfitters based between Saddlestring and Shell. We’ve got clients coming in later this week, so we’re up here scouting for elk. What brings you and your daughter up here?”

Nate apparently didn’t feel the need to explain too much or elaborate on Sheridan’s relationship to him. She didn’t question why not. Instead, she barely heard the exchange over the roar of blood suddenly rushing into her ears.

Earl Thomas.

At the sound of the name, things began to fall into place for her. Earl Thomas. He was the man who’d sat three rows ahead of the Pickett family at Lucy’s graduation ceremony in the school auditorium. Earl had been dressed differently then, in an ill-fitting gray sports jacket with a black western yoke on the back. He’d been by himself with empty seats on each side, even though the room was packed, as if no one wanted to sit next to him.

What drew her attention to him at the time was his behavior. Although big and rough-hewn, he’d cried openly as his daughter, Sophia, was called to the stage to receive her diploma. His back rocked as he wept, and his head bobbed up and down. People around him acted as if they didn’t notice, but they did.

She recalled looking up at Sophia, who was blond, lithe, and tall. Sheridan got a vibe from the girl that although she was attractive, she wasn’t very smart. Something about the way Sophia held herself—as if she were unaware of her surroundings and not keyed in to the rest of the ceremony, resulted in the snap judgment.

Sheridan remembered thinking Sophia had to know that was her father out there weeping, because he was so loud and demonstrative while he did so. But the girl made a deliberate point not to look out at the audience to meet his imploring gaze.

Sophia Thomas, Sheridan thought.

That Sophia Thomas.



* * *



—

We’re looking for someone,” Nate said to Earl as Sheridan tried to return to the present.

“Really? Who?”

“Wyoming game warden Joe Pickett,” Nate said. “He’s supposed to be up here guiding a hunting trip.”

“I know Joe,” Earl said with obvious but treacly surprise, Sheridan thought. It was said like a man who wanted to feign that he was friends with her father, but he really wasn’t. “Hell, I’ve known Joe for years. What’s he doin’ guiding hunters? Isn’t that a job better left to us private-sector types?”

Sheridan squirmed in her saddle. A theory was clicking into place. She tried to remain still when she wanted to shout it out.

Nate shrugged. “I don’t know the circumstances, but that’s not real important at the moment. Have you seen him?”

Earl turned to his son Kirby and they exchanged a glance. Then Earl said, “I surely haven’t seen Joe up here anywhere. But a couple of nights ago, we thought we saw smoke from a camp two drainages over. We couldn’t figure out who in the hell that might be.”

She thought, He’s lying.

“Two drainages over?” Nate asked.

Earl indicated the direction behind him and over his shoulder. “Over there,” he said.

“Really, that’s odd,” Nate said. “That seems to be a long way from where he was headed at the start.”

Earl shrugged. “Well, I can’t explain that other than to say when you’re huntin’ elk, you go where the elk are. Maybe Joe saw a herd and followed them. But hell, I don’t know for sure. We just saw a camp, we thought.”

“How many miles?” Nate asked.

“Eight to ten miles away from here, I’d reckon,” Earl said. “At least that’s where we seen it. They could have packed up and moved by now.”

“I see,” Nate said.

“Does anyone else know they’re missing?” Earl asked. Sheridan thought Earl was trying to pretend he was concerned, but he actually wanted to gather information.

“No,” Nate lied.

“When are they supposed to come back?”

“End of the week.”

“Ah,” Earl said, sitting back and smiling. “You don’t need to start worrying for a while yet. They probably got into a bunch of elk and they don’t even know what day it is. We’ve had clients like that who get overexcited, haven’t we, Kirby?”