Long Range (Joe Pickett Book 20)(71)

He asked, “Does the witness have a name?”

Beran looked at his pad. “Orlando Panfile,” he said. “Odd name, I know.”

“I’ve never heard of him,” Nate said. “Where did he come from?”

“Apparently he’s an undocumented migrant,” Beran said. “He was camping up in the forest somewhere where he could see your property.”

“What?”

“I’ve told you all I know,” Beran said. “Rulon is coaxing Panfile to appear and swear out an affidavit. If anyone can convince the guy to show up, it’s Rulon. But don’t worry. We’ll get the charges dropped as soon as we can get a hearing. It’s just a matter of time.”

“Which is what I don’t have,” Nate said.





TWENTY-ONE


AN HOUR AND A HALF LATER, JOE SAT IN HIS BORROWED vehicle in the parking lot of the DOT building outside of town, waiting for Mike Martin to show up to deliver his pickup. Martin had texted from Winchester to report his ETA. Joe was grateful to Martin for driving it over. He’d parked under one of the overhead pole lights so the Jackson game warden could see him.

“We’re getting our truck back, girl,” he told Daisy. “Are you excited?”

Daisy sighed.

“I am,” he said. “I’ll feel whole again.”

Because his pickup was also his mobile office on wheels and all of his outdoor clothing, equipment, paperwork, communications gear, and weapons had been taken away, it felt to Joe that he’d been unbalanced since the Hewitt case commenced. His pickup was his suit of armor, and without it he felt vulnerable to outside forces.

He kept his eyes on the dark two-lane highway. He expected to see two pairs of headlights any minute, one set from his own pickup with Martin at the wheel and the second set from biologist Eddie Smith’s rig. After dropping off Joe’s truck, Martin would climb in with Smith and continue on to Gillette, where another biologist had a box of tranquilizer darts for them he could spare.

It was taking Martin longer than it should have, Joe thought. He checked his phone to see if there were any additional messages. There weren’t. He texted Marybeth to tell her he’d be later than he thought he’d be.

She responded with:

That’s fine. I’m learning some VERY interesting things from the logs you sent. Bring a pizza.

*

AFTER TWELVE MORE minutes of listening to the local AM station play faux country song after faux country song, Joe lifted his phone to call Martin to check on his progress. As he did, two vehicles appeared, slowed, and made the turn from the highway to the DOT facility. He recognized their profiles as they passed under the first pole light as Game and Fish units with light bars, gearboxes, and the familiar pronghorn antelope insignia on the front door.

Joe placed the keys to his borrowed truck in the ashtray, confident that no one in their right mind would want to steal it. He climbed out and was instantly bathed in headlights. Joe squinted and waved hello.

Martin was indeed driving Joe’s pickup and he slowed to a stop. Eddie Smith parked behind him.

“Did you decide to stop along the way for a beer?” Joe asked Martin when the other game warden opened his door and climbed out.

“I wish,” Martin said. “But the reason we’re late is way weirder than that. Come over here so I can show you something.”

Joe frowned and approached his own vehicle. Martin held back on the side of the open driver’s-side door.

“I stopped at the rest area just out of Winchester so I could take a leak and Eddie could catch up with me,” Martin said. “Do you know it?”

“Sure,” Joe said. The rest area was a DOT facility built into a saddle slope from the Bighorns and it was about a quarter of a mile from the highway. High wooded mountains surrounded it on three sides. Joe used to stop there until he discovered . . .

“The toilet was broke,” Martin said, as if finishing Joe’s thought. “I decided to just pee right there in the parking lot. You know how that goes. Then I realized if someone drove by, they’d see a Wyoming game warden exposing himself in a rest stop parking lot with my wanger out for all to see. Hell, knowing my luck they’d report me to the governor. So I started to walk over and do my business in the trees on the side of the building.”

“Okay,” Joe said. He’d used the same trees.

“That’s when I heard a thump behind me,” Martin continued. “It came from where I’d just stood.”

“A thump?”

“Take a look,” Martin said, indicating the door panel just below the window.

Joe did and saw the neat bullet hole. Then he walked around the open door and touched the interior metal where the round had left a puckered and expanded exit hole.

“It went clear through the cab and it’s embedded somewhere inside the passenger door,” Martin said. “It didn’t go clean through it. But if I’d been standing there a couple of seconds longer, or I was sitting in that cab at the time, I’d be a dead man.”

“That’s when I pulled in,” Eddie Smith said. “I found Mike here hunkered down behind the bed of your truck sneaking a peek up over the bed wall. His pants were still open.”

“I zipped up right then and there,” Martin said irritably to Smith. He obviously didn’t appreciate the extra detail.