Long Range (Joe Pickett Book 20)(88)

Joe had notified both the FBI and Judge Hewitt that they had a lead. Hewitt begged to go along, but Joe refused to let him. The special agent he’d spoken to at the FBI in Cheyenne had instructed him to do no more than determine if the cabin was occupied. If it was, Joe was told, he should alert the feds and await a strike team.

“I hear you,” Joe had said.

The special agent was reassured, unaware that Joe had meant exactly what he’d said. He’d heard the man. That didn’t mean he’d comply with the order.

Joe hadn’t bothered alerting the sheriff’s department. Both Deputies Steck and Woods had been suspended and weren’t in the building. Sheriff Kapelow was bunkered in his office with his door closed, refusing to take calls from the media, law enforcement, or his angry constituents.

*

MARYBETH ALSO DID a background check on Dr. Tom Arthur, which was something the local hiring committee—including Chief Williamson and other prominent local types—had apparently failed to do before offering him the job.

The community had been so desperate to land a new doctor, she’d surmised, that they’d take whomever they could get.

Arthur’s medical degree was from a university on an obscure Caribbean island that she’d had to look up to verify. Although he claimed he’d done his residency at the University of Houston hospital, there was no record of him there. He had been on the staff of a Baptist hospital in Oklahoma City for a year, but had left under mysterious circumstances and the administrator there wouldn’t elaborate except to say she was glad he was gone. When Marybeth asked her directly if he’d been accused of selling prescription drugs on the side, the administrator had said it was “something like that.”

Dr. Arthur had been sued for malpractice in Fargo, North Dakota, but had vanished before the civil trial took place. There was a four-month gap between Fargo and Saddlestring, where no doubt he’d been grateful to land. Marybeth learned that Arthur had been passed along from hospital to hospital by unscrupulous administrators who feared lawsuits from damaged patients or a wrongful termination suit from Arthur himself. None of them had raised a red flag about his incompetence or criminal behavior.

She was furious at those hospital administrators as well as the local hiring committee for not vetting Arthur and for welcoming him into their county.

*

JOE AND MARTIN had studied the Google Maps images while formulating a plan. Because of the wide mountain meadow that fronted Arthur’s cabin, the man—if he was there—would have a 180-degree field of vision. If they approached the structure in vehicles, he’d be able to see them coming a mile away. For a suspect who likely had a second long-range rifle, it wasn’t a viable option.

Instead, the Predator Attack Team transported their horses to a trailhead four miles south of the cabin. They saddled up the mounts in the dark and were deep into the timber by the time the sun nosed over the eastern mountains. Joe had his shotgun in a saddle scabbard as well as the .308 Smith & Wesson M&P strapped across his back. There was a satellite phone in his saddlebag as well as binoculars, a handheld radio, a field first-aid kit, and extra ammunition. Martin and Smith were similarly armed and equipped.

*

AS HE RODE through the trees to the north, Joe felt both excited and sick to his stomach. He thought there was a very good possibility that they could locate and arrest Dr. Tom Arthur, that it made sense that he’d hole up in a cabin while every trooper and every cop in seven states was out looking for him on the highways. How it would play out if he actually was there was another thing entirely.

Dr. Arthur was undoubtedly a desperate man. He’d killed before and he’d likely have no hesitation to do it again. They’d need to assess the situation and go in—if they chose to go in—with their eyes open and every possible precaution in place. It would be Arthur’s choice to give himself up without violence or go down shooting. Joe prayed it would be the former.

But it wasn’t just the anticipation of what could go badly that made Joe feel nauseous. It was a stew of feelings and realizations. He still couldn’t quite believe that the county prosecutor had bled out from a gunshot wound right in front of him, or that he’d been shot at all. It seemed like a bad dream. After Patterson had confessed and humiliated himself before Joe, the man had been cut down.

Then there was the disappearance of Nate, Liv, and Kestrel. They were simply gone. Cell phone calls to Nate and Liv went to voicemail. Joe had driven to their place to find the van sitting there with the keys in the ignition, all of the doors unlocked, and no indication that they’d packed up to flee. Even the nanny was gone.

Joe had fed Nate’s Air Force, and assured them without confidence that Nate would be back soon.

*

WHEN THE DENSE timber ahead of them started to lighten up, Joe realized they had found the open meadow. He signaled to both Martin and Smith to stop their horses while he dismounted.

Although Rojo was as reliable a gelding as he’d ever ridden and he’d been trained as a cutting horse mount, Joe didn’t dare simply drop the reins and walk away. Instead, he tied the horse firmly to a tree trunk. There was never any way to predict what even the best horse might do if they caught a whiff of a bear or mountain lion.

Joe limped toward the opening because his legs and butt ached from the saddle. Although Marybeth rode whenever she could, Joe rode when he had to. And he was paying for it with sore knees and dull pain in his thighs.