From within the glare of the headlights, a figure approached. The uniformed officers huddled up and began a weapons check. Craig and Williams moved out from under the rotors and waited for the back-lit apparition to arrive.
The Sheriff’s name was Jennifer. Jennifer Parsons. Over six feet, a big boned blonde in an immaculate brown uniform topped by a Stetson rancher’s hat. They introduced themselves and shook hands.
“Where are we?” Craig asked immediately.
“Your suspect vehicle is parked down in front of Ruth’s café. It’s been there for the past two hours or so. I spoke with Amy James, the old gal who runs the place. She said the guy in the Lexus came in right before supper, ordered three cheeseburgers and two orders of fries. The food’s on the front seat. Still in the bag. I’ve got my only usable deputy Bill Undlin down there keeping an eye on the car.” She felt a need to explain. “Usually there’s four of us, two to a shift and a couple of volunteers in case I need somebody to fill in, but right now I’ve got one man out with the swine flu and another over in Sioux Falls about to have back surgery.” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “Had to enlist my nephew Tyler to drive the other cruiser so we could give your pilot something to aim for.” She shook her head disgustedly. “Hell, I’ve got my dad, who’s seventy-seven staked out down the road at the boat landing.” She gestured to the right. “That’s the only way out of here,” she said. “Other way just peters out at a Bureau of Land Management gate.”
“How far is it to the Interstate?” Audrey asked.
“Three and a half miles.”
“How many people live between here and the BLM gate?” Craig asked.
The Sheriff’s lips moved as she thought it over. “Ten, twelve,” she said after a moment. “Several of ‘em are just summer places,” she explained.
“We’re going to need to make sure those people are alright,” Craig said. He inclined his head toward the cadre of uniformed personnel. “We’ll send two of these gentlemen to take over for your deputy at the cafe. They’ll see to it the car isn’t going anywhere.” The sheriff nodded. “We’ll send another pair of officers to accompany your deputy as they make sure the residents are all safe. Anyone who wants to leave will be escorted out of the area.”
“And those that want to stay?” she asked.
“Tell them to lock the doors and windows and get out the gun.”
“That’ll take an hour or so,” she said.
“In the meantime I want you to park your cruiser right in the middle of the road, turn on the light bar and stop anything moving in either direction. Nobody in, nobody out. Another pair of officers will assist you in that.”
“How do we know he hasn’t walked out by now?” she asked.
“We don’t,” Craig said. “However, the state police have stationed a unit at the Interstate exit and two more cruising the freeway in each direction. If he’s on foot, I’m confident they’ll find him. The Denver FBI office has a search team and three K-9 units on the way.” He checked his watch. “They should arrive just about the time we finish checking on the residents. We’ll start the ground operation once they’re on the scene.”
The sheriff nodded again.
“In the meantime, I’m going to have the helicopter do an infrared sweep of the area between here and the highway. If he’s making his way in that direction they’ll pick up his body heat signature. But first and foremost I want all the civilians out of here. You get your nephew…”
“Tyler,” the sheriff prompted.
“Tyler and your father…I want them out of harm’s way. Send them home. This fellow we’re looking for is dangerous and completely unpredictable. The only people I want out here are people being paid to take these kinds of risks.”
She smiled a big dimply smile. “My dad was sheriff of this county for forty-one years,” she said proudly. “Whoever this guy is…he shows up at my dad’s house, he gonna sure as hell wish he didn’t.”
“Send him home,” Craig said. “Thank him for his efforts on our behalf and send him back to his bed.”
Craig excused himself and strode over to the knot of uniformed officers. Audrey couldn’t hear what he said, but assumed he was relaying operational plans to the squad.
The sheriff pulled a black radio from her belt. “Dad,” she said.
A moment passed and then another. “Dad…” she said again. “Can you hear me?” Still nothing. “Dad.”
The sheriff cast an embarrassed look Audrey’s way. “Probably dozed off,” she said. “Dad,” she tried again.
“Right here,” came the voice over the speaker.
Her sense of relief was palpable. “You fall asleep?” she teased.
“Matter of fact, I just stepped around the back of the car to take a leak.”
“Sorry to intrude,” she joked.
“Nothin’ was happening anyway,” he grumbled. “Getting old’s a bitch.”
Craig had finished briefing the squad. Four of the officers were making their way over to Tyler’s county police cruiser. The other two were standing by.
“I need you to go on home,” she said.
“You sure?”
“The Secret Service is here. Things are under control.”
“I saw the chopper comin’ in. Hell of a rig they got there.”
“Yeah. Sure is. They’re going to make an infrared pass over the area. Anyway Dad, pack it in… and Dad…Special Agent Craig told me to thank you for the help. They really appreciate it. We’ve got the staties camped out at the Interstate. I’ll get on the horn and let ‘em know you’re gonna be coming by.”
“See you in the morning darlin’.”
“Not if I see you first,” she said. The sheriff snuck an embarrassed glance over at Audrey Williams. Her big pink face reddened. Audrey helped her out.
“My dad and I have one of those too,” Audrey said. “He’s in the restaurant business, so ours ends with ‘okey dokey artichokey’.”
The sheriff chuckled.
Behind them, the helicopter engine whined to life. The rotors began to circle.
__
The squawk of the radio jerked him from his stupor. He opened his eyes, brushed the hair and river debris from his face and looked around.
He was half-in, half-out of the river, wedged against the side of a concrete boat ramp, pinned in place by the force of
the current with only his head and shoulders above the water.
The boy lay spread-eagled on the bank just above his head.
From his vantage point, the geometric pattern on the bottom of the boy
’
s sneakers was all he could make out in the darkness.
“
Dad.
”
A woman
’
s voice and then, a moment passed and then another.
“
Dad…
”
she said again.
“
Can you hear me, Dad?
”
Then he remembered.
He
’
d gone in after the kid. They
’
d been adrift for what had seemed an eternity.
Eventually, the river had thrown them together.
With what he
’
d assumed to be his last ounce of strength, he
’
d tossed the boy up into the bushes before slipping beneath the water for what he had imagined to be the final time.
“
Dad,
”
the electronic voice came again.
“
Right here.
”
The voice was closer and real and male.
He threw a knee up onto the boat ramp and pushed himself up until his other foot found a purchase on the river bottom .
His shoe immediately filled with mud.
“
You fall asleep?
”
the voice teased.
“
Matter of fact, I just stepped around the back of the car to take a leak.
”
“
Sorry to intrude.
”
“
Nothin
’
was happenin
’
anyway. Getting old
’
s a bitch.
”
He used his elbows to propel himself up the bank.
He was looking at the back of a car.
An old battered sedan, with the driver
’
s door hanging open.
He wiped mud and leaves from his eyes and focused.
A tall man stood next to the car, leaning back against it, talking into a hand-held radio.
He wore a plastic-covered cowboy hat and a long rain slicker that reached nearly to his ankles.
“
I need you to go on home,
”
the woman
’
s voice said.
“
You sure?
”
he asked.
“
The Secret Service is here. Things are under control.
”
The words froze him in place.
‘
Secret Service
’
.
He couldn
’
t for the life of him imagine how he
’
d been located so quickly. Experience said the ploy at the airport should have gained him a minimum of twelve hours.
Instinctively, he reached for his belt.
The forty caliber was gone.
Somewhere along the bottom of the river, he guessed.
Sleeping with the fishes like that gangster guy.
He reached for his boot and was rewarded by the feel of his knife resting against his lower leg.
The big cowboy was talking now.
“
I saw the chopper comin
’
in.
Hell of a rig they got there.
”
“
Yeah.
Sure is. They
’
re going to make an infrared pass over the area. Anyway Dad,
pack it in… and
Dad…Special Agent Craig told me to thank you.
They really appreciate it.
We
’
ve got the staties camped out down at the Interstate.
I
’
ll get on the horn and let
‘
em know you
’
re gonna be coming by.
”
“
See you in the morning darlin
’
.
”
“
Not if I see you first.
”
The radio snapped and crackled and then fell silent.
He watched the big cowboy pocket the radio and begin walking his way, unbuttoning the raincoat, pulling it aside so he could get at his button-fly jeans.
He watched in disgust as the man freed himself from the jeans and stood there, holding it in his hand.
He looked to be straining.
Nothing was coming out.
His hand slid to his knife just as the unmistakable popping sound of helicopter rotors reached his ears. He returned the knife to his boot and settled lower into the grass.
Still holding himself in one hand, the cowboy turned toward the sound. The helicopter was invisible, nothing more than the sound of slapping rotors until, at about two hundred feet, the pilot turned on the halogen spotlights.
The powerful white lights turned night into day, illuminating an area half the size of a Wal-Mart… a brightly lit rectangle moving directly toward where he lay.
He stared stupidly for a moment and then began to move.
He grabbed the boy around the waist and pulled him down the slope, until both of them were in the water again. The boy
’
s skin was cold.
The chopper was nearly overhead now.
He pulled the boy down until only his face was above the water, using the frigid river to mask their infrared images.
He ducked his head below the surface and held his breath for as long as he was able.
As soon as he surfaced, he heard the cowboy
’
s voice.
“
Jesus,
”
the big cowboy groused.
“
Can
’
t even take a piss in peace anymore.
”
The helicopter spun on some invisible axis, hovered above them for a moment and then started west along the river, its bright lights and invisible heat-seeking eye sweeping the ground, searching for the warm signature of life.
He heaved the boy up onto the bank.
He pulled his knife from the boot and crawled to the top of the bank where he peeped through the gnarly bushes.
The old cowboy had once again freed himself from his jeans and was once again trying to take a leak, except that his back was turned now.
The glow of the bright white lights and the sound of flopping rotors grew fainter and fainter.
They sat hip to hip on the front stairs of Ruth’s Snack and Yak Café. The only place Audrey was warm was the six square inches where their bodies touched. Everything else was cold and wet and dirty. For his part, Craig seemed oblivious to the cold and damp.
The Lexus had long since been towed off to the police garage in Sioux Falls. FBI Forensics was already working the car’s contents. Ground search crews were reforming and awaiting further orders. The mood was touchy and disconsolate. Neither of them said it out loud, but both were thinking they’d just missed their best chance to apprehend the kidnapper and rescue Michael. They’d gotten lucky with the shoes. They’d contained him in a narrow valley, a place with only one way out and virtually no place to hide from the kind of technology they’d thrown at him, and
still
he’d managed to elude them.