Stone Cold by C. J. Box Page B

be a little bumpy.”
    â€œI’m getting used to it,” Joe said, as much to himself as to the copilot.
    That morning, before leaving his house, he’d stuffed Sheridan’s winter coat into his backpack.
    â€¢Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â â€¢
    T HE DIRECTOR of the Wyoming Game and Fish Department, Lisa Greene-Dempsey, was inside the cinder-block state terminal to greet him. Joe was surprised. Director LGD, as she preferred to be called, had been in her job for a little over a year, and her philosophy and policies were beginning to take effect throughout the agency. Her goal from the beginning was to “modernize” the agency, turning it from what some called the Wyoming “Guts and Feathers” Department into a more progressive body that embraced diversity, wildlife appreciation, and environmental stewardship. Nearly a dozen longtime game wardens and fifteen percent of the headquarters administration had retired.
    Director LGD was wiry, fidgety, and wore rimless glasses that made her eyes look bigger than they were and gave her a perpetually startled look. She had short, straight brown hair parted on the center-left and a habit of waving her fingers like a pair of flushing birds when she talked.
    She strode up to Joe as he entered the terminal and grasped his hand with an exaggerated motion and said, “How are you doing, Joe?”
    â€œFine, boss,” he said warily as she pumped his hand.
    â€œWhen I heard you were coming today, I thought I’d take the opportunity to ride with you to the capitol.”
    He nodded politely.
    She grasped his arm and steered him through the terminal toward a waiting green departmental SUV. Her administrative assistant, named Brandi Forgey, was at the wheel. LGD climbed into the backseat with Joe.
    â€œBrandi,” LGD said, “take us to the capitol and use the scenic route, please.”
    Forgey nodded and put the SUV into gear. The ride to the governor’s office normally took less than ten minutes.
    â€œWe don’t have much time before we get there,” LGD said, leaning toward Joe. He fought an urge to recoil.
    â€œI need you to give him a message for me.”
    â€œDoes this mean you’re not going to be in the meeting?” Joe asked her.
    LGD shook her head abruptly and forged on. “I haven’t been asked. This arrangement the governor has with you is very unusual, and I can’t say I like it. The governor doesn’t seem to honor our system of chain of command and structure. Neither, frankly, do you.”
    Joe shrugged with a
what-can-I-do?
gesture.
    â€œWe’re not close, the governor and I,” she said, looking away from Joe. “I’ve been instructed to communicate with the governor’s staff via email. He prefers it that way.”
    â€œOh?” This was news.
    â€œHe’s a busy man. Anyway, our agency desperately needs a new appropriation the next fiscal year to open our pilot WAC.”
    Joe looked back, puzzled. “WAC?”
    â€œWildlife Appreciation Center,” she said with irritation. “Haven’t you been keeping up with my ‘Memos from the Director’?”
    He was caught. Since taking over, Director LGD had beensending out electronic memos to all employees about her plans for modernizing the agency. Joe had stopped reading them months ago.
    â€œSorry,” he said. Then: “But I did finally retrieve that pickup from the top of the mountain . . .”
    She dismissed his sentence with a wave of her hand. “Not now, Joe.”
    â€œI thought that was important to you,” Joe said.
    â€œNot as important as the WAC program,” she said. “Anyway, we sent the proposed language to the governor’s office six weeks ago so he could request the funding from the legislature and put it in his State of the State address. He hasn’t even responded. We really need him on board with this.”
    Joe shook his head.