something to drink.” I stepped around the bar toward the windows that still reflected the collective bonfires. “East slope?”
“Everybody’s coming, but it’s going to take forever. They’ve closed off the road; the whole east side at Powder River Pass is covered in ice and they can only go maybe fifteen miles an hour. I’ve alerted the DOJ and marshal’s offices. Henry and Vic are on their way with the EMTs and HPs.”
“West slope?”
“Joe Iron Cloud’s got 16 blocked along with 47 and 434. He’s on his way up with Tommy Wayman, but it’s already turned to snow west of here. We’re going to get buried.”
I ran a quick topographic in my head; we were close to the spine that made up the Bighorn Mountains, and the majority of the precipitation would fall here before heading onto the plains. “Yep, we are.” There was another surge of flame from the gas pumps, and even if the damn things were empty, they were liable to cause a continuing hazard. “Get him something to drink. I’m going to go out to the side of the building and find the cutoff to those pumps.”
Snow was just starting to mix with the sleet, and it was cold outside, colder than it had been when we’d arrived.
Around the corner, there was a lath fence beside the mudroom that housed a compressor and stacks of old tires, but in front of that there was an emergency kill switch. It was possible that, even empty, the pumps were still pushing gas vapor through the lines. After I threw the switch, the fire died down.
Still keeping my distance, I returned to the front of the building and studied the burning Suburban. I could go in and try and find a fire extinguisher but figured that wouldn’t be the best utilization of my time, considering the circumstances. My eyes remained on the Chevy—the back access door and the rear passenger side hung partially ajar, and I could see where Shade had run the van into the SUV, forcing it onto the pump island. One of the gas handles lay on the melted asphalt, the hose burned and gone.
I stepped in closer and carefully counted the bodies and then walked around the vehicle and searched the surrounding area, just to be sure.
Back inside, Saizarbitoria was talking to McGroder, and the agent’s color was a little better. Sancho broke off when he saw the look on my face. “What?”
“Mike, how many of your people were in the other Suburban?”
His head shook, but his eyes were steady. “Two of mine and a marshal. Three.”
Sancho glanced back at McGroder as I bundled up, and we watched the fire bank itself and dwindle even further in the face of the sleet/snow and cold. The Basquo’s voice was tight. “I think he’s gonna make it.”
“He’s tough, but you need to keep him talking.”
“Yeah, I know.” Sancho’s dark eyes reflected the waning fire as he spoke. “What’re you going to do?”
I sighed. “I’ll take a sweep between here and Boulder Park to make sure the convicts are not in a ditch. If they aren’t, Iron Cloud will have a better chance of seeing them on his way up. No word from Joe or Tommy on the Ameri-Trans van?”
“No.”
“What about Beatrice Linwood’s Blazer.”
The Basquo looked grim and then tried to put a good face on a situation that had none. “They didn’t say anything, but if this Beatrice Linwood lives in Ten Sleep, wouldn’t they have seen her?”
“Call them back and ask them to check it.”
“I will.” He bit the inside of his lip, a habit he’d picked up from me. “What are you thinking?”
I pulled out my pocket watch and read the time: creeping up on ten o’clock. “I’m thinking that an awful lot of our bad eggs just got out of the basket, and I’m afraid they’ve got one of ours with them.”
“What do you mean?”
“There are only two bodies out there, and the cargo door was open. I think he took whatever was behind the seats and the woman agent, Pfaff.”
“Why in the hell would he do
“Everybody’s coming, but it’s going to take forever. They’ve closed off the road; the whole east side at Powder River Pass is covered in ice and they can only go maybe fifteen miles an hour. I’ve alerted the DOJ and marshal’s offices. Henry and Vic are on their way with the EMTs and HPs.”
“West slope?”
“Joe Iron Cloud’s got 16 blocked along with 47 and 434. He’s on his way up with Tommy Wayman, but it’s already turned to snow west of here. We’re going to get buried.”
I ran a quick topographic in my head; we were close to the spine that made up the Bighorn Mountains, and the majority of the precipitation would fall here before heading onto the plains. “Yep, we are.” There was another surge of flame from the gas pumps, and even if the damn things were empty, they were liable to cause a continuing hazard. “Get him something to drink. I’m going to go out to the side of the building and find the cutoff to those pumps.”
Snow was just starting to mix with the sleet, and it was cold outside, colder than it had been when we’d arrived.
Around the corner, there was a lath fence beside the mudroom that housed a compressor and stacks of old tires, but in front of that there was an emergency kill switch. It was possible that, even empty, the pumps were still pushing gas vapor through the lines. After I threw the switch, the fire died down.
Still keeping my distance, I returned to the front of the building and studied the burning Suburban. I could go in and try and find a fire extinguisher but figured that wouldn’t be the best utilization of my time, considering the circumstances. My eyes remained on the Chevy—the back access door and the rear passenger side hung partially ajar, and I could see where Shade had run the van into the SUV, forcing it onto the pump island. One of the gas handles lay on the melted asphalt, the hose burned and gone.
I stepped in closer and carefully counted the bodies and then walked around the vehicle and searched the surrounding area, just to be sure.
Back inside, Saizarbitoria was talking to McGroder, and the agent’s color was a little better. Sancho broke off when he saw the look on my face. “What?”
“Mike, how many of your people were in the other Suburban?”
His head shook, but his eyes were steady. “Two of mine and a marshal. Three.”
Sancho glanced back at McGroder as I bundled up, and we watched the fire bank itself and dwindle even further in the face of the sleet/snow and cold. The Basquo’s voice was tight. “I think he’s gonna make it.”
“He’s tough, but you need to keep him talking.”
“Yeah, I know.” Sancho’s dark eyes reflected the waning fire as he spoke. “What’re you going to do?”
I sighed. “I’ll take a sweep between here and Boulder Park to make sure the convicts are not in a ditch. If they aren’t, Iron Cloud will have a better chance of seeing them on his way up. No word from Joe or Tommy on the Ameri-Trans van?”
“No.”
“What about Beatrice Linwood’s Blazer.”
The Basquo looked grim and then tried to put a good face on a situation that had none. “They didn’t say anything, but if this Beatrice Linwood lives in Ten Sleep, wouldn’t they have seen her?”
“Call them back and ask them to check it.”
“I will.” He bit the inside of his lip, a habit he’d picked up from me. “What are you thinking?”
I pulled out my pocket watch and read the time: creeping up on ten o’clock. “I’m thinking that an awful lot of our bad eggs just got out of the basket, and I’m afraid they’ve got one of ours with them.”
“What do you mean?”
“There are only two bodies out there, and the cargo door was open. I think he took whatever was behind the seats and the woman agent, Pfaff.”
“Why in the hell would he do
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