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“Then you won’t mind if I hang around today and get a good look at the folks in the courthouse, right? I mean, a survivalist compound in the middle of nowhere would be a great place for a fugitive to hide.”
Tom held the man’s gaze, trying not to let his relief show. Gates suspected that Tom had seen someone associated with Pozniak. But he didn’t know where. Around the judge’s home or at the courthouse or just at a restaurant in town. And here in town would be a target-rich environment. “If you think I’m lying to you, then be my guest. Waste all the time you want.”
“It’s not that I think you’re lying,” Gates said with a smile. “But I don’t know you, do I?” His smile only got friendlier. Tom didn’t like this asshole at all. The problem was he couldn’t actually call the guy’s boss and complain. Not if it would later come out that Tom had recognized and protected Beth Pozniak.
He stood, forcing Gates to stand, too. Tom waved him to the door, trying to look only mildly annoyed. But as soon as Gates crossed the room and closed the door, Tom grabbed his phone and texted Isabelle.
You might want to avoid the courthouse area today. We’ve really got it locked down around here and traffic is a mess.
A few seconds dragged into the eternity of a few minutes before she finally responded.
No problem. I’m painting all day.
He hesitated a moment.
Can I come by tonight? Maybe bring dinner?
It took her even longer to reply this time. What if she’d already made plans? What if she was going out with her friends and she ran into Gates? Tom couldn’t let that happen. He’d have to tell her the truth.
But his phone finally buzzed.
Yes. Let me know when you’re on your way.
Tom threw himself into the morning with a vengeance. He sent new alerts about Saul Stevenson to every sheriff’s office and police department in the state. He sent a press release to every media outlet. He had one of his men stop at every motel and open campsite in Jackson Hole. He sent another guy to check on each closed campsite he could get to.
Tom had to get this case under control so he could fix this thing with Isabelle. And something was bound to go down with Stevenson soon. The prosecution had just rested. Ephraim Stevenson’s defense would likely be done in three or four days, and then the case would go to the jury.
There wasn’t a lot of question about the conviction. The evidence was substantial, and Saul was smart enough to know that. He wasn’t going to hang back and hope for acquittal.
Of course, there was always the chance that Saul Stevenson would act after a conviction, trying to grab his brother during the transfer to prison, but Tom wanted to get the guy before he got anywhere near innocent civilians.
A few random leads came in before lunch and a few more around noon, but they were scattered. Stevenson couldn’t have been sighted near Gillette at the same time he’d been spotted near Laramie. The leads were shit. And Tom was pushing this too hard. Concentrating on tracking down Stevenson, when he should have kept his focus on protecting the judge. He was trying to force it because of a personal distraction.
At two o’clock, just as he was deciding he was being irresponsible, Tom got a real lead. A forest ranger had followed some vehi
cle tracks in the snow to a high-altitude campground that was closed for winter. Someone had spent the night there, and it had been someone with enough skill to hunt and kill and cook a rabbit in the middle of a snowstorm.
The site was only sixty miles outside Jackson. It was a possibility. But only a possibility. Maybe just a poacher. Or a modern-day mountain man. Or maybe a guy trying to stay off the main roads while he worked his way toward the Jackson federal courthouse.
Tom didn’t want to spread the team too thin, so he tempered his excitement and sat down with a list of the personnel at his disposal. His first priority was the judge and the judge’s family then the prosecution team. The courthouse itself had bailiffs as protection, though he’d hardly leave it vulnerable.
“What do you want to do?” Mary asked.
Tom looked up to see her standing in the doorway, arms crossed and a frown in place that looked more angry than thoughtful. He’d been texting her updates. “I want to go after this bastard,” he said.
“Then let’s do it.”
“I’m working out the numbers now.”
“You got a hunch?”
“I do,” he muttered.
“Then fuck the numbers. Court just adjourned for the day.”
Tom looked up from the paper. “Seriously?”
“Yep. The defense made a motion, and the judge wants time to research. He can do his thinking at home. Let’s get him settled and hit the road.”
