Free Endangered by C. J. Box Page A

had been used twice: once to arrest a meth cook operating out of a garage, and also to serve papers on a derelict ex-husband for failure to pay child support. There had been a column in the Saddlestring
Roundup
by Chief Williamson apologizing for the damage to curbs, gutters, and lawns the MRAP had crushed en route, as well as a vow to only use it in the future for more appropriate situations.
    —
    J OE LEFT R EED to check on Lucy. It had gotten cooler. Hard pellets of snow came in waves, bouncing off the windshields and the packed ground.
    It was then that he remembered the plight of the sage grouse twins.
    He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and called Annie Hatch.
    “I’m really sorry,” he said. “Something came up. I can be up there in a couple of hours—”
    “Fuck you!”
Wentworth screamed back. He’d obviously snatched the phone from Hatch. “Don’t even bother. We found Lek Sixty-four just after the snow paused for a few minutes, and we managed to find the road, no thanks to you.”
    Joe punched off before he said something he’d later regret.
    —
    T EN MINUTES LATER , a set of bright headlights appeared on the access road. Because of his job and the long nights he had spent perching and patrolling his district, Joe had become a student of headlights in the dark. He could discern the make and model of an off-road vehicle by the spacing, height, and intensity of the headlamps. They were like faces to him. These headlights were far apart and higher and brighter than normal, and Joe shouted, “It looks like a Hummer!”
    “Oh shit,” Reed said. “Here he comes.”
    As he wheeled toward his van, Reed said to his officers, “Get ready for anything. Think of your safety first—and no hero antics. We just want to take him in and question him at this point.”
    Deputies jogged toward their vehicles with their hands on their weapons.
    Joe grasped Dulcie by the arm and guided her toward his pickup. Lucy opened her door when she saw what he was doing.
    “Please get in there with Lucy, and both of you stay on the floor,” Joe said. “Don’t raise your heads until I tell you to, okay?”
    Lucy nodded, and scooted across the seat to make room for Dulcie. Joe retrieved his Remington Wingmaster 12-gauge shotgun from behind the seat. If there was a firefight coming, he thought, the last thing he wanted was to be dependent on his sidearm. He racked a double-ought shell into the receiver.
    When the pickup door was closed, Joe looked across the hood toward the oncoming vehicle. Rather than slow down at the band of crime scene tape, the Hummer accelerated through it.

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    H e knows we’re here!” Reed shouted.
    Joe crouched down behind the front fender of his pickup and rotated on his heels so he could survey the situation behind him. Reed had wheeled his chair back to his van and was positioned near the grille. Joe saw a glimmer of red from the wigwag lights wink from the barrel of Reed’s drawn semiauto. The deputies were well positioned behind their vehicles and were locked and loaded. Boner was crouched behind the back hatch of his SUV.
    The Humvee roared into the yard and steered around two sheriff’s department SUVs, headed toward the trailer. Joe popped his head up over the hood of his pickup and was instantly blinded by the Humvee’s headlights. He dropped back down, squeezing his eyes shut. All he could see on the inside of his eyelids were the pulsing green orbs of an afterimage.
    As the Humvee shot past Joe’s truck, he heard several deputies shout for Cudmore to stop, but he didn’t. Joe kept his head down, but no one fired at the passing vehicle.
    The driver powered through a small front fence and across the lawn, turning around the side of the trailer and out of view. But rather than keep on going, the vehicle braked to a stop in the backyard.
    “He’s going inside!” Reed shouted. He ordered two deputies to flank the trailer, and they moved out on foot.
    “Should we storm it?” Boner