Free Avalanche: A Sheriff Bo Tully Mystery (Sheriff Bo Tully Mysteries) by Patrick F. McManus Page A

am.”
    “So?” Tully said.
    The waitress brought their drinks and stayed to take their lunch orders. All four went with the toasted cheese sandwiches and cups of tortilla soup.
    “So, Dave?” Tully repeated after the waitress left.
    “I very carefully walked along the tracks in the snow, step for step. First of all, there was no fresh snow in the tracks. Which means they were made after we arrived up here, because the snow stopped about nine.”
    “That’s right,” Pap put in. “It stopped just before the avalanche.”
    “Okay,” Dave went on, “first of all, even if Mike Wilson made the tracks, where was he all day Sunday and Monday? People were out looking and supposedly never found a trace of him. Now here’s the strange part, I think. The tracks were made by boots almost the same size as mine. But the difference is that my tracks sank a good four or five inches deeper in the snow!”
    “You’re saying that the tracks were made by a person with the same size foot but a whole lot skinnier?”
    “I would say smaller. And here’s another thing. The heels of the person’s boot were digging in at an odd angle, a much sharper angle than the heels of my boots.” Dave stood up to demonstrate. “It looked like the person was stretching out his leg to match the longer stride of Mike Wilson. I’d bet you a World Famous Chicken-Fried Steak that the person who made those tracks was a much smaller person than Wilson.”
    “You don’t think there’s any chance Wilson could have made them?”
    “I don’t see how. Maybe the snow was firmer under those tracks than it was under mine but I doubt it.”
    The waitress brought their sandwiches and soup. “Anything else?”
    Tully shook his head and she left. “Let’s suppose for the sake of argument that some small person wanted to make some tracks in the snow that would appear to be Wilson’s. They end at the river. How does the person get out of there without leaving more tracks?”
    “Have to be by boat,” Pap said, washing down a bite of his cheese sandwich with a swig of whiskey. “Or a hot-air balloon.”
    Tully said, “That would mean the person making the tracks had to have an accomplice.”
    “What’s wrong with that?” Dave said.
    Janice sipped her wine. “How are you going to figure out if the tracks were Wilson’s or not? You would need his boots, wouldn’t you?”
    “Yeah,” Tully said. “And if he’s in the river, he’d be wearing the boots. It may be months before we find the body, maybe never, if there is a body at all. It could be all the way down to the Snake River by now.”
    Janice said, “Do all your lunchtime topics involve bodies?”
    “You brought up the problem of the boots, Janice. I’ve got to preserve one of those tracks before we have another snowfall.”
    “How do you do that?” Pap said. “Put one of them in a freezer?”
    “I don’t think that would work. What I need up here is Lurch. You know what that means, Janice. Another phone call.”
    She responded with an exaggerated sigh.

13
    FOR THIS TRIP TO THE top of the ridge, Janice hooked up a team of the younger dogs. The new team was enthusiastic, to say the least, and twice almost dumped the sled. Tully half expected to arrive at the top of the ridge sliding on his belly while clinging with outstretched arms to the back of the sled.
    “Whew!” he said, getting up. “I thought I was a goner there a few times.”
    “They’re a peppy bunch, all right,” Janice said. “But they’ll make a good team once I work them a little more often.”
    Tully dug out his cell phone and dialed. A woman answered. “Governor’s office.”
    “I’d like to speak to the governor,” Tully said. He knew she was thinking “Wouldn’t everyone?” but she said, “Who may I say is calling?”
    “Blight County Sheriff Bo Tully.”
    “One moment, please, I’ll see if he’s available.”
    “The governor!” Janice said. “You’ve got to be kidding!”
    The governor