Nate said, “Bastards.”
Joe looked over to try and shush him. Nate glared back.
Coon said, “So he delivered an eight-hundred-fifty-million-dollar defense facility to his constituents. Few knew he was personally going to benefit, and those who knew didn’t care because that’s how things are done. All you have to ask yourself is: How many of our representatives enter office as fairly well-off financially, but on a salary of a hundred seventy-five thousand dollars per year retire as millionaires? That’s one way how it’s done.”
“The Clines were a major problem, though,” Coon said, “because they became grassroots heroes for refusing to relocate their business or leave their land. Even though the media didn’t much cover the showdown, it was all over the Internet and talk radio. That put pressure on Senator McKinty and he wanted them gone, and used his pull with federal agencies to put the pressure on them. The Clines were well known as independent backwoods renegade types, and it didn’t take long for legitimate charges to be brought against them.”
“Still,” Joe said, “it was their land. How can the government just take it?”
Coon shrugged. “We can. We do.”
Nate spat, “Bastards.”
“Anyway,” Coon said, “not every member of the Cline family died that day. Two of them survived.”
Joe felt his scalp twitch and his stomach clench. Coon read Joe’s face.
“That’s right,” Coon said. “The two surviving sons were arrested. They were belligerent and claimed they were political prisoners and they wouldn’t spend one minute in jail. It was shaping up to be a major federal trial, but Senator McKinty again got involved. He didn’t want a trial that could blow open the whole controversy again, and he didn’t want his personal connection to the facility widely known. So he sent his staff to the Justice Department, and a deal was cut. If the two surviving Cline sons would drop their claim to the land and agree not to pursue any civil legal action against law enforcement, they wouldn’t be prosecuted. Instead, they’d be given new identities and be placed in the Federal Witness Protection Program and allowed to go away. Otherwise, federal prosecutors would go after them with both barrels and send them to prison for the rest of their lives. Needless to say, their court-appointed public defenders urged them to take the deal.”
“Hold it,” Joe said, shaking his head. “Prosecutors wouldn’t cut those brothers a deal based on what you’ve said, would they? If they really fired on federal officers? What did the brothers have to bargain with?”
“Not much,” Coon said. “But there were people in the administration who didn’t want any undue attention on the land seizure, either. They had enough on their plates at the time with accusations about creeping socialism and such. The last thing they wanted was more controversy about government takings. And don’t forget, federal prosecutors are political appointees. They know where their bread is buttered.”
“This stinks,” Joe said.
Coon nodded. “Welcome to the big time, Joe.”
“And I bet I can guess the names of the brothers,” Joe said. “Camish and Caleb. Grimmengruber was the name they were given for the witness protection program.”
Joe continued, “They told me they were from the UP, but it didn’t click at the time. And the fact they ran a meat-processing company explains how professionally they were able to butcher the elk and my horses.”
Coon nodded. “They were supposed to go to Nevada. There were sweet auto mechanic jobs all lined up for them. But en route, just about a hundred miles from here in Wyoming, they overpowered their federal escort and took off. Needless to say, they never showed up in Nevada. We lost track of them completely, but our agency was told to keep an eye out for them. Until you gave your statement, we had no idea where they ended up.”
Rulon said, “And I would have never put this all together except for Senator McKinty himself. As I said, I’ve been tangling with him for a couple of years, because he’s the chairman of the Natural Resources Committee and he refused to release mineral severance payments to the State of Wyoming that are owed to us. We’re talking hundreds of millions. He wants all that money to stay in Washington so he can siphon it off, the prick. He wouldn’t answer my letters or take my calls until this week. Now, all of a sudden, his staff said he’s rethinking his opposition to releasing the funds. But there’s a condition. He wants the Clines—or the Grim Brothers—to be left alone up there in the mountains. They made up this goofy story of wanting to look out for their former constituents, but I saw right through that. He doesn’t want them to resurface and start talking.”
Joe said to Coon, “So why’d you talk to the governor?”
Coon shook his head. “There’s only so much I can take. I just want to do my job out here and solve crimes and put bad guys in prison. I don’t want any part of deals cut in D.C. between senators and attorneys general. I’ve got a son. I want to be able to look him in the eye. And I want to be able to look at myself in the mirror.”
Joe said, “You are a good man.”
Coon smiled. “I’m a bad bureaucrat, though.”
“That makes two of us.”
Nate said to the governor, “Hold it. McKinty just wants the Clines, or the Grim Brothers, left alone?”
Rulon said, “He didn’t say it in so many words, but yes, that’s what his staff is asking.”
Nate shook his head. “That doesn’t make sense. He doesn’t want them left alone. He wants them silenced. That’s the only way he can skate on this.”
Rulon said, “He’s a U.S. senator. He’s not a killer, for Christ sake. Man, I thought I was cynical.”
Nate said, “When did he approach you about the deal?”
The governor said, “Last week. Why?”
Nate said, “Because I think he wanted you to not put any more effort into finding those brothers right away until he could take care of it himself. I wouldn’t be surprised if he, or his son, or the developer, or the facility general manager—whoever could do it at arm’s length and not directly involve McKinty in any way—sent a team up there to solve the problem once and for all. And it wouldn’t surprise me if he reneged on his offer once he got confirmation that the Clines were no more.”
Rulon turned to Carson while pointing his finger at Nate. “This son of a bitch should be our point man in Washington. He’s got a vicious and devious mind.”
“No, thanks,” Nate said. “I used to work for them. I know how they think, and how they operate. The question is, did the team he sent out find the Clines?”
Joe stood up, fighting a wave of nausea. He said, “And is Diane alive and well? Or did they get her, too?”
Nate stood as well. “I wouldn’t be surprised, based on what Joe experienced, to find out that it’s McKinty’s team that’s taking a dirt nap and not the brothers. But there’s only one way we’re going to find that out.”
Joe stared out the window at the governor’s plane and the tumbleweeds rolling down the runway. He said, “They called me a government man. Now I know why they went after me.”
Coon said, “We’re all government men, Joe.”
“Not me,” Nate said proudly.
“SO,” JOE SAID to the governor, “where do we stand?”
Rulon didn’t hesitate. “Go up there and rescue that woman and bring those brothers out dead or alive.”
Carson turned white. “Sir, you can’t give an order like that.”
“I just did.”
Joe stood and clamped his hat on. Nate stood with him.
“Do you need more people?” Rulon asked Joe. “I could have a dozen DCI agents here by nightfall. I can send them back in Rulon One.”
Joe shook his head, said, “I think the smaller the footprint the better. Those brothers own those mountains, and they know when a big contingent is after them, I think. A big group makes lots of noise and raises dust and quiets the wildlife. That’s why I stumbled on Caleb on my own while Sheriff Baird and his men couldn’t find them at all. I th
ink the leaner the better.”
“Meaning you and Mr. Romanowski here,” Rulon said.
Joe nodded. “Plus, I have a pretty good idea where they hang out.”
“Go get those bastards, then,” Rulon said, narrowing his eyes. “Get them the hell out of my state. Send ’em back to Michigan, either vertical or horizontal—I don’t have strong feelings either way.”
Nate was out of the room before Joe could speak.
Rulon said, “Is he still with you?”
Joe shrugged. “I’m not sure.”
“Would you go alone?”
“Probably not.”
Rulon blew out a long breath and looked to Carson for solace. Carson looked away.
“Two questions,” Joe said to Rulon. “One, what was the name of the developer in Michigan?”
Rulon shrugged and turned to Coon. “Do you know?”
Coon smiled wearily. “Brent Shober,” he said.
Joe said, “Thought so. Second question. How will the state cope with the loss of money from the feds if Senator McKinty finds out you sent me up there?”
Rulon said, “That’s a good question, Joe. Very politically astute. You’re learning, aren’t you?”
“Not that I’m proud of it,” Joe said.
Rulon put his beefy hands on Joe’s shoulders and leaned his face close. Joe could feel the heat from the governor’s forehead. “If you bring those brothers down the mountain, we have a news story on our hands,” Rulon said. “The story can be spun however we want it to be spun. Meaning McKinty might just find himself in the news again for the wrong reason. It’ll be up to him how he plays it.”
“But if we don’t find the Cline Brothers and Diane Shober?” Joe asked.
Rulon said, “I’m screwed. You’re screwed. We’re all screwed.”
26
THE STOPOVER IN RAWLINS WITH THE GOVERNOR HAD COST Joe two hours and a big chunk of his sense of purpose, he thought. Still, he was worried about getting to the trailhead in the Sierra Madre before dark. As he and Nate traveled west via I-80, Joe called Marybeth on his cell phone and filled her in on the meeting that had taken place with the governor. He was keenly aware of Nate’s presence in the passenger seat. Nate sat sullen and still, his eyes fixed on something in the middle distance out the side window. He was no doubt thinking whether or not he even wanted to be on this adventure anymore.
“So do you think the Shobers were withholding information from you?” Marybeth asked.
Joe said, “I’m not sure yet. Each of them might be withholding different things. If they don’t know it was the Cline Brothers up there in the first place, there wasn’t anything for them to come clean about. It’s possible Mr. Shober knows something, but I’m not sure. I think he’s focused solely on finding Diane.”
“But still,” Marybeth said, “the Michigan connection is just too . . . convenient. There has to be something there.”
“I agree, but what?”
“I’m not sure. I’m not sure at all. But I could do a little research.”
Joe grinned. “I was hoping you would say that.”
Marybeth had assisted in a number of cases over the years. Joe found her a clear-eyed and determined researcher, a bulldog with a laptop. And she wasn’t shy about making calls, either, and at times posing as someone else so she could get answers to questions. Joe was equally proud and a little frightened of her ruthlessness. She got information no one else seemed to be able to find, and she got it quickly. He hoped he never gave her a reason for her to turn her guns on him.
“Will you be able to stay in range?” she asked. “I’ll call you back as soon as I have something.”
“I’ll try,” he said. “There are dead spots ahead, as you know.”
He could hear computer keys clicking in the background.
“Wow—this looks like a target-rich environment,” she said, already distracted.
“What have you found?”
“I’ll call later,” she said, hanging up.
As he slowed down to take Exit 187 off I-80 south toward Baggs, Joe checked to make sure he still had a strong phone signal. He didn’t want to miss Marybeth’s return call.
“OKAY,” NATE SAID after an hour of silence since they’d left Rawlins and the governor, “this new development about the Clines puts a whole new angle on the situation.”
Joe grunted, noncommittal.
Nate said, “From the standpoint of the Cline Brothers, they hunt, they fish, they go back to subsistence level. No doubt they even maintain some contacts with some of their kind around the country. And believe me, there’s more of them than you’d think and the numbers are growing by the week. Have you been into a sporting goods store the last two years? It’s impossible to find ammunition—it’s sold out. Folks are hoarding, getting ready for something bad to happen.”
Joe chose not to respond. He knew it was true. If he didn’t have channels through the department to buy bullets, he wasn’t sure where he would get them. Shelves in retail stores had been picked clean.
Said Nate, “Things are going on out here in the flyover states nobody wants to talk about.”
Joe shook his head. “You’ve been thinking about this for a while.”
Nate said, “Yes, I have. Hanging out in Hole in the Wall gives me plenty of time to think.”
“Maybe you should get out more,” Joe said.
“I don’t even think it was the lack of an license so much,” Nate said, ignoring Joe. “It was your threat about seeing them in court. You were telling them, in effect, that the jig was up. You just didn’t realize what buttons you were pushing.”
“No,” Joe said, “how could I know that?”
Said Nate, “You couldn’t. But you are stubborn.”
“Yup, when it comes to doing my job. Besides, they stole that guy’s elk, too.”
Nate shrugged. “From their point of view, those hunters were in their territory and they didn’t bother to ask permission. It’s all a matter of how you look at it.”
“This is going nowhere,” Joe said. “We can’t have the rule of law if people can choose which laws they want to obey based on their philosophy and point of view.”
“Agreed,” Nate said. “Which is why the big laws ought to be reasonable and fair and neither the people nor the government should breach their trust. But when the government decides to confiscate private property simply because they have the guns and judges on their side, the whole system starts to break down and all bets are off.”
“Do we really want to have this discussion?”
Said Nate, “It might lead us into dark places.”
“Yup.”
“Speaking of dark places, where are you going to spread the ashes?”
“I have no idea,” Joe said. “I hardly knew him. I don’t know of any special places he liked except for barstools.”
“You can’t just drive around with him back there,” Nate said.
“I’ll think of something.”
Nate nodded and changed the subject back.
“One thing, though,” he said, pushing his seat as far back as it would go so he could cock a boot heel on the dashboard, “These boys may be losers, but damn. This is what happens when the government gets too big for its britches. Some folks get pushed out and they get angry.”
“You sound sympathetic to them,” Joe said.
Nate said, “Damned straight.”
“Great,” Joe said.
“I’m sympathetic to outliers among us,” Nate said. “I’m kind of one myself.” Then he paused and looked over at Joe, and said, “Government man.”
Joe said, “Quit calling me that.”
THEY WERE ROLLING DOWN the hard-packed gravel road into the forest, racing a plume of dust that threatened to overtake the cab, when Marybeth called back. Joe snatched his phone from the seat between them and opened it. Nate looked on, interested.
“It wasn’t hard to find a connection between Caryl Cline and Diane Shober,” Marybeth sa
id. “In fact, it was so easy I’m amazed others haven’t been there before us.”
Joe said, “We don’t know they haven’t been.”
“Agreed. But it might also be an instance where no one has thought to look.”
“Go on,” Joe said. “Are you saying the two of them were associated with each other?”
“I can’t confirm it,” Marybeth said, “but it looks like they had the opportunity to meet each other at least once.”
“When and where?” Joe asked.
She said, “I just did a simple Google search with both of their names. I came up with a bunch of hits, but in most cases the names are used in the same essays or news roundups during that year. Except for one instance.”
“Fire away,” Joe said.
“Caryl and Diane appeared on the same local cable news show years ago. They were both in Detroit the same day. It wasn’t as if they were interviewed together. According to the schedule, Diane was on at the top of the hour to talk about her chances to make the Olympic team and Ma Cline was on at the bottom of the hour to talk about what it felt like to lose her appeal to the court. Like I said, they weren’t on together and I found the YouTube clips to confirm that, but they very likely could have met in the green room before the show. Maybe they struck up a relationship there that continued.”
“Goodness,” Joe said, his mind swirling, marveling how simple it been for Marybeth to investigate and come up with positive results.
She said, “So we’ve got a Michigan connection now between the Cline Family, Diane Shober, and Brent Shober. This is getting interesting, Joe.”