Bluetick Revenge (23 page)

“No, but it’s not your fault.”

“The file is still open,” she said. “We just need some corroboration. I’ll spend all my spare time on it.”

“Thanks.”

I gave Scott the bad news.

“What about that ATF agent that got killed up in Wyoming?” Scott said. “What was his name?”

“Lowell.”

“You said Karlynn told the feds a guy named Skull might have been involved in that. If they can’t get him for killing your
cousin, maybe they can get him on that.”

“Might not be the same Skull,” I said. “We’ve got no way to connect our Skull in Idaho to Lowell’s death. Hell, we don’t even
have Karlynn to testify that Mongoose told Bugg Skull had done a good job taking care of Lowell.”

“Anything in the address book that might be the initials for Skull or Mongoose?” I thumbed through my copy of the address
book.

“I don’t know Mongoose’s real name, but I don’t see any
M
or
MG
with a Wyoming area code.”

“What about Skull?”

“His real name is Anders Riddell.” I flipped through my copy of the address book again. “No
S
or
SK
or
AR
.”

Scott walked around me and into the kitchen, where he put two pieces of raisin bread into my toaster. When they popped up,
he covered them with raspberry jam.

“Maybe we’re done,” Scott said. “Karlynn’s gone, Skull’s untouchable, and if Bugg doesn’t kill you in the next few weeks,
it’s probably safe to assume he doesn’t know you stole his dog and helped protect Karlynn.”

T
WO WEEKS LATER
I sent Scott home. Bugg hadn’t come after me, and neither had Anvil. That didn’t necessarily mean I was safe, but I couldn’t
keep Scott in Nederland indefinitely.

I worked hard at getting back into a daily routine. Shower, meditate, stretch, eat, feed the dogs, read the paper, work at
my desk, check the mail, eat, exercise, work some more, eat, feed the dogs, read, watch TV, go to bed.

The trouble was, I didn’t have much work to do. I had a few small projects for Matt or one of the other attorneys at Keane,
Simms & Mercante. Some involved computerized research. Some involved telephone interviews. Once in a while I had to get in
my truck and track down someone who didn’t want to be tracked down and obtain a statement from them.

In addition to doing private eye work I sometimes worked as a ghostwriter for Matt. He does not like legal writing, he’s not
good at it, and he knows it. I like writing, I’m good at it, and he knows that. So he pays me seventy-five dollars an hour—in
cash—to write briefs for him. Nobody else knows this, not even the other partners. And certainly not the client.

I was in the middle of one such writing project when I noticed some unfamiliar handwriting on one of the yellow legal pads
strewn about my desk. It was an early draft of Karlynn’s list. I knew this was an early draft because there were only nine
items written down. And because I could see that sheets of paper underneath had been torn away from the pad. The list looked
like this:

Go skydiving

Get down to 120 lbs

Visit Lyle

Publish a poem

Go to college

Learn to ski

See Alaska

Learn to swim

Balloon ride

Lyle was the brother serving twenty to life at the Nebraska State Penitentiary. With a federal warrant out for her arrest,
Karlynn wasn’t going anywhere near there. The only other physical location on her list was Alaska. My stories of Alaska had
captivated her. And Alaska offered what she wanted most right now—a chance to be left alone. I’m no expert in geography, but
I know enough to know that if you draw a line from Denver to Alaska, that line is going to pass through Idaho. Or at least
pretty damned close to Idaho.

My excitement was short-lived. Alaska is a big place. Other than my mother, I knew nobody in Alaska. Alaska is even colder
than Nederland. How would I find her? Why would I want to find her? If she had succeeded in making her way to Alaska and starting
over, what right did I have to intrude?

Because my mom lives in Barrow, I knew that the area code for Alaska was 907.1 looked through my copy of Bugg’s address book
to see if any of the phone numbers in it contained a 907 area code, but none did.

At noon I decided I had to get some exercise, so I donned my high-tech long underwear, my high-tech running suit, my high-tech
running shoes, and my low-tech wool cap. I put Buck’s leash on him, left little Wheat at the house, and started jogging toward
Caribou Road. I hate running in the cold and I hate having to wear three or four layers of clothing when I do. I made a mental
note to see if I could get my brother to sell me one of his treadmills. There are people who choose to live in Nederland because
they like winter activities such as cross-country skiing and snow-shoeing. I am not one of them.

Later that night I was watching an episode of Dragnet when the phone rang.

“Hi, sweetie,” she said.

“Hi,” I said.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Just another manic Monday,” I said.

“I said
what
are you doing, not
how
are you doing.”

“Oh. Watching
Dragnet
.”

“No
Monday Night Football?
”

“It’s January; there is no
Monday Night Football
. I might as well hibernate until September. How are things in Beijing?”

“It’s cold here,” she said. “I didn’t know it would be so cold. I should’ve chosen a university in the southern part of China.
Is Uncle Ray still with you?”

We had not talked since she had returned to China, so I brought her up to date on the Bugg situation. I told her about Karlynn
and the Lewis and Clark Trailer Park, about putting a bullet into Prince’s head, and my newfound status as staff investigator
for the Sons of Satan.

“I’m still worried about you,” she said.

“Don’t be. It’s over. Bugg thinks I did what he hired me to do, so he’s happy. If Anvil recognized me, he’s not saying anything.”

“Are you doing okay?” she said.

“Sure.”

“You don’t sound convincing.”

“It’s been a rough couple of months,” I said. “Eight weeks ago I didn’t know who Karlynn Slade was. I’ve been through a lot
lately. I’m just tired.”

“Maybe you should take a vacation.”

“We just went to Vegas a few weeks ago.”

“I don’t think that was much of a vacation for you. You went there to make me happy. You were thinking about Bugg the whole
time.” Actually, I had been thinking a lot about Skull, too, but I hadn’t told her about any of that.

“It was good to experience some warm weather for a few days,” I said.

“I shouldn’t have brought up the adoption issue when you had so much on your mind,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

“You have a right to say what’s on your mind. How can a relationship work if you don’t feel free to say what’s on your mind?”

“Have you given any more thought to it?”

“I just got rid of Scott today.”

“Will you think about it?”

“Hard not to,” I said.

I finished talking with Jayne, watched more of
Dragnet
, let Buck and Wheat out one last time, then went upstairs to go to bed.

I was still tossing and turning an hour later, so I went downstairs, made some ramen noodles, and watched ESPN. I took something
to help me sleep. Then I got my suitcase out of the closet and started packing.

T
HIS IS THE CITY
. Anchorage, Alaska. A sprawling metropolis of 260,000 people and a like number of sled dogs. It was Wednesday and I was working
the day watch in the Nothing Else to Do Unit. My name’s Pepper. I carry a Glock. And some business cards.

I landed in Anchorage in the afternoon, after a long flight from San Francisco. I had dropped the dogs at my brother’s house
on Tuesday and flown to San Fran that evening. There are a lot of Chinese people in San Francisco, and that got me thinking
about Jayne. And fatherhood. And sweet-and-sour shrimp. That’s what I had for dinner in San Fran.

I had never been to Alaska during the winter. It was dark. And it looked cold. I retrieved my bag from the baggage claim and
secured it in a locker. I bought a cup of coffee and started walking around the airport with a photograph of Karlynn.

None of the people at the car rental places recognized her. None of the clerks in any of the stores recognized her. None of
the workers at the airline ticket counters recognized her. A cashier at the restaurant recognized her. “I remember her,” the
young man said. “She wasn’t dressed for Alaska. I told her where she could buy some warm clothes.”

“She say where she was going?”

“Are you a cop?” he asked.

“No, just a friend. Did she say where she was going?”

“Not really. Just said she had always wanted to visit Alaska. I guess nobody told her it’s better in the summertime.”

“What’s the name of the store you sent her to?” I asked. He wrote it down for me. I retrieved my suitcase from the locker,
removed the Glock from it, and hailed a cab.

It was an outdoor-sports store located in a large one-story building in the central part of Anchorage. When I walked in, the
man behind the counter was swapping moose-hunting tales with a customer. I assume they were swapping moose-hunting tales,
because the man behind the counter was holding a rifle and using terms of the trade such as “big fuckin’ moose.”

“Can I help you?” said the man behind the counter. He was my age and wore a red flannel shirt over a gray sweatshirt.

I showed him Karlynn’s picture. “I’m trying to find her,” I said. “I think she might have been in here a few weeks ago to
buy clothing.” He studied the picture.

“Oh yeah,” he said, “she’s a hard one to forget. Wouldn’t have lasted a day with the clothes she had on. No insulation, no
ventilation, no hat.”

“Any idea where she might be staying?”

“Not a clue,” he said. He handed the photo to the customer.

“Not bad-looking,” the customer said. “She won’t be lonely up here.” The customer was a bit younger, maybe thirty-five.

“I take it she bought some clothes,” I said to the store employee. Maybe he was the owner.

“You bet. We covered her from head to toe. If she freezes up here, it ain’t gonna be our fault.”

“How did she pay for it?” I asked.

“Paid cash, I think. Yeah, she did. Seemed like she had a lot of cash on her.”

“Thanks,” I said. “I appreciate your help.”

“You bet,” he said.

I looked around the store and decided there were some items I probably needed to buy for myself, so I started browsing. “If
you need any help, just holler,” said the man behind the counter.

Living in Nederland, I have a good collection of winter gear, but if I was going to have to go door-to-door in Alaska showing
everyone my photo of Karlynn, I wanted to be warm. So I purchased a top-of-the-line parka, insulated face mask, and goose-down
mittens. I also bought a very powerful and rugged flashlight, the kind powered by six “D” cell batteries.

I placed my items on the counter and opened my wallet. The total came to nearly five hundred dollars. I paid cash.

“Can one of you recommend a motel?” I said to the two men.

“How long you going to be staying?” the customer asked.

“No clue,” I said.

“You won’t have any trouble getting a room this time of year,” he said. “You want big and fancy or small and rustic?”

“Small, rustic, and warm.”

“C’mon,” he said, “I know just the place. My name’s Chris.”

About five minutes later Chris guided his big Bronco into the parking lot of a long building with a log exterior. He left
it running, and we walked into the lobby. There was a wood stove putting out some good heat in the lobby, but nobody was visible.
“Hey Fred,” Chris yelled, “I’ve got a guest for you.”

Fred turned out to be his stocky brother-in-law. He lived in a suite of rooms behind the front desk. “How long will you be
staying?” Fred asked.

“Don’t know.”

“You here on business or pleasure?”

“Business,” I said.

“Lighten up, Hoss. It’s a joke. Nobody comes here for pleasure in January.”

“Sorry,” I said.

“That’s okay. I’ll just have you fill out the registration form, and we’ll take good care of you. What’s your name, by the
way?” He slid a registration form across the counter to me.

“Pepper,” I said. I extended my hand and we shook hands. Then I opened my wallet and handed him five hundred-dollar bills.
“I’ll be paying cash,” I said. “I’d kind of like to avoid leaving a paper trail.” He and Chris eyed each other; then he slid
the registration form away from me.

I thanked Chris for his hospitality, and Fred led me down the hall to room 1, which was the room closest to the front desk.
Fred turned on the lights, then found the thermostat and turned it up.

“It’ll heat up pretty quick,” he said. “Meanwhile, there’s a space heater over there that you can use. Let me know if you
need anything. I’ll have coffee for you in the morning.”

“Thanks,” I said.

It was a nice room. Spacious. Beautiful log furniture. Expensive television set. I turned the space heater on and looked at
my watch. It was four-thirty in the afternoon. I peeled the curtain back and looked out the window. It was darker than a CEO’s
heart.

Fred let me borrow his Jeep to drive around town and look for a place to eat. As I was leaving, he said, “Pick up some beer
on your way back, will ya?”

I found a decent-looking restaurant and ordered king crab and diet Coke. I stopped at a liquor store on the way back and purchased
a case of very good beer.

Fred was nowhere to be found when I returned, so I left his keys and twenty-two bottles of beer on the front counter. I took
two beers to my room. The room was starting to warm up. I sat down on one of the chairs but left several layers of clothing
on. I opened a bottle of beer and considered my next move.

Karlynn was probably still in Alaska. Even if she had a passport, she couldn’t use it without alerting the feds to her whereabouts.
Where in Alaska? I would’ve chosen Anchorage. Anchorage has shops, supermarkets, taxicabs, electricity, indoor plumbing, and
other things we take for granted in the lower forty-eight. But if I worked on the premise that Karlynn was in Anchorage, that
meant I would have to drive from one motel to the next showing my photo of her. And she might not even be staying at a motel.
Maybe she had made friends with someone or found a situation where she could trade her labor for room and board.