The Highway (9 page)

“How many murder cases have you worked?” he asked.

“You know,” she said.

“That’s right: none. How many major felony cases? Oh, same number: none. But you went to the academy and you got hired right away and promoted right over the heads of people who’ve been in that department for years. So I guess you know it all.”

“I don’t know it all,” she said with anger, “and I never act like I do. And I could have partnered up with Markey or Stegner or Curley. But I fought to be able to work with you. And you know why? Because I’d heard you were the best. That you were a bulldog and that you’d cleaned up your act.”

His face reddened and his eyes bulged. He looked like he was ready to explode. She looked away because the intensity of his glare was almost violent in itself. Then he surprised her by snorting again and he laughed softly, shaking his head. He seemed suddenly more interested in the untouched shot and beer than he was in her confession.

After a long pause, he said, “I know it was Tubman and you’re too green to go up against him, plus you owe your job to him. He used you, and you let yourself get used.”

“I know. I’m ashamed of myself.”

“Are you?”

“That’s why I’m here.”

His eyes bored into hers. She was surprised when they softened.

He said, “You’ll find, Cassie, that it’s us against the world. We do our damnedest to put away degenerates and douche bags so innocent people won’t be hurt by them, but all the forces out there are set up to make us fail. We’ve got county attorneys that won’t take on a case unless it’s airtight, judges who want to invent the law instead of enforce what’s there, defense attorneys who want to show publicly how fucking incompetent we are, and juries who want to stick it to the man. So when we’ve figured out that someone is guilty as sin, sometimes we need to stack the deck a little. You know what I’m saying?”

She shook her head, but was both scared and a little thrilled to hear what he’d say.

“Somebody’s got to defend innocent people,” he said. “They need a dark angel. The deck is stacked against them, too. All those good citizens out there just want to raise their families, go to work, go to church, and keep their heads down. They don’t give a shit about county politics or political correctness or who’s running for sheriff or the sheriff’s fucking diversity program. They just want to live their lives. Somebody’s got to step up and protect them, you know? And who is tougher on bad guys than me?

“Look,” Cody said, “B. G. did it. The two of them are big-time growers fighting for market share. I know these people because I grew up with them. I went to school with B. G., and he’s been a dirtbag in training from the minute he was born. B. G. went to Tokely’s house on some pretext and shot Tokely with Tokely’s gun, then made it look like a suicide. He murdered a man. We’re supposed to be against that. And I don’t give a shit about Roger Tokely, either. He was a reprobate just like B. G. But if we leave B. G. out on the street, look what we’ve done. We’ve allowed him to continue to beat the shit out of his wife and kids for years and they’ll never turn against him because he’s got them under his thumb. Worst of all we’ve showed him he can beat us. So the next time he gets high, maybe it’s one of those innocents out there who gets it. Maybe it’s your mom, or your kid, or my son. B. G.’s a typical douche bag. He’s been getting away with crap for years. He’s human shit and I just want to flush him away.”

She flinched when he suddenly reached back, but instead of the weapon he slapped his wallet on the table and opened it.

“This is Justin,” he said, jabbing his finger on a photo of a strapping, smiling teenager in a football uniform. “He’s just a great kid. He’s smart, he’s kind. He’s empathetic in a way I just look at and wonder where the hell it came from. I still can’t believe he’s my son, because all that bad Hoyt blood must have ended with me somehow. But I look at this kid, Cassie, and I say to myself I will never let him get hurt by some dirtbag like B. G. So B. G. has to go, simple as that.”

She looked up and was surprised to see the softness in his eyes.

“All I was doing in that cabin,” Cody said, “was spreading some bread crumbs around that would lead to other evidence. Now the techs are motivated, they’ll find more and more to place B. G. in that house. By the time they’ve got enough to arrest B. G. we might not even need to use the trash I put in his garbage can. The stuff I did wasn’t enough to railroad B. G.—but it was enough to get everyone looking in his direction. That’s all I wanted, was to put the spotlight on him. And that’s sometimes how you have to work it so the right scumbags go to prison.”

“But it isn’t ethical,” she said.

He laughed. “No, it isn’t. Which is why I did it myself and didn’t try to involve you. You’ve still got ethics, or so you think.”

“I didn’t want to believe you’d do something like that,” she said. “I felt if I followed you I’d be able to prove to Tubman you were clean.”

“You felt wrong,” Cody said. “You,” he said, jabbing his finger toward her, “let yourself get used. He used you to get me. And you just happily went along with it until you realized what you’d done. Now you come in here for what? Forgiveness? You want me to pat you on the head and tell you what a good girl you are? You want me to tell you thanks for saving me from myself? Is that what you want?”

She shook her head.

“The problem with people your age,” he said, “is you never understood the difference between thinking and feeling, and to you feeling is more important, which is bullshit. You
felt
like you were doing the right thing, so you did it. You
felt
that it was probably okay to screw your partner because your boss told you to do it. You
felt
like all you needed to do was come in here tonight and I’d see how genuine your all-important feelings truly are and I’d say, ‘It’s okay, Cassie. You meant well. All is forgiven, Cassie.’”

She felt like he’d slapped her repeatedly. She tried to blink away tears that were ready to burst behind her nose and inside her eyes.

“Well,” Cody said, reaching out for the shot glass and then recoiling as if the glass of bourbon stung him, “you’re not forgiven. And I
feel
like I’m going to get hammered tonight. Care to join me?”

“No,” she said.

“Then goodbye, and don’t let the door hit you on the ass on your way out.”

“Please, Cody,” she said, “Don’t do this. Don’t hurt yourself. Think of Jenny and Justin and all you’ve built up.”

“This is it for me,” he said. “I had a nice run but this is the end of the trail. When I got kicked out of Denver I thought I’d never get another gig in law enforcement. The only reason I wound up back here where I grew up was because Tubman thought I had the goods on him. Now he’s got worse on me. And he’ll make damned sure I never get another law enforcement job in Montana or anywhere else.”

With that, he suddenly tossed back the shot and chased it with half the pint of beer. She watched with fascination and horror as his eyes glistened and he smiled manically.

“Damn,” he said, “that was good. I miss this. And I want another one.”

“Cody…” she said.

He dismissed her and signaled for another round. Then he arched his eyebrows and said, “Leave or stay, I don’t care. But if you stay, things might get ugly.”

She watched as he downed the rest of the beer in time for the bartender to deliver another round. A second glass of wine appeared as well. Cody took the shot glass from the bartender’s hand before he could set it on the table—and downed it.

“Keep ’em coming,” Cody ordered.

Then to her: “Don’t get me wrong. I admire your guts coming here tonight. That shows me something. But I’ve got a question for you.”

“What?”

“Who is going to protect these people now?” he asked. “You?” He said it with incredulity.

She felt her face flush hot again, and she sipped the glass of wine for something to do.

“Cody,” she said, reaching out and putting her hand on his arm. He looked down at it suspiciously. “What do you have on Tubman?”

Cody froze for a moment. Then, that evil grin she both loved and hated stretched slowly across his face.

12.

6:32
P.M.
, Tuesday, November 20

I
T WAS
ONLY MINUTES
but it felt much longer as the headlights of the black truck retreated behind them. As they reached the top of the hill, Danielle kept the pedal floored, prepared to shoot down the other side. They’d played enough mountain yo-yo with big trucks on the drive north that day Gracie didn’t mind that her sister wouldn’t slow down and let the momentum of the black truck catch up with them.

Gracie’s stomach hurt. Seeing that truck grille so close to the car had unhinged her. Passing the truck with her sister screaming insults had unhinged her in a way she couldn’t explain.

She hated her sister for putting them in this situation and hated herself even more for going along with it. Cars, trucks, big lonely highways at night were
serious
. Steel and speed and pavement and weather didn’t give a couple of teenagers a pass. This was the real world and Gracie wasn’t sure she liked it. Danielle didn’t seem to notice because she lived, as she claimed, on “Planet Danielle.” But Gracie couldn’t live there, even though it was probably more fun.

Danielle was texting furiously on her phone. “I told Justin what happened,” she said. “He said to me, ‘Good driving back there.’”

“Great,” Gracie said sullenly.

“Yeah,” Danielle said. “I let that guy have it. I guess you should thank me for saving our lives, I guess.”

“Gee, you think?”

Danielle shrugged and flipped her hair back. The close call and hearing back from Justin seemed to have filled her sister with confidence and arrogance, which was her normal state.

Gracie said, “Did you text him about the engine light?”

“No way. I don’t want to worry him.”

Gracie covered her face in her hands.

After a few moments, Danielle’s phone chirped. She looked at the display. “Oh, no,” she said. “Shit!”

“What?” Gracie was suddenly buoyed:
It was their mom
.
She talked to their dad. They were busted. They would have to turn back or drive to Omaha.

“Justin says he looked on the Internet and there’s a big wreck or something on the highway. It’s closed up ahead of us. Shit!”

Gracie didn’t have the same reaction. She thought,
We can turn around and forget this whole thing. We can drive straight through the night to Omaha to Dad. We can get ourselves out of this!
Relief flooded through her.

Danielle said, “He says not to worry. There’s another way to Helena but we’ll need to get off I-90.”

Gracie didn’t want to reveal her true thoughts, and said, “We shouldn’t leave the interstate. I don’t want to go out there”—she gestured with her chin toward the black mountains to the south—“we don’t want to be on crappy little country roads.”

“Don’t be such a baby,” Danielle said, dismissing her. “He says it’s not a bad drive but we’ll need to go back through a corner of Yellowstone Park. He’s going to e-mail me a map.”

“No way,” Gracie said.

“That’s what we’ll do,” Danielle said flatly. “It’s time we got over that Yellowstone trip. This is our opportunity to put it behind us.”

“No way,” Gracie said.

“We’re looking for the exit to Laurel,” Danielle said, “Highway 212.”

As she said it the headlights lit up a green highway sign that read:
LAUREL 4 MILES
.

“We’re in luck!” Danielle sang.

“Let me talk to him myself,” Gracie said. “Call him and hand over your phone or I swear to God I’ll make you turn around at the next exit and drive to Nebraska.”

Danielle huffed and rolled her eyes. She said, “Don’t you trust me?”

“Ha!”

Danielle punched the speed dial, held the phone up to her ear, and said to Justin, “J-Man, Gracie needs to hear from you directly. She’s getting cold feet and she’s making squeaky noises about not coming. So just give her the directions and she can navigate us there.”

Gracie couldn’t hear what Justin replied because her sister kept the phone close to her face, but whatever it was made her smile. But she held out the phone.

“Justin,” Gracie said. “I’m nervous about going off the interstate. Are you sure we should do this?”

His voice was deep and calm but resigned. He said, “Hey, Gracie. It sounds like you guys are coming to visit. I wish I would have known about it.”

“Me, too.”

“I can’t believe your mom let you.”

“She didn’t.” Gracie turned away from her sister, who was glaring. “So Danielle didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?” There was panic in his voice.

“She thinks we’re driving to Omaha to be with our dad right now.”

“Shit, Gracie,” Danielle said. “You’re such a narc.”

Gracie ignored her. “She did talk our dad into it, but you know how he is. But Mom doesn’t know.”

Justin sighed. “There’s probably no talking Danielle out of it, is there?”

The question confirmed Gracie’s suspicions. She shot a quick glance at her sister, who looked back anxiously. Gracie felt a sudden and unexpected pang of sympathy for her sister. Justin wasn’t enthusiastic about seeing her after all. He might have given her signals—the texts and calls that weren’t returned certainly should have conveyed something—but Danielle had blissfully chosen not to notice. Danielle was rarely denied anything by anybody.

“Maybe
you
could do it,” Gracie said. She held the phone tight to her face so Danielle couldn’t overhear Justin’s side of the conversation and realize what they were talking about.

“Do what?” Danielle asked.

Gracie ignored her.

Justin said, “I can’t just tell her not to come now. You guys are close and it’s dark. It might be dangerous to drive back all that way tonight.”

“That would be okay with me,” Gracie said.

“But would she do it?”

Gracie looked over at her sister, at the determination in her face. At the way she gripped the wheel.