Free Fire - C. J. Box [119]
“And if they do get to me,” she said, “Langston will still go to jail.”
Joe didn’t want to say it that way, but Demming was sharp. And when he said the name Langston aloud, it triggered a question.“What’s James Langston’s wife’s name?”
“Hmmm . . . I met her a couple of times. Tall, skinny, cold. Katherine, I think.”
“Katherine. Are you sure?”
“I think so.”
“Katherine Langston is listed as VP of development for EnerDyne.Either she’s involved or James is protecting himself by using his wife’s name. Probably both.
“Oh,” Joe continued, “I nearly forgot to ask you. Did you recognize the men in the black SUV?”
“I didn’t recognize the driver,” she said.
“Could you pick him out in a photo? Like from the entrance gate video?”
“Absolutely.”
Joe nodded. “Good. I’m pretty sure I’ve got a couple of picturesof him.” Joe described the driver.
Demming said, “That’s him.”
“What about the passenger?”
“He looked familiar.”
“In what way?”
“I’ve been trying to figure that one out,” she said. “I know I’ve seen him before, but I don’t know his name. It seems to me he was up here a year or so ago with your governor.”
Joe felt a chill shoot through his spine.
“He stuck to your governor like glue,” she said. “He seemed like a nice guy but real intense.”
The profile from the video, Joe thought. He knew now why it was familiar to him too.
The name should have struck a nerve when Nate said it. Vice president of operations for EnerDyne, but under his formal name. James Langston wasn’t the only officer at EnerDyne playing name games.
“Joe?”
“I’m here,” he said weakly.
“What’s wrong?”
“His name is Chuck Ward,” Joe said, “aka Charles Ward, aka C. T. Ward the Third. He’s Governor Rulon’s chief of staff. Now I know why he didn’t want the governor to send me up here, and why he had to take some personal leave.”
“He’s the guy you’re working for?” Demming asked, disbelieving.
“He was,” Joe said.
“Does the governor know?”
Joe started to say, I’m sure he doesn’t but his world was turninginside out. Given the implications of free fire, he was sure of nothing.
Instead, he said, “I have no idea what the governor knows.”
“Get out of there,” Demming said. “Get out now.”
Joe mumbled that he understood her, told her to call the Billings PD right away, said he’d come see her as soon as he could.
“Meaning what?” she asked.
“Meaning I’ve got to go.”
Joe did four long circuits around the outside of Mammoth Hotel in the dark, rubbing his face, running scenarios through his head, stopping once to throw up. He had a headache from lack of sleep and too much thinking and his mouth tasted of stale smoke and regurgitated dinner. As he walked, it got darker and colder. Storm clouds rolled across the black sky, extinguishingthe moon and stars, covering Yellowstone Park like a lid on a boiling cauldron.
Winter had arrived.
On his fifth circuit, hard little pellets of snow strafed the ground, hitting so hard on the pavement they bounced. In the darkness, it looked like the road was awash with waves. He thought he felt tremors through his boot soles, and concluded that he probably did.
He stopped in front of the Pagoda. A single light was on from within a cell on the second floor. Clay McCann was awake.
“McCann!” Joe shouted.
After a few moments with no reaction, he shouted again.
The shadow of a face appeared at the window. Joe recognizedthe lawyer’s profile. The thick window was frosted so McCann couldn’t see who had called his name outside.
“I’ve got you now,” Joe called, “you son of a bitch!”
Back in the Mammoth Hotel lobby, Joe dug a worn and faded business card out of his wallet that he’d kept with him for three years. On the back, handwritten, was a number. He dialed, let it ring eight times before it was answered.
“What?” Tony Portenson said, groggy.
“It’s Joe Pickett.”
Joe heard a clunk as the receiver was dropped on the floor, then picked up. “It