Winterkill - C. J. Box [80]
“Still on roadblock duty, huh?” Joe asked, opening his window.
“Yes, goddammit,” McLanahan said, his teeth chattering. Twin plumes of condensation blew from his nostrils.
“Is there any traffic up here?” Joe asked. “Do the Sovereigns come and go much?”
McLanahan shook his head. “Every once in a while there’s a truck or two. But they also use Timberline Road on the other side of the mountain, so I don’t see ’em all.”
“Any activity this morning?”
“Just you,” McLanahan said. “Things pick up at night. Those two FBI guys have been through here a lot. They had quite a bit of sound equipment with them, and I guess tonight they’re planning a new phase.”
“A new phase?”
McLanahan shrugged. “Don’t ask me. They don’t tell me anything, and I’m not here at night. All I know is that that Munker guy is a real prick.”
Joe cocked his thumb toward the back of his truck. “I’ve got some clothes and toys to deliver to the compound for our daughter April.”
Marybeth had packed the boxes early that morning, before it was light out. It must have been very hard on her, but she didn’t say anything about it. Marybeth was not talking with him, and neither was Missy, which Joe counted as a blessing.
McLanahan shrugged. “I’m supposed to inspect all deliveries.”
“Feel free,” Joe volunteered.
McLanahan developed a pained look, and Joe could see him weighing the time it would take to search through the boxes in the bitter cold versus climbing back into his warm Blazer. He stepped aside and waved Joe through.
At the gate to the compound, Joe stopped as he had before, and got out. A bearded man in a heavy army-surplus parka emerged from the nearest trailer and approached on the other side of the fence. He didn’t carry a rifle, but Joe guessed that he was armed. Joe stacked the boxes and suitcase near the barbed wire.
“What you got there?” the man asked.
Joe explained that it was for April Keeley. “Is she here?” Joe asked. “Is Wade Brockius around?”
“I don’t give out that kind of information,” the man mumbled. “Is it important?” He reached through the strands and opened the top of the highest box to confirm that it was clothing.
“It’s important.”
The man lifted the top box over the barbed wire and carried it back to the large trailer that Brockius had come out of the last time Joe was there. “We’ve gotta go through all this stuff,” the man said over his shoulder. “Then I’ll be back for the rest. I’ll ask about Wade and Jeannie.”
“I’ll wait.”
Joe turned to get back in his pickup, his eyes sweeping through the timber around him. Something seemed out of place, and he tried to figure out what it was.
When he saw it, he was surprised he hadn’t noticed it earlier. Four silver speakers poked into the sky above the tops of the trees. Their fluted metal openings were aimed at the Sovereign Citizen Compound. The speakers were mounted on poles that were apparently secured to tree trunks within the forest. The speakers were silent, for now.
Munker and Portenson had been busy.
Wade Brockius emerged from the trailer and walked slowly down to the fence. His gait suggested arthritis, or a leg injury. Joe went out to meet him.
“This cold weather stiffens me up,” Brockius mumbled. “The clothes are thoughtful. Thank you.”
“There’s two more boxes,” Joe said. “Some of April’s toys, too.”
Brockius nodded, and Joe thought he looked uncomfortable. “Thoughtful,” he said again.
Joe looked into the compound at the trailers and RVs. He hoped to catch a glimpse of April, or even Jeannie Keeley, through a window.
“Can I see her to make sure she’s okay?”
“She’s with her mother right now, Mr. Pickett.”
“Does she know I’m here?”
Brockius sized up Joe from beneath his heavy brow. “No, she doesn’t.”
“Can you tell her?”
Brockius shook his massive head. “I’m sorry. I really don’t want to interfere.”