Page 18 of Not Our Daughter

“Yes, sir. And I’m pissed off, too, believe me.”

Burns kept his cool. The chief had every right to lay into him. He would be doing the same thing if the shoe were on the opposite foot. Plus, he really needed the chief’s help right now. So he was eager tomake peace. Without a fight to be had, Jackson let loose one more angry huff, unclenched his fists, and gathered himself.

“Well, there’s no use wasting time standing here and arguing about the details. Doesn’t bring Tommy back. I just want this guy captured and brought to justice.”

“Same,” Burns agreed.

“What do you need from us?”

“Were there any witnesses to the shooting?”

“None yet. But it’s still early.”

“What about body cam footage?”

“The kid unfortunately didn’t have it turned on. It all happened so fast.”

“What’s the latest on the hunt for our fugitive?”

“My guys are searching, but there’s been no sign of him. It’s a madhouse over there. Hard to tell one thing from another; people have been rushing off all over. He could be damn near anywhere at this point.”

“Right.” Burns’s mind was bouncing in all directions. “How many ways in and out of town?”

Jackson twisted up his mouth. “Probably a half dozen or so, if you include isolated back roads. But it’s mainly Highway 40 in both directions. Berthoud Pass, that way.” He pointed over Burns’s shoulder, then stuck a thumb over his own shoulder the opposite way. “And through Granby and Hot Sulphur Springs that way.”

“Can you shut down Berthoud Pass?”

“I can do whatever the hell I want. I’m the chief of police.”

“Good. We need to do whatever we possibly can to confine them to this immediate area. If they somehow get out, we could be screwed. These people have proven to be very elusive. If you can manage it, let’s do everything we can to create checkpoints at all exits out of town. I don’t care if you use firemen, medics, or even local ranchers—whatever it takes. We just need armed men with flashlights and phones.”

Jackson spun his weight around and snapped his fingers at an officer lingering behind him, who quickly hustled over. “Close the passASAP. And call Chief Logan over in Granby. Tell him we need a blockade on 40 immediately and all the help we can get over here. We also need checkpoints on all roads out of the valley. Use whoever the hell you can find. Just get them all blocked. And make sure everyone has the suspect’s photo.”

The officer rushed off with his orders.

“Best I can do,” Jackson said, turning back to Burns.

“Do you know all the police chiefs within, say, a sixty-mile radius?”

“Been on the job nearly forty years. I know everyone.”

“Can you call them all and get them up to speed? Let’s see how many reinforcements we can get over here as quickly as possible.”

“What about the media?”

“What about them?”

“I know all the TV guys, too. They could help us get the word out.”

Burns had been afraid he’d bring that up. Every small-town police chief he’d ever met relished a chance to stand in front of TV cameras. “Let’s hold off on that for now. We don’t need every drunk cowboy from Denver to Grand Junction calling in and claiming they spotted them. These first couple of hours are critical. In my experience, that would only make our jobs more difficult.”

“All right. Let me know if you change your mind. I’m good in front of the cameras.”

“Will do.”

Jackson sighed, shifted his girth. “I gotta drive over to my nephew’s house now and tell his pretty wife what just happened to him. Just the thought of it makes me nauseous. You ever have to do something like this, Burns?”

“Yes, unfortunately. It’s the worst part of the job.”

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