Page 45 of At Midnight Comes the Cry
“I understand. Believe me. We all want a better world for our kids.” Clare stood and stretched in the sunshine. “It would be nice if we could all agree on what a better world means, wouldn’t it?”
10.
Bodies are heavy. Russ had forgotten it, the way one will sag and roll and pull toward the ground as if it knows where it belongs. He had seen far more than his fair share, but he had lived in a world where there were medical examiners and evidence techs and gurneys and body bags, not a wilderness where you had to pack out a man’s beloved uncle like the trash from your camp.
They improvised a travois with deadfall branches, Knox’s scarf, and Russ’s outer shirt, but the scree and the close-grown trees meant they kept having to pick the rear up stretcher-style. It took easily twice as long to retrace their steps to Pierre’s truck as it had to find his body, and by the time they reached the clearing, Russ’s back was screaming.
Pierre had had a warming blanket in the narrow backseat; they carefully wrapped him in it and placed him in the truck’s bed. There was a thermos of dead-cold herbal tea in the cab, as well as ibuprofen in the glove compartment, and Russ and Knox both popped a couple.
“We need to get the Department of Environmental Conservation and the Essex County Sheriff’s Department as soon as possible.” Russ handed the thermos to Knox.
“No.” She took a swig of icy tea. “I mean, yes, obviously, but we’ve got to try to find Flynn first. These people are killers, Chief. God knows what they’ll do if they find out he’s a cop.”
“Two or three law enforcement officers walking into their camp might give the game away.” Terrance accepted the thermos from Knox.
“I’m retired,” Russ said.
“Yes, you seem very retired.” The younger man looked at him skeptically. “Look, I agree with you. We need manpower, and lots of it. They killed an officer.” His voice was steady. “Every department and agency in the state is going to want to get these guys.”
“So let’s think about that.” Knox shoved her hands into her armpits. “We get rangers up here, and sheriff’s deputies and the state police and who knows what all—”
“Tribal police. Pierre was Akwesasronon. This is going to turn out half the force of Akwesasne, and probably the guys from Kahnawake, too.”
“Isn’t that in Canada? Let’s not get cross-border jurisdiction politics involved in a New York State crime.”
“That’s your border, Chief, not ours.”
“Guys.” Knox’s voice was sharp. “Can I possibly finish my sentence?”
Terrance looked abashed. “Sorry. Please go on.”
Knox took a breath. “You and I both commented on how the men who tried to search this truck weren’t trying to hide their tracks. And that it might mean they weren’t planning on hanging around. How long do you think it would take them to disappear if these woods are crawling with cops, most of whom willnotbe professional deerstalker types like you?”
Terrance looked at Russ.
“They know these mountains, obviously,” she went on. “We still don’t know where their vehicles are. If they break camp and make it back to civilization before we get them, we won’t have Flynn, we won’t have the suspects, and we sure as hell won’t know what it is they’re doing that was worth killing a cop for.”
Russ tilted his head. “She has a point.”
“Yes, I have a point. I’m not an idiot.” The fact that he and the ranger might be was left unspoken.
Terrance spread his hands. “I can’t just leave Pierre here.”
“You won’t have to. I think we should find the location of their camp. Then the chief and I fall back and stay there while you take your uncle’s body out and report to law enforcement. When you’ve got backup, we’ll be able to point them straight to the bad guys.”
“That’s a good plan, Knox.” Russ looked at the ranger. “If you blaze the trail back from their camp, you can find us. And if they move, we can follow and do the same thing. As long as at least one of us has them sited, they can’t disappear.”
“Unless they split up,” Terrance said.
“All we need is one. These fake soldier boys flip like a deck of cards when they’re faced with actual time.”
Russ knew Knox was committed when she shouldered her backpack without a word of complaint. He had gotten an earful of her opinions on winter camping during their drive from Millers Kill, and her grim determination to find the militia and hunker down in the woods despite that spoke legions about her loyalty to her former partner. He’d made a good call when he hired her. She did the job differently than the men on the force, but she was real cop.
They had the rough coordinates of the camp—or depot—they’d spotted from the plane; the trick was going to be finding a trail to access it in a wilderness of dense woodland, steep rubble-sided eskers, and jutting outcroppings of stone ranging from tumbled boulders to sheer cliff faces.
Pierre’s uniform coat had been snagged and ripped on the back, suggesting his killers had dragged the body up the scree looking for a place to hide. They decided to follow the natural trail down the dry creek bed, with a plan to double back and strike out from the place where the older ranger had been hidden if nothing panned out in the easier direction.
No chatting this time; they went as silently as possible, given the inevitable clatter of stones underfoot. They were strung out at a distance from each other; Terrance taking the lead and Russ still bringing up the rear. He kept ping-ponging from wishing they had more backupto acknowledging every extra person would have made them that much more likely to be seen or overheard.
