Back of Beyond

He moved the muzzle a few inches to the right and fired into the ground so close to Wilson’s head it creased his scalp and furrowed through his hair above the temple. The concussion was deafening in the quiet woods, and when Cody’s ears stopped ringing all he could hear were Wilson’s terrified curses.

“Jesus Christ, you shot me. You son of a bitch. You can’t do this to me. You’re a cop.”

Cody said, “Yada-yada-yada. Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Cody,” Mitchell called from the timber, “everything all right?”

Cody didn’t look up. “Everything’s fine,” he said.

He moved the muzzle back over where it belonged between Wilson’s eyes, said, “Now tell me, is my son okay?”

“He was fine when I saw him last,” Wilson said. Then: “You busted my nose.” He pronounced the last word node. “And I can’t hear out of my right ear.” Cadt.

“I’m just getting started,” Cody said softly. “Now what I’m going to do is ask you a series of questions. Your job is to answer each and every one of them with absolute truth and clarity. I’ve interviewed hundreds of dirtbags like you in my life and I know when I hear a lie. If I hear one it’s the last thing you’re ever going to say. Do you hear that?”

Wilson nodded.

“Good. Tell me why you killed Hank Winters.”

“I didn’t kill him, I swear.”

“You’re an idiot,” Cody said, feeling his face get hot. “We’ve got bodies all over Yellowstone Park. I’ve got the gun you used and the knife. Now you’re going to tell me you’re innocent?”

“I said I didn’t kill Winters, whoever the hell he is,” Wilson hissed. “I’ve never heard of the guy. It wasn’t me who did that. It wasn’t me, I swear it.”

Cody paused. “Are you going to try and tell me you didn’t kill D’Amato, Russell, or Glode, too?”

“No, I ain’t going to tell you that.”

“But you know who killed Hank Winters?”

Wilson nodded so slightly Cody almost mistook it for a tremble.

“Do you know why?”

Another barely perceptible nod.

“So what in the hell is going on?” Cody said, pressing the muzzle and front sight against Wilson’s forehead hard enough to draw blood.

35

“Is he gone?” Danielle asked Gracie.

“I think so.”

They were in their tent, waiting for Jed McCarthy to leave camp. Gracie had unzipped the front flap wide enough to see. She could see the aluminum cooking station and James Knox pacing but her field of vision was blocked in back of her. The trail was beyond the camp over a rise. If Jed was indeed gone she hadn’t seen him ride away. But the sounds of the adults talking was muted and random, the sounds of nervous small talk. If Jed was still there she would have heard his voice, which seemed to cut through the air like a saw.

The afternoon sun lit the nylon walls and it was hot inside and Gracie could smell the dirt and perspiration on her body and Danielle’s. She couldn’t remember ever going two days without a shower, much less two days outside being coated by dust, wood smoke, horse, sweat, and a new smell: fear.

“So we’re agreed?” Gracie said, sitting back on her sleeping bag. “We’ll gather up Dakota and Rachel and get out of here.”

“Don’t forget Justin,” Danielle said.

“He’ll want to bring Walt,” Gracie said, a hint of a whine in her tone. “Walt will be the good politician and he’ll probably tell everyone what we’re doing and want them to come, too. Then it’ll be all of us and we’re back to where we started.”

“With this pack of losers,” Danielle said. “But as long as we go home, I don’t care. And I can’t just leave Justin.” She’d brought a file along as well as red polish and she was methodically grooming herself finger by finger. “By the way, I saw where Dad hid the keys to the rental car. He put them by the gas cap and closed that little door. So when we get back we can drive right on out of here.” Then, “Man, I want to take a shower and clean this trip off of me. Except for Justin.”

Gracie put her head in her hands.

“You don’t understand love,” Danielle said solemnly.

“You’ve known him for two days,” Gracie said.

“Like I said. You don’t understand love. I hope someday you will,” Danielle said, studying her nails. “But you’ll need to lose the attitude.”

Gracie flopped back on her sleeping bag and kept one hand over her face.

The silence went on for a while, Danielle working on her nails and Gracie sweltering and miserable. Finally, Gracie said, “What about Dad?”

“I thought you said you didn’t care about him, the way he treated you.”

“I said that,” Gracie said, “but I was mad at him. We can’t just leave him here.”

“Why not?” She sounded half miffed and half bored. Danielle seemed more than amenable to let Gracie make all the profound decisions, and didn’t seem to like the idea of her waffling because that required her to once again become involved in the discussion.

Gracie said, “Because he paid for this trip and everything’s gone wrong. I feel sorry for him, you know? I’m not sure Rachel even likes him anymore, and that was the whole point. I mean, besides us bonding with him in the wilderness and all of that. He’s going with us.”