She shot daggers at him.
Roth shook his head. “He’s teasing you, Samantha. I’m sure we will find service along the trail. They have better signals out here now for hikers, have cell towers strategically placed so they don’t get too lost. How’s that pack feel? Too heavy?”
“I think I’ll be okay.”
Xander raised an eyebrow at her. “I can take out that nail file you insisted on. That might make all the difference.”
Sam stuck her tongue out at Xander, who, laughing, went back to the car for another load, and put the phone in her pocket. The pack was a bit heavy, but she moved it around and figured it wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle. They had four hours of daylight left, and Xander wanted to get them as high up the trail as he could before they made camp for the night.
Sam thought about what her best friend would have said to all of this a year ago. “You, camping? Ha!” Yes, well, falling in love with an outdoorsman meant she was now more than accustomed to roughing it.
Hiking a vertical to 7500 feet on the trail of a killer? Maybe not so much.
Satisfied they had everything, Xander locked the truck, and they started off, Roth leading, Xander taking the rear. After a few choice comments about the view, and a few well-aimed kicks toward his midsection, they settled into a steady pace.
They’d been hiking for an hour before Sam got a decent enough signal to try Fletcher again. She was more than relieved to take a break. Roth and Xander fidgeted with their things, checking weapons and straps, while Sam dropped her pack, drank some water and made the call back to D.C.
Fletcher answered immediately, annoyance and relief bleeding through the phone. His voice was at a decibel she recognized as his version of DEFCON One.
“Whatever the hell you’re doing, Owens, stop. Cease and desist, immediately. We have teams converging on the area to go after the killer. His name is Ryan Carter, by the way. We have his wife here at the JTTF. I’m sending you a photo. Where are you?”
“Halfway up a mountain, on our way to where we think his camp is. How did you get his wife?”
“You’re doing what?”
“Xander knows the area, and his friend Will Crawford knows the killer. He took off after him yesterday, and we are following his trail. How’d you get the killer’s wife?”
“It’s Ledbetter’s daughter, Loa. Not only that, Congressman Leighton is her father. Long story short, she ran off with Carter, got pregnant and changed her mind about living in the woods, ran away, gave the kid up for adoption and started her life over. There was a bombing a couple of hours ago in Boulder, a reproductive clinic. We believe we have Carter and Ledbetter’s daughter in custody—he left her behind.”
“We heard. Xander, how far are we from Boulder?”
“About a hundred miles, maybe one hundred and ten by road. Less than forty as the crow flies.”
“It’s possible he’s ahead of us, and it’s possible we’re going to walk right in on him. Xander, here. Talk to Fletcher. Tell him where we are.”
She handed the phone to Xander, who pulled a face but put the phone on speaker and said, “Hey, Fletch. Think you got him?”
“We do. Where are you?”
“Halfway up to Eagles Nest. We took a vertical trailhead off Colorado State Road 9, about fifteen miles south of Kremmling. Rumor has it there’s a geothermal hot spring in this area, it triangulates to the most logical spot to have a private camp. It’s basically uninhabited, hard to find and harder to hike, so there’s not going to be any foot traffic accidentally stumbling into his camp. We’re following the steps of a friend of mine who I think knows where this guy is—”
“Ryan Carter’s the name.”
“Roger that. My friend took off after Carter, like Sam said. He’s got half a day on us. We’re three hours on foot from the site where we’re assuming he’s hunkered down.”
Fletcher didn’t hesitate. “You turn around and go back down that mountain. We are sending teams in. Just give us your coordinates and we will have them there shortly. Loa Ledbetter gave us a pretty detailed map of the area, we know exactly where we’re headed.”
“At this point, Fletch, you’re going to have to fly them in to make it in time. And that’s just going to spook him. Coming in on foot from below will take too long. My friend will have eliminated the problem by then. I’m assuming you want him alive?”
“We do.”
“Then we’re your best shot. I arranged for backup, the police chief in Dillon, Reed McReynolds, is probably already on our tail. And we’re losing daylight.”
Fletcher went ballistic. “Goddamn it, Xander, you are not a cop. Park your ass and wait for the cavalry. That’s an order, soldier.”
Sam watched Xander’s face shut down. It got blank as an empty sheet of paper. Uh-oh.
“Can’t hear you, Fletch. You’re breaking up.”
“Whitfield, so help me God, you get one hair on her head hurt—”