IT wasn’t easy. Thacker hemmed and hawed. He worried about jurisdictions and fretted about blowback for stepping on the toes of neighboring law enforcement agencies. He worried about bureaucratic issues. Like shouldn’t they inform Don Jasper and his FBI team and give them an opportunity to investigate as well?
Finally, Afton grabbed the phone. “Please,” she begged. “We think there’s a strong possibility that this woman, Marjorie Sorenson, is the one who kidnapped the Darden baby. Her and the taxidermy kid. It all fits, the names, the animal hair, the bad odor. Give us the address so we can at least check her out.”
“This is so not a good idea,” Thacker said.
“She’s in Wisconsin, right? We’re already halfway there.”
“Max said you were headed back here.”
Afton set her jaw. “We just turned around. We’ve already passed the cutoff for 694. Her place probably isn’t that much farther on. What? Maybe ten or twenty miles?”
“In a raging storm.”
“Aw, it’s not so bad,” Afton said as she struggled to keep the Navigator on the road.
Thacker still resisted. “I’ve given you two way too much leeway already.”
“After what went down last night,” Afton argued, “this has the possibility of a home run.”
“Afton . . .”
“Please, Chief. You have kids, don’t you? If they were missing, wouldn’t you want everyone to pull out all the stops no matter what? No matter if they stepped on a few toes or ruffled some feathers? No matter if they played their hunch and took a risk?”
There were a few seconds of dead air, and then Thacker finally said, “Okay, I’m going to let you do it. But for Christ’s sake, be careful!”
*
EASIER said than done, of course. Because once they were back across the Saint Croix River, the roads were in even worse driving condition. The snow had compacted and frozen on the roadways, forcing semi trucks and trailers to pull into truck stops and rest stops all along the route.
“Your Navigator’s a beast,” Max said, “but it ain’t no match for this storm.”
“We’re not turning around,” Afton said. She checked the navigation screen for about the hundredth time. They’d plugged in the address Thacker had given them and had turned off onto County Road F. It was a narrow lane that snaked south, paralleling the Saint Croix River, yet set on top of a high glacial ridge. A ridge that seemed to be getting pounded by the full brunt of the storm.
“Shit,” Max said. He was nervous about Afton’s hunch, uneasy about the weather. “This lousy two-lane road hasn’t even seen a plow. Plus we’re on this stupid high ridge so there’s nothing to stop all this snow from drifting like crazy.”
Afton refused to agree with him even though she knew he was right. For the last ten miles she’d been powering her vehicle through five, maybe six, inches of snow. Up ahead, drifts and a curling wall of snow blocked their way. It looked like an impasse.
“We won’t make it through,” Max said. “Gotta turn around. I know it’s a bitter pill to—”
Afton jammed on the brakes and slewed heavily to one side, barely avoiding a skid into the ditch. Then she carefully K-turned the Navigator back and forth, finally turning it completely around.
“Good girl.”
She drove another half mile or so. Then, without warning, she hung a sharp left and dropped down a road that carried them down a steep incline.
“Whoa. Wait!” Max shouted. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? This isn’t the way home.” His eyes were wild, and he was thrashing around, held only in place by his seat belt. “This isn’t part of the program.”
“Detour. According to the nav system, this road should take us right past the Sorenson farm.”
“Do you not realize we’re headed down a murderously steep grade?” Max said, grasping the dashboard for support. “It’s gonna take us below the Sorenson farm. You better turn around right now.”
“Can’t.” Afton stared straight ahead. “Road’s too narrow.”
“Then pull into the next driveway.”
“No can do.”
They passed two small farms that were hunkered into the hillside as the road continued to descend in a steep spiral. The snow was coming down so fast and heavy, they could barely see a hundred feet ahead of them.
“That’s it for me,” Max said, throwing his hands up. “Zero visibility and a lost cause. I’m calling Thacker and telling him to order you to turn around.” He grabbed his cell phone and punched in numbers. “Shit!”
“Now what’s wrong?” Afton asked.
“I can’t get a connection.” Max punched in the numbers again. “My calls keep getting dropped. This stupid storm must’ve knocked something out. The towers or the satellites or whatever these stupid phone carriers use now. Moonbeams.”
Afton jammed her foot on the brake and they slid to a stop.
“What?” Max said. “You’ve finally come to your senses?”
“We’re here.”
Max leaned forward and peered through the windshield. “Here? There’s nothing here but a cliff.”
“That’s right,” Afton said. “And the Sorenson farm should be right at the top of this cliff.”
“I don’t exactly see an elevator or a flight of stairs, so how do you propose getting up there?”