Cassie had learned from her father, an over-the-road trucker, that driving an 18-wheeler was like piloting a ship on the ocean. The captain of that ship had the entire blue-water sea in front of him and he could go anywhere on it. But when it came to approaching land the captain was handicapped. He couldn’t land his ship on the beach or navigate up a river. He had to stay in the deep water.
It was the same situation for a long-haul trucker. The driver was confined to major highways. His life consisted of loading docks and weigh stations. Truck stops were his ports of call. Because of the massive size of his tractor and trailer, he was confined to the highways. If the driver wanted to go into town at night for a meal, he had to walk, hitch a ride, or call a taxi.
So even though Pergram knew every road in the country he likely had very little knowledge of what was beyond the highway. He wouldn’t know suburban neighborhoods or downtown streets or unpaved rural roads because he’d never been there.
So without his tractor-trailer there was only one place Ronald Pergram had ever called home, one place he was familiar with.
It wasn’t right, she thought, that such a stunning landscape had produced a monster like the Lizard King. He was obviously incapable of appreciating the beauty of it.
It made her hate him even more.
*
CASSIE DROVE AWAY from what was left of the burned down Pergram home. She swept her eyes across the valley and studied the rising foothills and the peaks of the jagged mountains. It was huge country under a massive sky.
If Pergram’s first verifiable stop after he’d left North Dakota was Ekalaka he was travelling west toward the Rocky Mountains.
Where was he? And was Kyle with him?
*
WHEN SHE REACHED the top of the ridge her phone chimed with a message. There had been no cell service in the swale.
It was from Leslie Behaunek and it had been left twenty minutes before.
Cassie pressed the speaker icon on her phone as she bumped along on the two-track through the sagebrush.
Leslie’s voice said, “Cassie, I talked to the ME in Montana and he sent me the autopsy photos of the victim. There’s no doubt that a two-inch scar is visible on his inside left ankle.”
Cassie cursed but kept driving.
“We’re putting in a request to the Minneapolis Police Department to obtain items from Mr. Johnson that might contain Raheem’s DNA to match it with the victim. If you still have Mr. Johnson’s number you might want to give him a call and fill him in and soften the blow. I’d do it but I think it would be better coming from you since you know him. Sorry … that’s no fun at all. Believe me, I’ve done it and it tears your heart out.
“I’ve also talked to Sheriff Verplank—who sounds like a nice guy—and he’s FedExing the little electronic parts you-all found in the hayfield to us. Maybe we can figure out where they came from.
“We’ve got calls in to Montana and North Dakota to set up a conference call about creating that joint task force I told you about. So things are rolling.
“Call me when you get this. Since you didn’t pick up I can only assume you’re somewhere without a signal or you’re busy.” Her voice lapsed into her drawl when she said, “I just hope you’re on your way home where you can get some sleep. I didn’t get any last night thanks to you.”
Cassie ended the message and nodded her head. Leslie was pulling out all the stops for her and she appreciated it. She knew Leslie was smart and capable and that her plan to create a joint task force investigation was the best way to proceed long-term.
But it wasn’t the fastest way. She’d asked herself, What if Ben had been taken by the Lizard King?
If that were the case she’d want the most rapid investigation possible. She’d not want them to waste a minute on phone calls, meetings, or memoranda of understanding.
And she’d want Ronald Pergram in the ground.
*
WHEN SHE REACHED THE HIGHWAY Cassie paused. Left toward Gardiner and Yellowstone Park or right to Livingston and Bozeman?
Not for the first time in her career, she asked herself, What would Cody do?
CHAPTER
TWENTY
IN BOZEMAN CASSIE STAYED ON Main Street. There was no reason to go anywhere else.
When she’d left Grimstad for Ekalaka she’d packed an overnight bag and wasn’t even sure if that was necessary at the time. But since she’d continued on without going back home she had no fresh clothing and she’d used up the tiny hotel containers of shampoo, lotion, and toothpaste.
She used some of Lottie’s cash—she still thought of it as Lottie’s and dutifully kept every receipt—to stock up for at least two or three more days on the road. She dreaded breaking the news to Isabel and Ben.
The feel in downtown Bozeman was vastly different than that of downtown Grimstad. In Grimstad, men—and it was mainly men even with the energy downturn—didn’t shop so much as re-supply. It was all about getting in and getting out with heavy clothing and gear. The outside was icy, flat, and harsh, and it was there to provide these men with a living pumping oil out of the ground.
In Bozeman, with its proximity to Yellowstone, wealthy newcomers, and the local university, the outdoors was showcased as a friendly and spiritual place that everyone must appreciate at the risk of being ostracized. It was worshipped like a fetish, she thought. Judging by the shops, the clerks, the items for sale, and the clientele, everyone in Bozeman wore high-tech outdoor clothing as they sipped lattes and wine before cross-country skiing or befriending grizzly bears.
She thought that Grimstad could use a little more Bozeman and Bozeman could use a little more Grimstad.
But she found what she needed: clothing, underwear, and toiletries that she piled in bags into the hatchback of her parked car. Cassie bought area topo maps and guidebooks at the Country Bookshelf and both hiking boots and a good outdoor daypack at Schnee’s.
Then she drove east on Main to the Bozeman Public Library.
*
CODY HOYT HAD TOLD HER the story before he started drinking again. Cody and Cassie had been parked in an unmarked Lewis and Clark County Sheriff’s Department Yukon on an overlook near Lincoln. They were keeping an eye on a double-wide trailer set into an alcove of pine trees down a muddy two-track road.
Cody was sure that a meth dealer they were after was using the trailer that belonged at the time to the dealer’s cousin. There was an APB out on the dealer but he’d managed to stay out of sight.
If the dealer showed up suddenly they’d have to jump into action and arrest him. But while they waited and hoped, surveillance duty was long and boring and rife with potential annoyances. The two of them were vastly different people and they had no choice but to be cooped up together in the front seat of a vehicle with fast food wrappers and empty Styrofoam coffee cups on the floorboards.