“Worth a try. Besides, the inclines are more gradual on that road because of all the switchbacks.”
That was true. Dutch remembered taking a date up to a popular parking spot when he was in high school. By the time they’d reached the romantic lookout at the peak, she was green with car sickness, so ill he hadn’t made it even to first base with her.
“Okay, but who has snowmobiles?”
“Cal Hawkins.”
Dutch laughed so hard it made his face hurt worse. “Oh, that’s great. Just my luck. He’s the last person in the world who would invite me to use his snowmobiles.”
“He has no say in it. His old man bought four of them a few years back to rent to winter vacationers. The bank repossessed them after Cal put them up for collateral on a loan he didn’t pay back.”
“Again, great.”
Wes was still grinning. “I haven’t come to the best part yet. The bank is keeping them in storage. Guess where? In the school bus garage.”
Dutch was beginning to see the light. “To which you have a key.”
“Riiiiight,” Wes drawled. He toasted Dutch with the whiskey bottle and took another drink from it. “I also have a key to the office where the keys to all the Cleary Independent School District vehicles are kept.”
“How come you’re just now thinking of this?”
“Cut me some slack, will ya?” Wes said around a burp, sounding offended. “There’s been a lot going on.”
“Why didn’t Cal suggest we use the snowmobiles?”
“Because his brain is mincemeat. Besides, they’ve been out of sight, out of mind for over a year. He’s probably forgotten all about them. The bank, too, more than likely.”
“Let’s not remind anyone of them,” Dutch said, growing increasingly excited. “We need to keep this quiet. If Begley gets wind of it, he’ll stop us.”
Wes nodded. “Tonight, gather up everything you think you’ll need. Have you still got ski clothes?” Dutch nodded. “Good. Let’s meet just before daylight at the garage, ready to go. We’ll start up the mountain as soon as it’s light, before Begley has a chance to launch his helicopter.”
“We’ll have to go through town to get to the western face. What if somebody sees us or hears us? Those things are loud. What excuse will we give for taking them out of the garage and using them without the bank’s permission?”
“Dutch, for godsake, you’re the chief of police,” Wes said with annoyance. “If somebody questions you about it, you say you commandeered them to assess what’s needed to clear the road, to check out downed power lines, to rescue a cat. Christ, I don’t know. You’ll think of something.”
Dutch gnawed on his lower lip while reviewing the plan from several angles. He didn’t see a downside. Taking and using property belonging to someone else was glorified theft, but Wes was right. Who was going to challenge the chief of police for doing what was necessary to apprehend a suspect?
And doing something, even something shady for which he could later be reprimanded, was better than sitting here watching his face fester and letting the FBI humiliate him.
For the first time in two days he felt in control, and Jesus, it felt good.
He raised his cup. “Meet you at four-thirty.”
CHAPTER
27
THERE MUST HAVE BEEN SOMETHING terribly upsetting about that conversation,” Marilee said to her brother.
“How many times do I have to tell you—”
“Until I believe you, William.”
She had made coffee in an old-fashioned percolator that heated on the gas range. They were having it in the living room, sitting in chairs they’d moved close to the fireplace for warmth and light. For half an hour she’d been trying to get information out of William about his unprecedented and secretive conversation with Scott Hamer. She had yet to get a straight answer.
“Scott threw up before he got out of the yard. What were you talking about that was so awful?”
“If it had been any of your business, Scott wouldn’t have asked to speak to me alone. Take the hint, Marilee, and stop asking me about it. You’re becoming a nag.”