THIRTY-SEVEN
We’re in the truck, heading for the airport. With everything that’s happened, Dalton wants to get the hell out of Dodge. Or Dawson. Don’t tempt fate. Don’t give our patriotic captive time to reconsider and intercept us at the airport.
On the way, I explain about Garcia.
“He’s clearly a marshal. Spokane office, Washington. I found photos that are undeniably him. I located a reference as recent as last year in a newspaper.”
“Okay…”
“So this marshal is in the Yukon, alone, pursuing a fugitive, with no apparent assistance from Canadian law enforcement. That’s weird.”
“We knew that.”
“Right. But from the moment I learned he was really a marshal, I’ve been trying to reconcile his behavior with his position, and the only answer I could come up with was that the council lied, and he’s not a marshal. I failed to see the obvious other explanation.”
“Which is?”
“I’m a homicide cop.”
“Just figured that out, did you? Good timing, considering I’m relying on you to investigate a homicide.”
“Ha ha. I wasn’t done. I’m a homicide cop. I have the credentials. Look me up online, and you can verify that. But I’m not here as a member of Canadian law enforcement. Just because he’s a marshal doesn’t mean he was here on official marshal business.”
“I thought you said it was different for federal cops. They’re kept on a tighter leash.”
“They are, which is why it took me longer to consider this. We know that as of a year ago, Garcia was a marshal. Is he still one? Could he be on sabbatical? Medical leave? With the story that guy just told, there’s no way this is official marshal business. Ten grand to fly him out and back? Arranging it through a shady local? Hell, no. It was personal. More than that, there’s money in it. Serious money.”
“Enough to drop ten grand on a round-trip ticket to Rockton.”
“Yep.”
“Bounty work, then. Not the kind Brent did either, bringing in people who’ve jumped bail.”
“It could be, but it’d need to be a helluva big bail. A bondsman gets ten to fifteen percent. On a million-dollar bail, that’s a hundred grand easy, enough to hire someone like Garcia if his client skipped out. More likely, though, it’s not legal bond work. I don’t think a marshal would be allowed to do that. It could cost him his job, and if you’re risking that, you might as well go all the way as a private bounty hunter or hit man.”
“So his target wasn’t necessarily someone who committed a federal crime.”
“Yep.”
“We don’t even know if we’re looking for someone who committed a crime. Just a resident that someone wanted brought back—or killed.”
“Yep.”
* * *
I tell Dalton about Sebastian as we’re walking to the plane. He says nothing. Not a word. He just grunts and then conducts his checks on the plane. Only when he finishes does he turn to me.
“His parents.”
“Yes,” I say.
“When he was eleven.”
“Yes.”
“Premeditated murder.”
I nod, and he runs a hand through his short hair.