After a couple of days had passed, when I couldn’t stand it any more, I called the ranch praying I’d get a hold of Mom, or better yet, Steve. My prayer wasn’t answered; it was Dad. My only hope was that he really wanted to talk to me.
“Hello?” he said absentmindedly.
After an initial reaction of shock, I calmed myself down, stilled my emotions, and steadied my voice.
“Good morning, Dad.” Okay, so I didn’t steady my voice.
“Cassidy? Are you okay?”
The question took me aback. “That’s what I’m calling to find out.”
A long pause. “You don’t have anything to worry about.”
“I’m sorry Dad, you’ll have to be more specific than that.”
“I won’t sell Shasta and I won’t force you to take him.”
“Then I’m a lot better than I was half an hour ago but I still don’t understand.”
“You don’t have to. Shasta’s earned his place on the ranch. He won’t be sold.”
“Mom didn’t just put you up to this?” I asked, still suspicious.
“Well, yeah, she did but I jumped the gun without thinking.”
“You would have sold him just to teach me a lesson?”
“I don’t know. My temper got the best of me.”
“Me too. It still has the best of me, but I’m willing to calm it down.”
“How do you do it?” he asked.
“Do what?”
“I almost had a full scale rebellion on my hands. Randy threatened to quit. Your mother confronted me and gave me what for. I was surprised Rusty left peacefully. Steve was fit to be tied. Zack didn’t know nothin’ just like always. He don’t pay attention to anything but the horses. I wish you’d have stayed for Old Frank’s sake. He…he really needed to see you.”
Old Frank. My heart sank. I’d put my horse before my grandfather. Well, the only grandfather I knew. My parents had parents somewhere but ranch life kept my parents tied to the local area. When I needed a grandparent it had always been Old Frank who was there and now I wasn’t there for him.
After a long pause I tried to mend the rift. “Dad, what was it in the whole Jeep situation that set you off? Boil it down to that and maybe we can work through it.”
“You learned your lesson about not tying the horses to a vehicle?”
“Yes, sir. But I bet if you look at what you do on hunting trips you have done the same thing many times. You tie the horses to the bed of the truck when you go out in the hills. But I do know there’s a difference between tying them to the side of the truck and the bumper of a Jeep. The Jeep was light and easily pulled while a truck would have to be pulled over sideways to get it to go anywhere.”
“Okay, so you’re thinking. That’s good. What really got to me, though, was the size of the job. Even without interference from the bear you got yourself in a hell of a mess. And…and it bothers me that messes like that are some game to you. One of these days I fear you’re going to lose the game. I was hoping Shasta would tie you down a bit. You need something to tie you down.”
“That’s it? You threatened to sell Shasta so I’d take him back and settle down and be a housewife?”
“Women shouldn’t be traipsing off into the woods hunting for people and getting into trouble.”
“Dad, you didn’t raise me to be a woman. The whole time I was growing up I was a boy to you. You taught me to shoot and hunt and fix trucks and tend horses and now all of a sudden you want me to be a housewife? I’m not going to quit the team. It’s too important. And I can’t keep the horses because some of the searches take days. I need to have whole days where I don’t have to worry about horses. You’d be the first to admit a person should not have a horse unless they can take proper care of them. I’m telling you now, in the long-term, I can’t take proper care of them.”
He paused for a long time, reflecting on my words. Guess he didn’t realize what he’d done in raising me. Or maybe I had surprised him in the end by actually turning into a woman despite my upbringing. It was Rusty who had brought that about. I was still very much thinking as a boy when Rusty had met me. I still couldn’t figure out what he saw in me, but gradually I was becoming more of a woman, so much so that I couldn’t fool Dad anymore.
“Did I do that? If I did, then I owe you an apology. That was wrong of me.”
“Maybe, but don’t be sorry. I like my life. I like the way things are turning out.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, Dad, I’m very happy. I’m doing something worthwhile. That’s what’s important to me, that I’m making a difference. You don’t know what it feels like to find someone who’s been missing in the mountains. They’ve been without food and water. Sometimes they’re scared, sometimes hurt. They are always cold and hungry. Some have thought they were going to die and I bring hope. You can’t know how good that feels. I feel capable because I get along in the outdoors. I love Shasta. I’d take him if it were the only way to keep him. But I wouldn’t put him before my job. So I’d appreciate it if you would take him back and keep him working like he loves to do. He likes to make a difference too. He can do that better at the ranch.”
“Okay. Would you come see Old Frank?”
“There’s something I need to check on first. I was helping with a case when I visited the first time. I need to see if anything happened while I was gone and if there’s a way I can help now.”
“What are you doing?”
“Did you hear about the school shooting down here?”
“You know I don’t hear much, but it’s been talked about.”
“We still haven’t found the guy. I’ve been helping the detective assigned to the case. I was at the school when it happened. I can recognize the shooter and the getaway car.”
“You’re after a maniac who shoots up schools?”
“Yeah.”
“Good Lord, what have I done?”
“It’s not like that. I won’t be in on the take down. I’ve managed to gather some helpful information and I may end up tracking the guy. But I won’t be there for the capture. That’s the police department’s job, not mine.”
“How long will it take?”
“Either they got him while I was gone or he’s still out there. If Tom found out where he’s staying it’s probably all over. If not, there might be nothing for me to do until they get more leads. I have to find out.”
“Will you do it? For Old Frank?”
“Dad, you’re talking like Old Frank isn’t going to be around if I wait. It can’t be that bad.”
“He won’t go to a home. He should, but he won’t. He still makes the rounds of the horses. Won’t move into the house. I offered a downstairs room in the house so he wouldn’t have to climb the stairs. He said he didn’t belong there, so Steve built a ramp into the bunkhouse. He wants to keep on, just like always. Only it ain’t always no more.”
“Okay, Dad, I’ll find out.”
I drove down to the station because I really wanted to see how things were going. I’d learned cops can say any number of things over the phone and they were almost unreadable in person, too, but I thought I could get a better feel for the situation if I talked to Tom in person.
First I peeked into Rusty’s office. He was with someone, a young woman. Her little boy pushed a yellow sports car back and forth on the desk. I smiled. Another car gone from Rusty’s stash. I wondered how many he had left in his desk drawer.
I went on to Tom’s door, knocked lightly, no answer. I peeked in. Nobody home. I went to the lobby and sat, waiting. I knew it could be quite a while and there was little use waiting if Tom was out, he could be doing anything, but I waited anyway.
Rusty followed the woman out of the back offices and into the lobby. He shook hands with her and said, “Let me know if anything changes.”
“I will,” she said and chased down her little boy who was hurrying through the double doors.
Rusty stuffed his hands in his pockets and turned to go back to his office. He didn’t notice I was there so I quietly got up and slid behind him as he returned through the fake wood, utilitarian door to the offices behind.
“Michaels, you’re being followed,” warned an officer walking the opposite direction down the hall. Rusty turned. He hadn’t been expecting me, but he didn’t seem surprised to see me. I was the only one who would follow him so closely that it would be noticeable. He grinned and playfully pulled me into his office.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m seeing another man,” I joked, then turned serious. “I need an update from Tom. If I’m not needed here I might go back to the ranch.”
“Are you sure you want to do that? I can’t go right now unless it’s an emergency.”
“I know. It’s Old Frank. I need to see him. Things are okay with Dad. He’s not going to sell Shasta and I found out why he threatened to. It’s okay. It was just Dad being Dad. He thought I’d take Shasta back. He knew the horses would take a commitment and he thought Shasta would anchor me more, keep me out of trouble. I told him I had no intention of getting in trouble and I was not quitting the team so I couldn’t keep the horses. Then he mentioned Old Frank. I should have at least talked to Old Frank before we took off, but I didn’t, and he isn’t doing well. I need to go see him while he can still enjoy our time together.”
“Is it that bad?”
“He makes the rounds of the horses. Dad said he should be in a home. He meant a nursing home. But Old Frank won’t go. They’ve had to make adjustments around the ranch so he can get around better.”
“How important is the case to you?”
“Why?”
“Because it’s gotten ugly.”
“How? Is everyone okay?”
He gave me a serious look, as though he was wondering where the nearest set of cuffs were. He knew he might have a struggle on his hands with me. I thought he was probably right.
“Kima Tumibay eventually led Tom to Pearson’s house. He didn’t want to endanger Kima so he waited until she left, then kept an eye on the place. When she was gone he stuck around. She was in there for hours. He worried that she’d walked into something she shouldn’t have. Tom thinks Kima was onto him because shortly after she left Pearson packed up and took off. Tom followed him to a house in Lake Hughes. Tom figured, if he didn’t make a move he was going to lose Pearson. We went in but Pearson had the jump on us. He headed into the hills. They had whole sections of town cordoned off but it was all for nothing, except to keep people out of a potentially dangerous situation. Pearson wasn’t going to use roads.”
“So he’s on foot, in the hills? Has anyone questioned Kima to see if she knows what Pearson’s next step might be?”
“If she warned him she’s not going to snitch on him.”
“Where is the house?”
“You really think I’m going to tell you that? You’ll be off tracking Pearson before dinner.”
“No, I’d at least plan a little bit. Is he armed?”
“We have to assume he is.”
“Is he alone?”
“No, there’s two of them.”
“And you don’t want them tracked down?”
“Not by you.”
“How long ago did this happen?”
“Cassidy, I’m telling you, you’re not going after these guys. You’re right, you need to go visit Old Frank.”
“I can figure out which house it was. All it takes is some patience and a map and I can zero in on it.”
He gave me a dirty look. “How?”
“Every place the police blocked off is going to have tracks from cars turning around. All I have to do is map out where the cars have turned around and it will narrow down my search to three or four houses. The houses in that area are spaced out. The roads are narrow. The shoulders are dirt. It should be no problem. It just takes time. After I narrow it down to a small area I can look for signs of life in the houses, tracks leading away. I’ve done this stuff before.”
“And I’m asking you to stay out of it. This guy has already shot up a school and taken pot shots at three officers. I don’t want him taking pot shots at you.”
“He won’t even know I’m there. I can radio his position in without getting near him. I can carry a tracking device and stay on his tail so you know where I am. There are ways to provide invisible backup.”
“You’re not going to let this drop, are you?”
“I let the guy get away. I’m going to do what I can to find him. I don’t think I can bring him in but I can point the way.”
“What about Old Frank?”
“Old Frank can wait a few days. Dad knows I might have things to take care of first. He asked me to find out about the case. I found out. I found out I better stay.”
Rusty knew there’d be no stopping me. With a deep breath and a sigh of resignation he pulled me into his worried embrace and kissed the top of my head. “Not today. Stay with me today.”
“Okay, today. I was thinking of calling Chase. I bet he’d go along if I told him what I was up to.”
“If we could get Chase to do it, would you stay out of it?”
“No, I let the guy get away. I want to do what I can.”
“Babe, you didn’t let Pearson get away. You stopped one of them. If you hadn’t been there we’d have had more loss. We’d have two guys loose. Now we just have one. You can’t blame yourself.”
“I can and I do, but maybe I can help correct that.”
“Cassidy?” Chase asked.
“Yeah,” I answered.
“Is everything okay?”
Why was it everyone automatically decided things weren’t okay whenever I called?
“No, everything is not okay, actually there are lots of things not okay but I’m fine. I’m going on an apprehension tomorrow. Do you want to go?”
“You are. An apprehension. Does Rusty know?”
“Yeah, he and Tom are arranging for backup.”
“And Rusty’s okay with this?”
“No, of course he’s not. But he knows I’m determined.”
“Tell me about it.”
“How much time do you have? Two guys shot up a school. One got away, one didn’t. He’s been linked to other disturbances. He shows signs of being a violent person. I want to stop him.”
“That’s not all there is to it. If it was then you’d stay out of it, at least until it came down to a tracking job.”
“It has. Until I prove otherwise.”
“That’s still not all there is to it.”
“So you don’t want to go?”
“I’ll be there. I just want the whole story.”
“Then call Tom. And pack camping gear. We might end up on the trail a while. These guys have been on the loose for a few days.”
“You think you can find them?”
“Yeah, I can find them.”
“Then why call me?”
“I’ll find them. I’m afraid I won’t shoot them.”
“Why?”
“I already had my chance to shoot them.”
“And?”
“And, of the three, there’s two left. And I’m calling you because I don’t want a posse of noisy cops behind me. It’s like scouting with a herd of buffalo. I want to track them down, get in close, then let the buffalo stampede them before they know what’s happening.”
“I’ll call Tom.”
“Good idea. And, Chase? After this is over, I’m not hanging around. There’s goings on at the ranch too.”
“You’re just full of good news, aren’t you?”
“Talk to Tom. When can we expect you?”
“Late this evening.”
“We’ll wait up for you.”
I imagined Chase had a pack, just like mine, packed up and ready for a call at all times. He did phone Tom who then called me. Chase pulled up to the house well after dark and he was in good spirits. He was on a chase. It involved tracking. It was what he did best.
“Hey, you got a haircut!” I said when I saw him standing at the door.
“Academy finished in January. Had to get a haircut to teach tracking classes.”
“Anybody with potential?”
“A few interested in learning more. One with an eye for it.”
“What do you do with people like that?”
“Once they get a uniform they forget all about tracking, until they need it. A few get sent off to tracking school.”
“You got the whole story from Tom?”
“Yeah, nice work.”
“Yeah, right. Do you want the guestroom or the gazebo?” It would have been an odd question to ask anybody but Chase. He frequently chose to sleep outdoors. The gazebo was a nice size for hanging a hammock and Chase usually had one handy.
“The guestroom. We’ll be on the trail enough afterwards.”
Bright and early the next morning we met Tom in Lake Hughes. He handed me the tracking device and said, “Keep it on your person, not your pack…”
“I know. You want to know where I am, not where my pack is. Been there, done that.”
“When?”
“When I searched for Kelly Green. It quit working right when I needed it most, but I get the idea.”
Chase was strapping on the radio. It fit onto his belt with a microphone that clipped to his shirtfront. I was always glad when the guys took over the radio work. When I had to use the radio I felt like a little kid who would get yelled at for using someone else’s gear.
“You take care of my girl out there,” Rusty said.
“I will, you know that.”
“Got your sidearm?”
“And rifle. I just hope I don’t need it. And I’m wearing the vest.”
“Don’t count on it though. It’s been through a lot.”
“It’s better than nothing.”
“How about just not getting shot at?”
“It’s a deal. They won’t even know we’re there.”
“That’s my girl.”
I looked to Chase. “Who’s tracking?”
“You are, this is your party. I’m just here for the food.”
“Okay, but you might be disappointed. I just brought backpacker food.”
“Rats, me too.”
Tom looked to Chase and asked, “You got the plan?”
“Yep, got it.”
I looked to Chase. “I don’t get the plan?”
“Yep, your part of the plan is to find your man.”
It was just Tom, Chase, Rusty and I at this point. They all knew the score so I didn’t hesitate to give Rusty a big kiss and a warm hug then I went to work.
Getting down to the business of tracking can be a slow process. I had to find the trail leading away and in this case it meant making wider and wider circles until I was down to one trail leading off at a quick pace into the hills. When I had found my starting point I ran back and said my goodbyes to Rusty then hit the trail.
It felt odd, to be doing the tracking with Chase there. As it turned out we were both tracking because you can’t stop a tracker from tracking. It comes automatically. If there are footprints they must be tracked. So I tracked them first, and Chase tracked them second. I talked as I tracked, partly because Landon and Victor expected it, and partly because it was things Chase could gather more information from.
“These are the same guys we tracked to a field. We found the getaway car, and it was parked in the desert. We followed the tracks to a field, but the men were gone. Turned out they’d gone there to badger the workers. It almost escalated into a fight, and they got hauled in for questioning. This guy we’re after has trouble with foreigners. He thinks that by being a jerk he can stop people from coming here. He thinks only Americans should have rights. There’s a few things that don’t add up about this case. I was at the school and he comes in there shooting. I take out his buddy. I track him down, and get one shot at him before he runs out the door. Then I found out that one of the teachers thought Pearson was after her. I’m convinced that the shooter at the school and Pearson are the same guy, but it is possible that they aren’t. There’s one proof of it. If we track down Pearson, and he’s got a fresh bullet wound to his shoulder, it’s him.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“Then we start from scratch. But Pearson is linked to a green SUV and so is the shooter at the school. I’m ninety-nine percent sure it’s the same guy.”
“What’s going on at the ranch?”
“Old Frank doesn’t have much time left. I should be up there now.”
“He’s dying?”
“Yes and no. He doesn’t have a disease that is going to kill him within weeks. He is just getting old, and deteriorating very fast. Steve’s built ramps to the bunkhouse to make it easier for Frank to walk. Dad won’t hire a replacement for Old Frank, but he is probably thinking in those terms already.”
“Old Frank taught you how to track?”
“He taught me how to think. My thinking just involved a lot of tracking when he was most influential.”
“Why did you get the tracking gene and Jesse didn’t?”
“Because I was supposed to be a boy. Dad never wanted kids, and if he had to have them he wanted boys, to take over the ranch. He didn’t get them. I’m the closest he got to a son. Jesse and James will take over the ranch when it’s time. It’s the only thing Jesse knows. What I’m more concerned about in all this is Patrick.”
“He’s going to be fine. He isn’t close to Old Frank.”
“He’s closer than he thinks. Oh, I know they are a world apart in age but they are very close in thought. Old Frank likes Patrick. I bet he keeps tabs on him more than Patrick knows.”
“You didn’t answer my question. How did you get the tracking gene and Jesse didn’t?”
“Because I grew up close to the earth, and Jesse grew up close to the mall.”
“Ah, that’s in the genes is it?”
“Partly. I’m allergic to malls. I hate the crowds. Plus trouble knows when I’m headed to the mall. I can’t go shopping without something happening.”
The tracks were old, but legible. Tracking was slow going but steady. Chase didn’t seem to think the pace was too slow, but there are different methods of tracking. Each tracker must use his own method and draw his own conclusions from the trail. The miles of reading, walking and talking left me wondering if I was talking Chase’s ear off. Somehow I thought, though, that Chase didn’t mind my conversation because he was an information gatherer. Even if it was just chit chat he was still gathering information.
“You know why Old Frank likes Patrick?” Chase asked me.
“Because he thinks. And he asks intelligent questions. And Pat doesn’t think an old man’s answers are dumb. He knows Old Frank is eighty-six years worth of wisdom.”
“I was going to say because Patrick is like you.”
I thought for a moment. “That’s what I just said.” I stopped reading the tracks for a moment. “We’re after both men, but if it comes down to a choice we follow the heavier guy. That’s Pearson.”
“How do you know?”
“Attitude and previous experience. I tracked these guys a short way. I saw Pearson at the school. I saw the profile of the guy driving the SUV. He was a smaller man.”
“Why is Pearson making a move now? He should be over the border and out of our reach by now,” Chase pointed out. “The law doesn’t take kindly to people who go on a shooting rampage through an elementary school.”
“I don’t think he’s through with Kima Tumibay. I don’t know what’s going on between those two but it’s not going to end peacefully.”
“What makes you say that?”
“A hunch. Kima refuses to believe Pearson will never change. I can see her point. I like to give people a chance when I can, too. But I think in Pearson’s case he’s more likely to get worse. It’s as if all her attempts to win him over to her side only deepen his grudge against foreigners.”
Chase didn’t answer but seemed to take note of my observations.
“You work a lot with border patrol. Are you against illegal immigrants?” I asked.
“I’m against the action. Living here illegally is a crime. I have a harder time being against the person. Can’t blame a person for trying to better their life or the lives of their family. If it’s so bad that living illegally is better than living in their own country, I have a hard time judging. If it’s just a matter of choice. I believe people should be allowed to make a choice, but when they change countries they change commitments, too; laws, taxes, language, everything. Just like if I moved to a different country I’d take on their laws and language and taxes. And I have no problem with love of the homeland and all that. I have a love for my homeland. It happens to be in the US, but it isn’t the US most people know. It’s very different. I go back there occasionally, and it isn’t the same but it still feels like home. People think I’m nuts to live in that mobile home out in the desert. Hell, if you saw where I came from you’d think the mobile home was luxury.”
“Where did you come from?” I asked, since he seemed to be open enough to talk.
“Nowhere. It doesn’t have a name. Right now it borders an Indian reservation. The Indians like to draw the line around the house and count it as part of the reservation but legally it’s not. It’s almost a hogan. No electricity, no running water, we eventually got propane out there, not while I was little though. The house had three rooms, a living room/kitchen and two bedrooms. The outhouse was dangerous. Had to watch for rattlesnakes and scorpions. But it was good tracking land. Anything that moved out there left tracks.”
“Sounds like the opposite of me, except for the tracking part. And some of the conditions you grew up in I forced upon myself to learn to make do.”
“You chose to do without?”
“Yeah, I’ve chosen to do without a lot of things. Food, shelter, water.”
He stopped me then. “Why?”
“I told you, so I could learn to make do. I wanted to be able to live under any circumstances. It’s served me well. I’ve had conditions get rough. I’ve had to live where people oughtn’t have lived.”
“Yeah? Where?”
“How about a cage in an illegal dog fighting ring? I was lucky I lived through that one. I’m still trying to get over my fear of dogs. I visit the K-9 unit and I borrowed Kelly Green’s big Labrador retriever working on getting over my fear of dogs. I guess it’s working. I’ll find out next time I face a barking dog. How about a twenty mile hike down a mountain road? A hike down a road is fine if it’s planned. This was not.”
The tracks led us on and still the conversation flowed.
“You can’t go on like this. When did that happen?”
“Last fall.”
“And then you nearly got killed over Christmas. How do you get into these things? You’ve either got a guardian angel with nerves of steel, or you’re extremely lucky.”
“I prefer to think of myself as extremely unlucky, and resilient.”
He burst out laughing, which was unusual for Chase. His dry sense of humor was usually controlled and kept very quiet.
“And now we’re out here tracking down two guys who shot up a school. You really know how to pick your disasters, you know that?”
“So far so good.”
“And you’re dragging me along on this one.”
“You dragged me along on the last one,” I said.
“Guilty as charged. No trouble with the trail?”
“It’s slow but nothing that has me stumped, why?”
“Just wondering. You seem to catch some things that I miss, and you seem to skip over other things that would intrigue me.”
“I wish we had time to explore the differences. I’d like to catch up to these guys though. How many days are you prepared for?”
“Standard three days.”
“Same here, although if it drags out another day I will stay on the trail. I’ll be reduced to eating oatmeal, hot chocolate and trail mix though. I need to find a different kind of trail mix. I’ve eaten so much of it lately that I dream about it. I’m beginning to hate the stuff.”
The tracks were a few days old. Wind had eroded them, kids trekking through the hills had crossed them. People out in this area walked in the hills often to visit neighbors or go for a stroll. There were plenty of tracks which meant that Pearson and his buddy had probably fit right in, just heading out into the hills. I saw several sets of horse tracks and thought about Shasta. He would like these hills. He enjoyed being ridden near my house, although it wasn’t real work to him. He was happy to get out, but he was bored, too.
I was happy to be in the outdoors again. I felt at ease tracking this worn out trail that could lead me into danger, although I would know when danger was getting close. The tracks would be fresh. Right now we could walk out in the open but the end of the trail would find us using a very different tracking procedure. We would hide our tracks, stay out of sight, keep an eye on the tracks and an eye on the way before us, hiding and stealthily hiking at the same time. For now we were moving track to track.
“Did you notice the smaller guy has a limp?” I asked.
“It’s hard to tell, as worn as these tracks are,” he answered.
“I have to admit I didn’t get that out of these tracks. I noticed it the last time I tracked these guys.”
“Maybe the guy with the limp will slow them down.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.”
Uphill and down, into gullies, around small hills, these guys just seemed to be heading out with no particular destination in mind. They had a general direction but they were taking the easy way. Whatever made for easy walking, that’s what they chose. It wasn’t sandy and it wasn’t hard pack. The soil gave a little. After a while it became apparent the guy with the limp might indeed slow them down. They began to stop often and the smaller guy took off his pack at each stop. He sat and stretched his legs. Chase examined the scratchings on the ground at the guy’s rest stops. He was trying to guess exactly what caused the guy to limp.
“From the tracking I did before I decided the limp was from an old injury. It looked like he was accustomed to walking like that.”
“Still gives him fits though. That’s good for us.”
The land around us was mixed. The forest and desert were fighting it out. There was a lot of juniper, like around my house, but the cooler temperatures encouraged stately pines while the hot summer temperatures promoted growth like prickly pear and barrel cactus. I steered clear of the cactus. We were seeing fewer signs of other people now. The land got drier and the trees were scragglier. As the land got drier the soil became harder.
“I’m getting thankful Pearson made friends with this guy with the limp. It’s the limp that shows up on this hard ground. If it weren’t for him I’d be down on my hands and knees.”
Morning gave way to afternoon and Chase still followed.
“Do you ever stop?” he finally asked. I was used to this question. Nearly everybody on their first search with me asked if I stop. The truth was, rarely. Usually when I am tracking time plays an important factor with the final outcome. In this situation every minute that we stopped was a minute our suspects were getting ahead of us. And tracking wasn’t a strenuous activity, especially when it got slow, like this, so who needed to stop? Most people, I guess.
“Of course I stop. When I get tired.”
“Or to eat lunch?”
“Actually I usually don’t stop for lunch. I eat on the trail. But we can stop if you want. Sometimes Landon has to remind me to eat. When I get back I should see how he is doing. He’s probably going nuts at home.”
We found a spot to rest and he searched around in his pack for some lunch. I dug out a bag of the dreaded trail mix and found a piece of beef jerky. I picked the fruit out of the trail mix.
“You seem awfully calm considering what you might be walking into,” Chase observed.
“No use worrying about it yet. They’re still a day ahead of us. As the tracks get fresher you’ll see me get more cautious, start hiding my tracks more…It’s just a natural reaction, when I get careful. I go into what I call stealth mode. You’ve never really tracked with me, have you?”
“No, only a few blocks in Joshua Hills. It was Mickey Mouse tracking. Rusty could have done it.”
“Well, I think most guys get a little freaked out when they see me change modes like that. Landon says I change when I track but I change even more when I need to be cautious. He says I morph from Cute Cassidy into Dangerous Tracker Woman. I think it’s funny but he swears it is real.”
“I believe him. I think switching modes is as natural as switching attitudes. Your actions show what’s going on in your head. You’re already hiding your tracks.”
“Oh, I do that all the time. It gets worse when I’m being more cautious. Then I actually think about it.”
“This is what your tracks look like when you’re not thinking about it?”
“You’ve tracked me before. You know what it’s like.”
“When you disappeared and Rusty called me it was as close to panic as I’ve ever felt. If Rusty had found your Jeep I’d have been down here in no time. But I didn’t know if I could find you even if I had a starting place. I’ve only met one person more untrackable than you.”
“That’s not saying much. It pretty much takes a tracker to think about hiding their tracks at all. I seldom run into a person who worries about the trail they leave. I can only think of two: you and Tyrone Trent, and he’s probably dead. Come on, let’s hit the trail. Our suspects are getting away from us.”
I started thinking though, Dad wanted me to take Shasta so I’d be anchored to the house. Chase worried about me when I disappeared. Rusty worried about me constantly. Everybody seemed to be pushing me into being a housewife, but I could only stand it for so long. I remembered what had first attracted Rusty to me. It was the fact I was willing to take my challenges and deal with them. Yet now he wanted to take all those challenges away.
“Chase? Is there a happy medium?”
“Huh?”
“Sorry, guess you’re not a mind reader. Is there a happy medium between being a housewife and a trouble magnet?”
“For you? Or for most people?”
“For me.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Why?”
“Because you don’t think like other people. Your thinking is part of what makes you a trouble magnet. If you could just breeze through life without seeing most of the things you do then I’d say maybe you had a chance to find a happy medium. But you can’t see things the way most people do.”
“I don’t see how I think differently. I know I see things most people don’t. I see odd behavior where other people see normal behavior. But, take this little tracking trip. How would most people handle the situation?”
“They would sit at home and watch the news and be glad it was someone else’s problem.”
“But it’s not. It’s mine.”
“Only because you see things differently.”
“No, that’s not it. It’s because I can do something about it. I can follow the tracks. I can find the guy. Most people sit at home because they couldn’t do what I do.”
“And the reason you can is because you see things differently.”
“So it all boils down to that?”
“Pretty much.”
“Why couldn’t I just be a housewife or get a real job like most women?”
“Because you’d go nuts. Face it, you just aren’t normal.”
“But everybody wants me to be normal.”
“Not everybody. I know lots of people who would be very sad to see you be normal. One of the things I worry about when you have a close call is that it will break you and you’ll quit being you. Deep down Rusty worries about that too. That one of these trouble attacks will break your spirit.”
I bent to see the tracks better. This hard soil was almost as bad as rock. For a while I’d been able to see the scrape of the limp from the smaller guy. Now even that wasn’t showing up. I got out my pocketknife and traced the last clue I found with the point of the blade. I moved onto the spot. I thought the next one would be… nothing. I dropped down to hands and knees, my pack weighing me down. I looked at the ground sideways trying to catch any indentation at all.
“Am I missing something?” I asked skeptically.
“Want me to take a look?”
“Usually I track from footprint to footprint. If the next footprint isn’t there then I take another tack but I prefer to stick to the trail.”
I studied the ground from the other side. Nothing. I went back to the last track I had traced and looked down the path it was pointing to. I looked ahead, locating a patch of ground about ten feet away that appeared to be better tracking soil. I got up and walked to the spot and cast around for continuing tracks. A trail could turn any number of different directions in the space of ten feet. I returned to the original track and stood there, looking at what the men had been able to see ahead. Figuring out where they would turn, trying to determine what they would be thinking.
“Chase? What time of day do we figure the men were at this point? I don’t know what time of day they took off. Do you?”
“No, but it’s a good question and one easily answered.”
He got on the radio as I continued to search for tracks. I headed for another likely spot to pick up the trail. I hit the jackpot on the third try. I followed the trail until I was sure it was the same men then made sure Chase was still with me.
“See if you have any cell phone reception,” he said.
I got out my cell phone and flipped it open. “Yeah, I’ve got some.”
In a minute it rang. It was Rusty.
“Hey! How are you?”
“I’m fine.”
“What’s up?”
“Nothing, I just wanted to hear your voice.”
“You can’t start worrying yet. We’re still a day behind these guys. Nothing’s going to happen until at least tomorrow evening.”
“Babe, I can start worrying the moment I can’t see you anymore. I can start worrying as soon as I know you are going.”
“Well, stop it. I’m just following tracks. Nothing’s going to happen while I am just following tracks.”
“All kinds of things can happen when you’re not looking.”
“Why, what are you talking about?”
“Kima Tumibay didn’t show up for work today.”
“What? How can that be? Did she call in? How do you know? Did anybody check her apartment?”
“We don’t know. She didn’t call in. The school was irritated to have to find a sub on short notice but they weren’t particularly concerned. Ally called the house and when she didn’t get a hold of you there she called me at the station. Nobody’s at the apartment. No Kima or Mai.”
“Were there more threats? If Kima was scared either for herself or for Mai maybe she cleared out.”
“We don’t know. All we know is that she didn’t show up for work. I thought you ought to be aware of what’s going on.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“You know what I want you to do, I want you home.”
“Kima’s actions do not affect what I’m doing out here. I still have a person to find.”
He sighed. “Be careful, Cass, I don’t like the way this is going. Things aren’t adding up.”
“Okay, the sooner I get to the end of this trail the better.”
“I’m sorry, babe, I can’t see it that way. If I thought Chase could fool you I’d have him lead you deep in the mountains and stay far away from all this. But I know it wouldn’t work. I love you. Stay safe.”
“I love you too. I’ll see you soon.”
Back on the trail things had gained a new intensity. I wanted to be through with this hunt. I set off down the trail as quickly as I could, but quick is a relative term when it comes to tracking.
“We should be watching for a place where they might have bed down,” Chase informed me. “We’ve been on the trail longer than they were the first day.”
“That’s good news. I can use some good news.”
The good news didn’t last long as we tracked Pearson and company for another two miles. Pearson’s buddy was having more and more trouble with his leg. We tracked them to a house in the back country.
“We better talk to the residents before we go tracking around their house,” Chase said.
We went around and knocked on the front door. We heard scraping noises like chairs being moved but no one answered the door. I looked around and found a doorbell button, thinking if some one did answer the door they were going to freak out at the sight of a kid in camouflage and a sixty-year-old hippie, armed and dangerous. I rang the bell and we heard more scraping, then knock, knock, knock, pause. More scuffling, then louder bang, bang, bang pause.
Chase and I exchanged glances. This was a call for help. Chase tried the door. It was locked. We removed packs and he took his sidearm in hand. I left my pistol holstered and took my rifle. He gave the door a strong kick at dead bolt height. It took several kicks but Chase knew what he was doing. The wood finally splintered and he jerked the door open gun still in hand. I followed, rifle at the ready, like I’d practiced at academy, but never had a use for in real life. It felt weird knowing I might have to fire it at any second. We stalked our way into the living room and it appeared empty. Chase searched the living room and went on to the dining room. As he turned the corner a woman screamed through her gag. He searched the adjoining rooms before coming back to the woman.
“It’s okay, we won’t hurt you.”
He got on the radio and called in Tom while I untied a man and woman.
“Are you okay?” I asked. “Can you describe the people who did this?”
“Who…who are you? Why are you here?” the woman asked, unconvinced we were really good guys.
“Cassidy Michaels, tracker. This is my partner, Charles Downing. We’re tracking two men for the Joshua Hills Police Department.”
“They were here,” the man said grimly. “They tied us up, searched the house for anything useful and spent the night. They took off early yesterday morning. One of them was hurt.”
“Leg? Or shoulder?” I asked quickly, cutting him off.
“The man I was thinking of had a bum leg but come to think of it the bigger guy wasn’t in too good’a shape either.”
“Any clue where they were going?” I asked.
“They were on the run, that’s all I know,” the man replied.
Chase took over. “Don’t touch anything until the police get here. Do you know what they took?”
“Some. They’re well armed now. They searched the kitchen. I think they were more interested in provisions than valuables.”
“How much ammo did you figure they took?” I asked.
“A box for each rifle. A thirty-three and a forty-five.”
“What were they armed with before they stole your rifles?”
“One of them had a forty-five. The other man didn’t appear to be armed.”
“Did they say where they were going?”
“Hunting. The big guy said they were going hunting.”
“For what?” I asked concerned.
“A person. The big guy was after a person and the little guy objected to the violence. The big guy insisted she would show up if he called and the little guy was definitely uncomfortable with the whole situation. I think he would have ditched the big guy but he was scared of him.”
“Which way did they go when they left?”
“Out the back door.”
“I wonder why they didn’t take a car while they were at it. It would have gotten them away easily.”
“It was a game to the big guy, like an army game, only real life. It was like he made up this mission for himself and he had to carry it out.”
“Well, at least he’s not after me,” I mused. “Chase, do we really need to wait for Tom to get here? We’re still a day behind these guys and who knows what they did last night.”
“Yeah, we need to wait on Tom. We need to give him a report. He’ll let us know when we can leave.”
“I’m going to go outside and find the tracks. I won’t go far.”
I was outside when Tom and two black and whites drove up. I stayed in the backyard, hoping Chase would go through proper police protocol and clear us for the trail. I couldn’t fool Rusty, though; he knew where to find me. He walked up hands in pockets, worry etched in his expression.
“Get me out of here,” I said.
“Okay, if you’ll come home,” he answered. “I’ll load you up into a car and take you home now.”
“That’s not what I meant. I want this to be over as much as you do but it’s not over. These folks were lucky. They could have been killed. They are probably alive because they are American. What if the next place Pearson breaks into is the home of a foreigner? This guy has to be stopped.”
“But not by you.”
“Rusty, he’s still a day ahead. I need to get back on the trail.”
“You’ll have to talk to Tom first.”
Tom outlined all the things Chase had told him. I agreed that’s what had happened, just to get my marching orders. The trail was calling.
“Cassidy, do you know what you could be walking into?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure I’ve walked into worse. I’m sure it isn’t going to be fun, but it has to be done.”
“I can pull you off the case.”
“Why, because Rusty’s worried? He’s worried when I go grocery shopping. If you don’t think I can do the job, that’s one thing. I don’t think you have any reason to think that, though. I got us this far. I’d be a mile or two further if I could have kept going. I need to hit the trail before it gets too dark to track.”
Now it was Tom’s turn to stuff his hands in his pockets. I followed him out the door and then led him to the trail of tracks leading away from the house.
“We’ll radio when we make camp,” I told him. Rusty came up beside him. The house was crawling with police activity but both detectives were more concerned about keeping me off the trail. Chase joined me and I turned to go. Rusty stood there with Tom. He was miserable. When I turned back he followed. It wasn’t a leisurely stroll, either; it was built up emotions driving him. He caught me up, pack and all, lifting me off the ground.
“Rusty, let me go,” I said with as much patience and compassion as I could muster.
“I can’t. If I let you go you won’t come back.”
“Yes I will. I’m just tracking. Following tracks and camping. I’ll be fine.”
“You always think you’re going to be fine, but I’ve seen you not be fine. I’ve seen it too many times.”
“I know. I know you have. Now, put me down. I can make you put me down, but I don’t want to hurt you.”
Chase smirked at that. I bet he was wishing he could see me try it, but I really wanted Rusty to face his emotions and let me go. He set me down then turned to Tom.
“Stop her,” he demanded.
Now Tom looked miserable, too, but he didn’t let Rusty scare him. He stood his ground. Rusty stalked over to Tom. “I said, stop her.” I was afraid Rusty was going to hit him, but Tom stood his ground silently and miserably, standing between a man and his wife.
I didn’t know if I could turn my back on him. It was one of the hardest things I’ve done. To just turn away, while he was hurting like that, tore at my heart. Fighting my tears as I turned to the trail, I had to stop and brush them away to see the footprints. This was going to be one fast track.
I hiked as fast as I could and still keep the tracks in view. I was verifying more than tracking. I recognized the tracks and kept them in view and hiked, cursing myself with every step until darkness fell. Then I cursed the darkness. I rolled out my sleeping bag and climbed in it without bothering to make dinner.