Darby got into the back of the truck. The tan leather upholstery felt cold and hard, and the mountain air trapped in the cab smelled of the gun oil used to clean and lubricate the deer rifle locked in the gun rack mounted behind her head.
After the sheriff turned the ignition key, he fiddled with the heating dials and then repositioned himself in his seat so he could face them, back pressed up against the door and an arm draped across the top of the steering wheel.
Sheriff Powers cleared his throat. ‘We’ve had roughly eighteen inches of snow over the past four days, with more to come,’ he said. ‘If Agent Cooper was a passenger inside the SUV and got thrown from it, his … body could very well be somewhere down there. If he got thrown into the water, he could be further down the river.’
If there is any justice in this life, she thought, please let him be buried somewhere underneath these rolling blankets of snow. The idea of him dead and buried, his body frozen, was somehow more bearable than the thought of Coop alive and badly injured and screaming in pain and finding himself trapped in the river’s frigid water.
Noel Covington said, ‘How deep is the water down there?’
Darby surprised herself when she answered the question: ‘Rapids are a max of four feet. The issue isn’t depth, it’s temperature.’
Sheriff Powers nodded, kept nodding. Then he said, ‘If Mr Cooper was thrown into the water, it would be a blessing if he straight-up drowned. And I can say that having attended too many autopsies of people who’ve drowned in that goddamn river from car accidents versus people who survived and died of hypothermia.’
The grief, which had so far been regulated to her stomach, shot through her limbs and rocketed up her throat, making it feel as though it were no wider than a drinking straw. She could barely swallow, and when she took in a breath her chest felt tight, her lungs spongy.
‘Those are Class 5 rapids down there – townsfolk call it the Wild Straits,’ Powers said. ‘It continues for about another half-mile and then merges into the Peak Valley River. If Mr Cooper got caught in the water, his body would have washed ashore downriver, in which case it’s buried underneath the snow. Or he could’ve got pinned on something, a grouping of boulders or a tangle of tree limbs, maybe even one of the congested chutes …’
Darby’s mind exploded with images of Coop’s limp and broken body drifting through the strong, icy currents. She saw him clawing furiously and uselessly at the dark waters, desperately seeking purchase to get ashore. She felt the freezing temperature attacking his limbs, and she felt the freezing cold snaking its way toward his heart, wanting to stop it and then kill it, while his mind kept comfortably whispering, Sleep. It’s okay, just shut your eyes and go to sleep and the pain will disappear; it’s okay to let go.
‘We won’t find his body until spring,’ Darby said. ‘That’s what you’re saying.’
‘If you’re lucky,’ Sheriff Powers said. ‘Truth is, you may not find his body at all, especially if it made its way into the Peak Valley River. I pray to God that’s not the case. If he was alive when he washed ashore in those woods, at some point he would’ve passed out from hypothermia, and then you’ve got the problem of wildlife.’
Darby looked at the blackness beyond the truck’s front window. Coop was out there somewhere, whatever remained of him. And seeing what had happened to his body and how he died, no matter how painful, was better than never finding him at all.
‘Either of you take a look at the tyres?’ Powers said. Then, when they said no: ‘I did. Got a good close look. Treads were worn. Shouldn’t have passed state inspection. That vehicle had no business being on the road, let alone on this one here. I can’t tell you how many accidents and fatalities we’ve had over the years. Place has so many roadside crosses it looks like a damn cemetery.’
‘I can have cadaver dogs here in the morning,’ Noel said.
‘That’ll be fine. Whatever you need, Agent Covington –’
‘Noel will do.’
The sheriff nodded. Then his face twisted in discomfort, as though he had developed a sudden cramp. ‘I think we all agree that what happened here was a straight-up motor-vehicle accident,’ he said.
I don’t, Darby thought. Not yet.
‘Reason I say that is because – and I mean no disrespect here –’ Powers began.
‘The Bureau will pick up the tab,’ Noel said.
‘Sorry to bring that up, but the town won’t. It can’t. The bean counters won’t sign off on it, and I don’t have any extra money in my department I can shuffle around.’
‘We’ll take care of it, Sheriff. It’s not a problem. The man in the car, is there anything you can tell me about him?’
‘I was gonna ask you the same question. I thought he was one of yours.’
Noel shook his head.
‘I need to ask this,’ Powers said. ‘Was your man Cooper here on some sort of Bureau business?’
‘If he was, he would have checked in with you.’
‘That’s the courteous thing to do, sure. Sometimes, though, agents forget, get tied up in things.’ What the sheriff meant was: the Bureau is known for sticking its nose into other people’s business and then lying when they get caught.
‘Agent Cooper was on vacation,’ Noel said.
That’s a lie, Darby thought. The sheriff kept his face carefully blank.
‘Came to Big Sky,’ Noel said, ‘to ski.’
Another lie. Coop doesn’t ski – never had any interest in it.
Powers shifted his attention to Darby. ‘And you flew into Montana to meet him and go skiing?’
Noel was watching her closely, she could tell.
Save his ass, or throw him under the bus?
‘No,’ Darby told the sheriff. ‘I didn’t come here to ski.’
Powers said nothing. Waited. If Noel was feeling even the least bit anxious or angry, he was doing a damn fine job of hiding it.
‘I flew into Bozeman a few days ago,’ Darby said. It seemed to take a great effort to speak – to string the words together. She sucked air deeply into her lungs and held it, wishing this would all disappear, knowing it wouldn’t. ‘Cooper was supposed to meet me there. We were going to hang out for a bit, catch up, then head on over to Yellowstone together. When Cooper didn’t return my phone calls or emails, I called his office, and they put me in touch with Agent Covington and –’ Her voice caught; it wasn’t a performance. ‘And here we are.’
‘Why Fort Jefferson?’ the sheriff asked.
‘What do you mean?’
‘There’s no skiing here. Cross-country, sure, we offer plenty of that. And snowmobiling and hunting. But that’s about it in terms of winter activities. We’re not exactly a tourist destination.’
Covington said, ‘I checked Cooper’s Bureau email account and I pulled his cell phone records, and I’m at a loss as to why he came to your town. Do you have any ideas, Sheriff?’
Powers propped his left elbow on the edge of the dashboard. He pinched the corners of his mouth between his fingers and massaged the edges of his bottom lip as he stared thoughtfully out the front window. The truck’s temperature had gone from warm to hot. Darby unzipped her jacket.
‘Melissa French,’ the sheriff said. ‘That name mean anything to you?’
Darby shook her head. Noel did the same, and she wondered if he was telling the truth.
‘She moved to Fort Jefferson this past summer,’ Powers said. ‘We don’t get much in the way of transplants. People who are born and raised here tend to stay here. So when someone moves into our town, it causes quite a stir.’
‘Who is she?’ Darby asked.
‘Don’t know much. She rented a house the bank repossessed – we’ve got a good number of empty houses still sitting around, thanks to the housing bubble and recession from a few years back. Town still hasn’t recovered … Anyway, this was in June of last year. Single woman, fifties, no kids, took a waitressing job at the C & J Diner downtown. Nice lady. Always came by to make sure my coffee cup was topped up. She also did a lot of babysitting, from what I hear.’
The sheriff scratched an eyebrow with his fingernail. ‘This past week, I’ve been hearing … rumblings, I guess you could call it, about some outsider – a big, tall guy who sort of looked like the quarterback for the New England Patriots, whatshisname …’
Darby said, ‘Tom Brady.’
Powers snapped his fingers. ‘That’s him,’ he said, and cocked a finger at her. ‘He was going around town asking questions about the French woman – where did she go and how could he get in touch with her. That sort of thing.’
Darby’s attention was now fully inside the truck, on the conversation. Finally, a possible connection to what Coop was doing in Montana.
Noel was listening intently, but his tone was casual when he said, ‘Something happen to her, Sheriff?’
‘Yeah,’ Powers replied. ‘She quit her job, packed up and left town.’