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I poured two mugs of coffee and handed one to Billy. “Jeeze, I hate the fuckin snow and cold.”

Billy smiled. “That’s a Texan talkin.”

“Yeah, I guess it is. Bothers me something terrible.”

“You’re worked up anyway over the robbery and you want to nail those guys. You’re strung out a bit. I don’t think it’s only the snow and the cold getting to you.”

“You’re right. It’s a lot of things. Missing Annie for one. That seems to trump everything else.”

“Yeah, I can see that happening.” Billy sipped his coffee, still too hot to drink. “How are we gonna catch those fuckers if nobody spots them for us?”

“Today we’ll go to Burke Foster’s place. We’ll get an address for him and talk to whoever lives with him… or near him if he’s not there.”

“Yeah, we have to do that first thing. He won’t be sitting at home, that’s for sure, but his neighbors or his mother might know something.”

Sheriff’s Office. Coyote Creek.

Billy brewed up a fresh pot of coffee while Molly checked in the system for any activity on our BOLO or our wants. There didn’t seem to be any sign of our guys in the state of Montana.

“They have to be holed up somewhere,” I said, “or else they were already in Canada before I called border patrol and put the alert on to block them crossing. Canada was their quickest escape route if they were looking for one.”

“Do you think they had an exit plan in place before the robbery?” asked Molly.

“I don’t think they were that smart. The way Bonnie described the robbery, they sounded like two dumbasses with no plan.”

“I know where Burke Foster’s mother lives but that’s not the address the police have on his jacket,” said Molly. “Since he was released from prison, Foster is listed as having no fixed address.”

“Did you read his file, Molly?”

“Armed robbery. He was carrying a shotgun and a knife when he was arrested.”

“Mister Purcell seemed to think his boy, Roger, wouldn’t have been involved and yet Roger and Burke were in the store and riding in Roger Purcell’s truck together. Bonnie saw them jump into the truck. That’s when she got the tag.”

“Good thinking on her part,” said Molly. “She’s a smart girl.”

“Especially when she was so upset over Tim,” I said.

“There’s a chance, Mister Purcell doesn’t know his son as well as he thinks he does,” said Molly. “The boy is clean, though. I ran him through the database and he has no record.”

“How old is he?”

“Twenty-four. The Foster boy is thirty-one.”

“Bonnie knew Burke Foster in high school. Do you want to give me directions to his mother’s place? I’ll start with her.”

“Sure. Let me draw you a little map.”

I took the map from Molly and folded it up, tucking it into my pocket. “Ready, Billy?” I zipped up my coat and pulled on my lined gloves.

“Right behind you, boss.”

As I stepped outside heading for the Bronco, the Montana air hit me with a crispness that reminded me this was only October and winter was on its way. This weather was nothing compared to what I’d soon be facing.

Foster Residence. Lake Frances.

We followed the directions that Molly had given me and arrived at a small, run-down house on a county road near Lake Frances. A rusty old truck was parked in the driveway, half buried in snow.

The snow was so deep in Ida Foster’s laneway, Billy had to park on the road. Tramping through snow up to our privates, we trudged to her house. I couldn’t help cursing under my breath. I hated the cold.