Page 61 of Dark Sky

Kirby took the satellite phone from Joannides and clipped it on his belt.

Joannides used the opportunity to lean forward and whisper, “Help me here, will you? Talk to your dad. We’re all on the same team. Tell him.There’s a lot of money in it for you if you do.I swear it.”

Earl couldn’t make out what Joannides said to his son. All he could tell, whatever it was, it caused Kirby to hesitate.

“Tell him,” Joannides urged.

Kirby thrust the bowie knife beneath Joannides’s chin and used both of his hands on the grip of it to jam it upward until the hilt pressed against the man’s lower jawbone. Joannides’s bloody body flopped over to the side in the snowy grass and convulsed. Kirby pulled the knife out and wiped both sides of the blade on Joannides’s high-tech parka.

“He was a snake until the end,” Kirby said to Earl. “Tried to offer me money to save his miserable life.”

Brad stepped forward with his shotgun over the body and aimed it at Joannides’s temple.

“No,” Earl commanded. “No gunshots. We don’t know how close we are to Price and Joe. I don’t want them to hear us.”

“She was my sister, too,” Brad said to Earl with an adolescent whine.

“Then go get your ax,” Earl said. “But hurry. Bring a shovel, too. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover before it gets dark on us.”

SIXTEEN

The tiny one-room log cabin was located deep in the heart of a lodgepole stand that fronted a steep granite wall. The last rays of the sun lit up the face of the rock formation and threw dark shadows into its folds and cracks. A single raven hugged the rim of the wall and flew in lazy, ever-widening circles.

The snow had stopped and the storm clouds had moved on, opening up the sky at dusk. Joe could already see a few stars winking through the dark purple. He could feel the temperature drop as he followed Boedecker across a bench and into the lodgepoles. Cold crept up his pant legs and down the collar of his parka. His knees stiffened, as had the carcasses of the pine grouse he carried, which had been warm and soft when he gathered them up.

“Not much farther,” Boedecker said over his shoulder.

“I see it,” Joe responded. The cabin was a black square within the spindly trunks of the trees. Next to the cabin was a sagging lean-to.

“It had to be a poacher’s cabin at one time,” Boedecker said. “My dad told me about it a few years ago, but I wasn’t sure where it was. It’s too hidden away for a line shack and too far up for lumberjacks.”

Joe grunted his agreement. Over the years, he’d stumbled upon dozens of shelters constructed within the national forest he patrolled that weren’t supposed to be there. He was always curious who had built them and what they were used for. When he found them, he notified the ranger’s office and gave the coordinates. He doubted anything was ever done about them.

“It’s sure as hell not much,” Boedecker said, “but it’ll get us out of the weather for tonight. It’s going to be a cold one. When it snows and the clouds go away like that—watch out.”

“Yup.”

“I’m already freezing,” Price grumbled from behind Joe. “I don’t know why you people even live here.”

“This is where the elk are and the people aren’t,” Joe said.

“Believe me, I’mdonewith hunting elk,” Price said. “I just want to go home.”

“We all do,” Joe said.

“Back to your mega-mansion overlooking the Pacific?” Boedecker said to Price. “Yeah, I bet that’s nice.”

“Let’s worry aboutourmega-mansion for now,” Joe said.

To Boedecker: “Have you been inside?”

“Just long enough to stick my head in. Like I said, it isn’t much. No water, no electricity, no generator. Pretty much a one-man cabin. And not exactly built by a craftsman, either.”

“Are there three beds inside?” Price asked.

Boedecker just laughed. He seemed to revel in causing Price deprivation, Joe thought.

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