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Cedar Creek, Nevada

Wednesday, June 28, 1995 6 Days Prior . . .

STAMOS’S CABIN WAS TUCKED INTO A CLEARING IN THE FOOTHILLS ON the far side of a gully, access to which came from a single-lane wooden bridge that jumped the gorge. Marvin kept his headlights off and pulled to the shoulder as he watched Stamos’s Suburban cross the bridge. Marvin was frozen with indecision. He wanted to speed across the bridge but feared being spotted now that they were off the highway. He watched the Suburban turn right at the end of the bridge, waited another thirty seconds, and then pulled forward.

Dusk cloaked the sky and as Marvin exited the bridge he saw Stamos’s taillights. He stopped in the middle of the road and pulled out a pair of binoculars. The sheriff climbed from his Suburban and walked to a mailbox on the other side of the street. Stamos retrieved the mail, climbed back into his vehicle, and turned into a driveway before disappearing into the foliage that canopied it. Marvin pulled to the shoulder and waited twenty minutes. Then, he crept forward and found the long driveway that led to Stamos’s cabin.

Dark now, with only a faint lilac painting the sky, soft amber spilled through the windows of the cabin. Marvin was about to turn into the long driveway when he heard three loud bangs on the trunk of the car. When Marvin looked in the rearview mirror he saw Sandy Stamos pointing his gun through the back window.

The sheriff quickly came around to the driver’s side, keeping his gun trained on Marvin.

“Put your hands on the steering wheel!” Stamos yelled.

Marvin did not hesitate. Both hands went to the wheel. The sheriff opened Marvin’s door.

“Out,” he said. “On your knees.”

Marvin followed the directions and climbed from the car, quickly getting to his knees.

“This isn’t what you think, Sheriff.”

“On your stomach, now!”

Marvin lowered himself onto the pavement. He felt the sheriff quickly place a knee in the middle of his back and then pull his hands behind him. Marvin was in cuffs a moment later.

“Why are you following me?” Stamos asked.

Marvin closed his eyes. Maybe he wasn’t as good as he thought.

The sheriff pushed the revolver into the back of his head.

“Why!”

“Because I need to talk with you, and I couldn’t chance doing it in Cedar Creek.”

“Talk about what?”

“Baker Jauncey. That hit-and-run was no accident.”