It was often filled with deep shadows and stayed cool even in the summer because of a lack of sunshine. During the last widening of the highway, small pullouts had been added for slower vehicles to pull over to let others pass when there was room.
June weather was often unpredictable. It wasn’t uncommon for it to snow and end up closing some roads. That was why July and August were the big travel months in this part of Montana. Because of that, the campground would have been relatively empty the past few weeks.
Only two rigs were still parked among the trees. One was a pickup and camper. The other an SUV pulling a small travel trailer.
The marshal pulled in, turned off the engine and said, “Stay here and try to remember that you’re just along for the ride.”
Brick watched his father unsnap the weapon on his hip as he climbed out and walked toward to the small trailer. If Marshal Hud Savage was anything, he was cautious, and with reason. They had no idea who had taken Natalie Berkshire prisoner or how many people might be in on it.
Over the patrol SUV radio came a call. Brick picked it up. “Deputy Brick Savage.”
The dispatcher said, “Just wanted to let the marshal know that a couple of deputies just brought in Maureen Mortensen.”
They’d found the blonde cop already? “I’ll let him know.” As he got off the radio, he saw his father standing at the trailer door. Sometimes he forgot how large a man Hud Savage was. He had always been broad-shouldered and strong as an ox. Even at almost retirement age, he was still a big man, still impressive in not just his size. He’d always been good at what he did as well, Brick thought with a flood of emotion. He wanted so badly to follow in this man’s footsteps, but worried he could never fill his boots.
He watched as a rather rotund man answered the marshal’s knock.
Popping open his door so he could hear, Brick listened to his father questioning the man before moving on to the next rig.
Brick couldn’t hear as well this time, but he saw the man who answered the marshal’s knock point to a space at the back of the campground. His father nodded, then headed in that direction.
Brick got out of the patrol SUV and followed him into a stand of dense pines. If the motor home had been parked here, it wouldn’t have been visible from the highway. Nor was it near any other campsite. Even if Natalie had screamed bloody murder, she might not have been heard. But he doubted that whomever had taken her had allowed her to scream at all.
He stopped short when he saw what his father was doing—snapping photographs with his phone of the tire tracks left in the soft earth. This was where the motor home had been. But had Natalie been inside it?
“A call just came in on the radio,” he told the marshal. “A couple of deputies picked up Maureen Mortensen.” He wasn’t sure what response he was expecting, but his father only nodded.
Without a word, they walked back to the patrol SUV and climbed inside before his father said, “You need to learn how to take orders.” Hud started the engine. “You always were the stubborn one.”
Brick chuckled at that. “Just like my father and grandfather, I’m told.”
“Well, at least your namesake grandfather.” Brick had heard stories about his grandfather Brick Savage, the former marshal. If half of the stories were true, then his father and the former marshal had butted heads regularly.
“Any update on Natalie?” he asked him now.
“Still catatonic.” His father sighed, picked up his radio and called in a description of the motor home that the man in the camper had given him. It sounded like one of those rental motor homes. Older driver. Only description was elderly and gray.
If Natalie had been held in the motor home, the driver could be miles from here by now—or parked at the hospital. His father obviously thought the same thing as he asked that a deputy watch for a motor home at the hospital parking lot and ordered that another deputy go to work calling motor home rentals in the area.
They drove in silence back to where Brick had left his pickup. As he started to climb out, his father said, “Deputy, you want this job? Take a week. I don’t want to see you again unless it’s at your mother’s dining