The Escape (US Marshals #1) - Lisa Harris Page 0,47
not far from here.”
“Do you have any ID on you?”
“I’m on holiday in the middle of the woods, so no, I don’t have any ID on me.”
Madison met the man’s gaze. “Where are you from?”
“Fort Collins.”
“What are you doing out here?”
“I’m a writer, working on a book. I noticed my dog was missing, so I came out to look for him.”
“We’re looking for a fugitive who escaped a prison transfer. We have reason to believe he’s in the area.” Jonas held up a photo of Barrick on his phone. “Have you seen this man?”
“Wait a minute—an escaped fugitive? Are you kidding?”
“Have you seen him?” Jonas repeated.
“No. I haven’t seen anyone around here for days. Trying to find a little peace and quiet. What did he do?”
“We’re going to escort you back to your cabin,” Madison said without answering his question. She returned her gun to its holster. “It’s not safe out here right now.”
“Hold on. I get the whole ‘it’s not safe out here’ thing, because I’m assuming the two of you wouldn’t be freaking out if this guy wasn’t dangerous. And I’m even fine with going back to my cabin. But what about my dog?”
“With a little luck,” Jonas said, “he’ll be waiting for you back at your cabin.”
Madison hurried ahead a few yards and radioed the sheriff. “I need you to do a background check on a Mike Wells. He says he lives in Fort Collins and has rented a cabin nearby.”
“Roger that,” the sheriff said. “The second team is almost to the main road and there is no sign of Barrick.”
“Go ahead and send them back once they’re at the road,” she said.
ddd
Twenty minutes later, they were at the cabin where Mike had been staying. It was directly beside the cabin Mary Margaret had rented for Barrick. The rest of the deputies had met them there, but there was no sign of the convict.
“Here’s my ID,” Mike said, dropping it onto the kitchen table. “And feel free to run a background check on me because you won’t find anything. All I’ve done is write twelve hours a day for the past five days. I was just out looking for my dog, like I said.”
Madison stepped away with the sheriff.
“So his story checks out,” Fischer said. “The cabin owner says he came to work on a book.”
“Any criminal background?”
“Nothing more than a couple speeding tickets. He’s got several books out.” The sheriff checked his notes. “A murder-for-hire series.”
“Sounds like a relaxing read.”
Madison stared out the window toward the house where supposedly Barrick had been staying. Family and friends often lied because they didn’t want their loved one going back to jail. What were they missing?
“We’re going to need to canvass the neighboring cabins. He’s got to be hiding somewhere,” Jonas said as he walked up to them. He turned toward Mike. “Does your dog normally wander off like this?”
“He never has before.”
“He must have run pretty far from your cabin.”
“Which is why he’s lost.”
“What kind of dog do you have?”
“Henry’s a white terrier. Perfect for me because he’s not too needy. But I’ve heard there are cougars around here. That’s one of the reasons I didn’t want to just let him out, but today I was tired, got lazy, and didn’t put him on his leash.”
“Before you start looking again,” Madison said, “we need to ask you some questions. Are you sure you haven’t seen this man while you were here?” She held up Barrick’s picture again.
Mike stared at the photo, then shook his head. “Should I know him?”
“He was staying in a cabin next door, ” Jonas said.
“Wait, is he the felon?”
“You’re sure you haven’t seen him?” Madison repeated her question.
“I don’t know. I’ve been in my cabin most of the time. I didn’t exactly come out here to socialize. I have a deadline in a week.”
“So you’ve been planning this trip for a while?”
“I made the reservations, I don’t know, about two months ago. I write under the name Garrick George. You might have heard about me.”
“Sorry.”
“You’re with the US Marshals, right?”
“Yes.”
“I’m only asking because I’ve been playing around with this new series in the back of my head about this tough marshal from Chicago, and to be honest, you look a lot like her. You know, how I picture her in my head.”
Madison shifted uncomfortably, clueless about how to respond to the man.
“I’d love to do an interview with you,” he rushed on. “Ask you some questions about the nitty-gritty day-to-day. You know. Get some