Stone Cross (Arliss Cutter #2) - Marc Cameron Page 0,98
locate Donna Taylor if she made it out of the bush. “I have no idea what her escape plan is, or if she even has one.” He gave Markham a quick thumbnail of Taylor’s connection to the Meads, including her violent record and her husband, Rick Halcomb.
“How did such a horrible woman ever get hired as a teacher?” Markham said, mostly to himself. He squatted down to grab something behind the plastic tote, then held it up for Cutter to see. “What do you make of this? Some kind of bracelet?”
Cutter had seen one before. A band of a dozen or so black plastic-like cords lying together, untwisted, each a little smaller in diameter than a pencil lead. Two knots of twisted copper on either side of the bracelet were used to adjust its size. He held the open circle between his fingers and gave a light squeeze, testing its springiness.
“Elephant hair,” he said.
“From a real elephant?” Aften Brooks asked.
“Looks like it,” Cutter said. “Fits the scenario. The .404 Jeffery cartridge that killed Rolf is over a hundred years old, but it’s still used by game management folks in Africa.”
Daisy Aguthluk gave a somber nod from where she stood assisting her daughter with Jasper’s IV. “I’ve seen Ms. Taylor wear that bracelet before.”
“Been to Africa, have you?” Markham said to Cutter.
“Nope,” Cutter said. “I just read a lot of Capstick and Ruark when I was growing up.”
Ned Jasper suddenly became more lucid, squinting at Cutter through the bright cabin lights. “What are you doin’ here?”
“Gathering evidence for the troopers,” Cutter said, keeping his voice low and calm for Jasper’s benefit. “You just rest.”
Jasper gave an emphatic shake of his head. His voice was tight with pain, like he was trying to talk and hold his breath at the same time.
“She shot me, Marshal. You gotta go after her. Find the Meads.”
Cutter checked his watch, then moved nearer to the bed so Ned didn’t feel he had to work so hard to be heard.
“The troopers will get here in less than an hour.”
He didn’t say it out loud, but that was assuming the troopers’ aircraft was able to make it out at all with the tiny window of marginal weather before the full brunt of the Bering Sea storm hit with a vengeance.
Jasper tried to push himself up on his elbows, then fell back against the pillow. “Too long. You got a few minutes before snow’s going to cover any tracks. My pack’s out on my Honda. It’s got all the gear you need. Food too. I see a good pair of bibs on the wall over there and you can wear my parka.” He coughed, then spoke through clenched teeth. “You gotta go right now.”
Cutter gave Jasper a pat on the knee and stepped outside to think. Markham followed tight on his heels. Both men stood in silence for a moment, heads bowed against the storm. In the bright headlights of two parked ATVs, Birdie Pingayak led a dog to a picketed gang-line where seven others already stood in harness. Behind her, in the yard, other dogs yipped and squealed like a barrel of squeaky toys, hoping to be chosen next. The hood of Birdie’s parka was pushed back on her shoulders, exposing the top of her head and half her face. A stiff wind blew strands of black hair across her cheek. She snapped in the dog and stood up straight, arching her back from the effort of hitching up this many dogs so quickly. Rifle slung diagonally over her back, she took a moment to stare into the night at the trail left by Donna’s team—which was rapidly disappearing under a heavy snow—and then went to get another dog.
Jasper was right, and Birdie Pingayak knew it. They needed to go now.
CHAPTER 34
The large door that comprised most of the eastern wall of the Alaska State Troopers hangar stood raised and open to the weather when Lieutenant Warr led Doctor Marta Dubois inside. Four men stood under the wings of a blue and white Cessna 185 that bore the golden bear badge of the Alaska State Troopers. The pilot, an affable guy named Huston, was a trooper himself, which made what Warr was about to do a little bit easier.
The YK Delta was an unforgiving place in any season. Cold-weather gear was cumbersome but vital, so the packs were nearly as big as the men. They made last-minute checks to gear and stowed black padded Cordura gun cases containing