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“About that,” Lucas said, fighting through the agony that threatened to consume him, and think ahead to the next step of his hunt. He still had two more unresolved poaching cases from the day before yesterday. “Don’t tell anyone, not just yet.”
“What do you mean?” asked Tringstad.
“That dead black bear and the poached elk you told me about on Thursday,” Lucas replied. “Based on all of the shit Bickham and Silvers boasted about doing this week, I want to nail them for a few more of their crimes. Since we haven’t found the elk meat or bear parts yet, I want you to book me and put me in jail with my buddies.”
Tringstad blew out a breath. “You want to wear a wire.”
Lucas nodded.
“Yeah, that might work,” said Tringstad. “You have a relationship with these guys, and they saw you being busted alongside them. You and Malia really sold it. They might talk.”
“Yeah, I think I can get Bickham and Silvers to confess to those two poachings at least,” Lucas agreed. “Maybe a few others, too. More importantly, Bickham’s mentioned that there’s a higher-up running the illegal purchase and transportation of elk and venison, someone named Mrs. B out of Spokane. I want to see what I can get them to tell me about her.”
“All right,” Gage said. “Sounds like we have a plan.IfMary doesn’t decide to squish you like a bug for hurting her daughter.”
Chapter 22
“I’ll be honest. I’m not real happy with either of you right now,” Mary Jacobsen-Swanson said a half-hour later. “You could’ve at least had the courtesy to let me know that Fish and Game was running an undercover operation in my town.”
She and Gage sat squeezed together across from Lucas in a tiny interview room. Lucas had seen walk-in closets larger than this.
All three of them held mugs of freshly-brewed coffee. Mary had placed a box of freshly-baked cinnamon rolls on a small metal desk that was the room’s only piece of furniture other than the chairs.
“It’s department policy to keep our U.C. operations on a strict ‘need to know’ basis,” Gage said. “You know it’s nothing personal, Mary.”
“It’s a safety issue for me,” added Lucas. “But if it’s any comfort, I really wanted to tell you and Malia.”
The police chief scowled at him. “That’s no excuse for turning my daughter into a wreck,” she said sternly. “But it makes me feel better to see that you’re not doing a whole lot better.”
She took a long sip of coffee, and sat back. “Okay, here’s the deal. Bickham and Silvers have clammed up. I’ll get you a wire and let you wrap up your case… on the condition that you make it right with Malia as soon you have what you need.”
“Thank you, Mary,” Lucas said. “And for what it’s worth, I’m really sorry about the fact that I got off on the wrong foot with you. You have to believe me, though: I love Malia.”
“You’d better tell her that,” Mary replied. She looked Lucas up and down. “Well, the fact that you’re one sorry-looking cat right now might convince Bickham and Silvers to trust you. Good luck.”
“Thanks,” Lucas said. He was going to need it.
* * *
The police station’s detention cells were located in the basement of the old brick building. It was cool down here, and felt dim despite the bright fluorescent lights.
Mary took Lucas to an empty cell next to the one currently holding Bickham. She unlocked a heavy barred door, and Lucas stepped inside.
His new digs were approximately the same size as the interview room upstairs, furnished only with a stainless-steel toilet, a small washbasin, and basic cot with a pillow and blanket.
He immediately sank down on the cot and put his head in his hands.
Mary was right about one thing. Lucas didn’t have to pretend that the morning’s events had stressed him out of his mind.
“Oh my God,” he groaned loudly. “I’m so fucked.”
“Hey.” Bickham walked over to the bars separating their cells. “You tell ’em anything?”
Lucas shook his head. “No. But I’m scared, man. I got a job and kids.”
“As long as you keep your trap shut, you got nothing to worry about. You remember how I told you about my boss?”
Lucas felt a jolt of excitement pierce the dark cloud of misery enveloping him. “Mrs. B, right?”
