Page 79 of Sear
“Yeah. I already called her lawyer, and he’s on his way. He told me that as long as we keep our traps shut, Mrs. B will take care of things for us.”
At the mention of Mrs. B, Lucas was suddenly glad he’d followed his gut on pursuing this case one step further. Time to push a little.
“Yeah, right,” he said. “Maybe your boss will take care ofyouguys, but I’m shit out of luck. That hard-ass cop lady told me I’m gonna be charged with all the same things as you, even though I didn’t even get one shot off. What if I get left holding the bag for all of those charges?” He let his shoulders slump. “Ican’tgo to prison! What’s gonna happen to my girls? And that guy who owns the property we were on? Cops told me he’s the one who called them. He’s majorly pissed off.”
Silvers scoffed. The weedy cook was two cells down, next to Bickham. “I don’t know why,” he complained. “He should be grateful that we’re removing a threat to his livestock. Grizzlies kill cows all the time. And black bears are just pests.”
“Wait—so you guys shot shot a black bear, too? A couple of days ago? At the same place?”
“What do you mean?” Bickham asked.
“The fish cop was coming down hard on me about a dead black bear found in the same area on Thursday. I don’t wanna take the fall for that—hell, I wasn’t even hunting that day, because the weather was crap!”
“Just calm down, Lucas. Don’t worry, they can’t pin that one on you,” Bickham said, his tone soothing. “I was real careful and the fish cops can’t prove shit. Just keep your trap shut if they ask you any more questions.”
Lucas couldn’t believe what he was getting. The arrest must have really shaken up the normally tight-lipped Bickham. He needed to keep the poacher talking.
“I—I don’t know, man.” Lucas did his best to sound scared. “I got a lot to lose.”
“Trust me,” Bickham urged. “Me and my boys have been questioned before, and the fish cops have never been able to get any charges to stick. How do you think we managed to bag three elk on this trip?”
“Three?” Lucas asked incredulously. “I think you’re full of shit, Travis. I spentdayshanging out with you two, and we didn’t see a single elk. How the hell did you get three of ’em?”
“I shot ’em after hours. They’re sitting ducks at night. Why do you think I mounted that spotlight on my truck?” Bickham chuckled. “And the best thing is—the fish cops will never be able to prove a damn thing, because Mrs. B already picked up the meat. It’s in a refrigerated truck headed for Salt Lake City, and we’re looking at some serious cash.” He leaned against the bars, and his voice dropped conspiratorially. “You keep your trap shut, Lucas, and we’ll make sure that you get one of Mrs. B’s bonuses. I’m sure you could use some extra dough, right?”
“Yeah.” Lucas looked up. “Yeah, I guess, man.”
“Okay, so we have a deal?” Bickham asked. “You keep quiet about absolutely everything you heard and saw this week, and I’ll make sure that Mrs. B pays you for your trouble, and lets you use her lawyer.”
“Deal.” Lucas pushed himself to his feet, and stuck his hand through the bars to shake Bickham’s hand. “Thanks, man. Thanks for everything. I thought I was screwed for sure.”
The door leading down to the holding cells opened, and a cheery female voice called, “Breakfast time!”
When Sergeant Annika Tringstad pushed Lucas’s breakfast tray through the slot, Lucas said, “I want a lawyer, and I’m not gonna answer any questions until he arrives.”
That was the signal that he, Mary, and Gage had agreed upon to signal “Mission Accomplished.”
“He’s gonna use my attorney,” Bickham said.
Annika nodded. “We have his contact information upstairs. Mr. Winter, if you’ll come with me now, you can finish your breakfast later.”
Lucas followed her out of the cellblock and upstairs to freedom.
He had succeeded in his investigation and gotten what he needed from Bickham and Silvers.
His next task was to write out the affidavits for search warrants and begin putting together his report, linking everything Bickham and Silvers had let slip this week with the evidence he had gathered. With any luck, the pair would be standing trial not only for shooting Rob, but also a host of misdemeanors and felonies.
But it was a hollow victory, because he’d hurt Malia in the process, and possibly damaged their relationship beyond repair.
Before he wrote a single word, he needed to find his mate and apologize to her.
* * *
Malia had never cried so hard. Or so long.
She had never been more grateful to Mom for sending her home on sick leave. She managed to hold back the avalanche of grief until she walked through her front door.
Then her control crumbled and collapsed like a wall of sand encountering a wave.
