“I know,” he said with anger and chagrin. “I already tried it.”
“Are you crazy?”
“Yeah, I am. Was, anyway. When I heard that message on my phone, I reacted without thinking. Got in my truck, started up the road, but . . .” He ended by draining the second drink. “I spun out, barely managed to regain control.”
“I’ll get coffee.” Dora retreated into the kitchen.
“You could’ve killed yourself,” Wes said. “Doing a damn fool thing like that.”
Dutch came off the sofa and began to pace. “Then what am I supposed to do, Wes? Sit here with my thumb up my ass till the roads are clear? That could take days. I can’t just wait it out. What if Lilly is hurt, too? It would be like her not to tell me.”
“I understand your concern. But it’s not like you’re responsible for her anymore.”
Dutch rounded on him, balled his hands into fists, and came very close to decking his friend. Although technically Wes spoke the truth, he didn’t want to hear it. He especially didn’t want to hear it from Wes. Superior in every way Wes. Wes, who’d never known a day of defeat or suffered a moment of self-doubt in his whole life. Wes kept everything well under control.
“I’m the chief of police. If for no other reason than that, Lilly is my responsibility.”
Wes patted the air between them. “Okay, okay, settle down. Getting riled at me won’t solve anything.”
Dutch accepted one of the mugs of coffee that Dora carried in on a tray. He took several sips, which he needed after two belts of neat whiskey. The sour mash had been like nectar to his system. The aroma, the taste, the warmth it had spread through his belly, the pleasurable buzz, the tingle in his bloodstream, had made him realize just how much he’d missed his hourly shots of it.
He said, “Cal Hawkins still has the sanding truck monopoly, doesn’t he?”
“The city renewed his contract last year,” Wes replied. “But only because the worthless son of a bitch owns the rig.”
“I’ve had men trying to chase him down. I went to his house myself. It’s dark and locked up. Nobody answers his phone. If he’s not out sanding the roads, where the hell is he?”
“A bar would be my guess,” Wes replied. “That’s why he likes his job so well. Only has to work a few days a year. The rest of them, he’s free to drink himself into a stupor.”
“We’ve already checked the bars.”
“Where they serve taxed liquor out of bottles with labels?” Scoffing, Wes arched his eyebrow. “That’s not where you’ll find Cal.” He went to the entryway closet, got his coat, hat, and gloves. “You drive. I’ll tell you where to go.”
“Thanks for the coffee, Dora,” Dutch said as he walked past her.
“Please be careful.”
All Wes said to her was “Don’t wait up.”
As they stepped out into the worst winter storm in recent history, Wes walloped Dutch between the shoulder blades. “Don’t worry, my man. By hook or crook, we’ll rescue your lady.”
• • •
The windows of Scott’s bedroom overlooked the backyard. He watched his dad and Dutch Burton practically skate out to the black Bronco with the light bar across the roof and a stenciled seal on the doors. Dutch had kept the motor running while he was inside. The exhaust formed a dancing white ghost behind the truck. As they backed out of the driveway, the wheels spun, seeking traction.
Scott was still staring after the diminishing taillights when his mom knocked on his bedroom door. “Scott?”
“Come in.” He turned down the volume on his sound system.
“Would you like your pie now?”
“Can I save it for breakfast? I ate too much steak. I saw Dad leaving with Mr. Burton.”
She told him what had happened. “I guess Lilly didn’t start down in time and got trapped by the weather. At least she had a good reason for being up there. For the life of me, I can?
??t imagine what Mr. Tierney was doing on the peak today.”
“He’s a hiker.”