Dutch took another sip of whiskey. Each swallow had gone down smoother, tasted better. “What are you leading up to, Wes?”
“Let’s go get Tierney. You and me.”
“Begley has a chopper—”
“Forget that,” Wes said impatiently. “If they get to him before we do, we’ll never see him. He’ll be hustled away to Charlotte, put under lock and key. Even if he’s indicted, his lawyer will cause delay after delay, and five years from now we’ll still be trying to bring this psycho to trial and get justice for these ladies and their families. That’s not the law of the mountains, not the kind of law our daddies and granddaddies believed in.”
Wes had a valid point. Dutch knew from his days on the APD how slowly justice was won, if ever.
“I never have understood how the feds got involved anyway,” Wes said.
“Kidnapping is a federal crime.”
“Yeah, yeah, but that’s a technicality.”
“A pretty damn important one.”
Wes scooted forward until he was sitting on the edge of his chair. Propping his forearms on the desk, he leaned across it. “Cleary is your jurisdiction, Dutch. This is your town, your people, and the victory should go to you. Not to Begley or that four-eyed yes-man.
“You drag Tierney down Main Street, parade him in front of the Gunns and relatives of the other victims, bring him to trial in this county, and you’ll be the local hero. You’ll be the bad-ass, don’t-fuck-with-me-or-my-town cop who solved the biggest crime in the town’s history.” He sat back and smiled complacently. “And I’ll be the one who had the smarts to hire you for the job.”
The pep rally speech was effective. Wes had painted an exciting picture, with Dutch as its focal point. He wanted badly for it to become a reality. But he’d been crushed by disappointment too many times to trust the flurry of optimism he was feeling. He was afraid even to hope that this time, when the stakes were incredibly high, he might finally catch a break.
“Only a crazy cop would arrest someone without evidence,” he said. “I don’t have any on Tierney. It’s all speculation and hearsay.”
“The feds—”
“Aren’t sharing. Begley threatened to lock me in my own jail if I went into Tierney’s cabin out at Old Man Elmer’s place.”
“He can’t do that.”
“Doesn’t matter if he can or can’t. Right now, I don’t know what they’ve got on Tierney, so how can I arrest him and make even a minor charge stick?”
“Do you think Begley would be guarding his rooms so closely if there wasn’t incriminating stuff in there? Bring the guy in and then worry about the evidence.”
“We have constitutional rights prohibiting that, Wes.”
“I know, but isn’t there a term for apprehending somebody believed to be . . .” He waved his hands as though trying to grasp the words.
“Probable cause.”
“That’s it!” he said. “Say the robbery alarm at the bank goes off, and you see a guy in a mask running out of it. The money bag isn’t visible, but you go after him anyway. You don’t wait to gather evidence.”
Dutch left his chair and paced a slow circle around his desk. The whiskey had helped dull the throbbing pain of his face, but another dose of ibuprofen tablets wouldn’t hurt.
“I agree with what you’re saying, Wes, but it’s impossible. Begley’s ordered the chopper for tomorrow morning. If it’s clear, if the wind dies, if the pilot makes it as far as Cleary, chances are good he’ll be able to take it up to the peak. But it’ll take days for us to get enough equipment and manpower in here to clear up that mess on the road.”
“The mess on the main road.” Wes was grinning like he’d just pulled the winning ace from his sleeve. “But what about the other one?”
It took Dutch a moment to catch his meaning. When he did, he barked a laugh. “The road on the mountain’s western face? That’s little more than a cow path.”
“A cow path covered in a foot and a half of snow, which levels it out and makes it easier to navigate.”
“If you’re a penguin.”
“Or a snowmobile.”
That checked Dutch’s next argument. He stopped and thought about it. “Can a snowmobile get up an incline that steep?”