They talked police department politics most of the way to Boulder and up the canyon to Scarlet Springs. Old Man Irving was retiring in the fall, so a search was on for his replacement. The bean counters were trying to figure out how best to utilize the money the department got from taxes on legal marijuana sales. And why the hell couldn’t they get decent food in the cafeteria?
“There’s the turn.” Darcangelo pointed to a sign that said“Caribou.”
“I see it.”
Caribou was the site of a ghost town and an old silver mine. The landowner—a guy named Joe Moffat—had generously given them permission to use his land for today’s exercise, enabling them to run around with their firearms away from the public. Seeing cops with weapons in their hands had a way of freaking people out.
Marc turned onto a dirt road and followed it uphill, stopping for a bull moose that stood in the middle of the road as if trying to remember why it had come this way. “Anytime now, buddy.”
The moose looked over at them, velvet still on its massive rack, and then sauntered across the road and down the embankment.
Darcangelo clicked a photo with his smartphone. “What a beautiful animal.”
“Did I ever tell you about the hunting trips I used to take up here?”
“Oh, God, here we go again. Do your kids know you killed Bambi’s mother?”
Marc chuckled. “Bambi’s mother was a deer. I hunted elk. You do know there’s a difference, don’t you?”
“Blow me, Hunter.”
“No way.”
They found a dozen or so law enforcement vehicles parked at the top of the road. Marc pulled in parallel to the black SUV marked MARSHALS SERVICE on the rear.
They climbed out and walked over to McBride, who was standing with several uniformed men and women in the shade of a big pine.
“Hunter, Darcangelo.” He grinned, shook their hands. “Glad you two could make it. Have you met Sheriff Pella?”
Pella, a lean, middle-aged man with gray at his temples, was sheriff of Forest County, which included both Scarlet Springs and Caribou.
Marc reached out a hand. “Marc Hunter, DPD SWAT captain.”
“Julian Darcangelo, DPD vice.”
Pella repeated their names, then grinned, his gaze fixed on Marc. “You’re that guy who broke out of prison and hid out up here, aren’t you? The governor gave you a pardon.”
Yeah, Marc had figured that would come up. It had been a long time ago, but people didn’t forget that sort of thing. “Yes, sir, I’m that guy.”
Pella chuckled. “Glad you could join us. This is one of my deputies, Julia Marcs. She’s been with the department for eight years now.”
Marc frowned, her name somehow familiar.
Deputy Marcs looked up at them through mirrored shades, her dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. “Pleasure to meet you both.”
And then it was time to get down to business.
McBride gave a short introduction. “Since the legalization of marijuana in the state, we’ve seen a fifteen percent increase in criminal transients here in the mountains west of Boulder. Some of the transients we encounter are just folks down on their luck, but a significant percentage are felons—sex offenders, drug dealers, armed robbers. They came to Colorado thinking they’d become millionaires dealing legal weed, only to find out state law prevents anyone with a criminal record from participating in any aspect of the marijuana industry. Rather than leaving, they hide up here, camping illegally on county and national forest land and posing a threat to locals and tourists alike.”
Pella cut in. “When you boys drove them off the streets of Denver, they came here. They’ve taken over a couple of campgrounds, squeezing out decent folks. I want them out of my mountains and away from my town.”
Marc couldn’t blame Pella for that.
McBride nodded in understanding. “It’s going to take a coordinated effort from federal, state, and local law enforcement agencies to make that happen. The point of today’s exercise is to explore the challenges inherent in apprehending suspects in the mountain environment.”
Pella glanced over at Marc, a grin on his face. “We’ve got an expert here.”
Marc ignored the comment, listening as McBride explained what would happen next. Several illegal campsites had been set up in the forest to the north of the old mine, away from mine shafts and other hazards. They would take turns in mixed teams of three moving in on the campsites and apprehending the DUSMs pretending to be bad guys. They would then evaluate their performance and get feedback from McBride and his crew.