“It’s a damned tragedy.” Deputy Marcs put her pen and notepad away. “Winona is one of the kindest people I know. Any word?”
Chaska looked up at the board again. “Not yet.”
“I’m supposed to tell you, Chaska, that Joe and Rain are taking dinner to your place tonight so that you don’t have to worry about your family. I think Megs and Ahearn are bringing your vehicle down so you can drive back to Scarlet when you’re ready.”
Chaska didn’t seem surprised by any of this. “Thanks for letting me know.”
But Jason was impressed. The people of Scarlet really did take care of their own.
“Also, the Forest Service is closing the area around the camp until they’ve had time to take down any traplines. I’ve asked the US Marshal Service to speak with the prisoner to get the locations of his traps. Hopefully, the bastard will cooperate. I’ve got to go and get this report filed. Please know I’m keeping Winona in my prayers.”
Chaska shook her hand. “I appreciate all you’ve done. I know Winona does, too.”
Jason held out his hand as well. “Thank you.”
Five minutes after Deputy Marcs had left, a group of deputy US marshals—DUSMs—walked down the hallway, McBride among them.
He saw them, stopped, told the others to go on ahead. “Oh, God. Don’t tell me it was Winona.”
Jason and Chaska nodded.
“Son of a bitch.” McBride sat, rubbed his face with his hands. “What happened? I got a call from the Forest County sheriff saying a woman stepped in a trap set by our prisoner and asking me to find out how many more traps he’s got out there.”
Once again, Jason told the story. Somehow, the weight of it got heavier each time. Seeing the chain. Shouting to warn her. Thesnapof steel jaws. Her screams.
McBride looked like he wanted to punch someone by the time Jason had finished. “I’m going to get the information from Graham about the rest of the traps. I’m also going to ask for an additional charge of assault. He needs to be held accountable.”
Jason stared at him. “That’s why you’re here. He’s here—inthishospital.”
Both he and Chaska stood.
McBride got to his feet as well. “Oh, no. I can’t let the two of you into his room.”
Jason pushed—hard. “I won’t touchhim. I just want to give him a piece of my mind before you send him back to Alabama.”
But Chaska was more to the point. “I want to look the bastard who almost killed my sister in the eyes.”
McBride’s gaze dropped to the floor for a moment, and Jason knew he was thinking it through. When he looked up, his jaw was set. “If I take you with me, I need your word you won’t lay hands on him. If you do, it’s my ass. Understand?”
Jason didn’t need the explanation. He knew how things worked. “Got it.”
“I understand.”
They walked with McBride to the prisoner’s room, McBride sharing some of what he knew along the way. “Graham told us he was breeding wolfdogs as a source of income. He hoped to sell them for dog fights and use the cash for ammo, tools, and other supplies he couldn’t get from the land or steal.”
Jason hadn’t thought he could possibly hate Graham more, but that did it. “What a piece of shit.”
“He belongs in a cage, not the wolves,” Chaska muttered.
They came to a door where two DUSMs stood guard, the rest of McBride’s crew milling about, waiting for their boss.
One of the DUSMs looked from Chaska to Jason. “Who are they?”
McBride answered the question truthfully without explaining their connection to this case. “Jason Chiago is with the Shadow Wolves, and Chaska Belcourt did some tracking for us on a fugitive case. They need to talk with the prisoner.”
Eyebrows rose. Heads nodded.
“Shadow Wolves. Cool.”