When I open my mouth to yell again, the wind whips rock-hard ice pellets into my face, and I slap the visor shut. I slit my eyes, turn my face from the wind, open my visor, and shout “Will!” but the storm devours my words. Even with it shut, I hear the howl of the wind, an enraged beast battering at me.
Blinking against the prickle of ice pellets, I close my visor. When I lift my leg over the seat, I hear him say, Stay on the sled, Butler. I’m just lucky I wasn’t the one hitting it. I curse, but on a path this narrow, striking a tree is damn near inevitable.
The sled’s back slides-right into a tree. It’s on us before I can react, a cyclone of driving snow and roaring wind, and I hit the brakes so hard my ass shoots off the seat and nearly sends me face-first through the windshield. Then I see what he does: a wall of white. Anders doesn’t see it-he’s gawking at something to the left, and I flip up my visor to shout at him. We’re ripping along when I catch sight of a dark shape ahead. Given that the sun starts setting midafternoon, we don’t have much time. Hell, I’d have taken the horses instead if Dalton wasn’t due back before nightfall I need Sutherland caught by then. But he’s too afraid of the forest to actually leave the path, which makes him very easy to track after a light snowfall. Yesterday, Dalton flew to Dawson City on a supply run and, yep, Sutherland bolted again. Protecting citizens is our responsibility, even when it means protecting them from themselves. Our boss-Sheriff Eric Dalton-warned Sutherland that if it happened again, he would spend the winter in the jail cell instead. Then the first snow came, and he snapped, declaring that he wasn’t spending another winter in this town. If a resident keeps his head down and doesn’t cause trouble, we don’t notice him. Rockton is a secret off-the-grid town, a safe haven for people in hiding. The sun glitters off snow and ice as I whip along, taking my corners a little too tight, playing with the machine, enjoying the ride on what has become a rather routine task. I’m glad Sutherland’s prints are obvious, because it’s such a gorgeous day, I struggle to focus on my task. Deputy Will Anders and I are roaring along on our snowmobiles, following a clear set of footprints in newly fallen snow. When the snow starts, you might curse at the suddenness of it, but you know it wasn’t sudden at all. At the very least, you sense a weight in the air. Except that’s not how it usually happens. We’ve been tracking Shawn Sutherland for almost two hours when the blizzard strikes.
0 kommentar(er)
