Chapter 2

Cyrus's first week with MBH was crammed with minor hassles as he filled out new-hire paperwork and met the other members of the team. Not that they had many permanent members just yet.

Cage was still hanging around, making sure Darleen was properly trained in her new role as the hunter in charge of the agency's new West Yellowstone office. From what Cyrus had observed, she was a good choice—smart, with good people skills, and no-nonsense, the last quality being the most important in his eyes.

Darleen had spent a few days interviewing people to staff up the office, although they didn't have much of an office just yet. Rather than build a facility from the ground up as Cage had done in Dead Horse, they'd found a property outside West Yellowstone, an old dude ranch/lodge with fifteen acres to provide privacy. Cyrus figured Fetch Winters must have deep pockets to afford prime real estate so near a national park, no matter that the lodge needed renovating to meet their needs. One very convenient plus to this situation was that the hunters were all housed inside the lodge until they could find their own places, however long that took. So far, they weren't being charged for the use of the rooms.

The team was presently meeting in the dining room adjacent to the kitchen—their conference room for now. Computer cables and electrical cords littered the floor, enough that they were a safety hazard, although their newly hired office manager, Liesel Westhofen, danced among them like a sprite, never placing a foot wrong. She was graceful; he'd give her that, but not his type. She was too chipper and always wearing a smile. He shuddered at the thought of spending too much time with the bubbly blonde.

This morning's meeting brought a fresh face—a clean-shaven dude by the name of Mike Meakin, who had hired on with the West Yellowstone PD just before MBH had arrived in town. Apparently, he was known to the group around the table because there were smiles and waves as he joined them.

Cage glanced at Cyrus. "Mike was a deputy working out of Lander, Wyoming. He helped us a few times when we were operating in the area. He's also ex-Army, Special Forces."

Cyrus nodded and gave the man a second look.

"He's part-time for now," Cage said. "He's testing the waters, so he hired on with the local PD. He'll work with us on his days off."

Cyrus perked up again. A part-timer wouldn't be in his shit all the time. "He need a partner?" Cyrus asked, leaning toward Cage.

Cage's mouth curved. "Yeah, I was thinking you two would work well together. He's not excessively chatty, ex-Army like you, and he'll be out of your hair half the time. After the meeting, I'll introduce you."

Darleen cleared her throat. "We're about to start. Does everyone have their coffee? There are also cookies on the buffet line," she said, tilting her head toward the buffet line with a single warming bulb turned on over a large white plate of cookies.

The part-timer moved to the buffet, snagged two cookies, poured a cup of coffee from the urn at the end of the buffet, and then joined them.

"Real quick," she said, "not everyone knows who's seated around the table. How about we go around and say your name and which branch of MBH you're from." She held up a finger. "I'm Darleen Crockett. I came out of the Dead Horse office, but I'm Yellowstone now."

Malcolm, who sat beside her, cleared his throat. "Malcolm Winslow, also started in Dead Horse, but now I'm assigned to Yellowstone."

A short redhead sitting beside Liesel lifted her chin, "Felicity Gronkowski. I was with the Bear Lodge office, but I work for Renegade Investigation and Protection now. I'm a loaner. I'm here to train up Liesel after we get the new ops van your CEO, Fletch Winters, is getting rigged out for this location."

The man sitting beside her lifted his prosthetic right hand. "I'm Hook out of the Bear Lodge office, and I'm with her," he said, giving Felicity a wink.

Moving around the table, a dark-haired man with a close-cut beard and mustache touched the side of his eyebrow with a salute. "Mace Lopez and this boy is Taco," he said, petting the black and tan German Shepherd at his side. "I'm from Kalispell, but I'm transferring here."

Cage gave the table a nod. "Cage Morgan, Dead Horse."

"That just leaves Liesel," Darleen said.

The blonde wrinkled her nose. "I'm a local hire. I was an ex-office manager at the local waste management office, but hold your garbage jokes. I'm not a hunter, but I am ex-military. I was in the Marines. I'm also born and bred in West Yellowstone, so if you're looking for recommendations…"

Darleen smiled at Liesel. "You have the database pulled up?"

Liesel nodded, moving her mouse and clicking. A moment later, a chart appeared on the portable screen that had been erected at the end of the table. "I sorted first by distance—zero to a hundred-fifty miles—then by the size of the bond." With a final click, the chart updated.

At the top was a two-hundred-thousand-dollar bond for a Wilma Bassett from Rexburg, Idaho. Her age was listed as fifty-five. The crime listed was embezzlement. No previous arrests.

Malcolm whistled. "That's a fat bond for someone you wouldn't think would be a huge flight risk. Fifty-five, with two kids in the same town? Who the hell did she rob?"

Felicity's fingers flew across the laptop in front of her. "She was the CFO of the local Morman temple. She embezzled over a million, but they've only recovered fifty thousand."

"That church is the biggest in the area," Liesel said, her finger scrolling the screen on her iPhone. "It wouldn't make sense to hide somewhere everyone knows you."

"Still, we need feet on the ground there," Cage said. "Might talk to old co-workers or friends to see if they have a sense of where she might head."

Darleen looked down at Malcolm. "Why don't you and Mace head down there for a day or two."

Mace held up a thumb, and Malcolm gave him a nod.

"Next," Liesel said, skipping her cursor down the rows. "This one's close by. Island Park, Idaho, which is thirty minutes from here. Tate Smith, twenty-seven years old. Thirty-thousand-dollar bond. Home invasion, aggravated battery."

Darleen looked at Cyrus. He gave her a nod.

Cyrus turned to Mike Meakin. "Care to join me?"

The corners of Mike's mouth curved slightly. "Let's do it."

Beside him, Cage gave him an approving nod. "Liesel will print off everything we have so far. Arrest warrant, any documents the bondsman provided scans of. When we get up and running—properly staffed—we'll have folks who can do some initial cold calls to save you time."

"I've been doing all this by myself," Cyrus said.

"You saying you're not spoiled?" Cage said with a grin.

"I'm saying I can handle it, but I wouldn't mind being a little spoiled."

Cage chuckled. "Holler if you need anything."

The meeting ended. Malcolm pushed up from the table and leaned toward Darleen to kiss her cheek. "My go bag's in the SUV. I'll have Mace make some calls while we're on the road, but I don't want to waste daylight."

"Call me tonight when you've got a minute," Darleen said, sighing. "Wish I could go with you, but I've got a contractor coming in to work up some estimates for renovating the work areas of the lodge. Cage and I have been putting together some ideas."

"I'll call. You'll have your hands so full you won't even notice I'm gone."

"We taking your vehicle or mine?" a voice said beside Cyrus. He moved his attention away from Darleen and Malcolm and turned to his new part-time, for-now partner. "Mine, I guess. I have the back outfitted with anything we might need, protective gear and weapon-wise."

Mike nodded. "I'll get my go bag from my truck."

A little over half an hour later, they arrived at a trailer park in Island Park, Idaho. They drove slowly through the residential area, peering at mailboxes lined up along the edge of the gravel road. Toward the back of the area, they slowed as they approached a seedy trailer that looked like it needed a good pressure wash to get rid of the years of accumulated grime on its sides.

"No vehicle," Mike murmured.

Cyrus passed the trailer and drove several trailers down before performing a U-turn in the middle of the road and then stopping so the rear of his Toyota Sequoia was pointed away from Tate Smith's trailer.

They both exited and headed to the back of the vehicle, where they quickly donned Kevlar vests, web belts, and weapons, just in case.

"What'd he do now?" came a loud whisper from the other side of Cyrus's SUV.

Cyrus glanced around the side of his vehicle and found an old man leaning on a walker. "Can I help you, sir?"

The old man lifted his chin toward Tate's trailer. "That boy in trouble again?"

Mike slid his handgun into its holster and stepped up alongside Cyrus. "Are you talking about Tate Smith?" he asked, his tone friendlier than Cyrus's would have been.

"I hope they lock him up this time. His place is an eyesore. When he's here, it doesn't matter what time of the day or night; he's playing his music too loud and swearing at the top of his lungs. It's not right."

"Have you seen him lately?" Cyrus asked.

The old man glanced at the badge he'd attached to his Kevlar. "Bounty hunters, huh?" A smile stretched across his face, revealing several missing teeth. "You boys know those Montana Bounty Hunters? The ones in the TV show?"

Mike grinned. "We work for that agency. We know 'em."

The old man frowned. "Ain't seen you on TV."

"We're new," Mike said, then tilted his head toward Tate's place. "Have you seen him?"

"Not for a couple of days. The last time he was here, he backed his old pickup right to the door, then started throwing his crap into it like he was in a hurry to get the hell out of Dodge. I heard he got himself arrested again, so I was surprised to see him."

"Well, he skipped court, so we have to bring him in," Mike said.

Cyrus was getting impatient. He wished Mike would get back to the point so they could get on with the business of finding the scumbag.

Mike kept his expression friendly. "Do you know anyone who might know where he went?"

The old man rubbed the back of his neck. "He'd got a girlfriend, Mindy Claxton. She lives in the second trailer when you come off the highway. She might know."

Mike held out his hand. "I appreciate your help. We're gonna check out his place, then head on over to see Mindy."

"I'll be looking for you on the TV."

As the man bumped his walker down his driveway, the two hunters shared a glance.

"Seems friendly," Mike said.

"Glad one of us has people skills," Cyrus muttered.

They crossed the street to the trailer and headed in opposite directions, circling it. When they met back up at the steps leading to the front door, Cyrus said, "I peeked inside. The lights are out. It doesn't look like anyone's home."

"Can you pick a lock?" Mike asked.

"Why bother when I have a crowbar?" Cyrus said.

Mike's eyebrows rose. "How about we check to see if the door's locked first?" He climbed the steps and turned the handle. Then he gave it a shake and pulled. The door opened. He took a step forward, then backed up. "Fuck, you smell that?" He grimaced, then stepped inside.

Cyrus held his breath and followed him in. The source of the stench was rotten food in the sink and on the table. Flies buzzed inside.

Cyrus hit the light switch. The interior looked even worse illuminated.

"Christ, I've seen dead bodies that smelled better than this," Mike said, pulling up his white undershirt to cover his nose.

"Don't be a pussy," Cyrus said, although he was fighting his gag reflex, too. "Let's just do a quick search. Maybe open a window."

Mike grabbed a grubby washcloth from the side of the sink and slid the bottom of the window over the sink upward. A breeze swept through, helping to dispel the odor somewhat.

Cyrus eyed the hallway. "I'll check the bedroom."

"Ugh. I'll toss the living room here," Mike said.

Cyrus went to the bedroom at the end of the hall and searched the room, peering into the closet, under the bed, and into drawers. He also flipped the mattress, but he didn't find anything under it except candy wrappers, empty fast-food containers, dead bug bodies, and a pile of dirty clothes. He moved back into the hallway and headed into the bathroom to continue his search. There was nothing there except more crimes against housekeeping.

When he returned to the living room, Mike was standing on the stoop outside the front door, breathing deeply of the fresh outdoor air. He glanced over his shoulder. "Didn't find a thing that might help us."

"Me neither."

"We gonna close that window?" Mike said, looking revolted at the idea of going back inside.

"Hell no." Cyrus pulled the door closed behind him and resisted rubbing his hands on his clothes. "I have wet wipes in the vehicle."

"I think I need a hazmat shower."

An older model Challenger pulled into the driveway, and a woman slammed out of her vehicle, heading their way.

She was of an indeterminate age, perhaps in her thirties or forties. Her bleach-blond hair showed two inches of dark roots, and her skin looked like leather from too much tanning. Her expression was as dark as a thundercloud as she approached. "What the hell were you two doin' in Tate's house?" she said, her voice surprisingly deep and raspy.

"By chance, are you Mindy?" Mike asked, the corners of his mouth beginning to turn up in a smile.

Her frown turned into an ugly scowl. "Don't fuck with me, shithead," she growled. "You two were in Tate's place without his permission. That's a fucking crime. I ought to call the sheriff on both of you."

Cyrus narrowed his eyes and leaned toward her. "Tate lost his right to consent to a search when he failed to show up in court," he said in his meanest voice. " Are you Mindy? "

She blinked up at him. "I don't have to tell you that."

"That's right. You don't. And you don't have to tell us where your boyfriend is, but I'll tell you something. The last man I hunted down led me on a long-ass, bullshit chase. I was so fucking fed up when I found him I put a bullet in his leg so he couldn't run. Tate's not gonna outrun me. I'm a fucking Army Ranger, and I know how to fucking hunt. If you give two shits about your dumbass boyfriend, you'll tell me where he is."