Above the Timberline

By Robert Callis

Kit Andrews, owner of Rocky Mountain Searchers, receives a request from a woman in Santa Fe, New Mexico, to locate her missing son. Her son, a twenty-seven-year-old ex-Marine, disappeared two years before after being discharged from the Marine Corps at the conclusion of two tours of duty in Iraq as a scout sniper. The woman requires Kit to travel from Kemmerer, Wyoming, to Santa Fe to meet with her personally. When Kit arrives in New Mexico, he receives a shocking surprise about the identity of the woman and her son.

Because the last sighting of the son was in Wyoming, Kit has been hired as a local expert. In addition, the other firms the woman had hired found no trace of her son in two years of searching. Kits partner, Swifty Olson, is sidelined with a broken foot, so Kit enlists his father to assist him in the search. Kit narrows his search to two possible locations in Wyoming that are inaccessible in winter. He and his father search and eliminate one area and concentrate on the Big Horn Mountains above Sheridan, Wyoming. They find some clues and decide to add some help. Kits father enlists the help of old friends from his days in the army, and they discover they are not the only ones searching for the womans son. It seems the ex-Marine sniper was so good at his job that Islamic fanatics have put a price on his head and sent a hit squad to the United States to kill him. Now, its a race to try to find the son before the terrorists and their hired thugs do.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: May 8, 2018
• ISBN: 9781532048609

Robert Callis

ROBERT CALLIS is a native of Galva, Illinois. He graduated from Iowa Wesleyan University in 1965 with a B.A. majoring in History and minoring in English. At Wesleyan he was a member of Signa Tau Delta literary society. He attended the College of Law at the University of Illinois in Champaign-Urbana, Illinois. He is a retired commercial banker. This is his tenth novel and his ninth in a series about Kit Andrews. The other eight in the series are Kemmerer, Hanging Rock, Buckskin Crossing, The Ghosts of Skeleton Canyon, the Night Hawk, Above the Timberline, the Reunion, and Swifty. He has also written an stand alone novel, the Horse Holder, a story set during the siege of Atlanta during the Civil War. He resides in the foothills outside Boulder, Colorado, where he has lived since 1986.

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Copyright © 2018 Robert Callis.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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Library of Congress Control Number: 2018905624

ISBN: 978-1-5320-4859-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5320-4860-9 (e)

iUniverse rev. date: 06/06/2018

CONTENTS

Dedication

Prologue Camp Lejeune, North Carolina

Chapter One Kemmerer, Wyoming

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-One

Chapter Forty-Two

Chapter Forty-Three

Chapter Forty-Four

Chapter Forty-Five

Chapter Forty-Six

Chapter Forty-Seven

Chapter Forty-Eight

Chapter Forty-Nine

Chapter Fifty

Chapter Fifty-One

Chapter Fifty-Two

Acknowledgements

DEDICATION

This book is dedicated to my wise, older sister, Cherrill Flynn. She is the smartest and best looking of my family and the kindest person I know.

When I set out to try to write a book and spent five years writing Kemmerer, she was a source of encouragement. When I finally finished that first book, she read it and immediately called me.

What happens next? she wanted to know.

What do you mean what happens next? I asked.

I want to know what happens next to Kit, Swifty, and Big Dave, she said.

You mean I have to write another book? I asked.

Absolutely, she said. This is too good a story to have it end now. You need to continue their story.

And so, I have.

Enjoy this new adventure, big sister. And thanks for encouraging me to pursue something that has given me a great deal of joy and satisfaction.

PROLOGUE

Camp Lejeune, North Carolina

Billy McMaster lay in bed in his friend Ben’s guest bedroom. He felt restless and was unable to sleep. It was his first official night as a civilian after nine years in the United States Marine Corps. The former Lance Corporal had stripped to his t-shirt and underwear but felt hot and had pushed the covers on the bed to one side.

Ben and his wife, Sandi, and their son Andy lived on base housing. The houses were plain, small, and well worn. But, for them, it was home. Billy wondered just where his home was now that he was no longer an active marine. He had no real plans other than to drive to Santa Fe, New Mexico, and visit his mother. His mother, Sharon, was now a widow. Her husband, Frank, had died of a heart attack two years ago while Billy was in his first tour in Iraq. Frank had been a wealthy man and now Sharon was a wealthy widow. Frank had been a generous father to Billy. When Frank married Sharon, he adopted Billy, who was ten at the time. Frank had established a trust fund for Billy a year later. The trust fund had been generating cash since then, and Billy had hardly ever touched any of it. The money kept growing in his bank account. Billy had managed to live on his marine pay and kept his lifestyle spartan.

Billy planned to start for New Mexico in the morning, after he had breakfast with Ben and his family. Still restless, he got out of bed and silently walked to the bathroom. He had no sooner flushed the toilet when a large explosion rattled the windows and shook the house. A bright burst of light shot though the nearest window, and the impact of the blast almost knocked Billy off his footing. He rushed to the window and looked outside.

The early morning darkness was penetrated by the bright light of a fire enveloping Billy’s Jeep. The vehicle had exploded. Billy grabbed his jeans and pulled them on and ran for the front door of the house. He was met at the front door by Ben, who was headed in the same direction.

What the hell happened? said a shocked Ben.

My Jeep just blew up, replied Billy.

How could that happen? asked Ben.

Got no idea, Bro, said Billy.

The two men carefully approached the burning hulk that had been Billy’s Jeep. Ben produced a cell phone and called 911 to report the fire. Billy produced a .45 caliber handgun from the back of his jeans and began to do a careful survey of the area around the burning Jeep.

Billy had gotten about halfway around the Jeep when he spotted something that did not seem to belong. He carefully moved closer to the object until he could identify it. Once he could make out the object, he yelled to Ben. Ben, get over here! You need to see this!

Ben came running over and when he reached Billy’s side, he looked down and saw what Billy had found.

Holy shit, said Ben. That’s a man’s arm.

Look at the hand, said Billy.

Ben looked carefully at the hand on the end of the arm. The hand was holding a slim jim, a slender metal blade used by car thieves to gain access to a locked vehicle.

Somebody tried to steal your Jeep and it blew up? asked Ben. How the hell does that happen? Did you booby trap the Jeep?

I didn’t, said Billy, But somebody did, and this car thief was tryin’ to steal the wrong car at the wrong time.

Holy shit, said Ben. That could’ve been you!

Was supposed to be me, said Billy. Lucky for me, bad luck for the dumb shit car thief.

CHAPTER ONE

Kemmerer, Wyoming

Kit Andrews was walking back to his combination home and office in the old Kemmerer bank building he was renovating. He had just finished having coffee at the café with Big Dave Carlson and his father, Tom Andrews. Having coffee with the two older men was how Kit started almost every day of his life in Wyoming.

He smiled as he walked across the triangle that made up the center of the small town of Kemmerer. Every morning with Big Dave and Tom was an exchange of friendly insults and getting updates of what was going on in southern Lincoln County. Their stories made him feel even closer to his adopted state of Wyoming.

Kit paused at the highway separating the Triangle Park from the old bank building. The sign over the entrance of the building read Rocky Mountain Searchers. It was a simple sign with white letters given to Kit by his father. A lone old GMC pickup passed by him. The driver waved at Kit and he could see the wagging tails of two dogs riding in the bed of the old truck as it drove down the road.

The rush of traffic having ended, Kit crossed the highway and made his way into the entrance of his new home. His father had purchased the old building and gave it to Kit as a gift with the admonition it was up to Kit to finish the renovation. It was a slow process, but now he had the second floor completely renovated into his living quarters. The main lobby now housed his office as well as a small conference room. The rest was open space. The old teller line remained, because his best friend, Swifty, had insisted it would make a great bar when they had parties in the building. One of the old vaults held documents, files, and supplies. The other vault held all kinds of weapons, ammunition, and tactical gear.

The basement was now a vented and lighted indoor shooting range. The old drive-in had been enclosed and converted to a garage for four vehicles and plenty of storage. Work continued on the renovation, but now most of the remaining tasks were cosmetic in nature. Once Kit was in the lobby, he could hear Swifty yelling at the small work crew. Kit smiled. Swifty would never change.

No sooner had the front door closed behind Kit, than Swifty rolled into the lobby. He literally rolled into the lobby on a knee scooter. Two weeks before, Swifty had fallen off a high ladder and broken his leg. The broken leg was now encased in a cast. The cast had been autographed by numerous people and contained their names and various insults the signers had directed at Swifty.

My God, said Swifty. Look what the damn cat drug in.

Good morning to you, Swifty, said Kit with a grin on his face.

Ready to do some real work, tenderfoot? asked Swifty.

I’m paying you to get this renovation done. I don’t remember me being listed on your work crew, said Kit.

You’re such a pansy, tenderfoot, said Swifty. A little hard work would do you some good.

Maybe, but I got other kinds of work to get done today, countered Kit.

What’s goin’ on? asked Swifty, as he produced a cup of coffee from a cup holder he had somehow managed to attach to the knee scooter.

Some lawyer guy named Blusten made an appointment for ten o’clock this morning. I’m not sure what it’s all about, but it sounded like a possible job for Rocky Mountain Searchers, said Kit.

Now? said Swifty. Now, when I’m all stoved up and can’t get around without this damned wheeled scooter. That ain’t right.

Right or not, if the man wants us to find something, that’s what we’re in business for, said Kit.

Maybe it’s something that can wait till I get healed up, offered Swifty.

I have no idea what he wants and won’t until he tells me. I promise I’ll tell you what the deal is as soon as he leaves, said Kit.

You damn well better, said a frustrated Swifty.

Kit almost laughed out loud. Swifty was an ex-Delta Force soldier, and he was one of the most active men Kit had ever known. He knew it was just killing Swifty to be stuck with a broken leg and having to rely on a knee scooter to get around.

Kit went into their small first floor kitchen and poured himself a cup of hot coffee. He added cream and sugar and stirred the coffee. Returning to his office, he turned on his computer and entered the necessary codes and passwords until he was in the company system. Kit spent the next two hours answering messages and e-mails and doing some research on the internet.

When Kit had finished his work on the computer, he realized he had not touched his cup of coffee, and it was now ice cold. He rose from his chair and grabbed the cup and strode out of his office to the tiny first floor kitchen. He tossed out the cold coffee and poured a fresh cup, adding sugar and cream. After stirring the coffee, he returned to his office and sat down at his desk. He sipped the hot coffee and savored the flavor, the warmth, and the caffeine.

Kit sat back in his chair and looked over his newly renovated office. The front of the office faced the lobby of the building and was almost all glass, including the door. He had an excellent view of the interior of the building including the old teller line and the front door.

The floor was now oak, and the walls were painted a cream white. Both had been suggestions from his girlfriend Shirley Townsend. The old metal folding chairs Swifty had rescued from the dumpster were gone. In their place were two matching leather and wood arm chairs for visitors. Kit’s desk was at the back of the office, facing the front. Behind the desk, he had a matching credenza to store supplies. Built into the credenza was a computer work station and a dedicated printer. To Kit’s right, about in the middle of the room, was a small round coffee table placed in front of a leather love seat that was placed against the side wall. Two matching leather easy chairs were on the other side of the table.

On the wall behind Kit’s credenza was a huge framed map of the state of Wyoming. Behind the loveseat was a large copy of Charles M. Russell’s painting, Shadows of Death. The opposite wall held several wooden display cases. Each of the cases contained a memento from significant events of Kit’s life in Wyoming.

Kit’s thoughts about his office were interrupted when he heard the front door open. He looked up and saw a middle-aged man dressed in an expensive three-piece suit and tie step into the building. Kit rose from his desk and strode out of his office and into the lobby and greeted the man.

Howdy, said Kit. May I help you, sir?

Good morning, responded the man. I’m here to see a Mr. Kit Andrews. I have an appointment.

I’m Andrews, said Kit as he extended his hand.

Good to finally meet you, Mr. Andrews. I’m Barry Blusten, said the man as he took Kit’s extended hand and shook it.

Please come into my office, said Kit.

Mr. Blusten followed Kit into his office and took a seat in front of Kit’s desk as Kit lowered himself into his chair.

Would you care for a cup of coffee? asked Kit.

Thank you, but no, said Mr. Blusten. I’ve already had too much coffee this morning.

What can I do for you, Mr. Blusten? asked Kit.

Before we get started on business, said Mr. Blusten. Is that an original Russell painting there on the wall?

No sir, it’s a copy, said Kit. I saw the painting at the Denver Art Museum and tried to get a print, but was unable to find one. I discovered this artist in California who makes very good copies and had him make it for me.

Are you a Russell fan? asked Mr. Blusten.

I admire his work as well as Remington’s, said Kit.

I say, that is an interesting collection you have in those display cases on the wall. Is that a Russell illustrated letter you have up there?

It’s just a copy of one that was given to me, said Kit. The owner of the original was the son of a man who rode with Russell and gave it to his son. The son made a copy for me.

Interesting, said Mr. Blusten. If I am not being too presumptuous, what are the other items in the cases?

The long case contains an original Henry rifle I discovered in a cave outside of Kemmerer. The owner was a member of Butch Cassidy’s Hole in the Wall Gang, explained Kit. The smallest case contains a sheet of mint Confederate postage stamps. The fat case contains a distributor for a Liberty 12 engine used in a DE Haviland DH4B airplane that crashed in the Wind River Mountains in 1928. The last case contains an Apache tomahawk which was given to me in a place called Skeleton Canyon down in southeast Arizona, added Kit.

My goodness, that is quite the collection, remarked Mr. Blusten.

All of those things have meaning to me, but they are likely worthless to anyone else, answered Kit.

Well, thank you for the explanation, Mr. Andrews, said Mr. Blusten.

Please call me Kit, Mr. Blusten, said Kit.

Of course, said the lawyer, Kit it is.

What, exactly, are you here about? asked Kit.

I am an attorney with the Chicago law firm of Black, Winston, and Blusten, said Mr. Blusten. I have a client who is searching for her son, and we are interested in obtaining your services in assisting our search.

I see, said Kit. What can you tell me about your client and her son?

Before I start, I would like you to sign this confidentiality agreement, said Mr. Blusten. My client is a very wealthy woman and insists on discretion concerning the search for her son.

May I see the agreement? asked Kit.

Mr. Blusten produced the agreement from his briefcase and then produced an expensive looking pen. Kit read the agreement over and found nothing onerous about it. He picked up the pen and signed the agreement.

Do you mind if I make a copy of the agreement? asked Kit.

I have presumed to make you a copy in advance, said Mr. Blusten as he handed Kit a copy of the agreement from the briefcase. Kit took the copy and handed the original to Mr. Blusten. Kit skimmed over the copy and satisfied it was an exact copy of the agreement, he placed it to the side of the desk.

Kit leaned back in his chair and looked at the lawyer. Tell me about your client and the assignment, said Kit.

My client had very modest beginnings, said Mr. Blusten. She grew up poor and worked as a waitress outside Ft. Benning, Georgia. She met a soldier, and they dated for about a month. During that month, they had coitus.

Coitus? What’s coitus? asked Kit.

Mr. Blusten’s mouth twitched and twisted into a sort of frown.

They had sex, Kit, said Mr. Blusten.

Oh, said Kit. It’s not a word I am familiar with.

Understandable, said Mr. Blusten.

So, what happened? asked Kit

The soldier got shipped out and two months later my client discovered she was pregnant. She knew the soldier’s name, but had no knowledge of what outfit he was serving with or where he was. She decided it was her problem and not his, so she waited until late in her term and then went to a home for unwed mothers. There she had a baby boy and elected to keep him and raise him. Considering the times, this was a very bold decision. My client is a very strong-willed woman, and she managed to survive in a rather hostile environment.

When the boy was ten years old, my client met another soldier from Ft. Benning. They dated and fell in love. The soldier was the heir to a large family fortune. They married when he left the service, and he adopted the boy.

How old is the boy now? asked Kit.

Mr. Blusten produced two thick file folders from his briefcase. He handed one of the folders to Kit. This is your copy, said the lawyer. He opened the folder and leafed through several pages until he found what he was searching for. The boy’s name is William, and he goes by Billy. He is twenty-nine years old.

So how did he disappear? asked Kit,

I’ll get to that in a minute, said Mr. Blusten. He was obviously a man who did not want to be rushed in telling his story. Billy did well in school, was active in sports, but was a bit of a troublemaker. He had frequent issues with discipline in school. When he graduated from high school, his mother wanted him to go to college. He wanted nothing to do with college. He also refused to consider any technical schools his mother suggested. Without talking to his mother, Billy enlisted in the Marine Corps. His mother was suitably devastated.

Is he still in the Marine Corps? asked Kit.

No, he is not, said Mr. Blusten. I believe he technically is still in the Marine Corps Reserve, but he is no longer in the active military.

What happened to him in the Marine Corps? asked Kit.

Billy served in the infantry, becoming a scout sniper. He served nine years in the Marine Corps. He served two tours of duty in Iraq where he gained a formidable reputation as a sniper, said Mr. Blusten.

How formidable? asked Kit.

I do not possess the actual statistics, but he was responsible for the deaths of a considerable number of the enemy and because of his prowess, ISIS put a bounty on his head, said Mr. Blusten.

That sounds formidable to me, said Kit.

Again, I don’t have all the statistics and details, but apparently, there were attempts on his life in Iraq, said the lawyer.

I don’t understand what you mean, said Kit. He was a sniper shooting at the enemy, and likely they were shooting back.

These attempts were made while he was in camp and out of the combat zone, said Mr. Blusten. Two of them were made by supposedly loyal Iraqi soldiers.

What happened? asked Kit.

According to the military reports, Billy killed two men with his knife, and a third man with his bare hands, said Mr. Blusten. Even by Marine Corps standards, Billy has become a very dangerous man. After the attacks, Billy decided he would muster out when his tour was up, said the lawyer. He returned to the states, did some garrison duty and managed to get in trouble with the military police.

What did he do? asked Kit.

Billy took umbrage with a young MP who attempted to give him a ticket for being out of uniform. Billy dumped the young MP into a nearby garbage can. It took four MP’s to subdue him, and he spent two weeks in the guard house as punishment, said Mr. Blusten. According to the report, Billy was described as very salty. I am not familiar with the terminology.

It means he was one tough marine, said Kit.

The facts seem to support that, said Mr. Blusten. Billy stayed on garrison duty in Camp Lejeune, North Carolina, until his enlistment was up. He mustered out of the Marine Corps and spent his first night as a civilian with a close friend, Ben Waddie. Waddie was Billy’s spotter in Iraq. Waddie is married with a child, and he resides on base in married housing at Camp Lejeune. During that night, persons unknown managed to plant a bomb in Billy’s Jeep, which was parked outside the Waddie residence. The bomb was set to explode when the ignition was engaged.

Was Billy hurt in the explosion? asked Kit.

Billy was in the bathroom when the Jeep exploded, said Mr. Blusten.

How did that happen? asked Kit.

By a stroke of good fortune, a car thief had targeted Billy’s Jeep, and when he tried to hot wire the Jeep, the bomb went off.

I assume the thief did not survive the explosion? asked Kit.

According to the military police report, only body parts of the thief were recovered. One part was an arm and clutched in the hand was a car theft tool known as a slim jim, said Mr. Blusten.

Billy was lucky. What happened then? asked Kit.

Billy had Ben give him a lift to the nearest Jeep dealership. According to the dealership records, he bought a new Jeep Wrangler, Rubicon edition. Billy paid cash for the vehicle and drove it off the lot.

Where did he go then? asked Kit.

After he drove off the dealer’s lot, he disappeared, said Mr. Blusten. My client hired two different detective agencies to try to find him, and they had very limited success.

What did they find? asked Kit.

There were electronic traces of him from North Carolina to Wyoming. He received a wire transfer from his trust account to a bank account he had opened in Cheyenne, Wyoming. After the wire was received, he took the entire amount in cash and closed the account. He left no forwarding address, said Mr. Blusten.

What kind of electronic traces? asked Kit.

Most of them were for lodging and some for meals and gasoline. After his stop in Cheyenne, all the traces stopped, said Mr. Blusten.

What kind of places did he stay in? asked Kit.

Let’s just say most of them were quite primitive. The most expensive lodging was a Motel 6, said Mr. Blusten.

Did Billy have a storage locker near Camp Lejeune? asked Kit.

If he did, we were unable to find it, said Mr. Blusten. It’s entirely possible he did and rented it under another name.

Has he contacted his mother? asked Kit.

Yes, he has. He called her on his cell phone right after he bought the Jeep in North Carolina, said Mr. Blusten. She has heard from him twice since then. Both times were on her birthday.

What did he say to her? asked Kit.

He told his mother he was fine and not to worry. He would not tell her where he was, only that he would be in touch, said Mr. Blusten.

How long has it been since Billy disappeared? asked Kit.

A little over two years, said the attorney.

Do you know how much cash he took out of the bank in Cheyenne? asked Kit.

Billy received six hundred and fifty thousand dollars in cash, said Mr. Blusten

Wow, said Kit. So, the last location you can place Billy is in Cheyenne, Wyoming? asked Kit.

Yes, said Mr. Blusten.

What makes you think he is still somewhere in Wyoming? asked Kit.

We don’t know where he is, but Wyoming is the last place we can pinpoint. We feel there is a reason he chose a bank in Cheyenne to set up an account. He set up the account as soon as he returned to the states from Iraq. We tend to think there is a reason, but we are unaware of what that reason is, said Mr. Blusten.

Does he have any previous connection to Wyoming? Any relatives, friends, girlfriends? Has he ever been there to fish, hunt, or just camp? asked Kit.

No to each of your questions. We can find no prior connection to Wyoming of any kind.

Kit sat back in his chair and took a sip of his now cold coffee. After a minute, he leaned forward toward his guest.

You want me to find Billy for his mother?

Yes, we do. All of our other efforts have failed, and this includes some well-known and well respected investigative companies.

So, you are down to me because everyone else has failed? asked Kit.

That’s putting it a bit crudely, Kit, but I am here because you and your company have developed quite a reputation for succeeding where everyone else has failed. I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t done a thorough background investigation on you and your partner, Swifty Olson. You may not be our last hope, but I have become convinced you are our best hope. Are you interested?

Yes, I am, said Kit. You understand what my rates are?

I do. I read your website as part of my background investigation, and I must say I consider your rates quite reasonable. I can also add, if you are successful in finding Billy, there will be a bonus for you and your company, said Mr. Blusten.

Kit reached into his files in the credenza and produced his standard engagement form and handed it to Blusten.

While I am authorized to engage your services, Kit, my client has added a stipulation, said Blusten.

What’s the stipulation? asked Kit.

She wants to meet and talk with you. She wishes to see you face to face, and she has additional facts, unknown to me, that she wishes to share with you. She will be the one to sign the engagement agreement, but I will deliver it to her to sign, said Blusten.

How do I go about meeting with her? asked a slightly confused Kit.

Tomorrow morning you are to meet me at the airport in Rock Springs at nine o’clock. We will fly by private jet to Santa Fe, New Mexico. We will drive to her residence, and you will meet with her in private. Following the meeting, you will be taken to the Inn of the Anastasi in Santa Fe for the night. In the morning, a driver will take you to the airport and the same private jet will fly you back to Rock Springs. I assume this is agreeable, said Mr. Blusten.

Quite agreeable, replied Kit.

Excellent, said Blusten. He rose to his feet, as did Kit. After they shook hands, Blusten turned to go, and then stopped and turned back to Kit.

Thank you, Kit. Mrs. McMaster is a wonderful person and after losing her husband, her son is the most important thing in the world to her. I personally thank you for accepting this assignment. With that, Blusten was out the front door of the old bank building and disappeared.

Kit sat down at his desk and opened the thick file folder Blusten had left him. He was about a third of the way through the folder when Swifty rolled into his office on his knee scooter.

What was the deal with the dude in your office? asked Swifty.

A new job, replied Kit.

Where? asked Swifty.

Wyoming, answered Kit.

Can you be a little more specific, Mr. Smart Ass, said Swifty.

That is specific, replied Kit.

What does that mean? asked Swifty.

Our job is to find a man who disappeared into Wyoming two years ago, said Kit.

Two years ago! Were they a little slow on organizing the search party? asked Swifty.

They’ve been looking for almost two years, said Kit.

Sounds like kind of a cold trail, said Swifty.

Right now, there is no trail, said Kit.

What’s next? asked Swifty.

I fly to Santa Fe tomorrow to meet the client, said Kit.

We’re flying to Santa Fe? asked Swifty.

I’m flying. You’re on knee scooter duty, dumbass, said Kit.

Can’t we delay this job until I am back on my feet? asked Swifty.

I start tomorrow, and the doc says you won’t be on your feet for about two months. Does that answer your question?

Shit, said Swifty. We finally get to go to someplace nice, and I’m grounded. What a crap deal this is.

I need you here getting the remodeling of the building finished. For all I know it might take me months to find this guy, said Kit.

Who’s the client, and who’s missing? asked Swifty.

The client is a wealthy woman in Santa Fe. The missing person is her son, said Kit.

What did the son do? asked Swifty.

He was a scout sniper for the Marine Corps in Iraq. Apparently, he was good enough for ISIS put a bounty on his head. Someone tried to kill him in Camp Lejeune, North Carolina two years ago.

He must be one hell of a sniper, said Swifty.

If ISIS is afraid of him, I’m not looking forward to hunting him down, said Kit.

Maybe I’ll stick with this construction gig, said Swifty.

That’ll be the day, said Kit.

CHAPTER TWO

At nine the next morning, Kit was leaning against the hood of his pickup truck when Blusten exited from a taxi at the airport in Rock Springs, Wyoming. After they shook hands, Kit grabbed his overnight bag and followed him to a waiting twin engine corporate jet. As soon as the attendant had them seated and their bags secured, the plane began to taxi and soon was airborne and headed to Santa Fe.

Kit noted Blusten was again dressed in an expensive three-piece suit and tie. He glanced down at himself and grinned at his worn jeans, faded denim shirt, and scuffed cowboy boots. Even his Stetson cowboy hat was worn and sweat stained. Kit had no idea what Mrs. McMaster was like, but he wanted her to see him as he really was, not dressed up like some dime store cowboy.

After their lengthy conversation in Kit’s office the day before, Kit was surprised at Blusten’s silence. The lawyer had adjusted his seat back after take-off and was now fast asleep. Taking a page from Swifty’s book, Kit closed his eyes and was soon fast asleep as well.

Kit awoke to the sound of the plane’s tires touching down on the landing strip at the Santa Fe airport. He rubbed his eyes and looked out the side window of the small jet. It was sunny in Santa Fe, and the plane soon taxied to a private aircraft terminal. After a portable stairway was pushed up against the plane, the attendant opened the door and motioned for the two passengers to exit the aircraft.

As soon as Kit and Blusten reached the tarmac, a tall, thin man dressed in jeans and a white cowboy shirt complete with a white cowboy hat approached them and led them to a nearby limousine. He opened the back door and waited until both Blusten and Kit were properly seated before closing the door. The man opened the driver’s door, removed his hat and slid into the driver’s seat.

After making sure his passengers were belted in, the man started the vehicle and drove off the tarmac onto a concrete drive. After stopping at a stop sign, he turned right on an adjacent road and began to accelerate the limo.

Welcome to Santa Fe, gentlemen. My name is Sam. I’m Mrs. McMaster’s driver. We’re headed to her ranch, and the trip should take about half an hour. There are snacks and beverages in the compartments in front of you. Please help yourselves.

With that, Sam pushed a button and a privacy glass began to rise until it closed them off from the front of the limo. Kit opened the lid on the compartment in front of him and extracted a cold bottle of water. He looked at Blusten, who nodded his head, and Kit handed him a bottle of water as well.

Thanks, said Blusten as he opened his bottle and took a long swig of water. I can never seem to get enough water when I am in the desert. I know everyone tells me the desert has its own beauty, but to me it’s just a lot of brown scenery.

I’m comfortable in the desert, said Kit. I prefer the mountains, but most of southern Wyoming, including Kemmerer, is just high plains desert. This desert is lower and hotter.

Both men sat back and watched the urban area of Santa Fe slide by until they reached the outskirts of the city and the houses became fewer and less crowded together. Sam turned off the main road they had been traveling on and headed down a stretch of two lane blacktop. Now the vast expanse of the desert filled the windows of the limo as they sped past stands of cactus and mesquite.

After almost half an hour, Sam turned the limo off the blacktop road and onto a concrete drive taking them past an impressive stucco fence and under a large metal archway. Five minutes later Sam was pulling up in front of a large two-story, stucco hacienda. Kit could see more impressive outbuildings and white fences behind the hacienda.

Sam pulled the limo to a stop and exited the front seat. He pulled open the back door to the limo and held it as Kit and Blusten got out of the vehicle.

Pablo will greet you at the door and escort you to see Mrs. McMaster, said Sam. Then he reentered the limo and drove it off.

Impressive, isn’t it? said Blusten. The ranch was built by Frank. Mrs. McMaster has stayed here and to my knowledge, she has not changed a thing.

Kid did not respond. He and Blusten were admitted to the hacienda by a short, gray-haired, older Mexican gentleman dressed in blue jeans and a white cowboy shirt like the outfit Sam the driver was wearing.

Good morning, gentlemen, said Pablo in perfect English. My name is Pablo, and I am Mrs. McMaster’s house manager. She is waiting for you in her office. Please follow me.

Pablo led the two men through a large living room and down a hallway to a large wooden door that had to be at least nine feet tall. Pablo knocked softly on the door and a feminine voice from within said, Please come in.

Pablo opened the door, and Kit and Blusten entered the room. As soon as they were in Mrs. McMaster’s office, Pablo quietly closed the door behind them.

The office was large and tastefully done in a southwestern theme. The floors were red clay Sausalito tile and there were several colorful area rugs. The walls were white stucco and bore large oil paintings individually lit by small spotlights. One entire wall of the office consisted of large floor to ceiling glass windows. There was also a large skylight directly above the stately ornate desk Mrs. McMaster sat behind. There was a stone fireplace to the left of Mrs. McMaster’s desk, and there were two large leather and wooden rough-hewn chairs in front of her desk.

Mrs. McMaster rose from her desk chair and greeted the two men. Welcome to Santa Fe, gentlemen. I am pleased you were able to make it here on such short notice, she said as she shook hands with Blusten and Kit.

She did not let go of Kit’s hand immediately. She held it and looked straight into his eyes as though she were searching for something. Finally, she released his hand and returned to her chair, motioning for the gentlemen to be seated.

I assume Mr. Blusten has provided you with the file and details on our problem and has updated you on the current investigation, said Mrs. McMaster.

Yes, ma’am, he has, replied Kit.

Mrs. McMaster was a very attractive older woman. She wore a white silk blouse and black slacks. She did not wear any jewelry and very little makeup was obvious. She had dark brown, almost black eyes that seemed very intense. Her hair was worn down to the neckline, and was a lustrous black. When she spoke, she smiled, and so did her eyes.

Do you have any questions after reading the file? asked Mrs. McMaster.

I believe Mr. Blusten has adequately answered most of them. I may have a few more questions later, said Kit.

In the file are various methods of getting in contact with Mr. Blusten, said Mrs. McMaster. I suggest you store those details somewhere that is readily available to you, Mr. Andrews.

I have already stored them in my iPhone, said Kit.

Please do not hesitate to call him with any questions. He is prepared to do whatever is necessary to assist you in your search, she said.

I’m sure I will be needing his assistance, said Kit.

That will be all, Mr. Blusten, said Mrs. McMaster. Please leave me alone with Mr. Andrews.

Of course, Mrs. McMaster, said Blusten and he left the office, being careful to close the door behind him.

"I have read a good deal about you, Mr. Andrews. You have accomplished a great deal for one