Purgatory Ridge

“Let’s give them plenty of room,” Kay said. Half a minute later, the FBI cars pulled out. Earl and Schanno followed.

Cork said, “The road’s always deserted this time of night. A caravan like this one they’re going to spot for sure no matter how far back we stay.”

“Not my call, Cork,” Schanno replied.

Cork could see the red taillights of the van and pickup less than half a mile ahead. The distance began very suddenly to increase.

“They’ve made us,” Kay said over the radio. “Hit your lights and make some noise. We’re going to bring them down.”

“This is Captain Lucky Knudsen. I’ve got a couple of cruisers ready to move into a barricade position on your command, Miss Muffet. Over.”

“Do it, Captain.”

“Ten-four.”

From the radio came yet another voice Cork didn’t recognize. “Miss Muffet, this is Cordell.”

“What is it, Cordell?”

“LeDuc’s been joined by half a dozen men. They’ve piled into the back of his pickup and they’re on their way, heading straight for you.”

“Stay with them. We’ll be ready on this end. Over and out.”

A few minutes later, Cork saw the red-and-white blink far down the shoreline where the state patrol had established a position. Ahead, the van and the pickup slowed, then pulled to a stop a hundred yards shy of the barricade. The cars in pursuit closed in swiftly from behind and parked in a spread so that the two suspect vehicles were fully illuminated in the glare of eight headlights. The doors of the Luminas sprang open, and federal agents, weapons drawn, took up covering positions.

Special Agent Margaret Kay shouted, “This is the FBI. Exit your vehicles with your hands raised.”

After a moment’s pause, the door of Broom’s pickup swung open, and the big Indian emerged with his hands high and a sour look on his face. The driver’s door of the van also opened, and what appeared to be a rifle barrel jutted out.

“Drop your weapon,” Kay ordered.

“It’s not a weapon, you imbecile,” Joan Hamilton yelled. “It’s my cane.” She eased herself out and stood on the asphalt, leaning on her cane, her free hand lifted high.

Another figure slid carefully out of the van after her, his old hands raised toward the sky.

“Henry?” Cork uttered, dumbfounded to see Meloux there.

“Turn around and place your hands on your vehicles,” Kay commanded. “And keep them there.” When they’d complied, she called out sternly, “Brett Hamilton, step out of the van now.”

No one came forth.

“Tell your son to come out, Ms. Hamilton. We don’t want anyone hurt.”

“He’s not with us.”

“We know he is.”

“What you people know wouldn’t fill a thimble.”

Kay waved her agents forward. Two men approached the back of the van, weapons readied. When they popped open the rear doors, it was clear that Brett Hamilton was not, in fact, present.

Kay said, “Gooden, you and Stewart take Broom.”

The two agents moved to Isaiah Broom, who leaned with his hands on the cab of his pickup truck. They patted him down, then began to question him. Kay and the other agents walked to Joan Hamilton and Henry Meloux, Cork and Schanno following like shadows.

“Frisk them,” Kay ordered.

Cork stepped forward. “Henry-”

“Sir, step back,” an agent named Hauser instructed him.

“This man’s no criminal, for Christ’s sake.”

“Sir, I won’t ask you again.”

Schanno put a restraining hand on Cork’s arm. “Let them do their job.”

“What’s this all about?” Joan Hamilton asked.

“You were attempting to elude officers of the law.”

“We didn’t see you.”

“You can argue that in court. Where’s your son?”

“I told you, he’s not with us.”

“My people saw him.” Kay gestured to one of her men. “Brian, take Sweeney and Jensen and sweep the trees and brush along the roadside. He can’t have gone far. And be careful.”

“He’s not armed,” the Hamilton woman said, her voice betraying her concern.

“David, take Ms. Hamilton to the car and talk with her. Jeff, you’ve got Mr…” She glanced at Cork.

“Meloux,” Cork said. “Henry Meloux.”

She nodded and the agent drew Meloux aside. Kay went to the rear of the van and looked in. BCA agents Owen and Earl stepped up beside her, along with Cork and Schanno.

“I’d love to search it,” Kay said.

“The explosives in Broom’s truck seem good probable cause for the stop,” Earl offered. “And it was clear they were attempting to elude us.”

Gooden left off his questioning of Broom and joined the others at the back of the van.

“What’s his story about the dynamite?” Kay asked.

“He uses it in his business.”

“That’s true,” Cork confirmed. “He clears trees, blows a lot of stumps.”

“A strange hour to be blowing stumps,” Kay said.

Gooden went on. “He says he was going to use it to fight a fire that’s burning in those old pines, Our Grandfathers.”

Kay turned to Schanno. “Have you heard anything about a fire up there?”

“No.”

“Let’s see what the others have to say.”

They all told the same story. That Meloux had come to Joan Hamilton warning of a fire that threatened Our Grandfathers. They’d gone to Broom because he had the materials, equipment, and expertise to help. Finally, they’d enlisted George LeDuc to round up more hands to fight the blaze.