Page 62 of Backtrack

“Afraid not,” Lola said.

“I know this is a last-minute trip,” Cutter said. “But what makes you say she’s paranoid?”

“Wears a ballistic vest everywhere, according to the LT. Detective Barr knows her. Barr was busy on another case when I called yesterday. He texted this morning. He’ll brief us more when we get there.”

Sixteen million acres of national forest surrounded the city of Ketchikan. Formerly a timber town, fishing and tourism now provided a living for most of the 9,000 souls who called it home.

Fifteen minutes after they’d crossed the Narrows, Cutter hung a left under the shadow of two massive cruise ships tied up along the docks. Ketchikan Police Department was just two blocks away, toward the mountains.

The deputies showed their credentials to the dispatcher behind the glass and were buzzed through and shown to a small conference room. It was an older building but well-kept, and decorated like most law enforcement offices the country over, with drug identification charts, a poster to remind officers how to identify human traffickers, and some shooting competition awards. Cutter was surprised to see not only the KPD detective but two Alaska state troopers in the room. Detective Barr sat at the head of the oval table under a poster of the Tommy Lee Jones movieThe Fugitive—which had probably been made a couple of years before any of the three Ketchikan LEOs in the room were born.

A Tlingit Native, Willis Barr was dressed in jeans, Xtratuf rubber boots—the ubiquitous footwear of Southeast Alaska—and a blue mock turtleneck that had Drug Enforcement Unit stenciled over the left breast pocket. Somewhere around thirty, he looked to be the oldest of the local coppers. The other two wore the navy-blue slacks and light-blue uniform shirts of Alaska state troopers—gig lines arrow straight, patrol boots polished to a mirror shine. Troopers Murphy and Heath looked like they could have come from centralcasting on a television crime drama. Murphy’s blond hair was pulled back in a tight bun. Heath’s dark G.I. Joe mustache was neatly trimmed to match his gelled hair. Both had jawlines that could cut glass. More importantly, they looked extremely fit—something that immediately endeared them to Lola Teariki.

“Hope you don’t mind I invited AST,” Barr said. “It’ll become clear why in a second.”

“The more the merrier,” Lola said.

Cutter and Lola shook hands with Barr and then each trooper in turn.

“Our sergeant’s in Juneau for the week,” Trooper Murphy said.

Cutter took out his pocketknife and a piece of cottonwood root and held them up toward Barr.

The detective grinned. “Almost done with that one,” he said, nodding to the cottonwood.

“I am,” Cutter said.

“A spoon?”

Cutter nodded. “My granddad carved a lot of spoons.”

Barr had worked with the Marshals several times over the past couple of years and knew of Cutter’s propensity to whittle while he worked through strategy.

Lola gave a quick briefing on Church’s background and criminal history, finishing up by passing out copies of his Alaska operator’s license photo. “White male, five ten, a buck ninety,” she said. “Born in seventy-five. No prior record of violence, but he was packing a Glock during his last arrest. He’s looking at a ten-year mandatory minimum this time.” She glanced up from her folder at Detective Barr. “Your sergeant told me you could get us a line on his girlfriend.”

Barr gave a solemn nod. “Jessica Stone. That’s why I invited the troopers to join us. She’s one of the jumpiest human beings I’ve ever met in my life, and I’ve seen some real tweakers.”

“A problem with meth?” Lola asked.

“If she does, it’s early days,” Barr said. “She’s still got all her teeth.”

“I understand she carries a 1911,” Lola said.

“Close,” Barr said. “A Bren Ten in aMiami Viceshoulder holster. Jess is never without that pistol and a KA-BAR knife on her belt. Oh, and don’t forget about the ballistic vest.”

Trooper Heath drummed his fingers on the conference table. “Mozambique drill,” he mumbled to himself.

“Right,” Barr said. “But let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. She left town a little over a year ago. Gone about three months maybe. I don’t know where, but I think something happened to her during that time. Something bad. She came back a completely different person. Took some potshots at a floatplane that flew over her trailer about a week after she returned to town. I thought for sure I was going to have to shoot her when I went out to talk to her about it. She knows me. Hesitated long enough I was able to get the cuffs on her. The judge gave her a slap on the wrist and let her walk. She moved after that. I saw her around town now and again but had no idea where she went until a few days ago.”

“Any active warrants?” Cutter asked.

“Kind of,” Barr said. “I need to tell you, though, she doesn’t trust anyone, especially law enforcement. She swears she’ll shoot it out with any cop stupid enough to confront her again, even me.”

“Sounds like a challenge,” Lola said. “Say we do locate her, what’s the likelihood we find Church?”

“Witnesses say there’s a male staying with her,” Trooper Murphy said. “Fits Church’s description. It sounds like they’re squatting in a little cabin deep in the Tongass north of Ward Cove. Couple of hikers stumbled across it and told the Forest Service cops who patrol that area.”

Cutter stopped whittling for a moment and glanced up. “Are you sure it’s Jessica Stone?”