Stone Cold by C. J. Box Read Free Book Online Page B

sixteen-year-old high school sophomore and a blond, lithe dead ringer for a younger Marybeth, appeared in the hallway with a textbook and her homework, likely on her way to ask Marybeth a question. When she saw April and Dallas Cates, she haughtily rolled her eyes, spun on her heel in a perfect one-eighty, and marched straight back to her room.
    â€œDon’t think I didn’t see that, Lucy,” April called after her.
    Lucy’s bedroom door slammed so hard, pictures on the walls jumped.
    â€œShe’s the annoying one I told you about,” April said to Cates, who shrugged. Joe noticed Cates’s eyes had lingered on Lucy for a beat too long.
    April turned back to Joe, her face expectant: “And there’s something I need to ask you and Mom.”
    â€œNow probably isn’t the best time,” Cates cautioned, turning his attention from the hallway to April.
    â€œIt’s about the NFR in Las Vegas next month . . .”
    Before Joe could object or April could make her case for attending the National Finals Rodeo in Las Vegas, Marybeth stepped into the kitchen doorway and said sharply, “Joe, can I talk to you for a minute?”
    As he entered the kitchen in a dark rage, she kissed him on the cheek and said, “Welcome home.”
    Joe grunted.
    â€œThe testosterone was getting so thick in there I could cut it with a knife.”

Cheyenne, Wyoming
    Over
Chugwater in southeastern Wyoming, Joe leaned over in the passenger seat of the governor’s Cessna Citation Encore small jet—dubbed
Rulon One
—and chanced a look outside the window. His stomach was in knots and his fingers gripped the armrests so tightly he was afraid he was leaving permanent impressions.
    The terrain below was a sea of taupe and white: high prairie and patches of snow as far as he could see. There were a few skeletal trees choking the riverbeds, and the occasional lonely ranch building. Herds of cattle and pronghorn antelope dotted the terrain. If it weren’t for the commas of snow, the vista looked almost African, like documentary footage he’d seen of the Serengeti Plain. He was less than a half-hour from Cheyenne.
    The accordion door for the cockpit folded and the copilot looked back at Joe with a mixture of amusement and malice. He looked too young and fresh-faced to be at the controls, Joe thought.
    â€œHow’s it going back there, partner?”
    â€œDandy,” Joe said sourly.
    â€œDon’t like flying much, do you?”
    Joe glared his response.
    The copilot said with a smile, “There’s wind in Cheyenne—imagine that. It might be a little bumpy on the approach. Just pretend you’re riding a bull.”
    â€œNo thanks,” Joe said, thinking of the bull rider that had infiltrated his household.
    â€¢Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â â€¢
    D ALLAS C ATES hadn’t stayed for dinner the night before, despite April’s begging him. He’d mumbled something about “knowing where he wasn’t wanted” and said good night to
Mr. Pickett
and
Mrs. Pickett
and thanked them for their hospitality while he gathered his NFR coat. April went outside with him to say good-bye.
    â€œYou remember that character Eddie Haskell on
Leave It to Beaver
?” Joe asked Marybeth.
    â€œI was just thinking the same thing,” she said, moving a steaming casserole dish of lasagna from the oven to the range top to cool. “What is it between you two?”
    â€œI don’t like him.”
    â€œThat was obvious.”
    â€œGood.”
    â€œI’ll go let Lucy know we’re ready to eat,” Marybeth said, trying to stifle a smile. After she passed Joe, she paused in the doorway and looked back.
    â€œThere’s something else, isn’t there?”
    â€œI have to go to Cheyenne tomorrow.”
    â€œThe governor called?”
    Joe nodded.
    He felt her eyes on him.
    â€œLet’s talk about this tonight,” Joe said,