Read Online Badlands by C. J. Box - Free Book Online

weapons. With no priors, the best we could hope for if he’s convicted is five to ten years, and possibly even less. You know how the law works.”
    Cassie pursed her mouth. She knew how the law worked, all right.
    Behaunek said, “Based on what I saw in that interrogation room, he might come after you if he gets out.”
    â€œThen don’t let him out,” Cassie croaked. “There has to be evidence. Trophies. ”
    She wanted to explain how Pergram had previously kept a collection of DVDs and videotapes of his victims being assaulted. How Pergram had arranged to get two of the DVDs into Cassie’s hands two years before in a successful effort to steer her toward his accomplice instead of him.
    â€œWe know about these types of killers, how they like to keep trophies,” Behaunek said. “But we just can’t find where he keeps them. I hope the FBI tears that truck and trailer apart bolt by bolt.”
    â€œMaybe the sheriff’s idea is a good one.”
    Behaunek withdrew her hand and said, “You surprise me.”
    â€œI learned from the best,” Cassie said. “His name was Cody Hoyt and he was my partner. Pergram’s accomplice shot him in the face.”
    At the curbside check-in, Behaunek got out of the car with Cassie and helped get her overnight bag out of the back.
    She gave Cassie a hug goodbye, then held both of Cassie’s hands for a moment. “You were great.”
    Cassie said, “Don’t let him out.”
    â€œI’ll do my best to keep him in a cage,” she said. Cassie was grateful. She had confidence in Leslie Behaunek. She came across as a bulldog prosecutor.
    â€œAnd I’ll keep in touch with you on everything.”
    Cassie paused before turning and entering the airport. “Call me on my cell,” she said. “Don’t call my office or send e-mail to my sheriff’s department e-mail address.”
    When Behaunek raised her eyebrows, Cassie said, “I may not be there very long.”
    *   *   *
    INSIDE THE terminal, Cassie withdrew her phone. The message on her cell phone was from Bakken County Sheriff Jon Kirkbride. He spoke in a slow Western drawl and said, “Greetings from the new energy capital of the world. We’d like to offer you that job we talked about and the sooner you can get here, the better. But there’s something you need to remember: this place is the Wild West. I can guar-and-damn-tee you ain’t ever seen anything like it. And I ain’t kidding about that.”
    She lowered the phone and closed her eyes for a moment.
    Cassie couldn’t wait to tell Sheriff Tubman in Helena that she was moving on. She didn’t know who would be happier.

 
    CHAPTER SIX
    Grimstad
    THE NEXT morning, Kyle Westergaard rode up to the bluff to look over the dark prairie where it had all happened two days before.
    Big trucks filled the highway to Watson City like normal. They were moving slowly, though, because of the weather. Kyle could see dust devils of snow kicked up by dual rear wheels caught in the lights of oncoming trucks.
    He made a V with his fingers and raised his hand to his mouth. This morning, he thought, he was smoking a big cigar.
    He was much warmer than he’d been the morning before although the snow had continued through the night. Steam rose from the collar of his coat when he paused on the bluff because he was sweating. It was hard work pedaling through three inches of untracked snow, and he had to keep stopping and cleaning packed snow from his tires. His new Thinsulate gloves in camo made it a challenge to fish individual copies of the Tribune out of his canvas panniers—but he didn’t mind.
    While pausing to catch his breath, Kyle lowered his new Sorel Pac boots to the ground and balanced his bike. He couldn’t stop for too long, he knew, or the chill would set in.
    That old gnome Alf Pedersen had told him someone had complained