marker. Inside were entries scribbled in a tiny, cribbed block print.
10/02—0600. Rosie’s / Box Creek / front country. MI 567B Blk GMC / Rosie’s / Call / Okay per Disp. PA 983 Silver Ford 3/4 / HT / Rosie’s / Call / Okay per Disp.
WY 24BX Green Yukon / Rosie’s / Call / Antlerless. Citation issued.
1700—Turpin. 6b, 2s, 2 Wtbucks. Okay . . .
Joe quickly figured out Will’s shorthand code. It was similar to the notes he kept in his own field notebooks. In translation, the notes said that on October 2 at 6 a.m., Will was patrolling Rosie’s Ridge and the Box Creek front country in his pickup, checking on elk hunters. While he didn’t see the hunters themselves, who had most likely left their vehicles and set up somewhere in the vast country to look for elk, Will noted their parked vehicles—a black GMC from Michigan, a silver Ford threequarterton pickup with Pennsylvania plates, and a green Yukon with Wyoming plates. Will had called in each of the plates to dispatch and requested a crossreference computer check to determine the name of the hunter and whether or not that hunter had obtained a permit from the department to hunt elk in the area. While the outofstate hunters checked out (“Okay per Dispatch”), the Wyoming hunter had a license that only allowed him to hunt antlerless elk, which meant his particular season didn’t open up for two more weeks. Will had located the Wyoming hunter, confirmed that he had violated regulations, and issued a citation.
Later in the afternoon, at 5 p.m., Will had patrolled through the Turpin Meadow campground at about the time that the first backcountry hunters were returning to their camps. The hunters had harvested six bull elk, two spike elk (yearling bulls), and two whitetail buck deer. All the kills had been clean and legal by properly licensed hunters, because no warnings or citations were noted.
Joe closed the notebook and sat back. The notes, once deciphered, presented a detailed account of his movements and actions. Using the notebook, citation book, and callin record, a determined investigator could easily document what he did all day. Joe found that reassuring in his circumstances, since nearly everyone he encountered in the field was armed. The only game wardens who did mind, Joe knew, were the few with extracurricular activities like drinking while on duty or visiting lonely wives.
He reopened notebook #10 and scanned it. Since it was not yet October 2, it was from a previous year. On the last page with writing on it, in tiny script, he found where Will had written down the date of the year before. There were twenty or so fresh pages at the end of the notebook with no notes on them. Joe flipped back to page one, saw that the first entry was 01/02. So Will used a single spiral notebook for a given year.
He pushed back his chair and opened the desk drawers.
They were remarkably empty, again the sign of a man who rarely used his office. But in the bottom left drawer he found a stack of new and used spirals exactly like the one on the desktop. Joe pulled them out and fanned them across the desk. The used notebooks were numbered 1 through 9, and were ragged and swollen with wear. The tenth he had already looked at. There were four unused notebooks, all clean and tightly bound. In the bottom of the drawer was a balledup sheet of thin plastic, the original wrapper for the sheaf. Joe unwrapped the plastic and unfolded the paper band that had held the notebooks together. On the band it said there were fifteen to the package.
Which meant that the spiral for the current year was missing. Or in Will’s pickup (where Joe kept his) or in Will’s home. Joe opened his briefcase and slid all the notebooks into it. He would read them when he had the time, probably in the evening. What else would he have to do? He was determined to find #11.
Joe needed to call Marybeth and smooth things over. But as he reached for the phone, he felt more than heard the presence of
10/02—0600. Rosie’s / Box Creek / front country. MI 567B Blk GMC / Rosie’s / Call / Okay per Disp. PA 983 Silver Ford 3/4 / HT / Rosie’s / Call / Okay per Disp.
WY 24BX Green Yukon / Rosie’s / Call / Antlerless. Citation issued.
1700—Turpin. 6b, 2s, 2 Wtbucks. Okay . . .
Joe quickly figured out Will’s shorthand code. It was similar to the notes he kept in his own field notebooks. In translation, the notes said that on October 2 at 6 a.m., Will was patrolling Rosie’s Ridge and the Box Creek front country in his pickup, checking on elk hunters. While he didn’t see the hunters themselves, who had most likely left their vehicles and set up somewhere in the vast country to look for elk, Will noted their parked vehicles—a black GMC from Michigan, a silver Ford threequarterton pickup with Pennsylvania plates, and a green Yukon with Wyoming plates. Will had called in each of the plates to dispatch and requested a crossreference computer check to determine the name of the hunter and whether or not that hunter had obtained a permit from the department to hunt elk in the area. While the outofstate hunters checked out (“Okay per Dispatch”), the Wyoming hunter had a license that only allowed him to hunt antlerless elk, which meant his particular season didn’t open up for two more weeks. Will had located the Wyoming hunter, confirmed that he had violated regulations, and issued a citation.
Later in the afternoon, at 5 p.m., Will had patrolled through the Turpin Meadow campground at about the time that the first backcountry hunters were returning to their camps. The hunters had harvested six bull elk, two spike elk (yearling bulls), and two whitetail buck deer. All the kills had been clean and legal by properly licensed hunters, because no warnings or citations were noted.
Joe closed the notebook and sat back. The notes, once deciphered, presented a detailed account of his movements and actions. Using the notebook, citation book, and callin record, a determined investigator could easily document what he did all day. Joe found that reassuring in his circumstances, since nearly everyone he encountered in the field was armed. The only game wardens who did mind, Joe knew, were the few with extracurricular activities like drinking while on duty or visiting lonely wives.
He reopened notebook #10 and scanned it. Since it was not yet October 2, it was from a previous year. On the last page with writing on it, in tiny script, he found where Will had written down the date of the year before. There were twenty or so fresh pages at the end of the notebook with no notes on them. Joe flipped back to page one, saw that the first entry was 01/02. So Will used a single spiral notebook for a given year.
He pushed back his chair and opened the desk drawers.
They were remarkably empty, again the sign of a man who rarely used his office. But in the bottom left drawer he found a stack of new and used spirals exactly like the one on the desktop. Joe pulled them out and fanned them across the desk. The used notebooks were numbered 1 through 9, and were ragged and swollen with wear. The tenth he had already looked at. There were four unused notebooks, all clean and tightly bound. In the bottom of the drawer was a balledup sheet of thin plastic, the original wrapper for the sheaf. Joe unwrapped the plastic and unfolded the paper band that had held the notebooks together. On the band it said there were fifteen to the package.
Which meant that the spiral for the current year was missing. Or in Will’s pickup (where Joe kept his) or in Will’s home. Joe opened his briefcase and slid all the notebooks into it. He would read them when he had the time, probably in the evening. What else would he have to do? He was determined to find #11.
Joe needed to call Marybeth and smooth things over. But as he reached for the phone, he felt more than heard the presence of
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