Page 19 of Into the Fire

“It’s been unplugged.”

I sighed. “I guess that’s for the best.”

“I called Dwyer. He’ll come on Monday.”

“Good.”

I sipped my coffee.

“Shep’s trying to organize a softball team,” Marty said.

“No.”

“That’s what Nash said.”

“Good.”

“Shep put your name down anyway.”

“No.”

Marty chuckled. “That’s what Nash said you’d say when he saw your name on the list.”

“Take my name off.”

“I’m not in charge of the softball team.”

“You’re Operations Coordinator.”

“Not softball operations.”

I drank my coffee.

Marty grinned into his mug. “But I’ll see what I can do.”

“Shep needs a hobby.”

“Agreed. One more thing, and then I’ll leave you to your exciting evening. Regional public affairs called Monday. Five years next month.” He didn’t say Carson. He didn’t have to. “They want to know if Silvertip’s doing anything. And there’s a woman at the Missoulian doing a piece on the anniversary. She asked for a statement.”

“I don’t want to give one.”

“I knew that. I already told the newspaper no,” Marty said. “I spoke for you, getting ahead of it before you had to deal with a mess. She’d done her reading, I’ll say that. She asked whether anyone from the base ever disagreed with the findings. I told her the findings were the findings. She may still call you directly, in which case the answer is still no, but you’ll want to be less polite than I was.”

She was angling for Dante.

“Regional’s different,” Marty went on. “Regional needs something on paper so they can file it. I can draft two sentences that say we’ll mark it privately, you sign it, and everybody’s covered.”

“Do that. Keep Dante’s name out of it.”

Marty nodded. “Just the base. No names. Also, read your email. There’s a per diem thing in there that’ll be a problem in October if you ignore it.”

I thanked him for the tomatoes, and his truck labored through its gears as he drove down the spur. I grabbed a hammer and took the trash down to the bear box at the road. On the way back, I stopped and reset a fence staple on the gatepost that had been backing out since June.

I was putting the hammer away when the phone went off in my pocket.

It was Shep. He sent a photo and no message. I recognized the bar in Kessler by the long table under a wide window. Hollis had a hand raised. I saw half of Fellhauer and Dante turned slightly toward the camera, laughing.

A text message followed.