“Of course you should talk with her,” LGD said. “I wouldn’t expect anything different.”

“I need to hear a lot more about the changes you’re proposing,” Joe said. “I would be a lousy advocate if I didn’t agree with them.”

“Of course,” she said, sitting back. “We’ll have time for that later. But one thing I’m adamant about is reducing the number of wardens in the field and replacing them with people more attuned to new thinking.”

He looked at her. “Are you saying my job might go away?”

“Nothing is set in stone.”

She leaned forward across the table, and her eyes got even bigger. “Joe, this is the twenty-first century, and it’s time for a new paradigm. It isn’t the Wild West anymore, and hasn’t been for quite some time. I realize that it used to be that game wardens out in the field were given almost complete autonomy, and that probably worked back when Game and Fish meant Guts and Feathers. But we all need to realize we’re not just here to check hunting licenses anymore. We’re here to save and protect a precious resource.”

Joe said, “You think all we do is check hunting licenses?”

“No, of course not, but we can get into all that later,” Greene-Dempsey said. “Along with your plans to recover another department vehicle that I understand is still stuck somewhere in the mountains?”

“In a snowfield,” Joe said. “I need to get it out.”

“Yes, you do,” she said, her face turning hard for a split second before recovering. “But first you need to know that I pledged Mr. Batista and Mr. Underwood our full cooperation in their investigative efforts. By extension, that means you.”

Joe whistled.

“Is there a problem?” she asked.

MayVonne arrived with his breakfast, and he started on it while Greene-Dempsey sent her plate back and asked the waitress to bring one with only the freshest fruit. MayVonne took another deep breath and stomped off toward the kitchen.

—

“THEY’RE TOO HEAVY-HANDED,” Joe said when LGD asked about the status of the investigation. “I realize a terrible crime has taken place and we need to find the bad guy. But the way this Batista is going about it . . .”

“They’re doing what they think they need to do,” she said. “And we’ve pledged our cooperation and assistance. The governor is fully on board with this.”

“He is?” Joe said, knowing Governor Rulon’s legendary battles with the federal government over a range of contentious issues. He had once challenged the secretary of interior to an arm-wrestling match to determine a state versus federal policy on wolves, for example.

“We really don’t need to get into the political weeds on this,” she said. “It’s not something you need to get involved in. But can you assure me you’ll provide your full assistance and expertise to Mr. Batista and Mr. Underwood?”

Joe took a sip of coffee. “Yes,” he said, “as long as they calm down a little. They’ve been offering rewards to nail Butch Roberson. That’s not the way to do this.”

“No caveats,” she said, again instant steel. “Do I have your assurance?”

Joe took a deep breath and said, “Sure. They haven’t called me yet to meet with them, but I expect that will happen later today. I might be able to help them and make sure it’s not some kind of execution at the same time. I don’t trust this Underwood guy. He seems like the type who would love to pull the trigger on Butch. Maybe I can stop him, and make sure Butch is behind bars where he belongs—for his own safety, if nothing else.”

“That’s good, Joe,” she said, though without her previous enthusiasm. “You sound like you have doubts about their motives.”

“I don’t doubt their motives one bit,” Joe said. “They’ve got two special agents down. I’d be the same if it were two game wardens. But they need to let the sheriff do his job.”

When she looked at him askance, Joe said, “We see this kind of thing too much, and it’s a big problem. Sometimes the Feds are too quick to rush in and assume everyone local is incompetent. It’s like an absentee owner who overreacts because they want to make sure everyone knows who’s boss.”

“But it’s a federal matter, not a local matter.”

“Do you know the story behind it?” Joe asked.

“I’ve heard some things.”

“It’s one of the worst things I’ve ever heard,” Joe said, “if true. And it’s not the first time it’s happened.”

She said, “That isn’t our concern right now. I’m sure you’re aware of the conflicts going on between the state and the federal government on a variety of fronts. There has even been talk that the Department of Justice and the Department of Interior may sue us because of decisions Governor Rulon has made. He doesn’t want another problem.”

“No one does.”

“Maybe,” she said, reaching across the table and touching his hand again in an odd gesture that belied what she said next: “Maybe you’re a little too close to the people involved.”

Joe looked back, stung by the truth in it, and said, “And maybe you’re too far away.”

Her smile wasn’t a smile at all, and he knew at that moment that one of the reasons she was offering him the new job fell partially under the category of Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

Her iPhone started skittering across the table, and she caught it and looked at the display screen.

“I need to take this,” she said. “See what I mean about pressures?” And she slid out of the booth. He watched her as she walked swiftly through the atrium, talking on the cell and gesticulating wildly with her free hand.

—

SHE RETURNED as he finished his breakfast. A new fruit plate had been delivered that, Joe thought, looked exactly like the first, except moister. He wondered if MayVonne and the cook had spit on it.

Lisa Greene-Dempsey glared at it and pushed it aside and said, “There has to be somewhere I can get fresh food in this town if I have to go to the supermarket myself. Unfortunately, I came here in the governor’s Suburban and I don’t know where he is right now. I assume your town doesn’t have any taxis?”

“Correct. But I’d be happy to take you,” Joe said.

“You would?” she asked, genuinely pleased.

“I’ve got an errand to run first,” he said, “if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.”

He grabbed the check. He didn’t feel right about her buying his breakfast when she didn’t eat.

Joe said, “Before you make all your plans to transform the agency, do you want to come along and see a little of what I do?”

“Then you’ll take me to the supermarket?” she asked, looking at her watch.

“Yup. Come with me, Director LGD.”

“I’ll get my jacket.”

—

AT THE CASH REGISTER, MayVonne looked at him and shook her head.

“Piece of work you’ve got there,” she said.

“My new boss.”

“I could tell she wasn’t from around here. Is she staying long?”

Joe shrugged.

“Because if she does, her and me are going to go round and round like two wet socks,” MayVonne said, ringing him up.

Joe grinned. He had no idea what she was talking about, but he got the gist.

“One more thing,” MayVonne said, lowering her voice in a way that made Joe take notice. “If those assholes did to Butch Roberson like I heard they did, I hope he takes out the whole damned lot of them.”

Joe said, “You may not want to mention that to the governor if you see him.”

She said, “I already did.”

“What?”

“I saw him this morning,” she said with a wry grin. “He had biscuits and gravy, and he left me a nice tip.”

“Did he say where he was going?”

“Yeah,” she said, smirking. “He said he was going crazy.”

11

“HIS NAME IS BRYCE PENDERGAST,” JOE SAID TO Lisa Greene-Dempsey, “and his partner in crime is a guy named Ryan McDermott.”