* * *
—
They returned to the SUV the way they had come, from tree to tree. Viktór swung the bloody hay hook in one hand and the book bag in the other. László carried the .30-30 Winchester rifle and a shotgun they’d found in her closet. So it was true what they said about Americans and their guns after all.
They placed all of the items except the book bag into the back of the SUV and covered the guns with a blanket.
László settled in behind the wheel, breathing hard.
“It wasn’t her, you know that, right?” Viktór hissed. “You should have looked closer at her car.” He was incensed and horrified at the same time.
“What about that?” László said, gesturing toward the bag on Viktór’s lap.
Viktór twisted on his penlight, placed it in his mouth, and opened the bag. He pulled out a well-thumbed paperback featuring a long-haired blond man with bulging pectorals on its cover. Than another with a pirate and a buxom younger woman in an embrace.
A sticky note was attached to the novel with a list of all of the titles in the bag, as well as a header that read: For Lola.
“Who is Lola?” Viktór asked. “What have we done?”
* * *
—
Before László could respond, a set of headlights appeared on the road far in front of them. They belonged to a panel van with two figures inside that he couldn’t see clearly. The van slowed and turned off the county road onto the road that led to the trailer they’d just been at.
The side of the panel van had a graphic of a falcon on it and lettering that read:
YARAK, INC.
Bird Abatement Specialists
Saddlestring, Wyoming
The lights of the van coursed down the road through the trees until they went well past the trailer. There was another house farther down the road. The real librarian’s house.
A moment later, the back window of the SUV lit up with the beams of another vehicle coming from behind them.
László recoiled at the intensity of the headlights reflected directly into his eyes from the rearview mirror.
Green bangles pulsed across his vision when he realized the car that had come up from behind them had now stopped next to them on the road. It was right beside them, idling.
László lowered his window and looked out. It was a dark-colored pickup. The passenger window was down and a yellow Labrador peered at him with an open mouth. He could see very little of the driver beyond the dog except for the brim of a cowboy hat.
“Are you fellows doing okay?” the pickup driver asked, leaning forward so László could see his face. He looked like a pleasant man of medium height and build.
“Fine,” László replied.
“Anything I can help you with?”
As his vision cleared, László could see that there was an official-looking emblem on the side of the passenger door. It depicted a pronghorn antelope inside the outline of a badge or shield. And a description.
WYOMING GAME AND FISH DEPARTMENT
“No, no,” László said while putting on his best grin and making sure his English was as flat and atonal as he could manage. “We just pulled over to look at the map. If you stay on this road, will you get to Winchester?”
“Nope, you’ll need to turn around. If you stay on this road, it’ll take you to Saddlestring.”
“Oh, we must have gotten lost.”
“I’d say that’s right.”
“Thank you, Officer.”
“My pleasure.”
The window of the pickup hummed up and the truck continued down the road. Like the van just ahead, it turned into the trees going west toward the river.
László eased the SUV into gear and pulled back on the road.
“What now?” Viktór asked with real bitterness.
“We didn’t go far enough down that road,” László said. “But now we’re sure where she lives.”
“You said that before.”
László fixed Viktór with a dead-eye glare that was quite effective. Viktór looked away.
“We find a hotel,” László said. “There is too much activity at that house tonight.”
“I’m hungry,” Viktór said.
“From now on, we speak in English,” László said while he switched languages again. “We don’t want anyone to overhear us.”
“I’m hungry, Greg.”
“We’ll find some food, Bob.”