Killer View

“Count me in,” Brandon said.

21

BEFORE HE GOT OUT OF THE BUILDING, WALT WAS GRABBED by the officer on duty and introduced to a gorgeous woman from the Denver office of the CDC. Lynda Bezel was in her early thirties and wore a dark blue suit. It wasn’t a look typically seen in Hailey, Idaho. The Sun Valley look was Patagonia and Eddie Bauer; faded jeans, hiking boots, and clinging tops. She had a creamy complexion, and pale eyes that opened wide as she spoke.

“This might be better discussed in confidence,” she said. She had a raspy bedroom voice and the coy smile that went along with it. She sat in Walt’s intentionally uncomfortable visitor’s chair. She crossed her legs with a whisper of panty hose.

“I’ve come here as a courtesy,” Bezel began, comfortable with taking the lead. “Daniel Cutter is on probation, as we understand it. Because he’s in the system, I thought it only right to pay you a visit and let you know I intend to question him later today.”

Walt had a history with Da

“Concerning?” he asked.

“We were contacted by a Salt Lake City hospital. Two of Mr. Cutter’s employees have taken ill. Their condition is listed as serious. Doctors have not been able to stabilize them. I’m here to interview Mr. Cutter about his company’s role, if any, in these illnesses and to question him about his actions. We have a full inspection team on the way to the Trilogy Springs bottling facility, near Mackay, Idaho.”

“What actions?”

“It has come to our attention that Mr. Cutter may have flown the two employees in a private jet to Salt Lake City while possibly denying them medical care locally.”

“You think he tasked those two down to Salt Lake to avoid being found out? That doesn’t sound like Da

Bezel jotted down something into a small notebook. She looked comfortable in the chair. Maybe she was into yoga; she looked it.

“You said you came to me as a courtesy,” Walt said, somewhat suspiciously.

“Exactly.”

“Is there a probation violation?”

“He traveled with the employees out of state. I assume that was with your knowledge and permission?”

He was getting the idea now. Beneath the superfeminine façade was a bulldog. “I’m not his probation officer.”

“But, as a felon, he’s required to notify your office if he intends to travel out of state, is he not?”

“He is.”

“Did he do that in person or by phone?”

Walt felt cornered. He wasn’t going to lie for Da

“I could check with his PO.”

“Would you, please. The point is, if he entered this facility-your offices-there’s the possibility of contagion.”

“The illness is contagious?”

“There are two patients with similar symptoms. Tests are being conducted. Doctors have not yet identified the illness. We’ve asked both Mr. Cutter and his assistant to keep themselves isolated prior to my arrival. My job is to track their movements since their contact with the individuals in question. We’ve also notified the pilots as well as employees at the Fixed Base Operation that serviced the plane.”

He read between the lines. “Are you saying this is somehow terrorist related?” He’d had the recent warning from Homeland concerning activity by the Samaki

“We don’t know what we’ve got, much less how Cutter’s employees might have contracted it. But, with your permission, we’d like to pass out tags to everyone employed here.” She produced what looked like a car air freshener, a round disc in a cheap plastic frame divided into six wedges of different-colored paper. It dangled from her fingers like a Christmas ornament. “And we’d like both physical swabs of the environment and a few blood samples.”

“Jesus.”

“Your deputies and staff come in contact with the public. Should any one of these indicators change colors, no matter how subtle, we need to hear about it.”

Walt knew from recent training that such indicators had been proven to help field investigators narrow down searches and limit exposure. He had a box of similar tags in a cupboard in the incident room. He’d never had use for them.

“Sure,” he said. “I don’t have a problem with that.”

“We’d appreciate it if every member of your staff-”

“I get it,” said Walt, interrupting. “Leave them with me. I’ll see to it.”

“Companies in your county are aware of their obligation under federal guidelines to notify both you and our center in the event of suspected contamination or unexplained illness, are they not?”

“I would assume so. We’ve spread the word, and there’s been a lot of literature.”

“Can you think of any reason Daniel Cutter would elect not to notify either of us?”

“They’re guidelines, recommendations, not requirements, if I’m not mistaken.”

“But you’d think with his history-”

“This is the first I’ve heard of it. I’m sure if you ask him, he’ll tell you. Da

Bezel said, “Please instruct your officers to remain alert for flulike symptoms and nosebleeds.”

“You make it sound like Ebola.”

“We don’t know what we’re dealing with,” Bezel said, her face suddenly severe, her husky voice an octave lower. “I wouldn’t be making any jokes.”

“Nerves,” Walt said. “I’m not real comfortable with biological agents.”

“Neither are we, Sheriff,” Bezel said.

22

“I T’S REALLY QUITE SIMPLE,” THE MAN SAID, OVER THE sound of wood popping and crackling inside a woodstove. Aker sat, tied to a ladder-back chair, wearing a black hood. A syringe and some vials sat in an enamel tray on a game table to his left. A dog was curled up by the woodstove. The ceiling was vaulted to the cabin’s roof, the scissor trusses exposed. The air smelled strongly of coffee and, less so, of the distinct but foreign odors of pharmaceuticals.

“We need you to write up a report on what you found,” he continued.

“Found where?” Mark Aker asked through the fabric of the hood.

“The sheep. Don’t play dumb with me.”

“Writing a paper requires lab work, research, patience, and a lot of time,” he said.

“You’ve done all that.”

“I did some. It’s true. But I need more time. If you release me…”

“All I’m talking about is a discovery of findings.”

“I’m a long way from that. It’s true, I have theories. If you want me to stop my research, I will. No questions asked.”

“To the contrary: I need you to scientifically confirm what I already know. You can help me here. I want you to publish what you’ve found, not hide it.” He paused. “You think I’m trying to fuck you, don’t you? I’m not! I want you to publish.”

“If you want me to do that, I will. But first you need to drop me off near a hospital and you need to do it real soon, if you’re going to avoid manslaughter charges.”

“I’m not going to kill you. Relax. This isn’t about stopping you from doing your research; it’s about publishing it. You’re misunderstanding. Publish what you know and we’ll release you.”

“It’s you who’s not understanding, asswipe. See, I’m an insulin-dependent diabetic. In a couple of hours, if not sooner, my heart rate’s going to increase, I’ll start breathing rapidly, and I’ll pass out. I’ll go into shock. And if I don’t receive medical care, I’ll die. As for your report: I won’t live long enough to write the first paragraph. Get me to a hospital; I’ll do whatever you want.”