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“What a pain,” Joe said. “But weren’t you going to repaint anyway?”
“Of course,” she said, “but it doesn’t matter that we weren’t going to keep any of the old paint. And it doesn’t matter that in eighty years of people using this building, nobody ate any paint chips and got sick from it.”
Do
Before Joe could speak, Do
“Tell him the worst of it, Matt,” Marybeth said.
“He’s worried about asbestos in these old buildings. The wallboards and the insulation might have asbestos in them. The shingles, too. And all of the wiring needs to be replaced.”
Joe said, “So they want you to gut the entire building?”
“Worse,” Do
Joe understood the look of panic in Marybeth’s eyes now.
“And we can’t do any of the work ourselves,” Marybeth said, “because we don’t have certified training or licenses.” Then, to Matt: “Tell him about these certified asbestos-removal companies.”
Matt sighed and looked away. “There aren’t any.”
Joe said, “What?”
“The closest one is in Salt Lake City,” Do
“. . . is more than Matt paid for it,” Marybeth finished for her partner. “All these new costs are way beyond what we budgeted to rebuild the hotel.”
“Oh, man,” Joe said, rubbing his face. He’d forgotten about the gunshot burn on the side of his head, and it stung when he touched it.
Do
He stepped back and raised both of his hands, palms up, toward the old vaulted ceilings.
Do
Joe interrupted and asked, “What’s it going to cost, Matt?”
Do
Joe narrowed his eyes. Marybeth looked stricken. He wanted to knock Matt Do
“I know,” Do
Joe still wanted to punch him.
“Look,” Do
Do
Then Marybeth said softly, “We’re screwed, aren’t we?”
Do
“You’re saying we should just walk away from our deal?” Marybeth said, and Joe noticed the welling in her eyes.
Do
Joe took a deep breath.
Marybeth said to Do
He knew how much it meant to her. “It’s okay,” he said. “It’s fine.”
And it was a hurdle removed from not taking the job in Cheye
Then he looked at his wristwatch. “I’ve got to go.”
“Call me,” Marybeth said to his back.
14
AS JOE DROVE UP BIGHORN ROAD WITH TOBY ONCE again in the horse trailer, the immediate anger he’d felt in the lobby of the Saddlestring Hotel subsided and was replaced by frustration. He thought about the look of utter defeat on Marybeth’s face, something he’d rarely seen before. He didn’t like seeing his wife so disappointed.
He wanted to fix it somehow but didn’t know where to start. He wondered what she’d think about the job offer from LGD, and anticipated her response. Which is why he hadn’t told her about it.
—
AS HE DROVE, changing cha
Butch had to know, Joe thought, that his life wasn’t worth anything anymore. His construction company would go bankrupt and his family would be affected in ways he could never have imagined.
Butch would know that if he turned himself in he’d be locked away for years. Did he regret what he’d done, or did he feel justified for having done it?
Joe sighed, knowing the question was academic. Butch Roberson was the only suspect in a double homicide—it didn’t matter what he felt.
—
HE WAS SURPRISED to see a jam of vehicles in front of the gate to the Big Stream Ranch. Pickups with horse trailers, SUVs trailing pods of ATVs, law enforcement panel vans, and a dozen other vehicles were massed on the shoulder of the highway and in the right- hand lane itself—a convoy that had been made to stop. Several uniformed deputies were standing on the blacktop, directing traffic.
Joe slowed and powered his window down as he approached Deputy Justin Woods.
“What’s going on?” Joe asked. “I thought they were going to set up their command post up at the forest boundary.”
“That was the idea,” Woods said, “but they can’t get access to cross the ranch.”
“What?”
“Frank Zeller won’t let them through,” Woods said, trying to stifle a smirk.