Cold Wind (A Joe Pickett Novel) by C. J. Box

By C. J. Box

Whilst Earl Alden is located useless, his spouse Missy is arrested. regrettably for Joe Pickett, Missy is his much-disliked mother-in- legislations. All indicators aspect to her being accountable as sin. yet then issues occur to make Joe ponder whether every little thing is because it turns out. He has the county DA and sheriff on one part, his spouse at the different, and a few strong pursuits respiring down his neck. Whichever method this is going, it isn't going to be stable.

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Portly, solid, arms cocked out to both sides, legs spread in a V—it certainly looked like a body. Was it a real body? Joe could imagine workers hanging a dummy or mannequin in some kind of prank. How was it possible for someone even to get up there, much less get caught up in a chain attached to the shaft of a blade? How long had it been up there? Then he linked the area, the horse without a rider, the location of the wind turbines, and Missy’s frantic phone calls the day and night before. “Oh, no,” he said aloud, while he plucked the mike from his dashboard and called dispatch in Cheyenne.

He followed the progress of the pickup. He caught a glimpse of a license plate—Wyoming—but was too far away to read the numbers, so he focused in and narrowed his field of vision until the vehicle filled his scope. It was a shaky view at that distance, but he could see the passenger lower his window and extend his arm out of it, pointing toward something ahead of them. Joe leaned back from the scope and surveyed the basin with his naked eye. He followed the road the hunters were on until it became a thin tan thread in the distance.

Joe slid down the driver’s-side window and fitted his Redfield spotting scope to the frame of the door. As the dawn melded into morning, the vista below him came into view. Hundreds of brown-and-white pronghorn antelope grazed amidst knee-high sagebrush. Mule deer descended from windswept grassy flats back into shadowed draws. Eagles and hawks soared above it all in morning thermals, making long-distance loops at his eye level. He focused on a single blue pickup that was crawling along a two-track, a thin plume of dust giving chase.

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