Project Hannibal by Kathryn Hoff (good english books to read TXT) 📗

dangerous animal near people’s homes. I’m told you saw it. Which of you is Lou?”

Tall shot another glance at Short. Short rubbed his stubble. “That’s me. I saw it—glimpsed it in the rain. I followed it a little while, then I got lost and had to sleep under a bush. I have to say, Officer, I didn’t see any indication it was dangerous—it ran off as soon as I approached.”

“Description?”

“Oh, big. I never got a good look at it. Could have been a bear, I suppose.”

Kanut turned to Tall. “I’m told you took a picture of a footprint.”

“What? Oh, yeah.” With a moment’s hesitation, he ducked back into the tent to get his phone. As soon as he unlocked it, Kanut took it from him and opened the photo file.

A large, round print in dug-up dirt, as wide in diameter as the man’s boot next to it.

Nothing like the typical Sasquatch hoaxer’s fake gorilla print. Nothing like a moose or a bear either.

A lot like an elephant.

“It’s not very clear,” Tall said. “Do you think the National Enquirer will pay something for it?”

Kanut handed back the phone with his card. “Forward that to me when you get into cell range, will you?” He had them write down their names and address in his notebook: a street in Wasilla. Just a couple of hikers, then.

“I’m going to be poking around a little,” Kanut said. “Maybe I’ll ask some of the locals to help search. If there is something dangerous wandering around, we want to know that pretty quick.” He paused, fingering his chin. “You’ve seen this thing and you seem like experienced hikers. Would you be willing to join the posse?”

Lou’s eyes widened. “Posse?” Again, the swift exchange of looks with his partner. “I’m sorry, we want to get back home.”

Kanut nodded slowly. They were antsy—but most people were a little nervous around a cop. Maybe the tent held more than the legal limit of pot, or maybe they were worried about prejudice against gays. Folks’ private lives didn’t bother Kanut, but some of the backwoods types were more conservative.

“Well, if you’re sure,” he said. “Thanks for your cooperation. Be careful getting home.” He took a step away before turning back. “How’d you say you were getting back to Wasilla?”

Lou smiled, showing white teeth. “We’ll hike downriver a way, hit Mankeeta.” A slightly bigger town than Cody. “We’ll hire a plane from there.”

Kanut nodded. “I see. Well, good luck to you.”

He filed the information away. Their hiking route was possible, but on the plausibility scale it ranked about a two. If they’d flown into Mankeeta—and there was no other town close where a float plane could land—they’d hiked a long way around and yet apparently not stopped in Cody before, since everyone had described them as strangers. And there was absolutely nothing in Mankeeta, Cody, or the area around that was unique, picturesque, or attractive to hikers.

Maybe he’d let the drug squad check into these two a little. But for now, he had to look for some small, hairy elephants.

CHAPTER 17

It’s always wise to have a backup plan

Brandon ran a hand through his hair. “Hell, a freaking posse?”

Luis bit a fingernail, mentally cursing Brandon for getting drunk last night and sleeping so late. “I told you coming to Cody was a mistake. If we’d gone straight to the campsite yesterday morning, we would have had the herd miles away by now.”

“A mistake?” Brandon hissed. “You would have let poor Minnie walk by herself all the way to Cody, wouldn’t you? Carrying her kid, dragging that damn duffel, and scared out of her wits.”

“Her choice. Nobody made her go. And for damn sure nobody made you spend the night drinking and smoking so much homegrown that we couldn’t get a reasonable start this morning.” Luis began stowing his sleeping bag. “We need to get the herd out of here before that cop finds them.”

Brandon bent to speak in low, fierce tones. “Listen to yourself, will you? We’ve frightened innocent homesteaders out of their homes, brought the law down on us, and all you can think about is the herd.”

“That’s our job.”

“Your job.” Brandon straightened. “I’m cutting out.”

Luis froze. “You wouldn’t.”

“Why not? Anjou did. We should do the same.”

Luis’s jaw tightened. “We have to get the herd away from the settlements.”

“Screw the herd.” Brandon shrugged. “Consider them deployed early. By tomorrow, we could be back in Fairbanks with our feet up, steaks on the grill, and a game on the tube.”

Luis stepped close enough to feel Brandon’s breath on his face. “Seven years I’ve worked with the herd. Seven years! I’m not about to stand by while some idiot homesteader bags himself some ivory tusks for a trophy.”

Brandon stayed cool as an ice cube. “And I’m not about to stand by and get bagged by a freaking game warden looking to score some points.”

Luis pulled away in confusion. “Bagged by . . . what are you talking about?”

Brandon rubbed his whiskers. “Look, you never asked much about my past . . .”

“You didn’t seem to want to talk about it. I respected that.”

“You didn’t care, you mean. The point is, there might be one or two jurisdictions back in the lower forty-eight who know me by another name and who’d be happy to get me back. I’ve stayed out of trouble since I’ve been in Alaska, but if that trooper finds us with a bunch of oversized walking overcoats and takes my prints . . . well, let’s just say I’m not going to let that happen.”

“Jesus, I had no idea.” And if Luis had known Brandon had a criminal past, the relationship would have ended a long time ago.

“All I’m saying is that hiking to Mankeeta and hitching a ride somewhere