Breaking Point

prove a point, it’s
your
point.”
    —
    T HEN J OE ASKED HIM if he knew the name Harry S. Blevins.
    It took a moment for Butch to understand. When he did, his face flushed and he said, “That son of a bitch. So it was him, huh?”
    “I think it was,” Joe said.
    “Then why didn’t he ever call me? Why didn’t he talk to me man-to-man?”
    Joe said, “I don’t think they do that.”
    —
    “S O WHAT do you want me to do?” Nate asked as Joe turned past the half-burned sign for Aspen Highlands. “Do you want me to put him down?”
    “No,” Joe said, not sure if Nate was kidding. “Just be scary. Follow my lead and be the scary Nate.”
    “I think I can do that.”
    —
    A TEAM OF SMOKE JUMPERS out of Missoula had been dropped on the location and had saved the structures within Aspen Highlands by igniting a backfire around the perimeter of the subdivision that destroyed the dry fuel before the wildfire could get to it. The crowns of many of the trees had burned, though, as well as a buck-and-rail fence that marked the development. Aspen Highlands was an oasis of green within a desert of scorched earth. Joe credited the smoke jumpers, of course, but wondered who had the clout to convince them to divert resources to spare the development when the wildfire was threatening every town and city throughout the front range of the northern Rocky Mountains.
    Joe eased to a stop adjacent to the Roberson lot. The tractor was still there, and the hole where the agents had been found hadn’t been filled in. The grass inside the perimeter tape was trampled down flat by so many law enforcement personnel.
    “This is where it happened, eh?” Nate asked quietly.
    “Yup.”
    “I imagined more land. This isn’t much.”
    Joe nodded. He left the truck running and opened the door and said, “I’ll be right back.”
    He returned with the faded plywood target that had been nailed to a tree. He tossed it into the empty bed of his pickup.
    “What was that about?” Nate asked.
    “Nothing,” Joe said. Then he gestured toward the two-story log cabin above them with the green metal roof. He remembered looking at it the day the agents were found.
    “That’s the retirement home of Harry Blevins,” Joe said.
    “Nice place,” Nate said.
    “Nice pension,” Joe said.
    —
    T HERE WAS A NEW-MODEL Jeep Cherokee parked beneath a carport on the side of the cabin.
    “He’s home,” Joe said.
    “Does he live alone?” Nate asked.
    “As far as I know. From what Matt Donnell told me, he’s divorced. He splits his time between here and Denver, where he also has a house.”
    “What’s he retired from?” Nate asked.
    “Used to be a supervisor for the IRS.”
    “Please let me shoot him in the head.”
    —
    J OE WASN’T SURPRISED that Blevins knew they were there before he knocked. It was quiet in Aspen Highlands, and Blevins no doubt heard the pickup turn up into his driveway.
    He opened the door as Joe approached carrying the shotgun. Nate was a step behind.
    Blevins was stooped and slight with a wisp of gray hair. He had close-set eyes, a thin nose, and a small mouth offset by a prominent lantern jaw. Joe thought the man gave off a palpable aura of unpleasantness.
    “Can I help you find something?” the man said. “Why are you armed?”
    “You’re Harry S. Blevins?” Joe asked.
    “Yes. And who are you?”
    “I’m Joe Pickett. I used to be the game warden around here. You might have seen me wearing a red uniform shirt a week and a half ago. I was standing around on the Roberson lot with the sheriff’s department. I’m guessing you could see the whole thing from here.”
    Blevins made a sour face and shook his head slightly, as if denying the premise of what Joe had said.
    “I wanted to see what you looked like, once I figured it out. You look exactly like I thought you would.”
    “I don’t hunt or fish,” he said. “There’s no need for a game warden to come to my place.”
    “I’m no longer a game warden,” Joe said. “I’m here as a local.”
    “You got fired?”
    “I quit. Which means I don’t have to play by the rules anymore.”
    Blevins studied Joe’s face. Joe didn’t flinch. He noticed that Blevins shot several cautious glances toward Nate as well. Nate had that effect on people.
    Blevins said, “It’s nice to meet you, but I really don’t have time for this right now.”
    Joe said, “When the investigation was going on, did you see me when I turned around and looked right at