The Hardest Thing

witnesses, had failed. Now they were looking for a second chance.
    We were close to the foot of the mountain when I saw the squad car parked up at the end of one of those wide forest roads that are marked up for snowmobile use in the winter. We hid behind a boulder and waited.
    The car was empty. We could try sneaking past—and we might be lucky. But for all I knew, four of New Hampshire’s finest might be combing the woods right now. Sure, they might be good guys. My suspicions about Marshall’s corrupt influence might be completely insane. I’d rather find out at a safe distance.
    A crack and a swoosh of branches announced the presence of one cop, pushing through the brush to return to the path. He looked hot and pissed off, a dark wet stain down the back of his black uniform shirt, the sleeves rolled up to the elbow. He looked about 35, 40—my age, more or less, and unlike some of his colleagues he’d kept himself in shape. Broad shoulders, a narrow waist, long legs. Unlike me, he had a full head of light brown hair, damn him.
    He was about to open the car door when he heard something—not us, thank god, but someone else coming up the track behind him.

    “Excuse me, sergeant.”
    Now, that voice sounded familiar. The cop peered into the gloom—and yes, here he came in his filthy coveralls, baseball cap turned backward on brown curls, white teeth flashing in a smile. My little pal Kenny the cocksucker.
    The cop leaned an elbow on the roof of his car. “What are you doing up here, Kenny?” They know each other in these small towns. “Don’t you know there’s a criminal on the run?”
    “Yeah.” Kenny stopped and took his cap off. “I been out looking for him.”
    “You should go home, son.”
    “But I seen him.”
    “You did? Where?”
    Shit. He got his mouth fucked, and now he’s feeling guilty. Little bastard. I’ll come back and pay him back, the goddamn…
    “Up there.” He pointed north, well away from the direction of the cabin. “Two guys in a silver Chevy, right? Driving out Franconia way.”
    Well, I’ll be damned. He was covering for us.
    The cop scratched his head; his armpits were wet. “We had men up there. Must have got past us. What time was this?”
    “Hour ago. Hour and a half maybe. See that ski trail?”
    The cop squinted into the distance. “Where?”
    “Way up there, other side of the peak. That’s where the track goes. You can get a car through there, easy. Reckon that’s the way they went.”
    “That so.”
    The cop moved around to the other side of the car
and radioed into the station. “Got an eyewitness report here,” said the cop. “Subjects seen heading north toward Franconia. Silver Chevrolet.” He turned toward Kenny. “Hey, did you get the model?”
    “Not sure. Impala? Malibu, maybe? Didn’t get a real good look at the back. That’s how you tell the difference. I mean, the engines are how you really know, of course, but…”
    “Okay, Kenny. That’s enough. Hear that? Impala or Malibu, he says. Yeah. Yeah, right, out Franconia way,’bout an hour, hour and a half ago. Okay. Sure. Will do.”
    “Anyone else seen ’em?”
    “Maybe. They’re radioing it out now. Thanks a lot, kid.”
    “Looks like you been crawling through a briar patch, Pete.”
    “Yeah.” The cop—Pete—brushed his pants. “And I’m sweating like a horse.”
    “You should do what I do.” Kenny pulled open the front of his blue coveralls, exposing that slim, hairy body. “Go commando.”
    “Hey, you’ll get arrested if you walk around town like that.”
    “I don’t go into town much.” He perched his ass on the hood of the car, right next to Pete. “You know me. I’m either under an engine or up in the woods.” He leaned back, and his tits came into view. Pete turned to face him.
    “You shouldn’t spend so much time on your own. Don’t you have a girlfriend?”
    “Nah.” Kenny scratched his stomach. “Not interested.”

    “Why not? Good looking kid like you could be getting laid every night of the week.”
    Kenny’s hand lingered inside his coveralls, stroking a little lower. “Maybe. And what about you, Pete? You got a new lady?”
    “One divorce is enough for me.” He rubbed his badge. “Married to the force now.”
    “Seems like we’re neither of us getting any, then,” said Kenny. “Shame, huh?”
    Officer Pete mumbled something that could have been “Yeah,” and ran a finger around his collar. If Kenny was telling me the truth