C. J. Box - Joe Pickett 9 Below Zero  

Below Zero

.

Below Zero

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Dedication

PARTY ONE

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Acknowledgements

Below Zero

ALSO BY C. J. BOX

Blood Trail

Free Fire

In Plain Sight

Out of Range

Trophy Hunt

Winterkill

Savage Run

Open Season

THE STAND-ALONE NOVELS

Three Weeks to Say Goodbye

Blue Heaven

Below Zero

Below Zero

G. P. PUTNAMS SONS

Publishers Since 1838

Published by the Penguin Group

Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Canada Inc.) Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England Penguin Ireland, 25 St Stephens Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd) Penguin Group (Australia),

250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty Ltd) Penguin Books India Pvt Ltd, 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi-110 017, India Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, North Shore 0632, New Zealand (a division

of Pearson New Zealand Ltd) Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty) Ltd, 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa

Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

Copyright 2009 by C. J. Box

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy

of copyrighted materials in violation of the authors rights. Purchase only authorized editions. Published simultaneously in Canada

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Box, C. J.

Below zero / C. J. Box.

p. cm.

eISBN : 978-1-101-06019-3

1. Pickett, Joe (Fictitious character)Fiction. 2. Game wardensFiction. I. Title. PS3552.O87658B

813.54dc22

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

While the author has made every effort to provide accurate telephone numbers and Internet addresses at the time of publication, neither the publisher nor the author assumes any responsibility for errors, or for changes that occur after publication. Further, the publisher does not have any control over and

does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content. http://us.penguingroup.com

Below Zero

For Don Johnson...

And Laurie, always

Below Zero

Evolution loves death more than it loves you or me.... We are moral creatures, then, in an amoral world. The universe that suckled us is a monster that does not care if we live or diedoes not care if it itself grinds to a halt.

ANNIE DILLARD

Below Zero

Keystone, South Dakota

MARSHALL AND SYLVIA HOTLE, WHO LIKED TO LIST THEIR places of residence as Cedar Rapids, Iowa, Quartzsite, Arizona, and the open road, were preparing dinner when they saw the dark SUV with Illinois plates drive by on the access road for the third time in less than an hour.

There they are again, Sylvia said, narrowing her eyes. She was setting two places on the picnic table. Pork cutlets, green beans, dinner rolls, iceberg lettuce salad, and plenty of weak coffee, just like Marshall liked it.

Gawkers, Marshall said, with a hint of a smile. Im getting used to it.

The evening was warm and still and perfumed with dust and pine pollen particular to the Black Hills of South Dakota. Within the next hour, the smell of hot dogs and hamburgers being cooked on dozens of campground grills would waft through the trees as well. By then the Hotles would be done eating. They liked to eat early. It was a habit they developed on their farm.

The Hotles had parked their massive motor home for the night in a remote campsite within the Mount Rushmore KOA complex near Palmer Gulch, only five miles away from the monument itself. Because it was late August and the roads teemed with tourists, theyd thought ahead and secured this choice siteone theyd occupied before on their semi-annual crosscountry tripsby calling and reserving it weeks before. Although there were scores of RVs and tents setting up within the complex below, this particular site was tucked high in the trees and seemed almost remote.

Marshall often said he preferred the Black Hills to the Rocky Mountains farther west. The Black Hills were green, rounded, gentle, with plenty of lots big enough to park The Unit. The highest mountainHarney Peakwas 7,242 feet. The Black Hills, Marshall said, were reasonable. The Rockies were a different matter. As they ventured from South Dakota into Wyoming, both the people and the landscape changed. Good solid midwestern stock gave way to mountain people who were ragged on the edges, he thought. Farms gave way to ranches. The mountains became severe, twice the elevation of Harney Peak, which was just big enough. The weather became volatile. While the mountains could be seductive, they were also amoral. Little of use could be grown. There were creaturesgrizzly bears, black bears, mountain lionscapable of eating him and willing to do it. Give me the Black Hills any old day, Marshall said as he drove, as the rounded dark humps appeared in his windshield to the west. The Black Hills are plenty.

Sylvia was short, compact, and solid. She wore a sweatshirt covered with balloons and clouds shed appliqud herself. Her iron-gray hair was molded into tight curls that looked spring-loaded. She had eight grandchildren with the ninth due any day now. Shed spent the day knitting baby booties and a little stocking cap. She didnt have strong opinions on the Black Hills versus the Rocky Mountains, but...

I dont like to be gawked at, she said, barely moving her mouth.

I hate to tell you this, but its not you theyre looking at, Marshall said, sipping coffee.

Theyre admiring The Unit. Marshalls belly strained at the snap buttons of his Iowa Hawkeyes windbreaker. His face was round, and his cheeks were always red. Hed worn the same steel-framed glasses so long they were back in style, as was his John Deere cap. He chinned toward the motor home. They probably want to come up here and take a look. Dont worry, though, we can have supper first.

Thats charitable of you, Sylvia said, shaking her head. Dont you ever get tired of giving tours?

No.

Its not just a motor home, you know. Its where we live. But with you giving tours all the time, I feel like Ive always got to keep it spotless.

Ah, he said, sliding a cutlet from the platter onto his plate, youd do that anyway.