By C. J. Box
A Joe Pickett novel from #1 New York Times-bestselling writer C.J. Box.
Game wardens have discovered a guy lifeless at a mountain camp-strung up, gutted, and flayed as though he have been the elk he'd been searching. Is the homicide the paintings of a deranged anti-hunting activist or of a lone psychopath with a private vendetta? Wyoming online game warden Joe Pickett is the fellow to trace the assassin and forestall him earlier than somebody announces open season on people.
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A Joe Pickett novel from #1 New York Times-bestselling writer C. J. Box. Game wardens have chanced on a guy lifeless at a mountain camp-strung up, gutted, and flayed as though he have been the elk he'd been searching. Is the homicide the paintings of a deranged anti-hunting activist or of a lone psychopath with a private vendetta?
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Extra info for Blood Trail (A Joe Pickett Novel)
Director Randy Pope paced the room, head down, hands clasped behind his back. Pope was tall and thin with light blue eyes and sandy hair and a pallor that came from working indoors in an office. He had a slight brown mustache and a weak chin and his lips were pinched together so tightly they looked like twin bands of white cord. “Pope is making me nervous,” Kiner whispered between bites. ” “Me either,” Joe said. “He’s not just passing through either,” Kiner said. “He got a room at the Holiday Inn.
Joe shook Pope’s hand, which was clammy and stiff, his long, thin fingers like a package of refrigerated wieners. The governor said, “That’s what I love to see. ” Rulon asked. “Trampled,” Pope said. ” “What about the immediate area? ” “Not yet,” Pope said. “We ordered the forensics team to stay at the immediate crime scene. ” Rulon made a face. ” “Possible,” Pope said, “but unlikely. ” “Maybe he’s waiting for you to all go home,” Rulon said. “Look, I have an idea. Before I was governor, I prosecuted a case on the reservation where this poor old woman was raped and murdered in her mountain cabin.
The sniper had been sighting in on us on the street. ” JOE ADMIRED hunters who hunted seriously and with respect not only for the animals they pursued but for the resource itself. Most of the hunters in Wyoming were like that, and they had passed their respect along to the next generation. While the numbers of hunters had declined over the years, it was still a vibrant local tradition. Good hunters considered hunting a solemn privilege and a means to reconnect with the natural world, to place themselves back on earth, into a place without supermarkets, processed foods, and commercial meat manufacturing industries.
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