John nodded and started to speak. Blowing smoke with his words, Andy said, “Don’t encourage him, John.” He returned the cigarette to me. “Have you seen anything unusual out here in the last week?”

We both did our best not to let our eyes drift over to John and his cross. I drew on the cigarette and handed it to John.

“Could you narrow that down a bit, Andy?”

“A vehicle.”

John took a puff and looked toward the mesa and shook his head.

“Now that you mention it,” I said, “last week I saw a Prius with a gun rack.”

Andy sighed. “Ben, don’t make me go get my hat.”

“Nope,” I said. Andy was like all cops asking questions, careful not to lead. “What’s this about?”

“Not much, probably. Since I want you to keep a lookout, I’ll tell you.”

John offered Andy the cigarette. Andy declined so John handed it back to me.

“You know that Utah Entry weigh station as you come down that steep grade on 191 from Soldier Summit coming into Price?” When I said I did he continued: “Last Wednesday a truck dodged it.”

“That all?” I said.

“It would be except that he’d done it before—always early in the morning, before dawn. Moving fast on that downgrade. Last Wednesday I took a nightshift as a favor and I was on US 191 north of Green River. I had plenty of time to intercept him. A Price officer was investigating a prowler and saw the truck and trailer going south at a high rate of speed. Then the rig just disappeared.”

Andy didn’t need to spell that out for me. The driver didn’t want to be stopped and inspected and he was willing to risk it all. “You figure he turned down 117?”

“I do. Only turn he could have made. And that scares me. For him to reach the turnoff for 117 ahead of me he had to be traveling at least a hundred miles per hour, maybe one twenty or better. I don’t have to tell you a truck going that fast is dangerous in the extreme. Felony reckless endangerment. You get time, not just a ticket. Your vehicle is impounded. Your CDL will get jerked in a heartbeat. To risk that you’re not just stupid, you’re either high or—”

He didn’t need to finish his thought. “A lot of trucks out here, though not so many on 117. You got any kind of description?”

“I’ve got color and a little more. You know those old cab-over White Freightliners from the 1960s and early ’70s? Flat-nosed monsters?”

I did. In their own way they were legendary. Blowers.