Cold Lake (20 page)

Patterson listened to the eighth purring ringtone in the earpiece and exhaled. The digital clock read 10:25 and her eyes were stinging, losing the fight against gravity. This was the perfect end to the longest day on the planet.

“Jesus Christ, don’t they have employees on duty on Sunday ni—”

“Boise County Sheriff’s Department,” said a bored voice.

Patterson straightened in her chair. “Hi, this is Deputy Heather Patterson from the Sluice County SD in Colorado. We found a burned vehicle yesterday with two yet unidentified bodies inside. The VIN came back registered in Idaho in your county. I’m doing a follow up call—”

“Please hold.”

The line clicked and a recording of a man talking about Boise Sheriff Department’s commitment to serving and protecting the people of southwestern Idaho crackled in her ear.

She leaned back in her chair and blew out through her lips.

Her cell phone lit up and started dancing across her desk.

She leaned forward and read the screen with a sigh. Scott. She had missed three of his calls today, and when she’d called him back he didn’t answer. Now she was going to have to leave him hanging yet again.

The phone stopped vibrating and darkened, plunging the room into silence once again, save for the recording in her ear.

The squad room was black, the only light the red flash of computer monitor switches and the small cone of photons under her desk lamp. Looking outside, the ground was painted with moon light, looking like there was a dusting of snow on the ground it was so bright.

The recording went silent in her ear. “Deputy Michelson speaking.”

“Hi,” Patterson introduced herself, “I’m trying to get some information on a man we might have found down here. Looking to see if you have a rap sheet on him.”

“Rocky Points, Colorado, huh?” The man’s tone was breathy,-couldn’t give two shits, but I’m still asking.

Patterson creased her forehead. “Yeah. The name is William Van Wyke. I’m looking for priors, anything you have on him.”

A long exhale. The squeak of a chair. Finger taps on a keyboard. “Yep. Here we go. A licensed private investigator. Registration is current with our department. Other than that, squeaky-clean. Looks like he’s working on the right side of the law. Wait, what did you say happened to him?”

“We found him burned up in a car, shot four times. Or, at least we think it’s him. Someone made sure his teeth weren’t going to tell us, and he was a piece of charcoal after the fire.”

The deputy gasped into the phone. “Hey, Rocky Points. They’re talking on the news today about a bunch of bodies being pulled up from a lake up there, aren’t they?”

“Yes, they are.”

“In your county?”

“Yep.”

The deputy let out a long whistle. “Well, have fun with that. That’s some messed up—”

Patterson jumped as the station line rang shrill and loud on her desk.

“Look, thanks for your help. If you find anything else, please give us a call. Again, it’s the Sluice County Sheriff’s Office, and I’m Deputy Patterson.”

“Got it. Have a good one.”

Patterson hit the line button and switched to the main line. “Sluice County Sheriff’s Department.”

“Hi, my name is Doug Orden. I live up on Bear Hill road. I’m pretty sure I just heard three gunshots.”

Wolf was hot.

With exertion that made his head throb with pain, he squinted to see. But the light was too bright, and no matter how much he squinted, the light was too bright and the images were washed out.

He heard the chopper in the distance, and by the sound of the rotors it was ready to lift off. Everyone was almost on board, and he was supposed to be sweeping the perimeter of the jungle, but he couldn’t see a thing.

He was hot. He was hot, and his pack was heavy. So heavy he couldn’t move.

The rotor of the chopper thumped, thrumming in his skull, but the wash didn’t reach him. He was so damned hot.

As he looked back toward the jungle line his earpiece roared with distressed yells, almost rupturing his eardrums. His head shrieked in pain at the sudden cacophony, and suddenly he was flooded with panic.

“They’re dead, and it’s all your fault!” Someone screamed at him.

With a loud bang, he was slammed by a wall of heat as the helicopter exploded.

Wolf grunted and tried to sit up, but something was on top of him. Something heavy and unmercifully hot was pinning him down.

He opened his eyes and saw a twirling ceiling fan, and then a face inches from his.

As he laid his head back, he was shocked by the sudden thud of pain that hit the back of his skull. His vision twisted for an instant, and then he blinked and looked again at the face in front of him.

“Are you all right?” It asked in a soft voice.

His chest heaved as he tried to normalize his breath. His nose was plugged, draining blood down the back of his throat. He closed his eyes and relaxed, realizing it was Kimber.

But wait. He opened his eyes again. That was his fan mounted on his bedroom ceiling.

The pressing heat on his body
. Without having to move he realized Kimber was lying stark naked with her full weight on his left side, with her leg draped across his crotch. The sweat trapped between their bodies made the scrapes on Wolf’s upper thighs itch.

“What the hell?” he asked.

She peaked her eyebrows and smiled. “You’re at home. You got beat up by a bunch of thugs last night. And a little drunk to boot.”

Wolf reached up and touched the side of his head, sucking in a breath at the sudden pain. “Ah.”

“Don’t touch it. If it feels half as bad as it looks then I’m sure it hurts.”

Wolf took another few deep breaths as he ran his fingers over the goose egg bump above his ear, all the while feeling the sheets as they pulled across his naked skin. Suddenly it was all too much, and nausea rose from within.

“Get up.” Wolf pushed her off of him and closed his eyes. “Get up.”

The sheets rustled and the bedsprings rose as she got up.

After a few breaths the nausea abated and he looked over and saw Kimber standing fully nude.

“What happened?”

“I just told you, you got beat up by—”

“No. I mean with us?” Wolf wiped sweat off his forehead.

She looked genuinely confused. “You don’t remember?”

Wolf shook his head. The motion felt like a sledgehammer to his temples.

“The bartender, he had a shotgun. Got those guys off of you. You got up and said you were all right. He was wondering if he should call your deputies, but you said no, and then you told me to take you home.” She looked down at the sheets, and then she bent down and pulled up the comforter to cover her breasts. “And so I took you home.”

Wolf closed his eyes. He remembered the fight with Carter, and he remembered what the man had said to him. In fact, Wolf felt rage course through him again just thinking about it, and it only served to make his head pound with more pain.

“I’m sorry.” She said softly.

Wolf cracked an eyelid and looked over at his nightstand. There was a wad of bloody gauze and bandages, and next to it was a bottle of peroxide.

“You were bleeding pretty bad. I got it to stop. I didn’t think you needed stitches, it’s just those head wounds won’t stop sometimes.”

Wolf frowned. “And after you patched me up? We …”

She smiled sheepishly and then exhaled. “You don’t remember?”

Wolf closed his eyes and put his arms above his head. “No. No I don’t.”

“Maybe you do need to get that checked out.” She rolled her eyes and put a strand of hair behind her ear. “Jesus. I’m sorry. I had no idea.”

Wolf shook his head. This time the movement hurt less. He was thirsty as hell, like he’d swallowed some of the gauze and it was stuck in his throat. With immense effort he sat up, feeling dizzy as he looked around the room.

The light outside was dim. Was it morning or evening? He swept his legs off the edge of the bed and sat. The nightstand clock said 6:14.

“This is going to sound like a stupid question, but it’s morning, right?”

She chuckled. “Yeah. Who the hell were those guys, anyway?” She asked.

He stood up, feeling too dizzy with his head throbbing too hard to worry about his nakedness. He paused to look out the window and saw an elk grazing under a pine. The window’s cold aura got him walking again. “Nobody to worry about.”

He walked to the bathroom and saw his clothes from the night before hanging on the shower curtain rod.

“There was quite a lot of blood on your shirt, and some on your jeans. I washed them for you.”

He looked at her and nodded thanks.

She returned the gesture.

He looked in the mirror, tilting his head to check out his wound. It was a bump the size of a golf ball with a red T-shaped split on the tip, clearly visible through his hair. The slightest touch sent a current of pain through his entire skull.

His nose was swollen and the skin was darkening in between his eyes. He wondered if he was going to have two black eyes for the …
shit.
The debate.
Life came back at him like a slingshot.

“What is it?” Kimber stood next to him, still stark naked, staring at him in the mirror.

He looked down at her and frowned, thinking of the absurdity of the situation. “How did you know how to get to my house last night?”

She shook her head. “You told me how.”

Wolf nodded. “Of course I did. I’m going to take a quick shower. Then you can take one if you want and we’ll head back into town.”

She narrowed her eyes and then without a word turned and closed the door behind her.

Wolf stood transfixed in front of the mirror, staring at the doorknob, wondering what the hell just happened, and what the hell had happened last night? Thoughts and snippets of his and Kimber’s conversation before the fight flooded back into his brain, like a wave that goes out only to join forces with another and comes crashing in even harder.

He remembered after the pool cue snapped against his head now, how he’d gotten a good shot in on Carter, and then had been leveled by one of the other two men. And yes. He remembered telling the bartender to hold off on calling his deputies. He didn’t want the embarrassment of being caught out drinking with a person of interest in the case, and he never liked being broke and beaten on the ground.

What he did not remember was getting home, or anything else beyond that. Had he drunk that much? He knew that given a severe enough blow, head trauma could erase some short-term memory, but it just seemed ludicrous that it would have happened to him.

The truth was, he wondered whether he should feel like a rape victim, or guilty for acting like one. There was one thing he did remember, though. Closing his eyes, he thought about the end of his dream.

They’re dead and it’s all your fault.

Roiling clouds above slid by and the tops of the pines bent in the wind as Wolf walked across the station lot. Looking at the darkness to the north was all the forecast Wolf needed to know that it was going to be a miserable Monday. Fitting, he thought, still waiting for the Advil to deaden the miserable pounding in his skull.

Tammy glanced up at him and the door clacked.

Wolf almost made it by her.

“Wait, what the hell happened to you?”

Wolf exhaled and nodded. “Hello, Tammy.” He grabbed the door and pulled.

Tammy stood and was making to meet him on the other side through her own door.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he warned as he stepped through the squad room.

She pulled her eyebrows together and shook her head. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“Will do. Thanks.”

Wilson stood from his desk as if ready to refill his coffee and paused. “What happened to you?”

Wolf ignored the question. “What’s going on? Where is everyone?”

“Rachette and Patterson just left to go up to the lake. Baine, too. Rachette and Baine were talking about going into the woods, Patterson talking about the rescue team trying again to get what they found at the bottom of that lake. Oh yeah, and Baine says he left something on your desk?”

Wolf nodded. “Okay. Thanks.”

“And sir, Patterson got two calls last night from people who heard shots fired. Both said they heard three shots, but we haven’t found anything yet, haven’t heard anything. We had two units on patrol last night who couldn’t find anything out of the ordinary either.”

Wolf frowned and nodded. “Okay. Let me know if anything comes of it.”

“Yes sir.”

He stepped down the hall and into his office. With a twist of his fingers, he opened the aluminum blinds, letting in the subdued light from outside. Margaret Hitchens was outside her office across the street, bundled in a knee length dress coat and talking to three other professionally dressed people.

He narrowed his eyes as he watched Margaret signal toward his office, and the other three looked his way.

With an exhale he turned and sat down. The squawk of the chair springs jabbed his brain. After a few seconds of staring dumbly at the wall, he stood and got a bottle of water from the mini-fridge in the hallway and downed it in one breath. Another half a bottle down his throat, and he felt some vitality returning.

He heard his desk phone’s digital trill and walked back into his office and picked it up.

“Wolf.”

“Hey, it’s Lorber. Have you checked your email yet?”

“No, just a second.” Wolf woke up his computer and logged into his email.

As he waited for the screen to load he noticed a sticky-note on his desk.

Done. Check your email. –Baine

Wolf ripped up the note and put it in the trash. “All right. I’m clicking on your email.”

“Look at the attachments. There’re three pictures.”

Wolf clicked on one. “Okay. I’m seeing a watch.”

The sound of Lorber sipping coffee filled Wolf’s ear. “I found this watch in Nick Pollard’s truck. Notice the way the strap is severed at an angle. I’m calling this the smoking wrist watch.”

“Mmm,” Wolf said.

“This is a Swatch brand watch,” Lorber continued,” popular in the 80’s and 90’s. Some models are water resistant. Lucky for us, this one was not. Also lucky for us, this watch is made exclusively from plastic parts, which resisted corrosion from the particular vat of chemicals you bathed in yesterday. By the way, how are your genitals doing this morning?”

Wolf clicked on the second picture. It was a close up of an arm of one of the murder victims pulled from the lake. “I’m on the second picture.”

“Okay. The second picture is a close up of Nick Pollard’s left wrist. Do you see that vertical slash on it?”

Wolf leaned into the screen. “Yes. I do.”

“And it just so happens that the angle of the cut on the wrist lines up exactly with the severed watch strap.”

Wolf clicked on the third picture. It was a close up of the watch face.

Lorber coughed into the receiver. “And the third. I give you, the smoking wrist watch.”

Wolf shook his head, allowing a small smile to reach his lips. “It’s stopped at 8:25.”

“Eight, twenty, five. There’s even a cute little date and day next underneath all that gook that I cleaned off, and it says Thursday, July 4
th
.”

“So there’s our time of death,” Wolf said. “Or, correction, the time his truck was dumped in the lake.”

“Yep. And there are eleven other stab wounds from the same knife on Nick Pollard’s body, and three tears in the vinyl seat of his truck seat that are made by the same blade.”

Wolf leaned back. “You’d bet your hair on it?”

“Yes. I would. It’s safe to say that by the time Nick’s truck was dumped in the pond, Nick was dead.” Lorber made a kissing noise. “And there’s the sound of Kimber Grey’s alibi sealing tight.”

Wolf stared at the picture on his computer screen, and then up at Wilson’s head peeking inside the office.

“Sir? You have some company.”

Wolf frowned. “Who?”

“Who what?” Lorber said in his ear.

“Lorber, I have to go, I’ll talk to you later.”

Wolf hung up and looked up to see Wilson gone and Margaret poking her head around the corner with a surprised grin on her face. “Howdy Sheriff.”

He needed to have a talk with Tammy.

“Sheriff Wolf, we’re sorry to bother you.” She stepped into the doorway and looked over her shoulder.

We?
He pictured a pool cue snapping over Tammy’s head as he stood from his desk.

Two men and a woman stepped up behind Margaret and craned their necks to see. He raised his chin and smiled politely, recognizing one of the men and one of the women from somewhere that escaped him now.

“Hello.” Wolf walked around his desk.

“David,” Margaret stepped aside, “these are all members of the Byron County Council. They were in town this morning and wanted to meet you. You might remember Chairwoman and President Teresa Ball? And Vice Chairman Phillip Henley? And this is Council Member Andrew Kensington.”

Halfway through the second handshake Margaret’s face dropped. She stared closely at Wolf’s injured scalp. “What happened to you?”

Wolf gave a sheepish smile and pointed a finger at his wound. “One of the hazards of the job.”

Margaret and the council members shared an exasperated look with one another.

“Can we come in?” She asked. “We’d like to talk for just a few moments.”

Wolf looked into his office. “Sure. But I only have two chairs. Let’s go into the Situation Room to talk.”

He led the way and held the door open. They funneled past Wolf with wispy fabric and strong fragrances and took seats on the plastic chairs.

Wolf pulled out a chair on the opposite side of the white table and sat down.

Chairwoman Teresa Ball leaned forward on a thin forearm, and Wolf was mesmerized as her platinum bracelet dangled and danced on the table. “I’d like to congratulate you on your recent popularity.”

She flashed an attractive smile and smoothed her hand over her gray sculpture of a haircut. “We were just in the neighborhood, up from Ashland, checking on the new county building that’s going up.”

Wolf pulled down the corners of his mouth and nodded. “They’re getting close.”

She nodded. “They say they’re going to be done by the end of the month.”

“Just in time.” Wolf smiled.

“Just in time.” Her smiled faded. “I want to get to the point, Sheriff. We’re here because we want us all to be friends, here in this room. We have some great things already planned for the sustainable growth of this new county, and for this beautiful resort town of Rocky Points, and I think we can all help each other out with the trajectory our respective careers are taking.”

Wolf leaned back and smiled. “The trajectory our careers are taking? We’ll have to see about me. They still have to count the votes. At least I think. Isn’t that how it works, Margaret?”

Margaret’s face froze for a second and then she smiled. “Ha. Of course, David.” She looked at the three council members and then shot a dagger glance at him.

“And what about you three?” Wolf gestured with a hand. “You don’t have to be voted in?”

The two men relaxed in their chairs and exchanged a glance. The Chairwoman looked down at her hand and tapped a finger. “Yes. We do have to be voted and sworn in, but unlike you we are all running unopposed for the positions we will hold in the newly formed County Council.”

“Ah.” Wolf nodded with genuine interest. “And if I were to be elected sheriff, the bylaws state I would have voting power in many of the council matters.”

“That’s right.” The Chairwoman nodded and her bangs bounced. “You would, on certain issues.”

Wolf spread his hands. “Just trying to ‘get to the point’ as you say.”

The Chairwoman leaned back and took a deep breath. “Well, I think that—”

The door clicked and creaked open, and Wilson peeked his head inside. “Sheriff?”

Wolf held up a finger. “I’ll be right out. We were just finishing up.”

Margaret’s nostrils flared as she white-knuckle-gripped the armrest of her chair.

“Sir. We have a”—Wilson looked at the four guests and then back at him—“10-79.”

Wolf nodded. “Sorry, folks. I’ve gotta get going.” He got up and left the room without a second glance at his confused guests.

“What do we have?” The Sit-Room door latched behind him.

Wilson froze, his eyes locked on Wolf’s.

“What?”

“It’s … Beacon Light Road, sir. Two 10-79’s on Beacon Light.”

Wilson’s sad eyes answered Wolf’s question before Wolf could line up his words.

He sagged against the wall. “Who? Who is it?”