Divided Sky

by Jeff Carson

  “That was something that traveled around town. I never told Jimmy about it, and he never said anything to me. But I’m sure he knew about it. Hettie probably told Kyle and Jesse. Rod knew about it.”

  “Rod Triplett?” Wolf asked.

  “Yes.”

  Silence took over.

  “And what about your husband and Kyle Farmer and Jesse Burton?” Wolf asked. “Was there some animosity there?”

  She frowned. “No. I mean, they were little shits, but they’ve always been little shits and Jimmy’s dealt with them. They’re always shooting off their guns and riding dirt bikes, but they’ve kept it to respectable times nowadays.”

  “Because Jimmy told Jesse to cut it out, right?” Wolf asked.

  “Yeah. Exactly.”

  “And that didn’t cause any animosity?”

  “No.”

  Wolf nodded. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

  “What?”

  “Are you and Deputy Triplett seeing one another?”

  She snorted. “No. We’re just good friends. We all grew up together. I’m not dumb. I know Rod’s always had a thing for me. But me and Jimmy have always had a thing for each other.”

  “You didn’t tell Rod about any of this when you saw him this morning?”

  “No. Like I said, I chickened out. I just turned the subject to Jimmy, and how I was upset about him still being gone.”

  “And why is he still gone?” Wolf asked.

  “Because he’s beating himself up. I’ve told him to come back. But my mom also opened her fat mouth and told him the opposite—that he needs to stay away and get better. She freaked out and got into a big shouting match with him. You know how in-laws can rile a person up. Jimmy left and hasn’t been back. I’m gonna have to kick her out if I want him back. But…” She put a hand over her mouth. “But if Jimmy…it looks like he’s not coming back if he did all this horrible stuff.”

  “We’re going to have to get a team over here,” Wolf said.

  “I know.” She sniffed. “That’s why I locked the place up. So Zachary or my mom couldn’t get in to disturb anything.”

  Wolf narrowed his eyes. “It was unlocked in the first place?”

  She matched his expression. “Yes. We don’t lock our doors around here. Nobody does.”

  Wolf said nothing.

  “What?” she asked. “Is that important? Tell me. You think this was somebody else? Because it would make sense. He parked all the way down the street. Didn’t pull up. I’ve been wondering why not? Maybe it’s because the person wanted to hide their car.”

  Her face fell. “If he didn’t want to wake us up, he would have decided to park far away, I guess. And my mom says she saw him.” Her expression hardened. “But her eyesight is shit. She’s completely blind in one eye and she wears glasses she hasn’t updated for years.”

  They descended into silence again.

  Wolf checked his watch and saw the Farmers’ ultimatum clock had thirty minutes left.

  Rachette was over by the boots, bending down again. “Hey, Wolf.”

  Wolf walked over. “What is it?”

  Rachette backed away and pointed down.

  He saw Rachette had tipped the other boot over on its side, revealing a wadded piece of paper stuck in the mud that clung to the boot’s sole. The piece of paper looked pristine compared to the rest of the boot—shiny white and free of mud.

  “You have some gloves?” Wolf asked.

  “No. They’re in the car.”

  Wolf pulled his sleeve over his hand and plucked the piece of paper. He flipped it over and dropped it on the concrete.

  It was a crumpled receipt, but with a little angling of his head he could easily read the printing. The bottom of the paper was ripped along a perforation, but the top was torn haphazardly, removing the pertinent store info.

  “There’s no store name or time stamp,” Wolf said.

  “Damn,” Rachette said.

  They both knew that with a time stamp and store name, they could easily go to the store and check security footage for the said time, thus seeing who purchased the items listed below.

  As for the items, a portion of the list had been torn off, but there were three products listed in itemized fashion, and a cash total.

  The items were written in some convenience store accounting system shorthand, with abbreviations for products and then the cost. The first read GTRD for $2.99, the second, LYPC for $2.35. The third item read JCFG, for a dollar and change.

  “GTRD,” Rachette said. “Looks like Gatorade to me. About the price point you’d expect. LYPC? No clue. What do you think?”

  Wolf snapped another cell phone photo and stood, leaving the receipt on the ground. “I’m not sure.”

  “What is it?” Jill Sobeck was standing next to them, looking down.

  “Listen, Jill. We have to make a phone call.” Wolf ushered her out of the garage, Rachette behind them.

  “Please lock it again,” Wolf said.

  Jill did. “Are you going to arrest Jimmy?” she asked, turning around.

  Wolf said nothing. He scrolled on his phone for Roll’s number.

  “I texted Jimmy pictures of the shovel and the boots.”

  Wolf lowered the phone. “What?”

  Now she had puppy-dog eyes. “Right when you guys got here. I texted him photos of the garage I took earlier. I’ve been thinking about sending them to Jimmy and asking him what gives. And then when we saw you two pulling up and coming to talk to us, my mom was freaking out, saying you guys would think we were holding back information. I sent it off before you guys came to the door.”

  Tears spilled out of her eyes. “I wasn’t trying to hide what my husband had done or anything. I just … I was confused. I …” She stopped talking and stood shaking her head.

  Wolf raised his phone. “I have to make a call, okay?”

  She stood mute, staring at the ground.

  He walked away from her and Rachette, the digital tone trilling in his ear. The phone rang five, ten, then fifteen times, with no answer, so he hung up.

  “What’s going on?” Rachette asked, appearing next to him.

  “I just called Roll and I’m getting nothing. Not even voicemail.”

  “How about Milo?”

  “I don’t have any of the other phone numbers.” He pulled up the Ridgway Marshal’s office on Google Maps and tapped the phone number.

  “Ridgway Marshal’s Office.”

  “Hi, Cassandra. This is Detective Wolf. I’m trying to get hold of Sheriff Roll. It’s very important.”

  “You just missed him,” she sounded frantic. “They headed up to Kyle’s house with Jesse. Did you hear they have Jesse with them now? The Farmers have Hettie and they’re threatening to kill—”

  “Can you give me Detective Milo’s phone number please?” Wolf asked, cutting her off.

  She gave the number and Wolf relayed it to Rachette. Rachette pulled his own phone and punched it in.

  “And what’s the radio channel they’re using?”

  “Seventeen.”

  “Thanks.”

  He hung up and Rachette handed him an already ringing phone. “Milo’s number.”

  “Detective—”

  The voice clipped off and was covered in static.

  “Milo, this is Wolf. Can you hear me?”

  “Hey,” Milo said. “Yeah, but probably not for long. We’re up at Kyle’s.”

  “What’s going on?” Wolf asked.

  The connection cut in and out. “The Farmers have…now…Jesse…”

  “Hello? You there?”

  A blast of static answered him, and then the call disconnected.

  Chapter 36

  The tops of Wolf’s thighs hit on the bottom of the steering wheel as the SUV bounced over a rock jutting out of the road.

  “Ah!” Rachette bounced hard in his seat, hitting his head on the ceiling. “Damn good this seatbelt’s doing. This road’s shit!”

  Wolf
steered with one hand, grabbing the ceiling bar with the other, while his foot continued to press hard on the gas. The wheel twisted back and forth as they lurched over more ruts and stones.

  “Any response yet?”

  Rachette had both their cell phones in his lap. He plucked Wolf’s and looked at the screen, then his own. “Still no reply. I’m down to one bar here.” Rachette pulled the radio from its hook. “This is Detective Rachette, calling for Sheriff Roll, do you copy? Detective Milo, do you copy? Deputy Sobeck, do you copy?”

  No answer.

  “Sobeck has reception,” Wolf said. “His phone was the only one last time we were up here.”

  Rachette looked at him. “You want me to get his number from Cassandra? And then what? Tell him ‘Hey, Jimmy, we found your boots and shovel?’”

  Wolf gripped the wheel and concentrated on the road. “We’re almost there, anyway.”

  Rachette looked at his cell phone, pinching his fingers on the screen. “Looks like less than a mile. And what are we going to do when we get there?"

  Wolf was wondering the same thing.

  When Rachette raised the radio to his lips again, Wolf put a hand on his arm. “Wait. They might not be answering for a reason.”

  Rachette hooked the hand-piece back on the radio. “So, really. What’s the plan?”

  “The plan is: keep your eyes and ears open, and stay out of danger.”

  Rachette sputtered his lips. “That never works.”

  “We’ll have to work with what the situation gives us.”

  “I’m not sure I’m gonna like what these Farmer guys give us.”

  They rounded a corner and there was a long straightaway. Wolf pressed the gas and got it up to sixty miles per hour.

  They passed a road that cut up into the woods on the right. Wolf saw crime scene tape was hanging off two trees, broken and strewn on the ground in the middle.

  “Wait! Stop! Back there!”

  Wolf had already jammed the brakes and they halted in a ball of dust. He turned the SUV around and turned up the road.

  “There it is,” Rachette said, leaning into the windshield.

  Kyle Farmer’s house was visible through the pines ahead, along with a lot of vehicles.

  Wolf stopped behind Roll’s FJ Cruiser. Sobeck’s cruiser was parked in front of that, which was parked behind Jed Farmer’s hulking black pickup truck.

  They got out into eerie silence and both drew their guns.

  Roll’s vehicle gave off heat and the engine ticked. Sobeck’s smelled like burnt rubber.

  They stood now in the center of the asphalt-paved driveway, at the shadow’s edge of Kyle’s house. The door to the shed-arsenal was shut. The crime scene tape across the stairway to the front door fluttered on a breeze. The front door to the house was now closed.

  A shout came from ahead, down in the valley, too faint to make out the words.

  “You hear that?” Rachette asked.

  Wolf nodded and walked to the edge of the driveway.

  “Down.”

  They ducked behind some trees and looked.

  Far below, they saw Sobeck, Triplett, Milo, and Roll standing in a line on the valley floor. Behind them, protected by the human barrier before him, stood Jesse, his shock of orange hair a spark among the grass. Roll and Triplett held rifles across their chests. Roll was talking, and his voice echoed up as a murmur.

  Fifty or so yards away, at the edge of the grove of aspens near the exposed hole where they’d unearthed Kyle stood Jed Farmer, his two sons, and a blonde woman—Hettie—on her knees, a gun pressed to her head.

  Jed was shouting, holding a rifle pointed at the ground between them. His eldest son stood next to him, his rifle aimed loosely between the two groups as well. The youngest Farmer, Gabriel, was in charge of their hostage.

  Rachette’s eyes were wide open. “What do you want to do?”

  His detective’s ready, willing, and able tone sent a spike of adrenaline into Wolf’s veins. Bringing Rachette here was a mistake. Wolf was putting a young father of two little boys in danger.

  “What’s up? Speak to me.”

  “I don’t have a plan,” Wolf said.

  “So what?”

  Wolf shook his head. “I’m not putting you in danger.”

  “I’m not putting you in danger by leaving you, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

  “Yes. You are. I want you to get back to the SUV and—”

  “Screw that.”

  Wolf opened his mouth to speak again.

  Rachette cut him off. “Nope.”

  Wolf looked back down through the trees. Roll was talking again, sounding like he was pleading. Jed Farmer was clearly having none of it.

  “Your plan is to get down there and stop hell from breaking loose,” Rachette said. “The Farmers think it’s Jesse that killed their son. Now we know that’s not true. But we don’t have to tell them it was Sobeck. We can be vague.”

  “First of all, I’m not so sure about what we just found out. Second, we’re gambling with that woman’s life down there.”

  Rachette shrugged. “Those boys are forcing our hand. You want to fold? You want to just sit here and watch it play out without doing anything?”

  Wolf stared at him. That’s exactly what he wanted his detective to do, but he knew wishing something that was impossible was a waste of time.

  “No.”

  “Neither do I.”

  Wolf narrowed his eyes. “They don’t know about you.”

  “Yeah? So?”

  “So, maybe we can use that.” He nodded to the radio on Rachette’s belt. “I’m heading down, I want you to stay here and keep that radio on.”

  “No. I’m not—”

  Wolf cut him off. “Listen to me, they don’t know you even exist. We might be able to bluff them into thinking you have a sniper rifle aimed on them. You keep that radio on, and you wait for my signal. When I give you the word, you fire in the air to let them know you’re real.”

  “What if they—”

  Wolf cut him off again. “Just keep that radio on. Fire in the air when I tell you. Trust me.”

  Rachette swallowed, looked down the hill, then back at Wolf. “I don’t like this.”

  “It’s the only way.” The only way to keep your stubborn ass out of danger, Wolf thought.

  Rachette eyed him suspiciously, then nodded. “Okay. I’ll be ready.”

  Wolf nodded. “You have your backup piece on you?”

  Rachette lifted his pantleg, revealing his ankle holster. “Of course.”

  “Good. Hand it over.”

  Chapter 37

  “Mr. Farmer!” Wolf called out.

  Jed Farmer’s rifle swung up and aimed at Wolf. “Freeze right there!”

  Wolf already had his hands raised high above his head. He stood a good half a football field away at the forest edge, but he had no doubt if he moved wrong his heart would explode from Jed Farmer’s well-placed round. The man pressed his eye to a scope, and Wolf could only assume the optics were sighted perfectly. “I’m just here to talk!”

  “You trying to get yourself shot?” Jed asked.

  “No, sir. I’m just here to talk.”

  “What are you doing here, Wolf?” Roll asked.

  “Shut up!” Jed walked through the tall grass toward Wolf, the black hole of his barrel leading the way. “Keep your positions,” he told his sons.

  Hettie Winkle squealed as Gabriel Farmer jerked her head. Seymour remained motionless.

  Jed marched over, his cheek pressed up against the stock of his rifle as he swished through the foliage. He stopped, his aim unwavering. “Take off your gun and throw it away.”

  Wolf unclipped his paddle holster and threw it in the grass.

  “And your backup piece.”

  Wolf bent over, pulled the backup piece from under his right pant leg and threw it into the grass next to his Glock.

  “Now get over here. Walk in front of me.”

  Wolf
followed Jed’s orders, walking toward Roll and his posse.

  “Nope. Over there, next to the girl.”

  Wolf veered toward Hettie Winkle.

  She looked thoroughly beaten, physically and mentally. Her head was cocked sideways from Gabriel’s clamp on her frizzed hair. Her eyes were wide, red-rimmed and smeared with eyeliner. Her lip was cracked, a stream of blood running down her chin. Her t-shirt was ripped around the neck and her jeans were covered in mud. Despite the warmth of the afternoon, she shivered uncontrollably as she knelt at Gabriel Farmer’s feet.

  “Stand right there.” Jed pointed to a spot in front of Seymour.

  Wolf stopped and faced Roll and his group. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the shadow of Seymour’s rifle move positions, and Wolf could feel the invisible aim on his back.

  “I was wondering where you went,” Jed said. “They told me you went back home up to Rocky Points. Now I know the sheriff was lying to me.”

  Jed walked up to Wolf’s other side. The barrel of his rifle came up inches from Wolf’s face. “Where’s that old bastard? Jesse’s uncle?”

  “He’s in the hospital up in Montrose.”

  Jed’s barrel rested, none too gently, on Wolf’s cheek. “Tell him to come out of those trees or I’ll shoot you in the head.”

  “He’s in the hospital up in Montrose. Had a heart attack.”

  Jed went silent.

  Roll, Milo, Sobeck, and Triplett now stared at Wolf. They were ten paces away. A first down. Jesse was behind them, kneeling, his eyes locked on Hettie.

  “What the hell are you doing here, Wolf?” Roll asked, not looking or sounding too pleased.

  Jed lowered his barrel, keeping his aim between the two groups.

  “You heard the sheriff,” Jed said. “Why are you here? Why are you stumbling out of the trees twenty minutes after these assholes?”

  “I’m late because I was searching a person of interest’s house.”

  “Oh? So what?” Jed spat at Wolf’s feet.

  “I found some new evidence that suggests this person was involved in your son’s murder.”

  “Whose house were you at?” Jed raised his barrel to Wolf’s face again. “Jesse’s?”

  Wolf shook his head. “No, sir.”

  “I told you, Jed!” Jesse said. “I didn’t do this! It was somebody making it look like I did it. I swear to you.”