Alive and Killing (A David Wolf Novel)

by Jeff Carson

  Chapter 44

  “What I don’t get is the way the state keeps giving money to expand the forces, but when it comes to money to improve the facilities we have in place, they don’t know what the hell is going on.”

  Sergeant McCall took a sip of his bottled water and nodded at the idiot from the Vail Police Department’s rant. Despite the steady stream of patrons coming through the gates now, the group of volunteer officers stood in the fading light of the day like they’d stood numerous times before in the last couple hours—talking in a circle like a bunch of morons.

  “Well, personally,” Officer Patterson said, “I’m sure glad they hired a new officer in Rocky Points.”

  They all laughed, and McCall laughed with them. God he hated this; he hated these asshole cops, except for maybe the girl. She was annoying like all the rest of them, but at least she was cute.

  McCall took a look at his watch. It was just after six pm. Sunset was a couple hours away, but the sun had already gone behind the mountains. The drop in temperature of the air, and the anticipation of the night, had ramped up the electricity in McCall’s body, and he was getting fidgety.

  It didn’t help that he kept thinking about how they’d already fucked up with Wolf, royally fucked up. But they could reverse the order of things, he was sure about it. But his confidence was draining with every second his brother didn’t show, or answer his text messages. Was he passed out in the trees? Had his injury taken a turn for the worse? Was he stopped on the way up the road? Sitting in a cop car?

  His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he had to force himself to relax. With a slow movement, nodding again at one of the officer’s idiotic quip, he pulled out the phone and looked at the screen for a second, then pocketed it again.

  “Excuse me, officers,” McCall turned and walked away before anyone could ask where he was going. He looked up the grassy slope toward the thick pine trees for the hundredth time and chuffed a deep breath. Finally, he screamed inside his head, watching his little brother emerge from the trees. He pulled out his phone again and fired off a text. Within a few seconds he got a message back.

  The festival crowd was thin, but thickening by the minute. In a couple of hours, there would be so many people, with so much noise, with so much commotion, that no one was going to be able to see the abduction happen, much less hear a gunshot from a mile away. It would be mayhem with the law enforcement, and McCall would steer it in the direction of his choosing.

  McCall strode through aromas of barbecue food and marijuana smoke, past people tossing Frisbees, around spastic dogs, through the bustling merchandise tent, and out past the complex of portable restrooms, and into the main visitor’s center building.

  His brother stood leaning against the wall, chugging the last ounce of a bottle of water.

  “Everything set?” McCall asked. “You look like shit. Again.”

  “I just walked over six miles, I need more water.”

  “Is everything set?” McCall asked again, this time with an edge to his voice.

  His brother eyed him, “Yes.”

  “I’ll send you a text when it’s happening. Same spot as we said. I’ll get him there, and run interference. It’s gotta be done quick.”

  Tyler nodded and walked away into the white tiled restroom.

  McCall turned around and took a slow walk. He looked out the windows of the visitor’s center ahead, and up at the ski runs that were cut out of the green forest above. They were still lit brightly by the sun, and a few mountain bikers tracked back and forth on the trails.

  “Care to rent a bike, sir?”

  McCall turned to see a teenaged kid behind a counter looking at him. He was bright-eyed with a facetious smile.

  “Ha-ha, yeah right,” McCall said.

  “It’s only twenty bucks a day. That’ll get you the lift ticket and rental. Can’t beat that deal.”

  McCall shook his head, keeping an easy smile on his lips.

  “All right. Well, when you’re done keeping all these hoodlums in line, and are looking for a good time, you know where to come. It’s beautiful up there on top, and it’s a good workout.” The kid looked down at McCall’s stomach and raised his eyebrows, like it could stand to drop a few pounds.

  McCall pulled his eyebrows together and looked at the kid. He walked to the counter and picked up a brochure, and then pretended to read it. After a second he flipped it back on the stack.

  “Does it come with a helmet?” McCall asked, leaning his elbow.

  “Sure does. Also comes—“

  “You should be wearing a helmet,” McCall said looking him in the eye, “right now. Just in case someone comes up, tries to bash you over the head.”

  The kid’s face dropped.

  McCall watched the kid swallow once. “Now shut the fuck up, and leave me alone. I’m trying to do my job here, got that?”

  The kid nodded.

  McCall turned and walked away, and straight into Officer Patterson, who was standing right next to him.

  “Whoa, sorry,” McCall’s cheeks flushed hot as he looked down at Patterson’s wide-eyed look of horror. “I didn’t see you there. Going to use the good bathrooms too?”

  Patterson nodded dumbly, and then glanced at the kid behind the counter.

  Shit.

  “I’ll think about it,” McCall said, giving the kid a cool look. Then he slapped the counter and walked away, “I’ll see you back there, Officer Patterson.”

  Shit.

  Chapter 45

  Wolf, Luke, Brookhart, and Officer Richter met a block away from Clark’s property and checked their weapons in front of Luke’s Tahoe. Officer Richter nodded at a woman across the street, and she quickly swept her children inside and disappeared behind a slammed door.

  It was early evening, and the sun was just dipping past the mountains to the west, and they could see through brightly lit windows all around. Families sat watching television, or eating around kitchen tables.

  The windows of Clark’s house, however, were covered, and dark, blocking any view into the house. Wolf knew Clark wasn’t coming home again, he’d made sure of that, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t danger inside.

  The home was a modest size in a neighborhood just south of where Bernadette Richter lived. It was an area of town that had apparently boomed in the last housing bubble, because all the properties looked brand new, and Clark’s house was no exception. The trees were young, the landscaping incomplete, concrete intact without chips or cracks, and the paint on the exterior looked fresh. Which also meant there was nowhere to hide when approaching, so speed was even more essential.

  Wolf and Luke sprinted to the front door, and Brookhart and Richter went to the back of the property. Wolf checked the knob, and it was locked. He walked down the porch and checked the windows. One of them was clearly unlocked with the latches flipped up. Wolf pulled the screen out, and palmed the glass and pushed with his good arm, not budging it. Luke joined him and used both her hands to help, and it pushed up with a smooth whoosh.

  Wolf reached in and pulled up the wood blind, exposing the interior of the house. The family room inside had a beige carpet, and was furnished with dark wood furniture, leather couches, and a flat screen television mounted on the wall.

  Wolf straddled the windowsill and climbed inside. His feet creaked underneath the carpet. It smelled like leather and spray cleaner.

  Luke climbed in after him and aimed her SIG and flashlight around the room. There was no one. She stepped past Wolf and into a dark kitchen. She flipped the light, revealing a modern kitchen with white marble countertops and stainless steel appliances. There was a sliding glass door to the back yard on the other side of a bar counter.

  “I’m opening the back door,” Luke said into her radio.

  She stepped to the door and opened it.

  Wolf walked the rest of the house, checking the two bedrooms, confirming they were clear.

  “All clear,” he said.

  They conv
ened in the kitchen, all donned latex gloves, and split up to search the house.

  Clark’s bedroom was furnished like the rest of the house, with expensive, top of the line electronics, and heavy furniture. Stylized photographs of planes, flying and grounded, hung on the walls in brushed nickel frames. An antique National Geographic map was above his king-sized bed, and there were a couple pictures of him and some male friends on the beach.

  Wolf searched his closet, and found a metal box underneath a flight cap. In it was a silver Zippo lighter, an old looking Polaroid picture of a man and woman, and another few pictures underneath that.

  “Take a look,” Wolf said.

  Luke walked into the closet and bent down.

  Wolf held up a red hued Polaroid with a brown stain on the front of it. It was of three kids. Two of the three looked to be about Jack’s age, around twelve years old. They stood in a line, in front of a patch of forest. They stood a few feet from one another, and they didn’t smile.

  One of them was clearly Clark, as the kid in the picture had frosting-white hair with a cluster of moles under his mouth, but the other two kids were a mystery. One of them had a hard look in his eye, like he was an angry forty-year-old, though it was clear he wasn’t much older than the other two in the picture. He was probably fourteen, Wolf guessed. The other kid was younger than Clark and the other kid. The two kids that weren’t Clark had the same eyes. The color was impossible to tell, but the shape, and the hard look was almost identical.

  Wolf looked at Clark’s likeness as a child, and then the others, and felt like he’d seen the other two before. He tried to put the adolescent faces on grown up bodies, but couldn’t come up with from where.

  “This must have been right around when he went into a foster home,” Wolf said.

  Luke pointed at the picture. “It looks like these two kids are brothers, right? They look alike.”

  Wolf nodded. “Yeah.”

  Wolf pocketed the picture and rummaged down further into the box. There was another picture, this time when Clark was older. It looked like it was when he was in high school. He stood smiling, next to three other smiling kids who were clearly different from the previous photo. They all had dark hair and looked nothing like Clark. Two adults bookended the line of boys with the same dark hair and same big smile. The entire group was lined in front of a brick house with white columns on either side of them.

  “Foster family,” Wolf said.

  Luke nodded.

  Wolf pocketed that photo as well, and they walked out into the kitchen, where Brookhart and Richter were standing with their hands on their hips.

  “Anything?” Wolf asked Brookhart.

  “No. Nothing. No gold, at least. No safe, no nothing. Checked the garage, basement, all the rooms, drawers, boxes.”

  Richter nodded, pealing off his gloves. “What now?”

  Wolf took a deep breath and shook his head. “We’re still missing something.”

  They stood in silence for a few moments.

  “You guys swear you’ve never seen Clark in your lives?” Wolf asked.

  Richter and Luke shook their heads.

  “Then I don’t get the connection. I mean, I guess your brother could have met Clark on an air base in Afghanistan. But…how long did World Cargo say he flew for them? Eleven years?”

  Luke nodded. “That’s what they said.”

  Wolf frowned. “I have a buddy from the military who flies cargo. Last time I saw him, we were giving him flack for having such an easy job. Basically, once a month, he gets on a plane and flies it to Hawaii. He sits there on the beach for a week, comes back to the states, loads up another plane, goes back to Hawaii, and comes back home. A few weeks later, he does it all again.

  “The reason why he has that route, is because he’s been with the company for nine years, and he has the seniority to choose the routes he wants. So what doesn’t make sense, is that Clark was on that route to Afghanistan. There’s no way he would choose to go into that hell hole, with risk of being shot out of the sky, without good reason.”

  “Yeah,” Richter said, “like millions of dollars in gold?”

  Wolf nodded. “Exactly. So my point is, your brother wouldn’t have met Clark in Afghanistan. It had to have been somewhere here.”

  They stood in silence for a few moments looking at each other.

  “Was your brother into martial arts?” Brookhart asked.

  Luke shook her head.

  “How about a bar?” Wolf asked.

  “He gave up drinking when he went into the service,” Luke said.

  “So he said,” Richter said.

  Luke rolled her eyes. “He gave it up, Dan.”

  “We need to go back into the databases. Do some more digging. I don’t know where else to go.” He looked out of the sliding glass door at the fading light.

  Chapter 46

  Wolf stared out the passenger window, watching the businesses roll by as they drove down Grand Avenue once again toward the field office. The sun had dropped lower behind the mountains, so Luke had the headlights on, but there was a cirrus cloud overhead that shined hot pink, bathing the tops of cars and the sidewalks in a rose glow.

  He pulled out his phone and called Jack.

  It rang a few times and then he heard a blast of music in the earpiece.

  “Hello?” Jack yelled into the phone.

  “Hey buddy. How are you doing?”

  Jack laughed, “Good! We’re watching Terry’s band. They’re doing awesome.”

  “Who’s we?” Wolf asked.

  “What?”

  “Who are you with?” Wolf asked louder.

  “I’m with Pattie and Rachette,” he said.

  “Let me talk to Rachette, will you?” Wolf said.

  Wolf heard Jack yell over the noise, then Rachette came on.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, how you doing?” Wolf asked.

  “What?” Rachette said. “I can barely hear you.”

  Wolf sighed and looked at Luke. Luke smiled and shook her head.

  “I’ll call you back. Get somewhere quieter,” Wolf said, and he hung up.

  Wolf looked out the window again.

  “Well, sounds like they’re at least having fun,” Luke said.

  “Yeah,” Wolf said glaring with unfocused eyes.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m just worried. They were coming after me last night. And I just don’t like being away from Jack right now.” Wolf said.

  Luke nodded and didn’t answer. She sighed heavily, and Wolf could tell she was tearing herself up inside about her brother’s involvement.

  “You’ve got your son with your police officers, right?”

  Wolf nodded.

  “And they’re at the most public, crowded place possible. I think it’s the safest place for him. Safer than being with us, right? The action is following us, like you said, they came after you last night.”

  Wolf didn’t answer, just kept watching the flitter of passing buildings. He wondered how Sarah was faring after day two of around the clock protection of her son. He’d have to call her, too.

  Wolf twisted in his seat so fast it nearly ripped the stitches out of his arm again.

  “What?” Luke said. “What?”

  “Turn around, turn here.” Wolf grabbed the wheel and Luke slapped it away.

  “Okay, okay. You gonna pull a gun on me again?”

  “I’m serious, go back to The Mountain Goat Bar and Grill.”

  Chapter 47

  Rachette watched Sergeant McCall walk along the backside of the now swelled crowd toward he and Jack. McCall greeted concertgoers that looked his way with warm smiles and nods. When a man chasing a hacky sack stumbled out in front of him, McCall simply stopped and smiled, watching patiently as the man hid a joint he was smoking in his hand and ran back into the crowd.

  He reached Rachette and shook his head. “I’m still unclear on what we’re supposed to do about pot in this state.”
>
  Rachette laughed. “Yeah, isn’t everybody. I just turn the other cheek unless they’re doing something stupid, like toking up in front of little guys like this,” he ruffled Jack’s hair, who stood next to him with the same wide-eyed interest in McCall that Rachette had.

  “You know better than to do that stuff, right, kid?” McCall asked with a serious expression.

  Jack nodded like it was the dumbest question he’d ever heard in his life. “Yeah, that crap’s for losers. I play sports. That stuff makes you slow, and lazy.”

  McCall gave him a solid nod and held out his fist.

  Jack knuckle bumped him and kept a serious face.

  “How’s the music?” McCall asked, turning toward the stage in the distance.

  Rachette shrugged. He hadn’t been listening, really. “Pretty good.”

  “It’s a local band. One of the guys is my friend’s dad,” Jack pointed to the stage. “The guy playing guitar. That’s Jim Hughes. I’m friends with Zack, his son. We’re in class together.”

  McCall looked at Jack’s proud expression and smiled at Rachette. “Cool,” he said nodding.

  They stood for a few more minutes, watching the crowd, and watching Jack dance like no one was watching, or more like everyone was watching. That’s the way Jack liked things.

  Rachette brought his radio to his lips. “Wilson, do you have a copy?”

  “Go ahead.” The voice was low coming out of his speaker, but loud on McCall’s, so Rachette dialed up the volume and walked away a few steps.

  “You doing all right up there? Anything we need to know about?”

  “Doin’ just fine. Crowd is still streaming in, there’s quite a surge coming from the lot now.”

  “All right, I’ll send Patterson up to join you when she gets back.”

  “Ten-four.”

  Rachette hung the radio back on his chest and walked to Jack and McCall.

  Jack was looking up at McCall with the same worshipping gaze he gave Patterson, and telling an animated story over the noise.

  McCall laughed with his head back, and then caught Rachette’s eye and nodded.