by C. J. Box
Trey sighed heavily and leaned toward Joe. "Joe, what's going on? We could both lose our jobs over this."
"His wife drowns but he has the presence of mind to negotiate my transfer?" Joe asked. "Does that sound like a grieving widower to you?"
"Shock affects people in different ways," Pope said weakly, again talking to Trey as if he couldn't deal with Joe. "Don Ennis has a direct line to the governor, Trey. He's not somebody we can fuck around with anymore. We let you give Will Jensen a long leash, and then Joe here. Things couldn't have gone worse under your watch. Now we've got to think of our survival, and I'm talking about the whole agency."
"What did you offer him?" Joe asked Pope. "Did you tell him we'd approve Beargrass Village?"
Pope flushed red but didn't answer.
"You did," Joe said.
"I'm trying to keep you out of jail!" Pope shouted. "Why can't you get that?"
Joe stood up, and he noticed that both Trey and Tassell pushed back from the table in case they needed to restrain him.
"Don Ennis caused Will Jensen to break," Joe said. "He started to do the same to me. He probably killed his wife this morning. And you"—he pointed awkwardly across the table with his handcuffs at Pope—"just gave him what he wanted all along."
The room was silent, until Pope asked, "Can you prove a single thing you're saying?"
Joe hesitated. "Some of it," he said. "But you'll need to give me the rest of the day to nail it all down."
Trey looked from Pope to Tassell. "Let's give Joe a chance here. Is that all right with you, Sheriff?"
"I don't think I like where this is headed," Sheriff Tassell said, shaking his head. "I don't think I like it at all."
ON THE WAY to the statehouse in Tassell's Cherokee, the sheriff kept shaking his head. "We lose a couple of people every year on the river," he said. "Unlike homicides, it isn't that unusual." He had told Joe, Pope, and Trey that while going through the rapids, Stella apparently lost her grip on the rope and was thrown from the boat. Don Ennis said she must have been tugged underneath his raft because they didn't see her again. Teams were searching for the body, but they hadn't found it yet.
"We've had situations where the body isn't found for weeks," Tassell said, "sometimes even longer. If it gets pinned under the water against rocks, we just have to wait. One guy wasn't found for over a year. His body washed all the way down to Palisades Reservoir and an ice fisherman found him when he was drilling a hole in the ice."
"Who else was in the boat?" Joe asked again.
"Don, of course," Tassell said, "Pete Illoway, and some guy named Shane Suhn, who works for Ennis. They all corroborated the story."
"How do we know she was in the boat?"
"Some other rafters saw her when they launched," Tassell said.
"Where did it happen?" Joe asked. "Where on the river?"
"At the start of the worst stretch of whitewater," Tassell said. "That's where most of the drownings take place. People get used to nice easy rapids, and then they hit the hard stuff and they aren't prepared for it."
Tassell leaned across the table to look at Joe. "You've seen all those Snake River rafting pictures around town? That's where they're taken, because the rollers are so big."
Joe thought about the photos he had seen in the window of Wildwater Photography.
"She wasn't inexperienced," Joe said. "She'd been on that stretch of the river many times."
"But why would Don kill his wife?" Tassell asked.
"She discovered something about him," Joe said. "And he was planning to dump her."
Trey turned in his seat, hanging an arm over the back of it, narrowing his eyes at Joe. "How well did you know her, anyway?"
"Well enough," Joe said.
"I thought you were going to say 'not well enough.'" Pope grinned.
Joe glared at him, and Pope looked away.
AT THE STATEHOUSE, Joe showed them how the piece of siding on the back of the house could be removed. They watched as he took it off and peeled back a layer of pink insulation, revealing a line of copper tubing and a metal screw-top fitting that had been soldered onto the tube.
"This line connects directly from the well in the basement to the drinking water outlet on the refrigerator inside," Joe said. "It was the surest way they could drug Will. They couldn't put it in his food, because he ate out a lot and rarely cooked, except for that last night. But if they could connect it to his drinking water"—Joe fingered the valve where a bottle of liquefied narcotic could be connected by a fitting with a dispensing valve on it—"they knew it would get him." He showed them how the valve could be adjusted to dispense a quantity of the drug into the line. It was still set at one-quarter open, enough to affect Joe but not disable him.
"Christ," Tassell said, looking over the mechanism.
"The first night I was in the house I heard somebody out here," Joe said. "I heard a clunking sound, probably after they hooked up the bottle and fumbled with putting the siding back up. But I didn't figure this out until yesterday. Once I knew it was drugs, things started to make sense."
"So they didn't actually murder him," Trey said. "They created a scenario where he would either get fired, get arrested, or do himself in."
"Right," Joe said. "He was under a lot of strain after his wife left, and that's when they installed it. And they also knew that after she left he'd be in worse shape, and more vulnerable. Ennis knew Will was going to veto Beargrass Village, and the only way the project could go forward was if Will was gone and discredited. Will couldn't figure out what was happening to him—you can read it in his journals. The drugs just made things worse to the point that he couldn't see another way out of it." Joe had made the decision not to tell them what he knew about Stella's part in it. He didn't see the point, now that she was gone and Will's death had been ruled a suicide.
"But we don't know who rigged this up," Pope said. "You're speculating here."
"I am," Joe said. "But who besides Don Ennis had the means to do something like this? Who gained from Will going off the deep end?"
"You've got a point," Trey said.
"Another thing," Joe said. "Susan Jensen told me that Will's cremation was paid for by some anonymous person. She thought it was someone who liked Will, or the family. I'll bet if we check the crematorium we'll find out the check came from Ennis, or Beargrass Village, or one of his other companies."
"Why would he do that?" Pope asked.
"In case someone wanted to dig up the body and do an autopsy later," Joe said. "To prevent the discovery of drugs in Will's system."
Tassell rubbed his face with his hands and moaned.
"Let me show you something else," Joe said, leading them around the house to the driveway.
JOE EXPLAINED THAT he had located the transmitter in Will's pickup the previous afternoon, before he went to the party at the Ennises'. After searching the wheel wells, bumpers, and motor, he found it mounted under the dashboard within a spider's web of wiring. Will's line about They know where I'm going and they track my movements made him think of the truck.
"They knew where he went, what he said, what he told people over his radio," Joe said. "Since game wardens spend more time in their vehicles than they do anywhere else, it was like tapping his office."
Trey nodded, leaning into the cab to look under the dashboard. "If we check the frequency on that transmitter and match it to a receiver, we've found who was listening in."
"I'd guess the receiver is in a room at Beargrass," Joe said. "That's how they knew what decision he was going to make on Beargrass Village. They listened to him talk to biologists and others about the migration problems a fence would cause."
"So that's why they torched your truck," Tassell said, still with a pained expression on his face. It was as if Joe's discoveries were causing him escalating physical pain. "It was easier to do that than run the risk of getting caught putting another transmitter in your vehicle. They knew you'd just take Will's truck instead, and you did."
>
Joe stood back and let the men hash out theories and make connections. Trey bought what Joe had shown them; Pope was intrigued but wary because if Joe was right he would look foolish for his agreement with Ennis, and Tas-sell was pained by the prospect of confronting one of the most powerful and willful men in Teton County. While Joe listened, he saw the neighbor in the tam come out of his house with his dog. He had kept Stella out of it so far, figuring it was the least he could do. Even though he knew she was dead, the fact hadn't really sunk in yet.
"Let's go back to the station," Joe said, interrupting. "I've got an idea how we might be able to get Ennis to admit he murdered his wife."
Pope and Tassell looked at Joe with incredulity.
They were in the Cherokee before the neighbor made it down the block, for which Joe was grateful. That man, he had learned the day before, was a talker.
THIRTY-SIX
Pi Stevenson was in the process of flipping the OPEN sign to CLOSED in the window of Wildwater Photography when Joe rapped on the door. She started to point to the sign, then recognized him and unlocked the bolt.
"What happened to you?" she asked, recoiling from the bruises and lumps on his face.
"Is Birdy here?" Joe asked, not wanting to take the time to explain.
"He's in the back," she said. "Would you like to come in?"
"I've got some colleagues with me," Joe said. He saw her look over his shoulder at the sheriff's SUV, which was parked against the curb.
"Am I in trouble again?" she asked.
"Not that I know of," Joe said, stepping inside and signaling Tassell and Trey to follow. The studio was small, the walls filled with action shots of skiers and rafters and a few obligatory Tetons at daybreak. A long front counter divided the public area from a small office and a curtained darkroom. A red light was on above the darkroom entrance, and Joe assumed that's where Birdy was.
"What do you want?" she asked. "We were just about to close up for the day."
Joe looked straight at her. "How would you like to contribute to a real bad day for Don Ennis and Beargrass Village?"
Her eyes lit up, and she beamed. Then, with determination, she turned and shouted over her shoulder, "Birdy!"
"YOU'VE GOT TO be real careful here," Joe told Pi and Birdy. "You can't lie, and you can't insinuate anything at all, even if he presses you, or wants to negotiate over the phone. Do you understand me?"
Pi nodded, trying to contain her enthusiasm. She was both giddy and nervous at the same time. For his part, Birdy seemed pleased to have Pi so happy with him for agreeing to go along with Joe's idea.
"I'll be on the phone in the office," Tassell warned, looking from Pi and Birdy to Joe. "If anything you say comes across as even a hint of extortion or entrapment, I'm pulling the plug on this. We'll have the call recorded, and it has got to be clean enough to stand up in court if we need it."
The store's office was crowded. One of Tassell's deputies had brought in the owner of the local Radio Shack, who was opening up boxes containing a tape recorder and an 8mm video camera. Randy Pope was at the Game and Fish building, calling the agency director and the governor to let them know what was happening. Joe wondered why Pope had been so anxious to leave, but was pleased the man wasn't there.
"What if he acts like he doesn't know what we're talking about?" Birdy asked.
"That's fine," Joe said. "That means he's either innocent or he's buying time to deal with you later. My guess, though, is he'll want to take care of things right away. He won't really believe you have anything, but he's too impulsive not to make sure. He's a man of action. If that's the case, we want him to come here. We don't want a meeting set up anywhere else. You've got to be careful not to tip him off in some way. If that happens, we've lost our opportunity."
Over his shoulder, Tassell asked his deputy if the telephone tap was working, and the deputy said it was. The owner of Radio Shack looked excited to be able to play a part in the operation, Joe thought.
"What about the video camera? Where are we going to put that?" Tassell asked.
The man from Radio Shack and the deputy looked around the room theatrically for a good location.
"How about on the shelf behind the counter with all the other cameras? We can put a piece of tape over the red light so they won't know it's on," Trey said, pointing over Tassell's head. Birdy had a display of old and new cameras that he used for photographing skiers and rafters.
"That makes sense," Tassell said, rolling his eyes at the obviousness of it.
"Give us a minute," the Radio Shack owner said. "I want to test everything."
While they waited, Joe went over things again with Pi and Birdy.
"And to think this was all about meat," Pi said triumphantly. "Flesh-eaters lose their moral bearings when confronted with the possibility of not getting what they want, which is more flesh. Or in this case, better flesh."
Joe was confused for a moment, and could feel Tassell staring at him. He motioned Joe into the office and shut the door.
"She's a loose cannon," Tassell said. "She'll screw this up and we'll get hung out to dry for entrapment."
"Can you think of another way?" Joe asked.
Tassell hesitated. "No."
Joe opened the door and went back to the counter, Pi and Birdy looking at him expectantly.
"Are we still on?" Birdy asked.
"We're on," Joe said.
"Let's get this son of a bitch," Pi said, her eyes dancing.
Joe sat down, filled with sudden doubt. It had taken him over an hour to convince Tassell to try this, and the sheriff had reluctantly agreed, but only after talking with the county attorney. Tassell was concerned that Pi and Birdy's animal rights agenda was so vehement that they would do or say anything to implicate their target. Every word that was said, every inference, would be recorded on audio- and videotape to be scrutinized by lawyers and judges in what could be a hostile court. Looking at the glee in Pi's face, Joe wasn't so sure the sheriff wasn't right.
JOE SAT AT the counter across from Pi and Birdy while Pi arranged the speaker phone in front of them. His assignment was to coach them through the phone call if necessary, and to warn them if they got into dangerous territory. Joe handed her the business card he had received a couple of weeks before, the one that read: "Welcome to town. I worked with Will. I'll be in touch."
As she punched the buttons, Joe turned to Tassell, his deputy, the Radio Shack owner, and Trey, and placed his finger to his lips. They all nodded back.
After three rings, a receptionist answered, "Beargrass Village."
"May I speak to Don Ennis, please?" Pi said.
"Who may I ask is calling?"
"Pi Stevenson and Birdy Richards," she said, looking up at Joe and smiling. "It's extremely important."
"Hold, please." There was a click and the silence was filled with soft classical music.
Joe turned and raised his eyebrows at the Radio Shack owner and the deputy, who both wore headphones. Both men turned thumbs up. The recording equipment was working.
"Come on the line, you bastard," Pi said, curling her lip.
Joe shushed her.
"He's an asshole," she said. "What if he doesn't take our call?"
Joe shrugged and gestured toward the phone. He didn't want to get into a discussion with her that could be overheard if the receptionist suddenly came back on the line.
"He's probably sitting in his lounge chair eating raw flesh," Pi said, and Birdy giggled.
Joe looked at them both with exasperation.
But when the receptionist picked up, Pi was all business.
"Mr. Ennis suffered a traumatic event today and he's resting," the receptionist said. "May I please take your name, number, and a message so he can call you back?"
Joe saw a spark in Pi's eyes as she said, "I suggest you wake him up. This call concerns the traumatic event. Again, it's extremely important that we talk to him."
Uh-oh, Joe thought, trying to catch her eye. Don't go a
ny further with it.
The receptionist hesitated. Joe could almost see her trying to figure out what to do.
"This is something Mr. Ennis will want to hear himself," Pi said. When she finally looked up, Joe motioned to her to back off. She smiled and dismissed Joe with a "don't worry" look.
"Please hold," the receptionist said, and the music came back.
Tassell had crossed the room and was hovering behind Joe.
"I know," Joe whispered to him. His stomach was knotting up, and Pi said frivolously, "I think we've got the hook in the bastard's mouth. Now he'll know what fish feel like."
"Pi—" Joe started to say, when the music stopped suddenly.
"This is Don Ennis." His voice was a harsh, no-nonsense baritone. "This is not a good time to call. What's so goddamned important?"
Pi mimed the act of reeling in a fish while she spoke: "Mr. Ennis, this is Pi Stevenson—"
"Is there somebody there with you?" Ennis interrupted. "I thought I heard another voice."
Joe thought, Shit.
"Yes, there is," Pi said smoothly, and Joe felt his scalp crawl. "I'm here with Birdy Richards. He's the owner of Wildwater Photography, and I work for him."
Joe let out a long, silent sigh.
"I thought you were that animal-rights kook."
"One and the same, Mr. Ennis, but that's not why I called."
"What is it, then? I told you this was a bad time."
"Well, we thought you would want to know," she said.
"Know what?"
Birdy leaned forward toward the phone. "Mr. Ennis, this is Birdy Richards. Do you know what we do here at Wild-water Photography?"
"No, and I really don't care."
Birdy glanced at Joe, hurt. Joe gestured for him to go on.
"We've got cameras placed on the banks of the Snake River," Birdy said. "Where the rapids are. We take pictures of the rafters when they come through the whitewater. The rafters usually don't even know it, because they're having too much fun or they're too scared to look for the cameras. Then, at the take-out spots, we pass out flyers saying the rafters can buy photos of themselves shooting the rapids if they come into town to my shop. We have proof sheets ready by the time they get here that they can look at, and I sell the shots either as prints or I can put them on a disk. About five to seven percent of the rafters decide they want pictures made of their Snake River experience."
