by Jeff Carson
“Sir, why don’t you start by showing me your driver’s license.”
The man dug out his wallet and produced his ID, which was an Arizona driver’s license that said he was the man he said he was: Scott Levenworth. Then he produced a business card, which had a raised gold symbol, an eagle clutching arrows and an olive branch in its claws, which Wolf recognized as the Great Seal of the United States. The black writing said Scott Levenworth, United States Senator. Apparently he was a Senator of the state of Arizona, because it said so right there on the card.
“Senator?” Wolf asked.
Senator Levenworth nodded absently.
Wolf stepped between the Senator and the view of the body, and Levenworth focused on him as if for the first time.
“What are you doing here, Senator?”
“I’m here to pick up the bones I bought from Ryan Frost.”
Wolf remembered the scene inside the garage. “The bones?”
“The fossils.”
“And what kind of fossils are we talking about here?”
“Dinosaur fossils.”
Things were coming back to Wolf. Cassidy had once come to dinner with Jack at the house, and she had mentioned her father was “into” fossils. Wolf had not known that being into fossils meant he was selling them.
“Ryan Frost ran a business selling fossils?”
Levenworth raised his eyebrows and nodded. “He’s a big deal in the fossil trade industry.”
Wolf nodded.
He apparently looked confused because Levenworth said, “The company is called Ancient Acquisitions. He’s kind of a legend in some circles. A broker who sources bones for buyers. Has a fancy website, has booths at all the big trade shows, but I think he does everything out of his home here. As far as I know he’s a one man operation.”
Wolf nodded again. “You said … you asked if they killed him when you drove up. Please, tell me who you are referring to.”
“I guess I meant the sellers of the bones. Frost is the broker, I’m the end buyer.”
“The sellers?”
Senator Levenworth stared at the ground in deep thought. His breathing was going shallow.
“Senator.”
“It makes sense. They wanted all the money up front.” Levenworth shook his head. “They probably took the money. Hell, they probably kept the bones. Gah! Dammit. I knew I shouldn’t have …” Levenworth turned and rubbed his face.
Wolf thought again about the small set of footprints that ran up to Ryan Frost’s body. He remembered the shaky voice of Cassidy on the phone. “Senator, I need you to start making sense.”
“Yeah, sorry. I gave Ryan Frost a million dollars last week.”
Wolf raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t know it was possible to even get that kind of cash in this day and age.”
Levenworth chuckled. “It’s tricky from a bank, but I didn’t get it from a bank. I had it.”
They locked eyes for a few seconds, listening to the howling treetops and the ticking pickup truck.
“I need you to come down to the station and tell us everything.”
Levenworth looked back toward the house. “Yeah. Okay, sure.”
“Barker,” Wolf said into the radio.
“Sir.”
“Please come over here.”
Barker strode over, his small eyes volleying between Wolf and the senator as he neared. “Sir?”
“This is Senator Levenworth. He’s here because he had a business transaction scheduled with Ryan Frost. Please escort him to the station—”
“I know where it is, deputy,” Levenworth said.
Wolf turned to Levenworth. “I still would like my deputy to escort you. I’ll be in shortly. At that time I’d like to take your statement personally.”
Levenworth’s eyes narrowed for a second, as if he rarely took orders from anyone. With a sideways smile he said, “Yeah. Okay.”
Chapter 4
An hour and a half later Wolf pulled into the Sluice-Byron County building parking lot and shut off the engine. Stepping out, the asphalt gave off so much heat he felt it on his chin.
He could scarcely remember feeling so hot in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado. This was a place that fogged breath most mornings, even in mid-August, and now it felt like the deserts of Arizona.
Stepping through the automatic doors and into the building was like stepping into a walk-in refrigerator. He weaved his way through the shiny halls past the administrative offices, past men and women he had never met but knew by sight. There was a lot of that in Rocky Points nowadays. The locals had been overrun by another set of locals to the south. That went for here in the building, the sheriff’s department upstairs, the bars and taverns in town, and everything else in between.
The town was still Rocky Points, getting a modern update in most places, but still quaint despite a few more people. It was easy enough for Wolf to get used to. But the county building was something else altogether. Because besides the onset of hypothermia, whenever Wolf entered the place he also felt like he was entering a city. The fast pace, the suits and ties, the politics, the bureaucracy, was overbearing.
Wolf walked past the terrazzo stairway that led to the Sheriff’s department and went to the front reception area.
Jack, Cassidy, and Nate were sitting in chairs in a nook near the windows. Jet was lying next to Cassidy’s chair on his side, his chest heaving up and down as he slept.
Jack stared at a muted television on the wall playing baseball highlights and Cassidy sat next to him staring through the carpet.
Wolf nodded to Tammy behind the desk. She stayed in her chair but nodded back to Wolf with a reassuring close of her eyes. Wolf had spoken to her earlier for an update and she had assured him she’d do all she could to keep Cassidy comfortable, and Wolf never doubted Tammy’s word.
Nate rose from his chair and walked over. “Hey.”
“How’s she doing?” Wolf asked quietly.
“She’s in bad shape.”
Cassidy stared at Wolf with an unblinking gaze. By the looks of her sunken red eyes, she was cried out and numb, sitting in a whole other dimension.
“What about her mother? Have you asked where she is?”
Nate nodded. “I talked to her earlier on Cassidy’s phone. She’s sitting at the airport in Sacramento. She was at some health food conference.”
Wolf nodded. Cassidy’s mother was the owner of Mountain Organics Market, which was commonly referred to as “MOM’s” by the locals.
“She said her flight comes in tonight to DIA. It was the earliest one she could get. I wrote down the flight number.” Nate dug in his pocket and produced a wadded piece of paper and handed it to him.
Wolf took it. “Thanks.”
“Ryan took her to Denver to catch the flight yesterday and was supposed to go pick her up from the airport tomorrow night, so she has no ride back here tonight.”
Wolf nodded. “I’ll go get her.”
Nate stared at him and shook his head. “I don’t know how you do this shit.” He glanced over his shoulder at Cassidy. “You got any leads on who did this? We gotta be on the lookout for some psycho running around? My house is less than a mile from theirs.”
“We’re not sure yet, but it looks work related. I’d keep the gun handy, that’s for sure.”
Jack was scooted way forward in his chair, his legs crossed out in front of him, arm around Cassidy.
Wolf slid his gaze to Jack’s shoes, which were of the low-top hiking type with athletic tread on bottom. Perfect for camping, he supposed. The tread was chunky, varying geometric patterns. No diamonds.
Now that he was staring at his son in the flesh, he realized Jack didn’t wear Converse shoes. Never had. Even during his skateboard years. He remembered the old pair of Vans that had disintegrated off Jack’s feet, and then—yes—it had been another pair of Vans that he’d wanted after that, and Wolf had bought them. It had been a whole thing with Sarah about who was going to go with Jack to buy them.
>
Vans had a universal tread pattern as well, but they were tiny diamonds, or crisscrossing lines, or … hexagons? Octagons? Whatever the pattern, it was completely different than what he’d seen next to Ryan Frost’s dead body.
Why was he still convincing himself?
“…my house.”
Wolf looked at Nate. “What?”
“I said her brother is on his way up from Blue Mesa reservoir. I can take them all to my house when he shows. This is no place for them to be hanging out all day.”
“Did they take her statement?”
Nate nodded. “Yeah. Munford took it. I was there.”
Wolf took his hat off and walked to Cassidy.
Jack pulled his feet in and she stared up with hopeless glassy eyes. Jet stretched and groaned, then resumed his deep sleep.
“I’m sorry, Cassidy,” Wolf said.
She swallowed and blinked.
“I just wanted you to know I’ll go pick up your mother from the airport tonight.”
She nodded.
“I hear your brother is on his way. When he gets here, Nate has offered to put you guys up for the night, or however long.”
Nate nodded and sat down. “We talked about it.”
Cassidy sniffed and closed her eyes and leaned on Jack’s shoulder, and then it looked like she went instantly to sleep.
Chapter 5
Wolf made his way to the third floor via the stairs and walked down the long hallway, not bothering to stop at his office, which was one of a string of four along the west side of the building.
With a good view of Main Street below and plenty of space, it was a dramatic improvement over his last office, but he spent little time there. Just like the rest of the building, the space made him want to be out.
Past the offices and through the cathedral-interior-like squad room—with its maze of desks, swarm of deputies, rumbling discussions that echoed off the vaulted ceiling—the Sheriff’s office was on the west side.
A large cube, enclosed in glass on four sides, one side being the exterior windows, the sheriff’s office architectural design apparently had a psychology behind it. MacLean seemed to embrace it, because he liked to keep the blinds open to impress upon his deputies that he was an accessible leader, transparent in his actions. Or so Wolf had heard him declare once to a county council member.
Not now, though. Right now the wooden blinds were closed. Over the chatter and bustle of deputies Wolf heard the bellow of MacLean’s laugh, and someone else inside coughing as if choking on liquid.
Wolf went to the heavy wood door and knocked just below the gold plaque that said Sheriff William MacLean.
The knob twisted and MacLean peered out. “Oh, there you are.”
He pulled open the door and walked back to his desk. “Come in.”
Wolf followed him in and closed the door behind him. When he turned around Senator Levenworth was sitting across the desk from MacLean, sipping a cup of coffee. Next to him was Deputy Barker, who sat with crossed legs, smothering a smile against his own cup of coffee.
Barker spilled on his chin and stood, then took up position next to Wolf.
“Take a seat with us,” MacLean said landing in his own leather chair, which hissed underneath him.
“No thanks. I’ll stand.” Wolf gave a sideways glance at Deputy Barker.
“You mind freshening this?” Senator Levenworth held up his empty cup. It was unclear whom he spoke to.
Wolf and Barker stared at it for a second, and then Barker stepped forward and grabbed it.
“I’ll take that deputy,” Wolf said.
Barker paused. “Wh—are you sure?”
Wolf grabbed it from Barker’s hand and left the office.
“Two sugars, please,” Levenworth said before the door clacked shut.
Wolf went out to the squad room and walked to the kitchenette counter area where the coffee maker was. He swirled the meager contents of the beaker and poured it into a Styrofoam cup, filling it a third of the way.
“Sir.”
He turned and leaned back at the closeness of the voice. It was Deputy Barker.
“Hey,” Wolf said. He reached over to the water tap and turned on the hot water.
“Sir, I feel I need to fill you in on who Senator Levenworth is.”
The water was scalding in less than five seconds; like the refrigerator-like air conditioning, it was a nice modern feature of the brand new multi-million dollar county building.
“Looks like he’s a friend of yours,” Wolf said, filling the rest of the cup with the water.
Barker blushed, and then frowned. “Uh … you’re just going to fill up the cup with water?”
“No.” Wolf ripped two packets of sugar and poured them in.
Barker grabbed a red plastic stirrer and held it out to Wolf.
Wolf ignored it and walked past him.
Barker stepped next to him. “He’s the Chairman of the Appropriations Committee for the Senate. Or the Senate Appropriations Committee, or whatever it’s called.”
Wolf slowed. “So what?”
“So … that’s the committee that basically controls the federal money. And he’s the head honcho.”
Wolf blinked.
“I’m just saying. We need to be delicate with this guy.”
“Thanks for the heads up.”
“Yes sir.”
Wolf walked back to MacLean’s office with Barker in tow.
“Here you are,” Wolf handed the cup to Levenworth.
The Senator furrowed his brow and swirled the contents of the cup.
“Here you go, sir.” Barker held out the red stirrer.
“Thank you, Greg.”
Wolf cleared his throat. “I’m not sure what you’ve already told the Sheriff and Deputy Barker here, but—”
“Everything.” Levenworth took a sip of his cup.
“But I’m the Chief Detective of this department, and I’d like to hear it all again. Let’s start with where you were last night.”
Levenworth took his time with another sip of coffee water, then smacked his lips and frowned, like it was the worst tasting thing he’d ever had. “Like I told the Sheriff, who has since confirmed, I was at my residence in DC. I had a committee meeting yesterday. I flew in to Eagle Airport this morning and drove down to Rocky Points immediately after landing. You can confirm with the aviation company, the pilots, the stewardess … especially the stewardess”—he bounced his eyebrows—“you can confirm with the Senate Appropriations Committee members. That enough?”
MacLean leaned forward in his chair. “Detective Wolf, he’s right, we have checked on everything.”
Wolf gave MacLean a lingering look. “Can you discuss this deal, this fossil deal, in a little more detail please?”
“I purchased some fossils from Mr. Frost. I was here to collect my bones.”
“And take them where?”
“To my home in Flagstaff.”
“In the back of … whose truck are you driving at the moment?”
“My own. I keep it at my Beaver Creek residence.”
Wolf nodded. “Okay. These bones cost you a million dollars. You were just going to put them in the uncovered bed of your pickup truck?”
“They’re encased in casting material. The drive wouldn’t hurt them any.”
“Ah.” Wolf took off his hat and scratched his hair. “I’m still confused about the terms of this deal. I don’t see how you could just give Ryan Frost a million dollars and trust him to deliver on his end of the bargain. Wouldn’t you rather use some sort of escrow service, or something? A non-cash mode of payment? To get some sort of guarantee you won’t get ripped off in the end?”
Levenworth smiled and stared at Wolf for a beat. “It was the terms the seller wanted. If I wouldn’t have done it, there’re a hundred other people who would have.”
“Really? A hundred other people could come up with a million dollars cash?”
Levenworth shrugged. “Who’s to sa
y?”
“And you said you ‘had’ this money.”
“Meaning it was not a withdrawal from my bank. I had the reserves in my own private vault at home.”
Wolf pulled the corners of his mouth down and nodded. “Was that part of the terms? That the money would not have a Treasury department trace attached to it?”
Levenworth stared at Wolf for a few seconds then smiled. “Do I need to get my lawyer in here, Sheriff?”
“No,” MacLean said. “I don’ think that’s necessary at all. Do you, Detective Wolf?”
Wolf held up a hand. “So you trusted Ryan Frost with this money?”
“Yes.”
“But you had to trust the seller to deliver on his end.”
Levenworth shrugged. “I trusted Ryan Frost. The digger? He sent photo proof of everything. All the merchandise was accounted for in photographs. I had no reason to doubt Frost. He was my escrow service. The guy’s foundation is his word.”
“Can I see these photographs?”
Levenworth pulled out his phone and pecked at the screen. “I’ve already sent these photographs to your Sheriff.”
“I’ve sent them on to you already, Dave,” MacLean said.
Wolf nodded, and then Levenworth stood up and came next to Wolf shoulder to shoulder, angling the screen so Wolf could see.
“You can see here, these are at the dig site.”
The first picture was an exposed bone, looking like it was dug out, but not yet removed from where it was discovered. It was stone colored with a web of surface cracks, and had two bulbous mounds on either end. Next to it was a tape measure pulled out and laid down on the ground.
“A leg bone?” Wolf asked. He’d seen plenty X-rays of his own leg in the last year. “A femur?”
“Very good. The femur.”
Wolf shifted his weight, feeling a dull ache in his right leg—a nagging symptom from his cracked femur he’d suffered during his fall at Cold Lake.
Levenworth swiped to the next photo. It was of a group of smaller bones laid on a dirty cloth.
“Proximal phalanges, middle phalanges … hand bones. You can see the claws.”
He started swiping through them faster now. “Like I said, you guys have all these photos now.”
