by Jeff Carson
“Jesus.” Patterson walked away.
“Justice is done,” Lorber said. “Shoot him thirty times and put him in a hole for the rats to eat. And nobody else’s life is ruined.” He turned to Wolf, extending a long pointer finger. “Wait a minute. You didn’t want to show Patterson your phone. You agree. You …” The tall ME let his sentence die, because Wolf was shaking his head.
“Why not?” The heat in Lorber’s eyes threatened to melt his glasses. “This guy killed how many women? Ruined how many families? Munford’s in a bed drooling on herself. We can’t stop any of that from happening anymore. But Rachette’s going to go to jail for this, and we have the ability to stop that right now. I think we need to do it.”
Wolf walked past the tall ME. “Let’s get Rachette up to the road.”
“Hey!” Lorber clutched onto Wolf’s shoulder.
Wolf froze and looked at Lorber.
The wild look in Lorber’s eye dissipated like a cooling car cigarette lighter. Dropping his hand, he shut his eyes. “It’s all my fault. I just want to fix it. I want to …” He widened his eyes and looked into the woods.
The sound of sirens floated on the wind.
Chapter 43
Sheriff’s vehicles and FBI Tahoes choked the county road. Two news helicopters hovered overhead. The noise of radios and thumping rotors invaded the forest, and yet a family of deer stood a few hundred yards up the road cocking curious stares.
Wolf was sipping a cup of coffee at the side of the road, enjoying the light drizzle that drifted from the slate gray clouds above.
“Damn, that’s a lot of lead he pumped into him.” Special Agent Hannigan came out of the trees with Luke following close behind.
Luke had an FBI ball cap pulled low over her face. Underneath the bill her skin looked pallid. “I didn’t know Rachette had it in him to do such a thing. Don’t blame him,” she said. “Just . . . haven’t seen what thirty hollow points would do to a man before.”
Hannigan slapped Luke on the shoulder, making her flinch. “It’s over, though.”
“Yeah.” She gave him an annoyed glare. “Thanks.”
The big man looked at both of them and left. “I’ll leave you two.”
With Hannigan gone she turned toward the dirt road and took off the ball cap, letting the drizzle hit her face. “Aw. Dang that was disgusting.”
She sucked in a breath and pulled the ball cap back onto her head. “You here about Mary Attakai?”
“No. What?”
ASAC Todd came out of the trees and paused at the sight of them talking, then nodded and walked on.
Luke sniffed and watched Todd walk away. “She came into the La Plata Sheriff’s Office this morning and recanted her previous statements, then confessed to being the one who shot Fred Wilcox.”
Wolf raised his eyebrows. “What did she say?”
“She said she saw Wilcox was following her and she led him out to the fracking well. Then she got out and blew him apart with a gun she’d been carrying ever since the attack. Then she called Hector and her brother. They came down and buried everything with an excavator rather than tell anyone. They didn’t want her going to jail.” She looked into the forest. “Attakai’s been taking the heat this whole time for her. Remember Hector at the house?”
Wolf pulled the corners of his mouth down and nodded.
She leaned toward him. “Wait a minute. You knew about her doing it, didn’t you? How did you know?”
He shrugged.
She punched him in the arm.
“Ah … that’s the bad arm.”
“I’m sorry,” she leaned into him and put a hand on his bicep. “I’m sorry.”
Her body was pressed up against his, and she backed up a split second after the awkward realization hit them both.
Wolf said, “I didn’t know when we were talking with Mary. Though Hector’s behavior makes sense now. He was watching her close, making sure she didn’t slip up and say anything that would get her in trouble.
“I suspected she might have done it after Mansor and I talked with Attakai. Attakai went and started looking into Wilcox’s life after he and Hector buried him, because he was wondering if his sister might have killed the wrong guy.
“Think about it, his sister shoots a guy to shreds and then calls him. He gets there and sees a bloody mess. He hears the story from his sister that it was the guy—it was him, she swears it. But he knows she was drugged up that night she escaped and her memory might have been fuzzy. He wonders if his sister’s stable. But Attakai’s protective, and so is Hector, so they bury Wilcox.
“They would have seen the blood in the Explorer, seen the collection of newspapers, and probably been pretty sure Wilcox was the killer, but Attakai starts second-guessing himself, so he goes and does some checking—searches Wilcox’s house, goes to the funeral home. He convinces himself that it was Wilcox who was the killer. Then he leaves town, unable to face what they did, unable to face the families with dead daughters and sisters and him knowing the real truth and not telling the real truth, and so he comes up to Rocky Points.”
Luke nodded.
Wolf said, “Then Sally Claypool was killed and put on display next to the river.”
Luke nodded again. “And Sally had a missing ear, it was pretty much the same MO. He was probably freaking out. Probably thought his sister killed the wrong guy two years ago. That his fear was true, that they did bury an innocent guy out there.”
“Which explains why he called his sister immediately after Sally Claypool was found,” Wolf said. “Probably asked her how sure she was back then about Fred Wilcox. Because right then it looked like she was pretty wrong.”
“But it was Gene.” She shook her head. “He … followed Attakai? That’s why he was in Rocky Points?”
Wolf shrugged. “It looks like it. Let’s go back to that day Mary Attakai killed Fred. Gene and Fred must have been in constant contact after Mary’s escape that night. It was their one big screw up, and it was major. They probably met every night, talking about what they were going to do about Mary. What did she see? What did she tell the cops? Gene was careful. He covered his bases, never left a trace of himself on any of the victims. He would have told Fred to get rid of Mary. She was a liability.
“So Fred’s mission would have been just that above all else. Then maybe Fred calls him one day, says, ‘Hey, her brother left her alone. I’m on her tail. I’ll call you back.’ Or whatever, but, maybe Gene knew that Fred was going after her.”
Luke nodded. “Then Fred gets whacked by Mary.”
“Right. And then Gene’s wondering what happened. His partner went silent. No status report, no nothing. But there’s no official news of Fred’s death. Nothing plastered all over the front pages or on the television, so he’s wondering what happened? Did Fred leave? Did he run? Why? And, not only that, if Fred did run, now he’s a liability to Gene.”
“The broken window at Fred’s place,” Luke said. “So Gene’s freaking out about Fred now, so he goes over and breaks into his place—checks it out. Maybe he removes the collection of toes, maybe he wipes the place down because he’s left prints there.”
Wolf nodded. “Then he sees Mary Attakai is still alive. He watches her and Deputy Attakai.”
“But then Attakai leaves north,” she said. “And Gene goes north, too. Because he’s wondering what Deputy Attakai is doing?”
Wolf shrugged. “Maybe Gene figures out Fred’s cousin is up here, so he comes and interrogates him, pretending like he’s a PI. That’s why he asked his cousin if anyone came looking for Fred. Because he thought Attakai came north on his trail.”
Luke squinted one eye. “But Attakai gets a job up here in Rocky Points and settles down. That probably confused the crap out of Gene.”
“Probably,” Wolf said, “I think it would start to look like the Attakais had done something to Fred at that point. But there would still have been the niggling doubt that Fred just up and left. The uncertainty of the situation w
ould have hung over his head.”
“So he gets a job up in Rocky Points? He’s been sitting on your ME’s team for two years.”
Wolf nodded.
He tried to remember the first time he’d met the man and realized it was only this spring. Professionally, the only time they crossed paths previously was during high-stress situations. Crime scenes. One of them being at Lauren’s house. The other, he would have been on his way to the hospital with a blown-off pinkie. It had been Charlotte Munford and Patterson who had introduced him socially—a new addition to Patterson and Munford’s martial arts dojo.
Scrunching her face, Luke said, “I guess the cell phone thing starts making more sense. He probably carried that thing around for the last two years, wondering if it would ring. He probably called Fred’s phone every once in a while, just to see if it was on. And then we go off and call it one day.”
Wolf nodded. “And then he probably found out about the truck down south somehow. Which confirmed for him that the Attakais killed Fred.”
Luke’s eyes widened.
“What?”
“Remember I said we called Fred Wilcox’s phone twice and the second call we got an answer?”
“Yeah?”
“Agent Wells made the call. He was trying to draw out the call, you know, give us more time to triangulate it. He talked about the truck being pulled out of the ground. He talked about the Explorer and how we found the phone in the center console.”
“That’s what triggered Gene,” Wolf said. “The phone call told him everything he’d been wondering for two years. Fred was dead. The Attakais did it. So he killed Jeremy Attakai’s girlfriend. He planted the phone at his house.”
“He planted it the day we searched his house, didn’t he?”
Wolf nodded, remembering that Gene had been the first to enter Jeremy Attakai’s bedroom that morning. “Looks like it. He wanted to expose what the Attakais did.”
“And he got his wish, and then some.”
They stood in silence and watched the helicopters thump overhead.
With a held out hand she turned to him. “I’m leaving.”
He nodded and took it. “Drive safe.”
“To Seattle.”
He raised his eyebrows. “That was fast.”
Now they held hands. Neither of them letting up on their firm grip.
She shrugged. “I told you, I was looking at other options.”
“Did you hear Patterson was quitting?” he asked.
“No. She didn’t tell me that. Are you serious?”
Wolf nodded.
“Shit.”
“I’m glad for her. She needs to see her family more,” Wolf said.
“Yeah.” She pulled her hand away, their fingers sliding apart.
“Seattle.” Wolf nodded. “I was stationed in Tacoma, you know.”
She nodded. “Yes. I know.”
“I’ll hook you up with a crotchety old General if you want.”
She smiled. Then she reached up and clamped her arms around his neck. Her body fit against his like he had put on a well-worn pair of leather gloves.
Her breath was hot in his ear. “I love you.” Letting go, she landed back on her heels and locked eyes with him. “But not like she does.”
“I love you, too.”
She laughed but it wasn’t a laugh. “But not like you love her.”
He said nothing.
“So … you should figure it out with her.”
He nodded. “Probably.”
Chapter 44
Wolf’s backpack dug into his shoulders and his legs were a dull, lifeless version of their earlier selves.
“You all right?” Lauren was well in front, looking lighter on her feet than him. “You want to transfer some stuff out of your pack to mine?”
He shook his head. It was the damn cooler and its contents inside—an entire five-star dinner and bottle of chilled wine. Well, as five-star as one could get without an oven. It was his secret, and his burden to carry.
“Nah, I’m all right,” he said. “You said three miles?”
“Yeah. Three miles.”
Lauren would have normally smirked. Would have normally called him a wimp or worse. But these were different circumstances. This was a weekend backpacking trip together to talk things out. Right now their relationship was still on uncertain terms. The effortless quips would come later. If at all.
The last few days Wolf had been busy wrapping up the Van Gogh case and Lauren had been working her new day shift at the hospital and keeping it to Ella and herself at night. So they hadn’t actually resolved anything. Still hadn’t had “the talk”, but they had come to a mutual decision that they would have “the talk”.
Lauren had suggested the weekend backpacking trip, which had surprised Wolf. If she had any intention of breaking up, then he could think of no worse venue. To suggest such a trip was an unspoken statement of devotion, of a commitment that she wanted to work things out with him.
Three days earlier she had come into the station and asked him on the trip. As soon as the words left her mouth she had gone red-faced. Because to accept the invitation was for him to state the same level of commitment she was showing.
When Wolf had not immediately responded, she had said, “Never mind. Stupid idea. We could just … go get a cup of coffee when you have a free minute.”
Wolf smiled at the memory of their hug that followed. “I’d love to,” he had said.
And now, as sweat pooled at the small of his back, his skin chaffing like his shirt fabric was made of two-hundred-grit, he was thinking about a soft booth at the Sunnyside Café.
“Here it is,” she said from the crest of the hill.
He climbed the final switchback and took in the sight of the hanging valley. Widely spaced pine trees jutted from a carpet of green grass and multi-colored wildflowers.
In the center was a turquoise lake surrounded by boulders and sloping scree walls that cascaded down from thirteen thousand foot peaks. Patches of snow spotted the gray slopes, veins of melt water filling the valley with the soundtrack of rushing water.
“Perfect,” he said.
“Yeah.” She looked relieved at his approval.
He had never been to this spot, which was a critical coincidence for him. There was no way he was going to do this in a valley filled with memories of him and Sarah rolling in a tent.
They walked into the trees near the water and set down their packs.
“Good spot?” she asked.
Turning a full circle, he nodded his approval.
While he stretched his back, Lauren watched with a half-smile on her lips. “Must be getting old, huh?”
He gave her a warning glare.
Her smile lit up the valley. “What do you have in there, anyway?”
With a shrug of his shoulders he said, “The usual, I guess. I just must be beat from last week.”
She leaned her backpack against a log.
He watched her body move under her slim-fitting jeans and long sleeved shirt.
“Did you hear about Tom and Charlotte?” she asked.
Of course he had. The lore had swept through the valley. “Yeah, he told me.”
“Oh,” she smiled, “you got his version?”
Wolf smiled back. “Yeah. So?”
“What did he say happened?”
“He said he went in to see her after his surgery, and she woke up from the sound of his voice.”
“Ha!”
“She didn’t?”
“No. She woke up before that. Then went back to sleep, like regular sleep, and woke up when he came barging in, running into her bed with his wheelchair. I was there.”
“Ah,” Wolf said. “So the speech about undying love? The kneeling down in front of her with the ring and she cries and accepts his proposal and insists they get married then and now? Right there in the hospital?”
Lauren closed one eye. “If by speech, you mean tears pouring down his face, words s
pewing out of his mouth, begging for forgiveness on his knees, blood coming out of his stitches … then yes, that’s what happened.”
“And she just said yes? After all he did to her?” he asked.
She nodded. “She said yes. It was probably the most awkward I’ve ever been in my life, standing there in the midst of the whole scene.”
“If it was so awkward, why didn’t you leave?”
Lauren shrugged. “I was in there taking vitals when he came in.”
“That explains nothing.”
She smiled, her face turning red. “He just launched into it and kept going. And I had to see what happened next. It was like a, more than a car wreck, like a bus crash. A bus explosion. Had to watch. And besides, it was romantic.”
They stared at one another for a second.
Romantic.
“What’s going to happen to him, anyway?” She asked.
He scratched his chin. “We’ll see.”
“I heard from Margaret that DA White was pushing to press charges against him, but he’s willing to look the other way if she and MacLean promise to endorse him for the election?”
Wolf shrugged. “I think that’s the gist of it.”
That was the black and white, but the underworld of politics always operated in shades of gray.
Margaret had told Wolf the story about her and White’s lunch date. Margaret said that in between mouthfuls of food, the DA had danced around the topic of Tom Rachette’s shooting of the serial killer that had tormented Colorado for years, using cryptic language to get a point across without actually coming out and saying what he meant, but she’d picked up the subtleties clear enough.
Currently, the DA was reluctant to take the position of being lenient on the deputy without the backing of influential people should he encounter some pushback. Lasting, permanent, backing of influential people.
She wrinkled her forehead. “You think they’re going to do it?”
“I hope so.”
She thought about it some more. “You think their endorsements would get White re-elected?”
He shrugged again.
