David Wolf series Box Set 2

by Jeff Carson

  Wolf and Fuller walked down the road and ducked under the crime-scene tape.

  “I see you’re blocked in. I got this,” Fuller said, and walked toward a man near the ambulance. They spoke in low tones, looking back at Wolf. The man, apparently the driver of the ambulance, looked up and nodded with annoyance, and then opened a side compartment and began pulling out orange bags.

  Fuller came back, stepping quickly to Wolf. “They’ll just be a minute.” He stood next to Wolf and folded his arms. “So, how’s the campaign going?”

  Wolf nodded. “It’s going.”

  There was a loud beeping and a tow truck came into view, driving up the road rear first.

  Fuller nodded, and then stepped away again. “Hey, we gotta move these vehicles out, Ted. This is Sheriff Wolf from Sluice, and he’s gotta get going.”

  The crew of men and women ignored Fuller, and any request he made seemed to have the opposite effect Wolf was hoping for.

  Wolf turned to the deputy with the clipboard, and was surprised to see the man wearing a sadistic grin.

  Eleven minutes later, Wolf’s dashboard clock read 4:46 p.m., and he was on his way down the dirt road past the idling emergency vehicles when an SUV marked with the Byron County Sheriff logo came into view.

  Wolf slowed and the SUV did the same.

  MacLean’s smiling face rolled up next to Wolf.

  “You done already?”

  Wolf nodded. “I think I’ve got all I need.”

  MacLean leaned back and checked his rearview mirror, as if settling in for a long conversation.

  “I’ve gotta get going.”

  MacLean smirked. “Yeah. I know. Chama.”

  “Chama.”

  “Well, he knows what he needs to know about the way you’re runnin’ your department up there.” MacLean’s mustache curled.

  “Well, then, that’s a good thing. I appreciate it.”

  MacLean chuckled. “You gonna play it that way?”

  “Listen, like I said, I gotta get going.”

  “I thought you were a smarter man than that, Wolf. I’m really trying to envision where I might put you in the new department, where you would be a good fit. And I keep drawing a blank. I don’t know, a jailer? You even got experience doing that? Hell, I don’t know. Maybe somewhere a little less taxing mentally. Let’s see … I keep seeing a toilet brush. A mop. One of those big push brooms.”

  Wolf lowered his eyelids to half-mast.

  MacLean raised his hands. “Easy, Sheriff. I’m just playing with you.” He propped an arm out his window. “Listen, it’s as simple as it gets. You end your campaign and I have cushy jobs lined up for you and your two little deputies. Whatever you want, whatever they want. It’ll be one big happy family going forward. Either that, or you three look for new careers.” MacLean finger-combed his mustache in the side-view mirror. “And I’m sheriff, anyway.”

  Wolf let off the brake and drove away.

  Chapter 39

  Patterson stood next to the tall rookie rescue diver she’d had the privilege to meet the day before on the boat. “Look, Jeremy,” she pointed up at the cloudless sky, “there was the moon.”

  Jeremy looked up. “Yeah?”

  “The reflection would have been a straight line on the water from the moon to the observer, which is us. Right here.” She pointed down and stomped her foot, shuddering the deck.

  “Okay,” Jeremy popped his eyes like a dog in mid-poop.

  “Look. Please. Can I just take the radio?” she held out her hand.

  Jeremy peaked his eyebrows and handed it over. “Yeah. Fine.”

  “Thank you.” She pushed the button. “I need you to move fifty yards south.”

  There was silence. “Who’s this?”

  “This is Deputy Patterson. I’m taking over radio contact.”

  After a pause, the voice said, “Copy that. Moving now.”

  The water behind the silver rescue boat below frothed white, and a split second later Patterson heard the distant gurgling of the outboard motor.

  Patterson ducked underneath the telescope’s main body, in front of the mounting tripod, and squinted one eye. She backed her head up until it touched the cylinder, and then looked at the weighted string she’d hung from the lens.

  She was winging it, with no help from Einstein standing on the deck with her, but had effectively traced the path of the moon’s reflection with the string, as it would have appeared that night. How wide a swath from left to right the reflection would have covered, she could only guess, but the boatmen said the sonar transducer covered a two-hundred-and-fifty-foot-diameter circle as it traveled. She hoped that was enough to catch whatever had dropped out of Parker Grey’s boat. And that was only if Olin Heeter had been a reliable witness and something had actually been dropped out of Parker Grey’s boat in the first place.

  “Such a scientist,” Jeremy said.

  Patterson ignored him and pushed the radio button. “Okay, there! Stop.”

  “Copy that.”

  “That’s right on it,” Patterson said.

  “All right. We have a bearing.”

  The engine of the boat started up again and it inched forward. Patterson squatted again under the telescope’s main housing and the boat traveled a straight line along the string.

  “Here we go,” the voice said over the radio. “Let you know what we find.”

  Patterson stood up, satisfied. It had been a grueling hour or so, first trying to figure out how to point a telescope to precise celestial coordinates, with remote help, via a landline, from Deputy Tyler at the station, who had proved to be one of the least patient men she’d ever known. Then there was tracing the heading of the moon’s reflection using the string, which was actually a thin strip of T-shirt that Deputy Wilson had offered up from his SUV. She was sure there was a better way to do all of it, probably some app sitting on her phone that could have helped, but all in all she was satisfied.

  “So, listen.” Jeremy’s eyebrows were peaked again, his head tilted, smiling with one side of his mouth. “You live in Rocky Points, right?”

  Patterson rolled her eyes. “Yes.”

  “What say you and I grab a bite sometime?”

  “Sorry. Taken.” Patterson leaned on the railing.

  “Well, he’s a lucky man.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I mean”—Jeremy leaned down, close enough to smell his dead-animal breath—“because I think you’re cute. Shorter than most of the girls I tend to be attracted to, but … cute.”

  Patterson frowned. “Thanks. Now, don’t you have a boat to catch?”

  Jeremy stood up, his eyes darkening. “You don’t have to be a bitch about it.”

  Patterson straightened, startled by the man’s sudden hostility.

  “Hey, dickhead. She said she’s taken.”

  Patterson and Jeremy both turned to see Rachette standing in the doorway.

  “Now get the hell off this deck and off our crime scene, before I throw you off.”

  Jeremy smiled as he walked by Rachette, looking down. “Yeah, okay, Napoleon. You two make a good couple.”

  Rachette stood flexing his fists as he watched Jeremy leave. He turned back around and looked at the telescope. He stepped to the railing, touching the makeshift string on the way past. “I see you figured this out. No way I could have. I guess that’s why Wolf told you to do it.”

  Patterson said nothing. Wilson walked underneath the deck, nodding up at them.

  “No prints on anything.” Rachette stretched his back. “Looks like the place was wiped clean, top to bottom. That’s why it smells like a hotel maid’s cart.”

  “Look,” Patterson said. “Thanks. I could have kicked that guy’s ass—you know that, right?”

  “Whatever. I know.” Rachette looked down at the railing and picked at a sliver with his thumb. “I’ve seen that guy out on the town a lot lately. Always has a bunch of girls hanging on him.”

  They stood in awkward silence
for a full minute, and she watched the boats meander on the water below, the trees swaying in the wind, and the birds flying along the cliff face.

  “Listen,” she said. “I’m sorry. I know you think I betrayed you or something.”

  “Nah, it’s just that partners are supposed to have each other’s backs, you know? Like, remember that time I got shot three times that night? When I—”

  “Christ, Rachette. Of course I remember that.”

  “Oh, really? Because when you took those photos straight to Wolf without talking to me first, it was kind of like I was some piece of shit you were scraping off your shoe, and not a partner who’s taken three bullets for you.”

  Patterson inhaled deeply and closed her eyes. “We’re both going to be lucky if we have jobs next month. Look at it from my perspective. MacLean—our likely future sheriff, if my aunt has it right—pulls me aside, gives me those photos and tells me you and I are both in trouble. I saw those pictures and thought you were going behind my back, doing something stupid, putting both our careers in jeopardy. And, oh wait, that’s exactly what you were doing.”

  “Is that what you think? How the hell was I supposed to know that this girl was giving me the runaround. She gave me a backpack and asked me to give it to her friend. What’s so bad about that? How the hell could I have known?”

  Patterson shook her head and stared out at the water.

  “Oh wait. I get it. You think I should have been alarmed when a cute girl like that was suddenly into me. You think I should have known she was using me. Because I’m just some Napoleon, who nobody of the opposite sex takes any interest in. Yeah, I should have known.”

  Patterson turned. “No, I’m not saying—”

  “No.” Rachette backed away. “I get it. Hey, I’m sorry, Partner. Sorry for screwing up.”

  “Rachette.”

  He disappeared into the house.

  Patterson pressed her palms to her eyes. He was probably right, and admitting that Deputy Tom Rachette was right was her least favorite thing in the world to do.

  “Deputy Patterson,” the radio scratched. “Do you copy?”

  “Copy, go ahead.”

  “We’ve got something. It’s too deep to get to with divers, but we definitely have something.”

  Chapter 40

  By the time Wolf pulled into the parking lot of the station, his dashboard clock read 6:13.

  With a glimmer of hope, he spotted a shiny black Land Rover in the parking lot. Parking near it, he got out, slammed his door and jogged through cool air smelling of barbecue and into the station.

  Tammy greeted him by shaking her head.

  Wolf frowned, looking around the reception area. “Where is he? Is he still here?”

  She nodded. “I’ve been stalling, and I’ve been calling your cell. He’s in your office, drinking coffee. Looks a little impatient. What happened? You get caught in that blasting on the pass?”

  “Yeah. Okay, thanks.”

  “I’m leaving to go home.” She raised her eyebrows.

  “Okay.” The door clicked and Wolf stepped inside. After a step, he froze.

  “Bullshit!” Baine was yelling at Senator Chama, who stood in front of Baine’s desk. “That’s what I told him.”

  Chama pulled his coffee from his mouth and leaned his head back, laughing. “Well, that kid probably had it coming.”

  Wolf walked over with his hand extended. “Senator Chama, I’m sorry I’m late. I see you’ve met Deputy Sergeant Baine.”

  “Yes, yes. Good man.” Chama nodded, his smile fading to a contented look.

  The senator was dressed casually in well-worn jeans and a button-up dress shirt rolled loosely to the elbows. In his mid-forties, he was a fit, tall man who looked like he took care of himself, and by the looks of his complexion, had a punch card at a tanning salon.

  “Why don’t we head to my office.” Wolf edged away from Baine’s desk.

  “Ah yes. I’ve already acquainted myself with it.”

  Wolf nodded and led Chama. “Sorry. I was detained down south.”

  “Me too. Did you get held up with that blasting?”

  “Just for a little,” Wolf lied, thinking about how he’d been stuck for ten minutes and then ended up blowing through the entire zone with his roof lights flashing. He stopped at the coffee machine. “More coffee?”

  “Please.”

  Wolf filled Chama’s cup and poured himself one, and then stepped into his office. The lights were already on, the shades open. Wolf walked around the desk and glanced out the window. Margaret Hitchens was across the street, clearly visible inside her office with her nose pressed against the glass.

  Wolf locked eyes with her and twisted the blinds shut.

  “Thanks for agreeing to meet with me,” Chama said as Wolf sat down.

  “You’re welcome. Please, take a seat.”

  Chama sat and took a sip of coffee, smiling with his eyes over the rim of the Styrofoam cup. They were gentle gray eyes, with crow’s-feet grooves at the corners. Chama’s hair looked like it had been trimmed around the edges with a laser, and a generous amount of gel locked his short black hair in place, looking like it would stay put in a nuclear blast.

  Wolf ran a hand over his own head, feeling the lines in his hair from his ball cap along with particles of sand and dirt.

  “To what do I owe this pleasure?” Wolf asked.

  “I just wanted to stop in and say hi.”

  “Ah.” Wolf sipped his coffee, put it down, and sat back.

  “I wanted to commend you on a well-run campaign so far,” said Chama. “I certainly think you’re a good man for the job.”

  Wolf nodded. “Thank you. Is this what you told Sheriff MacLean earlier today?”

  Chama chuckled, and then stared Wolf in the eye. “No.”

  They gazed at each other for a few moments, listening to the plastic tick of the clock.

  “I saw your recent commercial. Nice move.”

  Wolf shrugged. “Not my move, but thanks.”

  “Ah, yes. Your campaign manager, Margaret Hitchens. She has the fire, doesn’t she?”

  Wolf nodded.

  The silence returned and Wolf spread his hands.

  Chama eyed his jacket on the chair next to him, and then dug into the breast pocket and produced an envelope. Without saying a word, he flipped it onto Wolf’s desk, the contents knocking as they hit the wood surface.

  Wolf drew his eyebrows together and grabbed it. It wasn’t sealed, so he flipped it open and saw a USB memory stick. Wolf stared at it, let the envelope close, and dropped it back on the desk.

  “And this is?”

  Chama took a sip of coffee. “That’s your insurance policy.”

  Wolf blinked. “And what does that mean, exactly?”

  “I heard from MacLean today that he had some dirt on you, or one of your deputies. I didn’t get the specifics, but he made it clear it would make you look bad. He wanted to make sure I knew whom I should be endorsing in this campaign. Which one of you two is the winning horse to bet on.”

  Wolf sipped his coffee.

  Chama nodded and then stood up.

  Wolf watched with mild interest as the senator stepped around his chair, pushed it in, and leaned heavily on the back with both hands. “I want to level with you, David. May I call you David?”

  “Sure.”

  “You can call me Alexander.”

  Wolf shrugged.

  “I would like to endorse you.”

  “What’s on the memory stick?” Wolf asked.

  Chama’s sly smile made Wolf cringe. “Let’s just say it’s something that catches MacLean with his pants down.”

  Wolf raised his eyebrows, then leaned forward and put his hand on the envelope. “And all I have to do is blackmail MacLean with this. Is that right?”

  Chama’s smile faded. “That USB stick has something on it that you need to see.”

  “MacLean paying a hooker for a blowjob?” Wolf shook his head and leaned
back, leaving the envelope on his desk. His teeth ground as he clenched his jaw. “I don’t want to see it. You know, I rushed here from an important case. Had to leave my deputies all alone to handle everything, without me there to back them up. It’s been the busiest Sunday I can remember, and there’s still a lot of work I have to get done.”

  Chama stood straight and looked at his Rolex.

  “We’re working on a case my father started over twenty years ago. It stumped him, but we’re making some good progress. And I should have known it was something like this you were bringing to me. Not an endorsement for the man I am, for the job I do, but an endorsement because there’s shit out there that makes MacLean look bad. And you know the score. You’re not going to back him with this out there. So you’re here to tell me I’m your man, and you’re giving me the dagger to take down MacLean. And for what? What will you want from me after all this is over?”

  Chama narrowed his eyes.

  “I can’t even imagine the favor you already have lined up to call in on me years down the road. I bet it’s a real good one. Well beyond my political IQ, that’s for sure.”

  Wolf leaned forward and shoved the envelope across his desk. It shot off the edge, flew through the air, clanked against his closed office door, and landed on the carpet.

  Chama lowered his eyes and smiled.

  “Pick that up on the way out.” Wolf swiveled in his chair and powered on his computer.

  Wolf watched from his peripheral vision as Chama shook his head and picked up his jacket, then bent over and plucked the envelope from the floor.

  “Nice meeting you, Sheriff. Good luck with your campaign.”

  “Good night.”

  Chama twisted the knob and walked out, leaving the door open.

  Wolf stormed around his desk and shut it. With a sigh, he sat in his chair, the springs squealing as it leaned back. He pulled himself forward and leaned his elbows on the desk, rubbing his temples. He opened the top drawer and looked at the crisp packet of campaign cheat sheets stapled together.

  He slammed it shut, stood, and opened his door again. “Baine!”