I reached for my Taser and lifted it toward him, and he said. “Don’t do it, Monty. Don’t make me do this.”
I glared at him. I wanted to shove the Taser right into his sweaty neckline, watch him writhe and twist in pain in the temporary paralysis on the cabin floorboards, but at the same moment, I was deeply curious why he hadn’t bashed that iron right into me—put an end to my visit. Was he actually thinking through it all, that there was no escape? That if he hurt me, he’d spend many years behind bars for that alone, regardless of what role he played in Wolfie’s or Phillips’s demise?
I could feel his panting and could hear steps fly quickly up the porch, the door crash open, and Ken’s voice, “Drop it now, and stand away.”
Adam didn’t even turn and glance at Ken. He kept his eyes on me, dropped the iron, the crash of it to the wood floor ringing loudly through the dim, still cabin. He continued to look into my eyes, then slowly stood up and backed away. Ken had his gun out, and he turned Adam around and pushed him against the wall.
“I was wondering what was taking you so long,” Adam mumbled to Ken.
Ken looked surprised that Adam was talking to him. I stood up and picked up my Taser and put it away. “You okay?” Ken asked.
“I’m good,” I said, still winded.
Ken said something about the assault of an officer and began to read Adam his rights.
“The plan stays the same,” I said. “Let’s get him to the station for questioning for much bigger stuff.” I pulled my cuffs out, walked over, turned him around and pulled his wrists in front of him, and snapped the cuffs on. “Let’s get some shoes on him and get him to the car.”
Ken grabbed Adam’s boots by the door, and Adam sat at the table and awkwardly shoved them on his feet one at a time. When he was done, Ken nudged him toward the door, and as he walked by me, he craned his neck to look at me, his stare telling me that he was far from compliant no matter where I took him or whom I got help from. His glare locked me in—seemed to spread over me and go straight to the marrow of my bones. It seemed to fill the whole cabin as if to say: This is between you and me, brother. This is between you and me.
45
* * *
KEN AND I led Adam down the drive to the car with our hands wrapped through his elbows, just in case he got any weird ideas of trying to run away from us. You never could tell with him. Just like in the cabin, a part of me thought he was too smart to do exactly as Dorian had done—get taken to the station for assaulting an officer when he hated the law and wanted no part of any police station. But he couldn’t control himself, and deep down, I expected nothing less. A part of me felt smug about it, but another part pictured Adam—first with his fist up, then with the iron—holding back, the thinking playing across his eyes as he considered things, the glimmer of anger receding as he did so.
But I was being foolish. I knew better and figured I needed to push away any notion that he’d somehow changed—grown up as Lara had said—and erase those moments where I’d sensed that something was different. Letting any flicker of hope that my brother could be a reasonable man at this point was not something I could afford to let cloud my judgment or trip my determination to find out how Wolfie and Phillips died.
Adam was silent, and Ken and I didn’t say a word as we drove down his drive, the headlights illuminating the gravel road ahead of us and the bushes encroaching from each side. I thought I saw a pair of eyes flickering off in the bushes, but they were gone before I could tell for sure. Finally, we made it to the smooth concrete of the highway, drove through Hungry Horse and the canyon, until the land opened up to the valley with bright-yellow canola fields like neon in the night. Pastures rolled out and created enough space for me to finally take in a long and controlled breath.
We took him to the police station in Columbia Falls since we weren’t working with the county on this one and it was much closer. The station was quieter than the one in Kalispell when we’d brought Dorian in, and we took Adam to an interrogation room that had recently been built with the addition of a two-way. A young, dark-haired female officer I’d never met was manning the entrance station behind the bulletproof glass, and Officer Pontiff waited for us in back. He assisted us as we led Adam into the room.
Ken reminded Adam that he’d already been told his rights, but repeated them in an off-the-cuff way, as if such procedures had little influence over what was really at stake and about to take place.
Adam didn’t say a word. We left his cuffs on and headed back to the observation room and eyed him through the glass. He looked older in the harsh fluorescents with his sharp cheekbones and jutting chin covered with a few days’ worth of stubble. I lifted my hand and felt my own face, relieved to find it shaved and smooth and to think we looked nothing alike. We wouldn’t even pass for brothers, I reassured myself. His short-cropped brown hair exposed his wide forehead and I could see a thick vein running down his temple. He was wearing only his faded jeans and white T-shirt, and the boots Ken had him shove on his bare feet before we walked him to the car.
I realized while I watched him that it felt good to see him stuck in that room, unable to walk out or wield his power over me or anyone else. It felt even better than when we had Dorian. I looked at Ken. “Thank you,” I said. “For coming in when you did.”
“You think he would have struck you with it?”
“I don’t know. He was considering his options. I’m just glad you were there in time to take the option away.”
“If he did kill one or both of those guys, you really think he’s stupid enough to risk being brought in, just like Dorian?”
“I think all the stupidity that applied to Dorian, applies to him too.” I looked at Adam. He sat rigidly leaning over the table, his hands cuffed before him, and his fists still curled tightly. He stared blankly at the side wall, refusing to look at the two-way, his jaw set and braced—stubborn. “But he’s also manipulative, so we can’t let him fool us.”
“He’s managed to stay out of the system so far. You think you can get a confession out of him? I mean, he’s your brother and all. Maybe we should call someone else in on this. It’s pretty close to home.”
I held up my hand. “I’m aware of that. And, yes, he’s my brother, but we’re not close by any means, and I haven’t talked to him before this case popped up in years. To me, he’s like any other thug. But you’re right. I should play it safe, so that’s why I’m going to let you go in first.”
“Me?”
“Yeah, just to break the ice. See if you can’t get that stubbornness to subside a bit. Just a little.”
“How?”
“Just be your gregarious, innocuous self. Make small talk with him. There’s no perfect way to do this; we just want him to settle a bit. Calm the stubbornness down a notch, so that a conversation is possible.”
“But I’m the one that arrested him.”
“Exactly, so start with that. Go on. You’ll be fine. I’ll be in as soon as his jaw unclenches.”
• • •
I watched Ken go in with a glass of water and set it in front of Adam. Adam didn’t bother thanking him. Ken pulled out the chair opposite and said, “Would you rather have coffee instead?”
Adam shook his head.
“Okay, well, look, man, sorry to bring you in like that, under arrest and all, but you put me in a bad spot. Holding a fire iron over Officer Harris like that. You could have killed him.”
“I’m aware of that.” Adam’s voice was scratchy and he realized it too, reached for the water, and took a gulp. “I wouldn’t have hit him with it. It’s complicated.”
“Complicated? How so?”
Adam shrugged. “Just is.”
I bit the inside of my lip hard after hearing Adam’s voice, raspy, but controlled. He had already settled down if he was going to say that he had no intention of using the iron on me. The question for me wasn’t whether he meant it or not; it was his level of involvement with Wolfie.
“Be
cause he’s your brother?”
“Yeah, I wasn’t fighting a cop; I was fighting . . .” His voice drifted off and he stared at the wall, whatever he was going to say dissolving in midair. Adam lifted both his cuffed hands to wipe a palm down his jaw. “He coming in here?”
“Do you want him to?”
“Hell no,” he said, pulling his head back. “I’ve got nothing to say to him.”
That was my cue. He had no choice in the matter, and I wanted him to know that. I shot straight out of the observation room and into the interrogation room with a loud jarring of the door, enough to startle them both. I know I told Ken I wanted him relaxed, but I also wanted him to know that I was in charge and this was not his turf. I pulled out the third chair, swung it around, and took a seat, my notebook in hand. “So, Adam.”
“Did you not hear what I just said?”
“What’s that?”
“That I could do without your company.”
“Doesn’t seem to me that you have a choice.” I looked around the cold, cement-blocked room, then at his cuffed wrists. “Does it look that way to you?”
Adam clammed up, his gaze drifting upward to the ceiling.
“Look, I’m sure you’d like to get out of here just as quickly as Officer Greeley and I would, so why don’t you answer our questions so we can move on and all get some sleep tonight. That’s all we wanted to accomplish in the first place. And by the way, you don’t have an option about whether to talk to me or not, but you’re in luck because you do have other options to consider and I’m really hoping that you’re at least smarter than your pal, Dorian.”
That got his attention and he shifted his gaze to me. “If I cooperate”—he looked at me—“you drop the assault charge?”
“I’d say that would be a good bet.” I tapped my pen on my pad. “Because, as you are well aware, Officer Greeley and I are actually interested in other things. Not that assaulting an officer isn’t serious stuff. Just ask Dorian. It’s just that if you can clear the air for us on a few other matters, it could help considerably.”
“Such as?” Adam looked at me under heavy lids.
“Such as tampering with federal traps belonging to Paul Sedgewick.”
I could see Adam’s shoulders stiffen and he sat back in his chair, not saying anything, his hands neatly in his lap.
“We found your fingerprints on Paul Sedgewick’s wolverine box traps that were being used in the South Fork drainage. You care to tell us how they got there?”
“I was in the woods. Saw the traps. Took a peek inside, that’s all.”
“That’s all? Hmm, I guess”—I turned to Ken—“we may unfortunately have to pursue the assault charge after all. Dang it. I was hoping we could avoid that.” I tapped my notebook on the table and put it away in my pocket, as if I were done. “Looks like it’s going to be a short night after all. Ken, you want to get that paperwork completed?”
Adam glared at me and I could see the hate filtering back into his eyes. “Dorian called me,” he mumbled.
“What’s that?” I slid my notebook back out of my pocket.
“You heard me. Dorian called me. Wanted me to go into the backcountry with him to check on some traps he’d put out.”
“And?”
“I told you. This was many months ago. I told you about that guy from Pennsylvania. I had called Dorian and sometimes he called me to go out hunting or trapping or whatever. Mostly hunting. I don’t care much for trapping.”
“But this time?”
“Yeah, I was bored, so I said I’d join him. When we were up there, we were hiking down and saw your biologist guy. We hid behind some trees and watched him check his trap, take his notes, make sure his transmission signal was working and stuff. And, well, then he left, and we went and looked at the trap. Talked about what it would take to build one like it and stuff.”
“And you touched the trap then?”
Adam shrugged. “Yeah, sure. Just to inspect it.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“So why am I having a hard time believing you?”
“I don’t really give a shit what you believe.”
He was stiffening again, and I could see I wasn’t getting the full story. I turned to Ken. “So essentially, we could make an arrest on two counts: assault of an officer and tampering with federal traps.”
“Whoa.” Adam’s brow furrowed. “You said if I cooperated . . .”
“You call this cooperation.” I held out a palm. “Give me a break, Adam. Really, you want to go to jail to protect Dorian, who is already in jail? You want to join him? Is your whole clan that stupid? Please tell me you’re not because I really don’t want to think my own blood is that back-ass crazy.”
Adam swallowed hard and shot me a look of pure disdain. “I’m not lying,” he mumbled. “That’s what happened.”
“But there’s more?”
“Yeah.” He looked at his hands, then back up at me. “After Sedgewick set his bait up and left, Dorian went off on some political rant about how the biologist was going to use his studies to restrict our land use. On and on about wildlife corridors and just another government plan to take over land. Dorian said he’d been following your biologist, said he’d had no luck with his own traps because the wolverines were too smart, but that the biologist’s traps weren’t threatening and he wanted to see if he could get his own in the same vicinity.”
“So then what?”
“So then Dorian came up with an idea. Said he could kill two birds with one stone: sabotage the biologist’s efforts and trap some wolverines so he could make money off the pelts. Said he wanted to rig the trap with his own steel jaw, said it would fit nicely inside.”
“So you rigged it?”
“No, I didn’t. Quite the opposite.”
I sat motionless, waiting for more.
“I told him not to, that it was a bad idea—messing with a government trap that way, but he did it anyway, not five minutes after the guy left. And, well, I actually got pissed and we started to argue about it. I told him it wasn’t going to happen under my watch, so I leaned down, and started to dismantle it, take it back out, but he got even angrier. He pulled his Glock on me. The asshole has all sorts of weaponry. But I’m sure you know that. Anyway, he pointed it straight at my head and told me to back away from the trap.”
Again, I said nothing. I was trying to decide whether he was telling the truth or not. He was serious, his eyes straight on me, his pupils back to normal, no fidgeting.
“What did you do then?”
“I stood up slowly, then I jabbed his arm up and away from me, and we began to fight. Eventually, I pinned him and took his gun away. At first he was pissed, but then he started laughing, told me to look to see if the safety was still on, so I did.”
“Was it?” Ken asked.
“It was. He kept laughing, thinking it was funny, saying he had no intention of hurting me, just wanted to scare me. So I started to laugh too. Called him an asshole and then we walked out, him with his trap and me watching my back. From that day on though, I always knew that I needed to watch my back around him.”
“That’s not the way it looked at the Outlaw’s last week.”
“Since I pinned him,” Adam said. “Since I basically could have kicked his ass, a certain anger and respect was borne for me. That’s why I was able to get him to back off of you. He wasn’t going to risk a fight with me in front of a bar crowd.”
I studied him, still trying to decide if I was getting it straight or not, and I could tell that he could see it—could see the dilemma playing out in my head—believe my brother sitting in jail before me now or let all the years of stacked up dysfunction make me discount every word he said. Images of the intimidating, lie-spewing teen ran like a film before my eyes while I considered the alternative—the semi levelheaded-sounding adult before me now who might only be in our custody because of his old ways, because he couldn’t control his anger and becaus
e he liked a fight.
“You don’t believe me, do you?’
I didn’t answer. Out of the corner of my eye, Ken sat motionless, waiting for me to say something.
Adam shrugged heavily. There was that same frail vulnerability flashing briefly across his eyes, then the bitter hate replacing it. “I don’t really fucking care,” he said with venom. “It’s not like I need you to believe me. If you want to put me in jail, so be it. Maybe it was worth it, knocking you on your ass one last time.”
I stared at him, my muscles going rigid too. I knew he was only reverting to tough guy, but I couldn’t control the physiological response to it. I was tired of holding it back, but still, I said nothing. Years of keeping my cool had paid off for me before; it would have to pay off for me now.
“You don’t really care about those traps and my relationship with Dorian anyway.”
“That so?” I said when I was certain my voice was calm and cool.
“Nah. There’s only one reason you’ve got me here and we both know what that is.” Adam stole a quick glance at Ken, then turned his glare back to me. “To solve the case that never got solved.” He dropped his voice to a cool whisper. “Isn’t that why you’re in law enforcement anyway? Can’t be the pay.”
“It’s none of your business why or what my career choices are.” I knew I’d made my first mistake—giving in, saying anything back at all, taking his bait.
He looked at me smugly. “But that’s it, right? That cool night,” he whispered, like he was auditioning for a horror movie, his voice steely and hushed, nearly monotonous, but slicing the air in the bare room. “Full moon,” he continued. “Clouds fraying across it. Wind in the trees. Dead leaves drifting to the ground.”
“What? You working on a short story or something?”
“Leaves crackling beneath each step. The sound of coyotes in the distance. The fog from the river . . . You’d like nothing more than to know what happened. Right, Monty, you’d like nothing more than to know what happened after we went to the 7-Eleven that night. You’d like nothing more than to know that we went back, found your Nathan . . .” He stopped talking, and the room was dead quiet. I couldn’t hear Ken’s or my own breathing. An electric charge filled either my head or the room, I couldn’t tell which.
Mortal Fall Page 35
