by Jeff Carson
Wolf pulled his hood up over his head and walked toward them.
"My name is David Wolf. I'm the sheriff."
The tallest of the men nodded. "My name is Kevin. Kevin Koling.” He extended a big hand that wrapped easily around Wolf’s.
"I’m Lizotte. Casey Lizotte,” the shortest of them said. He stood noticeably apart from the other three. Wolf remembered he had been the one who dug up the body. The new worker.
“You’re Sexton?” Wolf nodded to the man next to McBeth.
“That’s right.”
“That was some good tractor driving over there.”
Sexton nodded, saying nothing.
“Told you he was good,” McBeth said, his voice barely audible over the rain drumming the top of the tent.
Wolf nodded. “Well. Thank you. I know that couldn’t have been an easy thing.”
The big man, Koling, stared hard at him. “I don’t understand it. How did he die? It makes no sense. Eagle said there was blood on his neck and his head. What would do that? It had to be some sort of accident. Something to do with the wash plant. Or a rock falling on him?”
McBeth, Sexton, and Lizotte waited for an answer.
“We’re not exactly sure yet,” Wolf said, deciding to hold back on the truth until they got these men separated and into an interrogation room.
“Where did you pick him up from?” Koling asked Lizotte. The big man leaned toward him. “Was he buried?”
Lizotte opened his mouth, his eyes darting from side to side. “I…I don’t know. I just looked up and there he was, coming out of the scoop. I told you, Kev.”
“Listen,” Wolf said. “We’d like to talk to you each separately. We’ll get to the bottom of this and find out exactly what happened, you can rest assured about that. My detectives inform me you’ve gathered some clothing and supplies from your trailers for the next few days.” Wolf gestured to their bags slung over their shoulders.
“Few days?” McBeth asked with a scoff. “They said they needed to search the place for clues. They never said anything about a few days.”
“We’re not sure how long it will take, sir,” Wolf said. “It could take one day, it could take a few. We’re just worried about getting all the information we can so we can sort this out. That includes searching every bit of this property. And I’m sorry you cannot be present while we do so.”
McBeth and Koling exchanged a glance and shook their heads. Sexton stared at Wolf.
“So, where are we going to stay?” McBeth asked, gesturing to his men. “Casey lives down in Dredge, so he can go home. But what about the rest of us? The only other places we have to stay are up in Jackson Hole, Wyoming.”
Detective Yates cleared his throat. “We have a relationship with a local hotel in Rocky Points. They’ll give you cut rates if you’re staying there because of an investigation we’re conducting.”
Koling barked a laugh. “As if we have money for that right now. Discount or not.”
McBeth looked at Wolf. “Things were tight enough here at the mine to begin with. I’m not sure that’s an option for us. We’ll probably head back up to Jackson if it’s all the same to you. The way I see it, we called you guys in because we found our man. Now you’re kicking us out so you can look for evidence? You think that we killed him? Sorry, but that doesn’t sound like something I’m interested in sticking around for. How about you guys?” He looked at his other three men. Koling and Sexton nodded agreement while Lizotte, the local new man, looked less sure how to act.
The truth was Wolf was hoping to get these men into the station right then and there for questioning, before they could come together and concoct a story. The other truth was he couldn’t make them stick around, or make them talk.
They started walking away.
“Whoa, whoa.” Wolf held up his hands, stopping them. “Listen. You’re absolutely right. That certainly doesn’t sound like a good deal for you guys. Listen, we’re trying to get to the bottom of what happened to your friend, and we need your help. How about this? We’d really like to talk to you guys at the station down in Rocky Points. I was going to say tonight, but I know you’ve had a long day and the last thing you guys want to do now is sit in a stuffy room and talk to us. How about we put you up at the motel in Rocky Points. It’s clean. Comfortable.” He noted the filth caked onto their skin and hair and the permeating scent of men who hadn’t cleaned themselves in days or weeks. “You guys can get a nice hot shower. Watch some television. And in the morning maybe we can chat down at the station.”
Koling looked at McBeth. So did Sexton. They’re leader clearly held the responsibility to make the decision now, and he looked to ponder it reluctantly.
“There’s a good pizza joint right next to the motel,” Rachette said. “Got craft beers.”
Wolf shrugged, watching McBeth. McBeth flicked his eyes to Wolf again, this time looking resigned. “What time tomorrow?”
“How’s nine a.m.?”
McBeth looked at the others in turn. They shrugged, and then Koling nodded.
“And then what?” McBeth asked. “When do we come back here? You can’t just put us up at the motel forever. I know you’re not going to pay for that.”
“Right now let’s not worry about that,” Wolf said. “We’ll talk about that tomorrow.”
McBeth looked at him, his face blank. “Okay, fine. So what do we do?”
“I’ll call now and reserve three rooms at the Edelweiss Inn in Rocky Points. You three go there and get some rest. We’ll see you tomorrow at nine so we can chat.”
They broke away without another word and walked out into the rain. The three original Jackson Mine men climbed into three full-sized Ford trucks, two blue, one black. McBeth’s was black.
The new guy, Lizotte, got into a Jeep CJ-7 with a hard top that looked less than weatherproof.
All four vehicles fired up their engines, and in a cacophony of sound moved out and up the road.
Wolf, Rachette, and Yates stood under the tent, watching the rain intensify.
“Dang,” Rachette said. “Didn’t know you were such a good salesman.”
Wolf shrugged. “Get on the phone with Tammy and set up those rooms.”
“And if there’s no availability?” Rachette asked.
“Then put them in the Super 7 north of town.”
“And if there’re no rooms there?”
Wolf looked at him. “Then find somewhere else or we don’t have anybody to talk to tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Let’s get in my cruiser and warm up,” Yates said. “Do you guys use this?” He elbowed Rachette.
“What?”
Yates pulled out his key fob and pressed the center button. The lights on his SUV flashed and the engine roared to life. “There’s remote-start on these babies.”
Rachette fluttered his lips. “I invented remote-start.”
“So you haven’t seen it.”
“No.”
They walked to Yates’s humming SUV. Rachette sat in the front with Yates. Wolf sat in back and unzipped his rain jacket, savoring the heat already pumping out of the vents as it wicked the moisture from his flannel.
The dash clock read 5:05 p.m. Outside Lorber and his crew had the body loaded and the forensic van rolled out of the lot. There were still a half dozen deputy vehicles parked and idling, warming their inhabitants. Wolf rubbed his hands together in front of the rear vent.
"I'll tell you what,” Rachette said, turning to Yates, “if I wasn't married, I would be all over that chick."
“Who?” Yates asked.
“Deputy Cain.”
"If you weren't married, she would be all over a restraining order on you.”
“Says the guy who hasn’t been laid in—”
"Let’s watch the language,” Wolf said.
“Yes, sir.”
“Have you searched the trailers yet?”
"Not yet, sir,” Yates said. “We’ll get inside them once this blows ove
r.”
Outside, the rain lashed sideways. A web of whitewater runoff laced between the vehicles and down the sides of the mountains in every direction.
“But they each reported having guns inside their trailers. I had them each show me where they were when they got their overnight bags.”
“How about Casey Lizotte?” Wolf asked.
“He says he does not own a firearm,” Yates said.
“And he lives down in Dredge?”
“Yes, sir.”
The rain began to slow, and just as quickly as the storm had hit, it was letting up. The last of the deluge swept down the valley, swallowing the view in blackness. The sun poked out, lighting a rainbow on the rear of the storm.
Deputies and forensics workers were popping open their doors, meandering back into action outside.
Daphne Pinnefield, Lorber’s assistant ME, walked toward the trailers, carrying a kit bag over her shoulder. She donned latex gloves, popped open one of the doors and disappeared inside.
Wolf opened his door. Yates and Rachette climbed out, too.
“You headed to the ER?” Rachette asked.
Wolf gave him a thumbs up and headed up the incline to his SUV. “I’ll see you guys later.”
Chapter 3
Wolf drove west on Highway 641 for half an hour, his wipers on as yet more rain beat down. He bypassed Highway 74, which would have led him to the southern edge of Rocky Points and continued south toward Ashland instead.
The curves of the county road along Arapahoe Creek were tight and heavily wooded, eventually straightening out and dropping in elevation, spitting him out into the wide, flat Ashland Valley south of Williams Pass. The sage-covered landscape was doused in the shadow of the thirteen thousand-foot peaks as the late-afternoon sun dipped out of sight for the day.
Once he reached the Sluice-Byron County Hospital parking lot and shut off his engine, he took his time strolling into the brightly lit glass building, savoring the rich scents coming off the sage-dotted fields after the heavy rains.
Or was he stalling?
It had been over a year since he'd been inside this building, when he used to come over on lunch breaks to see Lauren. He wondered if he would recognize any of her friends and colleagues. If they would recognize him. And if so, so what?
As he stepped through the still wet parking lot, his mind shifted back to Deputy Cain’s obsidian eyes.
He walked through the automatic sliding glass entrance, into the familiar smell of cleaning products that reminded him of Lauren’s scent when she used to come home from long shifts.
Inside, Deputy Cain faced away from him, scratching the back of her head. She wore no rings.
“Hey, how’s she doing?” he asked.
“Oh, hello, sir. They’re just admitting her.”
Patterson sat in a wheelchair, one of her legs propped up while a nurse removed her shoe.
Patterson gritted her teeth.
"You okay?" the nurse asked. Patterson closed her eyes and leaned her head back in response.
A female doctor Wolf recognized walked up to them. "Sheriff.” She nodded.
“Hello, Dr. Johnson.”
Deputy Cain introduced herself and they shook hands.
“I hear you fell."
Patterson put up a thumb, keeping her eyes closed.
"Looks like you hurt your arm, too.” Dr. Johnson swiped at her tablet computer. “Did we treat you for that?"
"Nope, I went to the urgent care up in Rocky Points."
“When was that?”
“Two weeks ago.”
"Well. That’s not good.” Dr. Johnson chuckled.
Patterson looked up at her, and Wolf felt his insides go cold.
Dr. Johnson swallowed. “Right. Well, Lisa’s going to take you up to get some x-rays. And then we’ll go from there. We’ll try and get you taken care of as fast as we can so you can go home.”
With Patterson wheeled away, Wolf turned to Deputy Cain. "Have you informed her husband yet?”
Cain nodded. “Heather called him on the way here. I mean, Chief Detective Patterson, sir."
He cracked a smile. "If you two are on familiar terms now that’s no problem with me. Thank you for driving her in, by the way."
She nodded, her eyes deliberately straying from Wolf’s.
He found his sheriff title made some people nervous. Or maybe being a satellite deputy she was unaccustomed to rubbing elbows with this many people in one day.
Wolf's phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out.
Charlotte Munford-Rachette, Detective Rachette’s wife and deputy within the department herself, was calling. With Undersheriff Wilson out of town for the last two days and due to be on vacation for the next seven, she’d been helping him with administrative work. He sent her call to voicemail.
"I don’t think we’ve met before.”
"That’s right.” She gave a tight smile.
"It’s crazy, it’s been a year since I took over and I’m still meeting people for the first time. It’s a big county…for being one of the smallest counties.” He smiled. “You must be new, am I right?”
She looked at him with a puzzled look and then skipped her gaze out the window.
Silence fell between them, and at that moment he got the distinct feeling she was not nervous, but, rather, that he was missing something else entirely.
His phone vibrated again. He pulled it out and read a text message from Charlotte.
You forgot to sign the 10D-104s. White needs them by tonight.
On cue, his phone rang, this time showing District Attorney White’s name. Wolf walked to the windows and put the phone to his ear. "Hello, Sawyer."
“Hey, you never sent the 10D-104s."
"Yeah, I know. Sorry I forgot. Something came up here at the mine in Dredge."
"So I heard…but I still need those, and by the end of today. We talked about that. Without Wilson or Patterson here I need your signature. Can’t use Charlotte.”
“I know, I know.” Wolf checked his watch. It was already 5:40. "I’m at County. I can be back in about 30 minutes.”
“County? Why?”
He told White about Patterson.
“You kidding me? Woman needs to ride around in an ambulance.” White sighed into Wolf’s ear. "Well, I'm heading home. Katie will be waiting for you." Katie Hepler, one of White’s assistants, had a daughter in second grade and a husband who worked for Chautauqua Valley Water. Wolf hated the thought of making her miss dinner with her family so he could sign three pieces of paper. Wilson wouldn’t have forgotten to sign them. But Wilson was out of town, of course.
"I'll be there as soon as possible." He hung up and went back to the waiting area.
When he found Deputy Cain was gone, he walked to the automatic doors and stepped outside, catching sight of her just as she climbed into her Jeep Cherokee.
Wolf raised a hand to wave as she drove out of the lot, but dropped it. She was speaking into her phone, looking in the opposite direction.
As Cain accelerated south on Highway 734, Scott Reed, Patterson’s husband, rolled into the parking lot from the opposite direction. Their five-year old son, Tommy spilled out of the back seat.
"What happened to Mommy?" he asked.
"Aw, she'll be okay,” Wolf said. “She just messed up her ankle.”
“Messed up? What does that mean?” Wolf couldn’t help but smile. The kid was his mother’s son.
"I'm not sure. That’s what the doctors are figuring out right now.”
Tommy nodded, clearly unsatisfied with the answer.
Scott scooped Lucas, the two-year old, out of the car seat in back while Tommy stepped in front of Wolf. “Does that mean…is she going to…have a different, other cast, but on her foot now?”
“I’m not sure. We’ll have to see.”
Another SBCSD cruiser drove into the parking lot and parked next to Scott. Deputy Hanson stepped out.
Scott gathered a shoulder bag out of the hat
chback, turned and shook hands with Wolf. "How's she doing?" Scott looked dead tired. “Hey, Hanson.”
Hanson stepped up. “Hey there. Hey kids. How’s Patty doing?”
"She's doing okay,” Wolf said. “Not sure if it’s a break or a sprain. They’re taking X-rays right now."
"Well, I guess it could be worse,” Scott said. “Like that guy you found up at the mine."
Wolf nodded.
“What guy at the mine?” Tommy asked. “You found a guy up at the mine?”
“No,” Scott said, rubbing Tommy’s head. “I said a guy found gold up at the mine.”
Tommy shot him an angry look. “But you said it could be worse.”
“Let’s go see Mommy. Come on.”
“I have to head back to the office,” Wolf said. “You guys go give your mom a hug.”
Feeling mildly guilty for leaving, he extricated himself after saying goodbye and climbed into his SUV.
Heading north on highway 734, the lingering clouds overhead turned orange, slowly fading with every mile. With the fragrant air flowing through the vents and sparkling landscape outside, he felt more alive than he had in months.
He tried to remember the last time he'd spent so much time outside. It was like old times, back when he was a deputy, patrolling the far reaches of Sluice County.
In those days he used to daydream about what it would be like to be sheriff as the miles turned over on the odometer. His father had been sheriff before him, but in a simpler, smaller time. Now the department covered double the square miles, with ten times the number of deputies.
Once back in high school he’d done so well on a physics test that his teacher, Mr. Hogan, had recommended he pursue higher mathematics as well. Mr. Hogan had pulled some strings and landed Wolf a spot in an AP Calculus class. At the time Wolf had been thinking that would look good on college applications so he’d gone along with it.
After a semester of working his mind numb, Wolf had just managed to get a passing grade in the class, but he’d rarely ever felt on the same page as any of the other kids. He’d always been playing catch up with all the problem sets and homework. And during class? He’d always been that silent student in the corner of the room wondering just what the hell was going on, resolving to figure it out for himself later. Which he would then sometimes do, sometimes not, but always at the expense of having a social life or doing something else more enjoyable.
