Burning Ridge

by Margaret Mizushima

  Stella took out her cell phone. “I’ll check in with Sheriff McCoy and see if he connected with Tucker York.”

  Mattie kept an eye on Robo in the rearview mirror while she listened to Stella’s side of the conversation. At first, he was sitting up front staring out the windshield, but then he yawned, circled, and plopped onto his cushion, content to settle in for the ride.

  Stella disconnected her call. “This is our lucky day. Tucker York is on his way down to Timber Creek from Denver, and he’ll meet with us at the station this afternoon.”

  “Do you know if this was a scheduled trip? Why is he coming back to Timber Creek so soon?”

  “Apparently he’s concerned about the ram shooting, and he’s touching base with Ed Lovejoy about it.”

  “You’d think he could’ve done that by phone.”

  Stella paused to consider it. “Do you think it’s suspicious that he’s coming back here for this?”

  “Actually, I don’t know what to think.”

  * * *

  Back in her office, Mattie filled a water dish for Robo, settled him onto his cushion, and sat down at her computer. She took out her spiral notebook and flipped the pages to retrieve the name of the rodeo Galloway had mentioned. Stella would be doing the exact same thing, but Mattie didn’t want to wait.

  The search results listed the rodeo at the top, and by following the link she learned that it actually did exist, and had run from last Wednesday through Sunday. It was possible that Galloway had told the truth about attending it. That didn’t clear him for the ram shooting, but it could give him an alibi for Willie’s death if he could prove he’d been there.

  She decided to leave it up to Stella, and turned a couple pages back in her notebook to find a phone number for Joseph Quintana, Willie’s boss. She hoped that connecting with one of Willie’s friends would uncover something useful. She used her own cell phone instead of a department line to make the call.

  Someone with a gruff voice answered after the first ring. “Joe’s Auto Repair.”

  “Could I speak to Joseph Quintana, please?”

  “That’s me.”

  “Mr. Quintana, this is Mattie Cobb. I’m William Cobb’s sister.”

  The gruff tone immediately turned sympathetic. “Oh, Will’s sister? I’m sorry for your loss. He was a good guy.”

  The detached facade she’d built up throughout the morning cracked around the edges, and she swallowed against a lump in her throat. “It’s a comfort to know you thought well of him. So he was doing a good job working for you?”

  “He knew his way around a car engine. We’re going to miss him.”

  Mattie had already decided what her strategy would be, but a quiver in her voice that she couldn’t control had not been part of it. “Mr. Quintana, I’m hoping to talk to one of William’s friends, someone who knew him well. You see, we were separated as kids and had just recently found each other again. We didn’t have a chance to get together in person before he was killed.”

  “Oh, man.” His voice was filled with compassion. “That’s awful. Let me see—Carlos might be the one you should talk to. But one problem, he only speaks Spanish.”

  “That’s not a problem for me. I speak it, too.”

  “Let me get him on the phone.”

  Mattie waited, trying to regain her composure. She wanted a lead that would help her with the case, but at the same time, she feared that she might learn something about Willie that would be disappointing or even hurtful. What if he had returned to the drug scene? What if she found out something about him that was even worse?

  “Hola.” The speaker’s voice was of medium timbre, young, somewhat hesitant.

  Mattie replied in Spanish. “Hi, my name is Mattie Cobb. Did Mr. Quintana tell you that I’m William Cobb’s sister?”

  “Yes.”

  “Great. It’s Carlos, right?”

  “Carlos Martinez.”

  “Thank you for talking to me.” She repeated what she’d told his boss about her and William’s history. “I was hoping I could get to know him a little better by talking to you. You were friends?”

  “We worked together.”

  “Oh.” She’d hoped for more than that. Disappointed, she soldiered on. “Did you have conversations with each other, talk about what was going on in his life, his family?”

  “He said he had a sister who was a cop.”

  Ah, maybe that’s why he’s being so distant, she thought. She decided to stick to the truth. There was no reason to lie to this man, and perhaps being open would draw him out. “That’s me. I’m trying to learn more about Willie’s life to try to figure out what he was doing his last days.”

  “Okay.”

  Mattie paused, but he didn’t volunteer more. “I talked to Tamara, Willie’s girlfriend. Do you know her?”

  “No.”

  “She said that last week, before he disappeared, Willie might have connected with someone from his past, an old friend of the family. Do you know anything about that?”

  After several seconds, Carlos answered. “Maybe.”

  “What do you mean by maybe?”

  “Will said that he got a call from someone he never knew existed before. It was making him feel crazy.”

  “Did he say why?”

  “He said he should have known about this guy.”

  Mattie wondered what that could mean. Someone Willie didn’t know existed, but he should have. Could this be the old friend of the family he’d mentioned? “He said guy? It was a man, not a woman?”

  “Si. The man stopped by here, and Will went off with him in his car during his lunch break.”

  Adrenaline kicked in, giving her a rush. “What day was that?”

  “Uh … I think last Tuesday.”

  “Did you see the man?”

  “No, but I saw the car.”

  “What kind of car was it?”

  “A silver Chevrolet Tahoe, recent year.”

  A mechanic would know. Mattie jotted it down in her notepad. “Did you notice the plates?”

  “California. That’s all.”

  “Did Will say anything when he got back? What did he look like? Mad, scared, shaken?”

  “Oh, he was upset. Nervous. Said he hoped he could get rid of the guy. He was asking questions Will didn’t know how to answer.”

  None of this sounded good. “Is there anything else you can tell me about this man? Something I could use to find him?”

  “No. That’s all I know.”

  Mattie wished she could be face-to-face with her informant. She couldn’t tell if he was being truthful or withholding more information because he was afraid to get involved. “Carlos, I need to ask you something else about my brother, something important that could help us find his killer. Could he have gotten involved with drugs lately?”

  “Your brother didn’t even drink beer with us. He was proud of his new boy, Elliott. Will wanted to be the kind of man Elliot could look up to. He said if he was ever tempted to start using again, he wanted us to kick his butt.”

  Mattie closed her eyes and released a breath. That sounded like Willie. “Could he have started selling drugs or gotten involved with drug running?”

  “He would have nothing to do with it. That’s not the life he wanted.”

  “You’ve been a great help, Carlos. Thank you for taking the time to talk with me. Could I leave my number for you to call if you think of anything else? Or if this man in the Tahoe happens to come back.”

  He agreed, and Mattie gave him her cell phone number. After thanking him again, she disconnected the call and leaned back in her chair. She felt depleted and filled with emotion—sadness for Willie mixed with exhilaration that she might have unearthed information that could help with his case. After a few seconds she roused herself and hurried to go tell Stella what she’d learned.

  TWENTY-TWO

  It was midafternoon, and while they waited for Tucker York to show up, Mattie and Stella retreated to the war room. Stella h
ad just received the report from ballistics, and was scanning it for new information.

  “Okay, here are the results on the casing that Robo found. The slug retrieved from the ram’s carcass is a match to the casing. But Ed Lovejoy’s rifle didn’t fire it.” Stella glanced up from the report to look at Mattie. “The striations on the casing that Robo found do not match those on a bullet the lab tech fired from Lovejoy’s gun, indicating that this particular rifle didn’t shoot the ram.”

  “I have to admit that I’m glad Ed is in the clear. I would’ve hated for our wildlife manager to be responsible for such a thing. Not to mention that it could implicate his involvement with Willie’s death.”

  “Yeah, I know what you mean. But here’s the big score.” Stella paused as if for effect. “The Desert Eagle .357 Magnum is ninety-nine percent likely to be the gun that killed John Doe Number One, the man who had the slug inside his skull. Thanks to you and Robo, we have a murder weapon for that case. And get this. The entry wound on the skull of John Doe Number Two is the same size and shape. It’s quite possible that the gun killed both of the adults.”

  Mattie should have felt elated, but didn’t. “Blunt force trauma killed the child, John Doe Number Three. Any speculation about what instrument might have caused it?”

  “Some sort of blunt object. Could be consistent with the butt of that Desert Eagle.”

  Mattie shuddered as she pictured two men and a child kneeling before their killer. She hoped the child had gone first and been spared the horror of watching the others die before him.

  The door opened and Sheriff McCoy entered. Stella handed him the ballistics report while Mattie briefed him on her interview with Carlos Martinez. Then he announced his reason for coming to join them. “Tucker York is in the lobby, waiting for us to talk to him. I want all three of us to handle it. Deputy Cobb, you take the seat on the same side of the table as him, and we’ll keep the tone friendly.”

  They went to the lobby to greet York, and after shaking the wildlife supervisor’s hand, Mattie followed the others into the interrogation room. As they entered, McCoy was saying, “Sorry for the starkness of this room, but this is the only available space to talk privately. Could I get you something to drink? Coffee, a soft drink?”

  “No thanks, I’ve had plenty of coffee today.” York picked a chair across the table from McCoy and sat. Mattie followed suit, angling her chair toward his so that she could observe him comfortably.

  “Thank you for coming in to talk with us,” McCoy said. “We have somewhat of a shared investigation involving this ram killing.”

  “I’m not quite sure why your department has become so involved,” York said. “And I’m definitely concerned that you have the local wildlife manager under suspicion. He’s the last person you should be looking at.”

  “You can be assured that we agree,” McCoy said, “but we’re talking to everyone who was up at the crime scene on Sunday. Ed just happened to be carrying a rifle that day loaded with the same ammo as the slug that killed the ram. I can share with you that, right before we entered this room, I received a report that eliminated Ed’s gun. We’ll return it to him as soon as possible.”

  “That’s good news. But tell me, Sheriff, why have you decided that investigation of this ram shooting is your responsibility?”

  “We believe that someone shot him to draw us away from the crime scene.”

  Mattie noted that the sheriff wasn’t mentioning that they also found evidence that someone hid at the top of the ridge that same day and watched the action below as she and Cole climbed to investigate.

  “It seems far-fetched,” York said, “but all right. That’s why I’m down here again, by the way—to look into this incident. Especially when I heard that you confiscated Ed’s rifle this morning.”

  “Not confiscated,” Stella said. “Just checking it against evidence.”

  York raised a brow and slanted a look Stella’s way. “So what do you need from me?”

  “I’m talking to everyone who was up at Redstone Ridge on Sunday, from the time Dr. Walker found the partial remains until that night. I want to know where all the players were, what they observed, and whether or not they can lend information to our homicide investigation.”

  “I told you Sunday that I observed nothing out of the ordinary in the meadow and on the ridge when I rode up alone.” A fleeting glimpse of impatience crossed York’s face. “With the intent of keeping the area secure, I watched for anyone who might enter while I counted sheep and scoped the ridge. I don’t know what else I can tell you.”

  Mattie thought that York had more than enough time to scope and count, considering how long he’d been alone in the area. She watched him closely for any sign of deception.

  “We believe the ram’s killer took his shot from the top of Redstone Ridge. In hindsight, can you recall noticing anything suspicious while you were observing that area?” Stella asked.

  “No, but I didn’t keep my binoculars trained on the top. I was scoping the entire ridge and focusing in on groups of sheep when they came into view.”

  “I see. And as you rode back down to the parking lot at the trailhead, what did you observe?”

  “Not a thing out of the ordinary.”

  “Do you recall what time you got back to your truck that day?”

  “I do exactly. It was 3:42, and I was late getting on the road to Denver.”

  Stella leaned an elbow casually on the table. “Oh yes, you had a meeting scheduled that night.”

  “I did, but it got cancelled. I received the text about halfway there. Just as well. I would’ve been about an hour late.”

  Mattie thought that bit of news was an interesting turn of events. So far, his story could’ve given him a nice alibi for the ram shooting, but the cancellation of the alleged meeting ruined it.

  Stella propped her chin on her fist. “At least you didn’t have to keep rushing. What did you do instead?”

  “Just ask your questions, Detective. I know where you’re headed.” York squinted at Stella. “I drove straight home to unload my horse. Since I’d left Denver before sunrise to drive down to Timber Creek, it had been a long day. I arrived at seven forty PM and no one can vouch for that. I live alone.”

  “All right, Mr. York. Thank you for your cooperation. Any gasoline receipts, food, or other purchases to show where you were?”

  “I filled up with gas in Timber Creek prior to driving west to the Ridge trailhead with Ed. I made no stops on the way home. But as you must know, my rig was gone by the time the rest of you got down from the ridge. That proves that I left prior to everyone else that day.”

  “Yes, Mr. York,” Stella said. “We are indeed aware of that fact.”

  But Mattie and Stella both knew that more than one trailhead led to the backside of Redstone Ridge. York could have easily moved his rig to a different parking lot and ridden back up.

  Stella continued her questions. “What kind of rifle did you carry that day?”

  York settled back in his chair and crossed his arms. “A Weatherby bolt-action with Winchester Short Magnum ammo. It’s in my truck right now if you want to take a look at it.”

  “I’d like to see it,” McCoy said in a pleasant conversational tone. “We’ll take a look after we’re done here. Anything else, Detective?”

  “I understand you moved to Denver from California. Is that correct?”

  “I worked in the California state wildlife department for five years prior to this job.”

  “Which city did you live in?”

  “I lived in the suburbs of Sacramento. There are several wildlife preserves in that area. Why is this important?”

  “Did you have friends or family in the L.A. area?”

  “I know many people from L.A.” York leaned back in his chair and narrowed his eyes at Stella, as if to say he was growing impatient with her line of questioning.

  “Do you know a man named William Cobb from the Hollywood area?”

  “Cobb.” H
e paused as if thinking and then looked at Mattie. “That’s your name, isn’t it?”

  As she nodded, Mattie had to wonder if he was putting on an act. “It is.”

  “Is he related to you?” Then when Mattie offered only a thin smile, he said to Stella, “I guess it’s a common enough name. No, I’ve never met or heard of a man named William Cobb before.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Completely.”

  “All right then. I think that’s all for now.” As she stood, Stella offered a handshake, which York returned with a stony expression. “I appreciate your time and your willingness to be so forthcoming, Mr. York.”

  Mattie trailed along as the others went outside to see York’s rifle. The sheriff handled the gun like an expert, taking a peek at the ammo while he was at it. While York drove away, the three of them huddled at the entryway and watched him go.

  “Smooth, well thought out delivery of the fact that he had no alibi,” Stella said.

  “Do you buy it?” Mattie asked.

  “I usually don’t buy anything on the first pass,” Stella said, but a car pulling into the parking lot ended the discussion. “It’s Agent Lawson. Let’s see if they found anything else up at Redstone today.”

  His face smudged with sweat and dirt, Lawson exited his car, rummaged in the back seat for his pack, and walked over to join them. He looked tired.

  “Nothing,” he said as he approached. “No more gravesites found around the edges of the meadow. The team was still searching when I left. They’ll spend the night and search the area up above by William’s grave in the morning.”

  “We have updates when you’re ready,” McCoy said, opening the door into the station for the rest of them to pass through.

  “Let me clean up and check my computer. I might have updates, too.”

  “We’ll be in the briefing room.”

  Mattie told the others she should check on Robo, and she split off to go to her office. He had awakened, left his cushion where she’d told him to stay, and was waiting for her by the door. His greeting was so exuberant one would have thought she’d been gone forever.

  Always glad to see him, she was even more so today when she needed his love for comfort. She ruffled his fur on both sides of his neck while he danced on his hind paws. “I thought I told you to stay on your bed.”