Tracer

by Dustin Stevens

  Lukas ignored the question. Shifted his gaze to Drake.

  “And...I don’t know you, do I?”

  “No,” Drake said. Shook his head.

  The look of confusion grew a bit deeper. “Army?”

  “Friend of Rink’s,” Drake replied. “Your lawyer.”

  The words pushed Lukas’s head back against his pillow. His eyes towards ceiling overhead. “Damn. If I need a lawyer, that means it all really happened, didn’t it?”

  Sara raised her head. Nodded. Started to cry again.

  Lukas raised a hand and wrapped it around the back of her head. Stroked her hair.

  “Shh,” he whispered. “Shh.”

  Drake watched the scene play out a moment. Nudged Rink with an elbow. Gestured for them to go to the hallway. Give the Webb’s a few minutes alone.

  Lukas saw the movement. Stopped them before they got more than a step.

  “How bad is it?”

  No preamble. No lead-in.

  Straight to business.

  Drake glanced to Rink. Got a nod to go ahead.

  “What do you remember?” Drake asked. Took a step into the room. Motioned for Rink to do the same.

  Closed the door behind them.

  They left the lights off. Didn’t want to draw attention. Wanted to let Lukas wake up a bit more.

  “Everything,” Lukas whispered. Voice thick, moisture tugging at the underside of his eyes.

  “Everything?” Rink asked. Instantly looked like he regretted saying the words.

  They were out before he had a chance to stop them.

  “Mhmm,” Lukas grunted. Raised his chin in a bit of a nod. “Everything up until the paramedics lifted me into the squad. I willed myself to stay awake that long. You know, just in case.”

  The admission brought another surge of tears from Sara.

  A flush of blood rushed to Drake’s face. He could feel it warm beneath his skin. Tickling at the small of his back.

  “How long have I been out?” Lukas asked. Looked to Sara, unable to speak. To Rink, staring at the floor.

  Finally to Drake.

  “Just over a week,” Drake said. “You were hit three times, one of them to your lung. They kept you in a coma until your body was strong enough to breathe on its own.”

  Lukas nodded. Seemed to be adding things up in his head.

  “You know I was in the service eight years? Eight years, and the worst thing that happened to me was a sprained knee. I get out and two weeks later I’m shot up and in a coma.”

  The thick sound in his voice faded, replaced by a touch of anger.

  Bitterness.

  Drake opened his mouth to speak. Closed it. Looked over to Sara.

  She seemed to sense what he was getting at. Nodded for him to continue.

  “Lukas, I’m about to throw a lot at you, and I need you to try your best to process all of it, okay?”

  Lukas looked at him. Said nothing.

  “My guess is you already know a fair bit of it, but I’m going to walk you through what we have anyway. I’m sorry to have to do this right now, but we don’t have a lot of time.”

  The stare continued.

  “Time before what?” Lukas asked.

  “Before the Sheriff comes and places you under arrest,” Drake replied.

  If the information surprised Lukas, he didn’t let it show. He stared back, unblinking.

  “They’re going to take me in like this?”

  “No,” Drake replied. “You’ll stay here until well enough to move. Just the same, you will be considered under arrest. Guards will be posted outside your door.

  “I will be the only person allowed to speak to you without supervision.”

  Lukas shot a glance to Sara.

  “Let’s hear it.”

  Drake walked to the foot of the bed. Drew over a stool. Lowered himself down onto it.

  “The reason we asked for you to be woken up right now is you have information nobody else has. This might be the only chance we have to talk before you get taken into custody.

  “And it could be the only way to keep you from going to jail for a very long time.”

  All three people stared back at Drake in silence.

  “Now, in a couple of hours, the Sheriff is going to come and arrest you. There might be a press conference. I’m sure the County Attorney will try to get her face on TV. At the very least her name in the paper.

  “None of that matters. Not really, anyway. Like I said, you won’t be going anywhere for a while.”

  Sara lowered her head at the mention of Lukas being arrested. Said nothing.

  Drake drew in a deep breath. Debated his next words.

  Looked back at the three darkened visages before him.

  “When you were brought in here a week ago, Rink called and asked me to come speak with Sara. The Sheriff had already told her he was going to lock you up. The prosecuting attorney told the world she was going to push for the maximum penalty.

  “Premeditated murder. Life in prison.”

  The words drew a disgusted scowl from Lukas.

  “Murder? What?”

  Drake raised a hand. Nodded.

  “I agree, I’ll get to that. Sara asked me to look into things. See exactly why you did what you did.

  “Here’s the best of what I can tell. I’ll run through it fast, then you fill in the holes. That work?”

  Lukas waved a hand. “You have my attention.”

  Drake glanced to each of the others as well.

  He had the whole room’s attention.

  “I started with your recent discharge. There was talk in the news of this being a recent serviceman getting out, having trouble adjusting to civilian life.”

  “Bullshit,” Lukas spat.

  Drake continued without pause.

  “Rink here spoke to your friends with the Home Guard. They were able to get me in with Dr. Woodson over in Helena. Took her less than twenty minutes to tell me you were the least affected returning soldier she’d ever seen.”

  A bit of a crease appeared at the corner of Lukas’s mouth.

  “Nice lady. I liked her.”

  Drake nodded in agreement. “So I came back here, went to talk to the Home Guard. Asked them if there was any chance a man with your skills would walk into a meeting, start firing, and not hit a soul.”

  “Not if I didn’t want to,” Lukas said.

  “That’s exactly what they said,” Drake replied. “So we figured you must have been trying to tell somebody something. Went to take a look at the Town Hall scene.

  “That was some mighty impressive shooting.”

  Lukas snorted. “As big as his head is? I could have hit that with a pea shooter.”

  A small smirk escaped Drake’s lips. “That’s where we went next. And you’re not wrong. Guy was a prick. Lied through his teeth to us.”

  “What did you ask him?” Lukas said.

  “Nothing, really,” Drake replied. “Which is why it was so odd that he lied about everything. Painted a bulls-eye on himself from that moment forward.”

  Lukas rolled his head to the side. Looked at his sister.

  “He put that bulls-eye in place long before you met with him.”

  Again, Drake raised a hand. Wanted to get through his assessment.

  “The next morning, I spoke to Wanda Pritchett. Learned two very important things. First was the bright red light.”

  “Tracers,” Lukas mumbled.

  Drake nodded. “Which I learned a little bit later on my next trip out to see the Home Guard.

  “The other thing I found out was I had a tail. Tierney was having me followed.”

  The skin around Lukas’s eyes tightened. His jaw clenched.

  “McIlvaine?”

  “You know him?” Drake asked. Raised his eyebrows a bit up his forehead.

  “I ought to,” Lukas said. “Son of a bitch shot me.”

  “Three times,” Rink added.

  An angry breath passed through Lukas’s n
ose. He shifted his attention back to Drake.

  “I guess he first showed up a couple of months ago. About the time all this started. We’ll get to that in a minute though. Go ahead.”

  Nodded for him to continue.

  “Based on what Pritchett and the Guard told me, I followed a hunch. Went to the U and met with a guy, had him explain everything he knew to me about brucellosis.”

  At the mention of the word, Lukas reclined his head back a bit. Looked hard at Drake.

  “Impressive,” Lukas replied.

  “So here’s what I’m thinking,” Drake said. Glanced again to Rink.

  “Something’s going on with Tierney and brucellosis. Maybe his herd has it. Maybe he’s pushing hard for this new law change everybody’s against. That part I need your help on.

  “You showed up at the Agriculture Commission meeting to discuss it, but he shut you down. Wouldn’t even let you speak.

  “Once he did, you went outside and made sure they heard you.”

  Silence fell as Drake stopped talking. Rink and Sara both looked at him. Shifted their gaze to Lukas.

  For a moment, all three sat looking at him, his features grim in the shadows of the room.

  “Impressive,” he said again. “But you missed you one thing. Tierney’s herd doesn’t have brucellosis.

  “Ours does.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Silence.

  Complete, pin-drop silence.

  No breathing apparatus. No heart rate monitor.

  The thought of breaking it entered Drake’s mind, of asking exactly what Lukas meant. That, or any of the hundred other questions shoving their way in right behind it.

  He pushed them all to the side. Knew to wait it out. Lukas would get to his explanation when he was ready.

  Sara wasn’t quite so patient.

  “What do you mean we have brucellosis?” Sara asked. “How do you know this? Why didn’t you say anything?”

  Lukas rolled his head to the side. Looked at her.

  “I just found out a couple weeks ago myself. Papa told me. Asked me not to say anything.”

  “Not to say anything?” Sara asked. Her voice higher. Hurt, frustration both mixed in. “How can he ask that? How can you do that?”

  “I’m sorry, I was just-“

  “When will either of you start treating me like an equal part in this business?”

  Rink pressed his lips tight. Turned his head at the neck to glance at Drake.

  Drake matched the look. Gave no outward reaction at all.

  “You’re right,” Lukas said. Reached down and squeezed Sara’s hand. “You need to hear this.”

  Turned so he faced forward. Could see both Rink and Drake in his field of vision.

  “All of you.”

  He paused a moment. Closed his eyes. Swallowed hard.

  “For about the last ten years, the ranch has been getting squeezed. Rising oil costs. New rates on state leases for pasture lands. Grain and feed going through the roof.

  “At the same time, beef prices have stayed about the same. No drop-off to speak of, but definitely not keeping up with inflation.”

  Drake leaned forward. Rested his elbows on his knees.

  Waited.

  “Tierney first starting coming around about five years ago. Our ranches touch up on the back-end, and he was looking to expand his operation. With over five thousand head, they were eating their way through every bit of grass he had.”

  Sara’s jaw dropped. Her face fell flat.

  “Papa was talking about selling?”

  “No,” Lukas said. Shook his head. “The first time he came around, Papa politely declined. Tierney knew we were getting pinched though and kept coming around, kept dropping his offer price.

  “By the fourth or fifth time, the two descended into open hostility. Papa told him to go to hell and never come back.”

  “I had no idea,” Sara said. “When was this?”

  “The last time was about three months ago,” Lukas said. “Less than a week before our first cow tested positive for brucellosis. Just a random spot check, and there it was.”

  A flag went off in the back of Drake’s mind. He recalled the words of Riley. Played them off of what Lukas was saying now.

  Something didn’t add up.

  “I thought in Tier Two, testing was only done when taking an animal to slaughter?” Drake asked.

  Lukas shifted his gaze to Drake and nodded. “You’ve done your homework. Yeah, that’s right, or at least it’s supposed to be.

  “Right before that, the local Ag Commission decided to start doing random pop-up tests in the area. Said it was to protect everybody.”

  Drake leaned back. Lifted his chin towards the ceiling.

  “So Tierney uses his position on the board to put this new policy in effect, then gives your dad one last chance to sell him the land.”

  “And when he says no, you guys get tested,” Rink finished. Glanced from Drake to Lukas.

  Drake nodded. “Still though, and no offense, but sham of a policy or not, your cow still tested positive.”

  “That’s just it,” Lukas said. “I said our herd tested positive, not our cows.”

  Sara’s brow pinched tight. “Difference being?”

  “Difference being, the two cows that tested positive weren’t our cows. They were his.”

  The information brought Drake to his feet. He ran a hand back over his scalp. Paced the width of the room.

  Beside him, Rink folded and refolded his arms.

  “But, that doesn’t make any sense,” Drake said. “How-“

  “If you know about the tiers in the state,” Lukas said. “You also know that once an animal in a herd tests positive, any animal, the entire bunch is under quarantine. Tierney knew we wouldn’t be able to survive that and the additional cost of testing every animal.”

  “So all he had to do was get you guys to have a single positive test and you were sunk,” Drake said. Continued pacing.

  “Yup,” Lukas said. His face fell flat as he stared down at the thin white blanket stretched across him.

  “It was the last conversation my father and I ever had. When we should have been saying goodbye, he was explaining to me how to save the ranch.”

  His eyes went glassy as he shifted his attention to Sara.

  “Please don’t be angry. It’s how he wanted it. He was old school, you know that. You were his little girl. He couldn’t stand the idea of mixing you up in it.”

  Matching tears raced down either of Sara’s cheeks. She said nothing.

  “But,” Drake said. Still pacing. One hand in his pocket. The other scratching the back of his head. “How do you know they were his cows?”

  Lukas turned his attention back to Drake. Gave a wan smile.

  “The brands. After they tested positive, the animals were destroyed, but all identifying marks were photographed for record keeping purposes.

  “After Papa’s funeral, I filed a formal appeal. Asked to have copies of those photos sent to the house.”

  Sara’s eyes grew wide. She rose up several inches in her seat. Stared from Lukas to Drake and back again.

  “Is that why you were watching the mail like a hawk? I thought you were waiting on something from the Army.”

  “No,” Lukas said. “I was waiting on those copies. The minute I saw them, I knew what had happened.

  “The son of a bitch rebranded his cows to match ours.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Spit-shined.

  Everything about Sheriff Jacob Pratt was polished to a gleam.

  The nameplate on his uniform. His belt buckle. The clasp on his hatband. Even his shoes, for the first time since leaving the store.

  Everything.

  There was a little extra bounce in his step as he pulled his cruiser to a stop in front of Hamilton Memorial. Ignored the posted handicapped placard. Parked front and center.

  If there ended up being a press conference, and he had a feeling
there would be, he wanted as many reminders of his presence visible as possible.

  This was his moment. The time to prove to voters what kind of man they put their trust in.

  Who they could fall asleep at night knowing watched over them.

  Two deputies waited for him by the front door as he entered. Young pups. Walsh and LeGrange. Neither a day over twenty-four.

  Both brimming with excitement, unable to stand still.

  Pratt looked at both of them. Barely able to contain the pride he felt.

  Offered a controlled smile.

  “Morning, boys.”

  “Boss,” LeGrange mumbled.

  “Sir,” Walsh added.

  Without breaking stride, Pratt led them towards Webb’s room. Let them fan out to either side. Stayed a step ahead.

  Marched through the halls in a flying V formation. The fabled spearhead of justice coming to do its job.

  Butterflies kicked up in his stomach as he rounded the last corner. Heat flushed his face. Brought sweat to his brow. Upper lip. Lower back.

  Something felt off the moment he came into view of his destination.

  There were no doctors moving about. No nurses rushing to and fro. No medical personnel of any kind visible.

  Nothing more than Keogh, half-asleep, leaning against the window sill. Staring out at another grey morning.

  Across from him, Webb’s door stood closed.

  The look of pride fled from Pratt’s face. Butterflies turned to dread.

  He was half afraid to ask the question, but forced himself to anyway.

  “What’s going on?”

  Keogh snapped alert at the sound of his voice. Turned. Looked sheepish that he’d been caught dozing.

  “They’re still in there.”

  “Still?” Pratt asked. “How long does it take to wake someone up?”

  The color drained from Keogh’s face. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

  The sense of dread swelled within Pratt. Landed in his stomach with a sickening thud.

  “What?”

  “They woke him up last night,” Keogh said.

  Pratt’s shoulders drooped. His eyes bulged.

  “You’re shitting me. Then who’s he in there with?”

  “His family,” Keogh said. Looked away. “His lawyer.”

  The shock of just a moment before subsided. Anger flooded in behind it. Pratt’s face got red. His chest swelled.