by Jeff Carson
“He didn’t call all night. No messages. MacLean tried this morning: no answer. Now his phone is off. It’s their wedding day, and—”
“I get it.” Rachette held up a hand. “Just drive.”
Rachette sipped his to-go coffee, trying to think coherently against the headache pounding at his temples.
For Wolf to not respond on the day of his wedding was out of character. Of course, it was the butt-crack of dawn, and getting married brought out sides of a person hitherto unseen. Rachette knew that, having stranded Charlotte at the altar after a minor nervous breakdown.
“You think he’s going to leave her?” she asked.
The question was like a shot of flaming vodka poured onto his hangover. He closed his eyes and ignored the inquiry, but the dizziness was too much and he opened them again.
“Hey, you listening to me?”
“Yeah, I’m listening. I don’t think it’s Wolf’s style, which worries me.”
“Me neither.”
“So we’re on the same page.” He gestured to the dirt road winding next to the Chautauqua that led to Wolf’s ranch. “And since the cell service won’t work until we get to his house, I say we both shut up until we get there. Then, and only then, we’ll figure out what we can or cannot do. We’ll talk to Lauren, give her our condolences, cry with her, or whatever.”
He closed his eyes against the morning sun searing through the windshield, breathing through the spins.
“You’re an asshole.”
He gave her a thumbs-up, letting the washboard road massage his body.
“Hey!”
A hand slapped his shoulder, waking him from a dreamless sleep.
“We’re here. You have any calls on your phone?”
Rachette struggled to remember where he was or what he was doing. Then he looked through the windshield and the towering white tent erected on Wolf’s front lawn reminded him quick enough.
“Looks like they’re ready.”
“Your phone,” she said.
He pulled out his cell and checked it. There were no calls or messages from Wolf. “Nothing.”
“Me neither.”
Patterson let off the brake and they rolled past a line of cars and trucks parked alongside the dirt drive. Rachette looked at the small army of people working inside and outside the tent, marveling at the production cost this day must have set Lauren back.
The sun had risen into a saddle on the eastern wall of the valley, bathing the property in light that scythed his eyeballs.
“It’s such a nice day,” Patterson said. “I hope he’s on his way home.”
“Look at that.” He pointed at a white Honda Civic.
She slowed next to it. “What about it?”
“That’s Brenda Mendelsen’s car.”
“Right there?”
“Yep.”
She stopped. “You’re kidding.”
“No, I’m not. I saw it two days ago up at her house. That’s hers.”
Patterson sighed. “What is going on?” she said, pulling in and shifting into park.
Rachette got out, put a piece of gum in his mouth, and thanked God for sunglasses. It could have been worse, he supposed. At least a breeze licked at his burning forehead.
They headed for the front door, then turned toward the tent when they saw Ella playing on the lawn. Lauren stood a short distance away, talking to a woman.
“Is that Brenda talking to her?”
“Yep.”
“Hey, Heather!” Ella ran over with a wide smile, dropping a Frisbee and stopping to pick it back up.
Jet, Wolf’s adopted German Shepherd, seemed to consider following her, but plopped onto the grass and studied the valley.
“Have you talked to David?” Ella asked Patterson.
Patterson stopped and hitched up her belt. After a stalling gaze around the terrain, she said, “Not yet, honey. We’re going to talk to him soon, though.”
“When?”
Rachette realized the wool could no longer be pulled over this girl’s eyes. Her lisp had disappeared over the past year. Now she sounded like a lawyer.
“I’m not sure, honey,” Patterson said.
Ella directed her laser-green stare at him.
He shrugged. “Don’t know.”
Patterson’ eyes bulged.
“Don’t know … what time we’ll be talking to him this morning. Probably soon. That’s why we’re here, in fact.”
Patterson closed her eyes.
“What do you mean?”
“Hey, guys!” Lauren waved and walked toward them.
Brenda Mendelsen had split off and was walking toward her car, scratching her forehead like she was trying to cover her face.
“Hi, Brenda!” Rachette called.
She acted surprised but kept on walking. “Hi!”
They watched in silence as she got in her car, fired it up, and drove away.
Weird.
He eyed Patterson, knowing she was thinking the same thing.
Lauren arrived and petted Ella’s hair. “Go play with Jet, honey.”
Ella ran back toward Jet and threw the Frisbee. Jet watched it land, then got up and jogged like it hurt.
“Poor guy,” Rachette said.
“He’s definitely getting on,” Lauren said. “What’s up?”
“We haven’t talked to David in a while,” Patterson said.
“I have.”
Patterson straightened. “You have?”
Lauren looked over her shoulder at Ella. “Yeah.”
The conversation stalled for a few seconds.
Rachette watched Brenda’s car slow at the headgate and disappear over the hill.
Lauren lowered her voice. “We’re not going to do it. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention anything to Ella. I haven’t broken the news to her yet.”
Patterson blinked. “So … you spoke to him.”
“Yes.”
Patterson eyed Rachette and nodded. “And you’re not going to get married.”
“No.”
“I was unaware of that.”
“We haven’t told anyone yet. I was just getting ready to call everyone.”
Lauren’s face was a mask of impassivity.
“What was Brenda Mendelsen doing here?” he asked, desperate to change the subject.
Lauren shrugged. “I don’t know. Visiting, I guess. Giving us good wishes on the big day.”
He nodded. “Why now? Wasn’t she invited to the wedding?”
“No. I don’t know her. That’s the first time I’ve officially met her, actually. She was telling me about how he … helped her out the other day.” Lauren put her hands in her back pockets and raised her eyebrows.
They stood in awkward silence for a beat.
“Well, we were just checking on you,” Patterson said. “We wanted to see how you were holding up, and offer our help in any way we can.”
“Did you talk to Wilson about the fingerprints?” he asked Patterson.
Patterson looked at him. “No. I haven’t been into HQ yet, remember? But we’ll talk about this in a few minutes.”
“I’m going to give him a call.”
She said nothing.
“What fingerprints?” Lauren asked.
“Just a case we’re working on.” Rachette broke away and dialed Wilson’s number, grateful to leave the cloud of awkwardness.
“Hello?”
“Hey, have they checked the prints on that bat yet?”
“I was just going to call Patterson about that.”
“She’s with me. What’s the news?”
The sound of children screaming came through the phone.
“Quiet!” Wilson yelled.
“Well? Did you find Eli’s prints on it?”
“No.”
“I knew it.” Rachette swiveled his gaze toward the headgate. “You only found hers.”
“No.”
“What?”
“There were no fingerprints o
n the bat at all.”
Rachette’s eyes narrowed. “She wiped it.”
“Looks like it.”
“Why would she do that unless she was trying to hide something?”
“Good question. It’s probably about time we go talk to Ms. Mendelsen. Any news on Wolf?”
“Yeah.”
“What?”
“I’m not in a good spot to talk about it.”
“Is he all right?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay. Well, call me back.”
Rachette hung up and walked back to Lauren and Patterson.
They looked like they’d been in a staring war and called a tie.
“Well, okay,” Patterson said. “We’re going to take off.”
“Hey, Lauren,” he said, unable to contain the curiosity. “What was Brenda Mendelsen talking to you about? I mean, I know you said she was wishing you well. But, what, exactly, did she say?”
Lauren furrowed her brow. “I don’t really know. I got the impression she was really looking for David. She asked for him. I told her he wasn’t here. She was kind of … I don’t know.”
“What?”
“If you can’t say something nice, say nothing, right?”
“Not really my motto.” Rachette looked at Patterson. “There were no prints on the bat.”
Patterson nodded with mild interest but said nothing.
“She wiped it.”
“I hear you, thanks.”
“Why are you talking about fingerprints again?” Lauren put her hands on her hips. “Tell me. Obviously, it has something to do with this woman, Brenda. Or what?”
Rachette said nothing, ignoring the subtle but seething anger radiating from Patterson’s eyes.
Lauren squared off with him. “Tell me.”
“Brenda Mendelsen called them to her house two days ago,” Patterson said. “She’d been spooked by her boyfriend.”
“Spooked. Like how?”
“Like he’d threatened her and trashed her house with a baseball bat.”
“My gosh,” Lauren said.
“Allegedly,” Rachette said.
Patterson widened her eyes. “Listen, Lauren. We’re going to get out of your hair.”
“But there were no fingerprints on the bat,” Lauren said slowly. “That’s what you just said. What does that mean?”
“Just what he said. My partner here has just found out there were no fingerprints on the bat.” Patterson shrugged. “So … there you have it. That’s what we were talking about, so rudely, in front of a civilian.”
“Yeah,” Rachette said, “but the woman in connection was just here, talking to Lauren. I thought it was a good idea to bring it up because I’m now concerned for the safety of my friend’s fiancée and her daughter.”
Lauren narrowed her eyes. “She wiped the fingerprints off the bat?”
Patterson sighed and nodded. “It seems that way. We still have to question her, of course.”
“If she did, though, it suggests she was lying about her boyfriend trashing her place. Which means she did it herself, then called the cops over to her house in order to, what, get even with him? Is that how I’m supposed to read that?”
They said nothing. Lauren was a quick study, Rachette realized. He pictured this scenario playing out differently.
“I guess that’s answer enough.” Lauren put a hand to her head. “And then she comes up here looking for David.” Her breathing went into hyperdrive. “She just told me she was disappointed she wasn’t invited to the wedding.”
Patterson looked at Rachette. “We’ll bring her in for questioning at the first opportunity.”
“I was sitting there talking to her just now, wondering why she was acting so strange. It even crossed my mind that she might be unstable.”
“Don’t worry,” he said.
“Yeah. Why would I? A psychotic woman just waltzed onto my property and who knows what she’d have done had you not showed up?”
Patterson eyed Rachette. “Come on, let’s go,”
Rachette felt like he’d pulled the pin on a grenade and now the blast was blowing his clothes off. Damn, he needed some Advil.
Lauren squirmed and pulled her phone out of her pocket. “Hello?”
“Let’s go,” Patterson turned and walked with her head down.
He was more than obliged to comply.
“David?”
They both stopped.
Chapter 32
“Did you hear me?” Wolf asked.
“Yes,” Lauren whispered.
“Is everything all right?” he asked.
In the rearview, Wolf saw Earnshaw’s eyes flick to him again, while Nackley and Luke pretended to not listen.
“You’re on your way home,” she said. “Everything’s fine now.”
“He’s coming home?” Wolf thought he heard Rachette’s voice in the background.
Wolf ignored Nackley smiling back at him from the front seat.
“I’ll make the call as soon as we’ve finished talking,” Lauren said. “I’ve flown many times out of that airport last minute. They have pilots on call at all times. The latest you’ll be in the air is an hour, hour and a half, which makes you home just after lunch at the latest. Tom, can you pick him up from the airport?”
“Yep!” Rachette spoke loud.
“Great.” Lauren sniffed. “So you’re on your way.”
“Okay,” Wolf said. The joy in Lauren’s voice filled him completely.
“You’re sure everything’s okay up there?”
He eyed the three occupants of the car, lost in their own worlds.
“Yeah. I’ll be home soon.”
“Someone wants to talk to you,” Lauren said. “Is that okay?”
Wolf turned to the window and smiled. “Sure.”
“Hello?”
“Hey.”
“Hi, Dave.” Ella’s voice always sounded two octaves higher on the phone. “Are you going to make the wedding?”
“Yes,” he said, matching Ella’s perfunctory tone.
“Good because I want to dance today.”
“Good because so do I.”
She giggled and Wolf’s teeth gleamed back at him on the window.
“My mom said that—”
Earnshaw’s phone beeped. Wolf pulled it away from his ear and looked at the screen.
Incoming call from Special Agent James Staten.
Wolf opened his mouth to report the news, then held his tongue. He pressed the answer-and-hold-current-call button and put it back to his ear.
Earnshaw leaned forward, mumbling an obscenity at a car. Nackley and Luke seemed equally preoccupied with the traffic incident.
“Yeah,” Wolf said, keeping the same conversational tone.
“What’s happening? Did she show up?”
Wolf looked out the window and sucked in a deep breath. “Mmhmm.”
“Can’t talk?”
“Uh-uh.” He hit call-swap.
“—but if you find sea shells, then I want you to bring me back a whole bag of them. I told my mom that, and … what? Okay, bye.”
The phone rustled and Lauren came on. “Sorry. You there?”
“Yeah.”
“Geez, I’d let her keep talking but I need to call the charter company.”
His heart pounded. Nackley looked back at him in the corner of his eye.
“Hello? David?”
He smiled. “Okay.”
“Everything okay?” she asked.
“I love you. I’ll see you in a bit.”
She said nothing.
“Bye.” And he hung up.
He pressed the sleep button on the side of the phone and handed it forward.
Earnshaw grabbed it and put it in his pocket.
Nackley was still staring at him. “Well?”
“Well what?”
“Everyone excited to have you coming home?”
Wolf rolled his eyes. “You have no idea.”
Chapter
33
Nackley whistled in the front seat. “Gulfstream G550.”
Luke remembered that about Nackley: the way he kept his eyes on planes as they flew over, often spouting the names of the aircraft despite nobody having asked.
She watched Wolf lean between the two front seats and appraise the private jet on the tarmac. “Thanks for the lift.”
“I guess he’s not impressed with fifty-million-dollar planes,” Nackley said to Earnshaw.
Jesus, Luke thought. This flight had to have cost a fortune, and at such short notice. Lauren Coulter had more money than anyone she’d ever known. Technically, now Wolf did too.
She thought about how only a few short hours ago she’d pressed her naked flesh into his. Her heart thumped in her chest every time she remembered the way she’d kissed him.
And how his lips had remained a locked door.
Her face reddened and she looked out the window. Damn it, she needed Wolf out of this car and out of her life.
Earnshaw put the car in park and turned around with an extended hand. “Nice to meet you. Thanks for keeping our girl safe last night. We owe you.”
Wolf shook his hand and turned to Luke. “You gonna get out and say goodbye?”
“No.” She held out a hand and took his large, warm grip. “Thanks, David. Good luck.”
He shook for a moment too long. And when she made eye contact, she was surprised by the hardness in his stare.
“Why don’t you let these guys take care of the manhunt. Hitch a ride down to Colorado and come to the wedding.”
She pictured Lauren and Ella Coulter in all their beauty, clinging to his limbs while they took pictures in the meadow in front of his house.
“No, I don’t—ah,” Her two bad knuckles mashed together and she ripped her hand away. “Jesus. No. Thanks though. Tell Lauren I’m sorry, okay?”
He forced a smile. “Sorry. Forgot about your bad hand. Thanks again, guys.”
He stepped out of the car and the closing door felt like a punch to her heart.
Earnshaw rolled down his window.
“Just … let him go,” she said under her breath.
“We’ll keep her safe,” Earnshaw said. “Don’t worry.”
Wolf hesitated, giving her another look through the window.
She turned away and watched as a jet wobbled in the air and touched down.
“See ya,” Wolf said.
Earnshaw rolled up the window and started the engine.
