by Jeff Carson
“Wow,” Rachette said. “Got busy.”
Wolf kept his eyes on the screen and waited while Patterson slowed just before the end of the movie.
“See here?” It was the same shot, but now the vehicle cab was empty.
“Okay,” Wolf said.
“Wait for it,” Patterson said. “Five more seconds.”
Five seconds later, the picture flashed green again. After another few, it darkened and then bounced and jiggled. For a while a palm was all they could see, then an arm, and then, after a few seconds of swirling images, a face with glowing eyes took up the whole picture.
Patterson clicked the mouse, freezing the movie.
Wolf leaned forward. “Matt Cooper.”
“The movie stops a second after this picture,” she said. “You can’t tell who starts the recording at the beginning, but it’s unmistakable at the end. Matt Cooper.”
“What about prints on the USB?” Wolf asked. “Did you find any?” He glanced at the USB inserted in the PC tower.
“That’s … not the original USB,” Patterson said, following his eyes. “The original is in the lab. I didn’t find any prints on it, but there is definitely blood, and it does not match our pilot Matt Cooper. I’ve sent what I have to Lorber’s office, and when he gets back there I’ll talk to him about it.”
“Blood not matching Cooper’s?” Rachette asked. “That’s what we like to call in the business, a clue if I’ve ever heard of one.”
Patterson pointedly ignored her partner.
“Keep me posted on that,” Wolf said.
Wilson shook his head at the screen and pushed his chair back. “There’s no way to know when the recording was made. There’s no time and date stamp on it. No meta data.”
“I would say it was made Thursday night after Charlie Ash’s party,” Wolf said. “You can see Cooper’s valet uniform. That’s how he got in his car and planted the camera at the beginning. He could have gone into town and made a copy of the key during the party to come back and retrieve the video camera later.”
“Rascal’s Hardware,” Wilson said, referring to the only place in town that made keys. “I’m pretty sure they’re open until nine p.m. on weeknights.”
“And the mayor went somewhere and picked up Stephanie after the party?” Rachette asked.
“Antler Creek catered it,” Wolf said. “She was at the party. They must have planned a rendezvous that night.”
Patterson looked up, skepticism etching her face. “And Cooper knew all this was going to happen?”
“Looks that way,” Wolf said as he left the room.
…
Wolf sat back down in front of Prock while Rachette took his position against the wall. Prock’s demeanor was night and day from earlier. What was once a cool gaze was now the look of a cornered animal, his eye movements quick and urgent.
“I didn’t kill Stephanie,” he said.
Wolf kept silent.
“I swear.” Prock put his elbows on the table and pressed his hands together. “We were just taking her home, and we dropped her off.”
Wolf held up a hand. “Let’s start with how you know Cooper. You’re from Austria, he’s from Aspen. More importantly, he works for Irwin, you for Klammer. How is it that you end up hanging out with an employee of the firm you’re competing against for a multi-million-dollar contract? Does Klammer know?”
Prock sat back and exhaled. “No, I was … it’s complicated.”
“Try me. Your life depends on it.”
Prock shook his head and blinked. “We were working together for the last few weeks.”
“In what capacity?” Wolf asked.
“I was approached by Irwin Construction Corporation a few months ago. They offered me a deal: I keep them abreast of progress, and they give me compensation.”
“A double agent.”
Prock nodded in his almost-imperceptible way.
“Progress?” Wolf asked. “About what?”
Prock held up his palms. “About our progress of winning the bid for an important contract.”
“And how was progress going?” Wolf asked.
Prock looked at Wolf for a second, considering his answer. “Touch and go.”
Wolf nodded. “Saturday night, at the gala. You licked Stephanie’s earlobe. How did you know her?”
Prock frowned. “I didn’t lick her earlobe.”
“Whatever, you were flirting with her, and it was clear to a number of people at your table. How did you know her?”
“From the party last week.”
“Charlie Ash’s party?” Wolf asked.
“Yeah.” Prock shifted in the seat. “Could I have a glass of water?”
“Not yet,” Wolf said. “The party?”
Prock sat back again and exhaled. “Cooper introduced me, and we hit it off. We got together in one of the rooms for a few minutes.”
“And then what?”
“And then nothing,” Prock said. “We didn’t see each other again that night.”
Wolf shook his head and looked back at Rachette.
“She disappeared,” Prock said quickly. “I never saw her again until Saturday night, at the gala, when she came to our table. We talked that night, and she agreed to hang out after she got off work.”
“So you met her after her shift,” Wolf said. “Then you two went down the mountain together?”
“Yes.”
“And then you hooked up with Matt Cooper?” Wolf shook his head and sat back, looking at the ceiling. “I don’t get it. Why wouldn’t you take your own car? A cab? One of the shuttles that comes to the roundabout at the bottom of the gondola?”
Prock rolled his eyes and put the side of his hand on the table. “I couldn’t take the company car, and we didn’t want to take a shuttle or a—”
“So Cooper not only flies skiers in helicopters, but he’s fine with giving couples rides to wherever they want to go have sex? He’s just a nice guy like that?”
Prock stared at Wolf for a second and lowered his eyes to the table.
Wolf watched Prock’s skin grow hot, like he was either furious or embarrassed. Wolf couldn’t tell which.
“Why involve Cooper in your little sex adventure?” Wolf asked. “You’re not making any sense. Start telling me the truth.”
Prock glared up at Wolf. “That was the point. I wanted Matt Cooper involved in the sex adventure.”
Wolf felt his own face flush. “Oh.” Wolf took a deep breath and stretched his neck. “So you and Cooper?”
“Yes. That is why we got along so well when we met.” Prock stared at Wolf with drooping eyelids, as if waiting for the judgmental remarks to come.
“So then what?” Wolf asked.
“I called Cooper to pick us up. He was at the bar in the village, picked us up, and we drove up to Stephanie’s house.”
“But you didn’t get there, did you?” Rachette said.
Wolf looked up at Rachette and then back at Prock.
Prock leaned forward. “We dropped her off on the side of the road. She wanted us to”—he opened his eyes wide and held up a finger—“there was someone behind us that night. We passed another truck.”
Rachette blew out of his nose, and Prock twisted in his seat.
“Why would you drop her off late at night in the middle of a major storm?” Wolf asked. “It was snowing like mad. It had been for hours.”
“Stephanie and Cooper. They were fighting the whole way up the road. I couldn’t stop them. He was being vulgar, and she was definitely upset. I tried to tell both of them to stop, but they just kept shouting. She was screaming for him to let her out of the car, and wouldn’t listen to either one of us. So he stopped and she got out.” Prock waved a hand.
“What was the argument about?” Wolf asked.
Prock squinted and shook his head. “He was treating her like a … prostitute, how do you call it?”
“A prostitute,” Rachette said.
Prock nodded. “He was calling
her names and insulting her, and she didn’t like it. I think they had a history, a fight before or something.”
Wolf leaned forward. “Tell me exactly what they were saying.”
Prock rolled a palm up. “I don’t know … he said that she had to do us both, and he wasn’t going to pay her the cost, as if she had a price or something. It was … it was bad.”
“And what was her cost?” Wolf asked. “What was her going rate?”
Prock swallowed and looked at Wolf. “What? What kind of a question is that? What’s wrong with you? I told you—”
“You said Cooper was talking about a cost. What was the cost he was talking about? Do you remember a specific number?” Wolf asked.
“I don’t know.” Prock huffed.
“Was it twelve hundred dollars?” Wolf asked. “Was it one thousand two hundred dollars?”
Prock’s face dropped. “Yes,” he said carefully. “It was.”
Wolf sat back and ran a hand through his hair.
“How did you know about that?” Prock narrowed his eyes.
“What happened next, after you dropped her off? Did Cooper tell you about the sex tape?”
Prock straightened. “What sex tape?”
“You didn’t press him about what had just happened?” Wolf asked. “Didn’t you want to know what the whole argument was about?”
“I did. I asked him. But we ended up arguing. He was calling her a whore again, and telling me to forget her. I was telling him to go back and pick her up, and he refused to. He said the truck behind us would pick her up and not to worry. I figured he was right.”
“It was a truck following you? What kind was it?” Wolf asked.
Prock looked up in thought. “I think it was an SUV.”
“Was it a truck or SUV?” Rachette asked.
“I don’t know.”
“What color?” Wolf asked.
“It was snowing hard. The headlights were in our eyes.”
“Did you see it pick up Stephanie?” Rachette asked.
“No. I didn’t. We were gone. We left.”
Wolf studied his face and decided the man was telling the truth.
“And that was it about the argument between Cooper and Stephanie?” Wolf asked. “No more bringing up the topic?”
Prock shrugged and glared at Wolf. “We didn’t have much time to talk about it anymore because an asshole cop pulled us over. Gave Matt a drunk-driving test out in the snow.”
Wolf took a deep breath and crossed his legs. The room was cold, the air somehow penetrating the windowless room through unseen cracks. Just like his office.
Wolf changed direction. “What were you and Klammer talking to Charlie Ash about the other day? At the Sunnyside Café.”
Prock’s face transformed to cool and untouchable in the span of a few breaths. “The pursuit of the contract. Of course.”
“Specifically?” Wolf asked.
Prock shrugged. “Just business.”
“Maybe I’ll go talk to Klammer,” Wolf said. “Let him know about your dealings with Irwin’s company.”
Prock shrugged again. “I was going to tell him anyway. After all, it was the kind of thing I’m paid for. It was a strategic move, taking the job offered to me by Irwin, and it was something I couldn’t tell Klammer about at the time, in order to work both sides effectively.”
Wolf smiled. “Because you believe Klammer is going to come out on top.”
Prock stared at the wall in response.
“What were you doing this morning between seven and nine a.m.?” Wolf asked.
Prock’s eyebrows pulled together. “I was waking up, then eating breakfast with Mr. Klammer. Why?”
“Where were you eating?” Wolf asked.
“The Sunnyside,” Prock said. “Unfortunately. Such terrible cuisine in this country.”
Wolf got up and walked to the door. Rachette followed.
“Hey, I want to—”
Prock’s voice was muffled as the door closed.
Patterson and Wilson were on the other side of the door in the observation room.
“Well?” Rachette asked. “Did this guy do it or what?”
Wolf turned and watched Prock through the glass.
Prock got up off his chair and began pacing, staring at the floor and mumbling to himself in his native tongue.
“Let him go,” Wolf said. “Make it clear to Klammer that we want both of them to stay in town, though. Let’s put surveillance on them.”
“But shouldn’t we check on his alibi for this morning first?” Patterson asked. “I can call the Sunnyside.”
Wolf walked out of the room and into the hallway. “Okay, go ahead. But I think we’re looking for someone else.”
“Don’t most Austrians come out of the womb with skis on?” Rachette asked. “You sure that wasn’t him this morning?”
Wolf shook his head. “Prock could be a world-cup skier, but that doesn’t change the fact that it was a local who gave us the slip this morning. Whoever that was knew the backcountry too well.” Wolf looked at Wilson. “Let me guess, the snowmobile tracks went up to Poacher’s Trail, where it was found ditched.”
Wilson nodded.
“That’s how he escaped. Went right back to the mountain, blended in with the Monday-morning resort skiers. Didn’t need to scan a lift ticket at any of those back side lifts. Prock wouldn’t have known that move.”
“He could have learned about that trick over the last couple weeks he’s been in town,” Patterson said.
They stood in silence for a beat, and then Wolf nodded. “Of course you’re right. Confirm his alibi at Sunnyside. And keep me posted about the blood on that USB.”
Patterson nodded and went to the squad room with Wilson on her heels, leaving Wolf and Rachette.
“Who do you want to put on tailing Klammer and Prock?” Rachette asked following Wolf into his office.
“I don’t know. It doesn’t need to be covert or anything. Just plant a deputy on their ass.”
“Where are you going?” Rachette asked. “Can I come?”
Wolf turned around and found Rachette a few inches away. “What’s going on?”
Rachette shrugged. “Nothing. Can I come?”
“What did you do?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why are you desperate to hang out with me, and why is your partner mad and not speaking to you?”
Rachette blinked, pretending to be confused.
Wolf walked past him out into the hallway.
“Where are you going?” Rachette asked again.
“The mayor’s. Talk to you soon.”
Wolf stopped at Wilson’s desk on his way through the squad room, pulled the USB out of the computer, and pushed through the doors into the cauldron that was reception.
Klammer was in the waiting room and stood up from his chair. His face was red and his sleeves were rolled up, but he stared at Wolf with a bored expression, as if he were perfectly content with playing the waiting game.
“Prock will be out in a minute,” Wolf said walking past.
Klammer parted his lips and inhaled, preparing to say something.
Wolf left through the front door before any words escaped the man’s mouth. His patience with the backroom games these people were playing had long since evaporated.
Chapter 22
During the winter months of Rocky Points, and anywhere else in the mountains for that matter, the sun could disappear early in the day, depending on where you were in the valley. Darkness could begin at two in the afternoon in spots, or even earlier. Snow and ice could cling in these places for almost three quarters of the year.
Wolf considered himself lucky that his ranch house was situated in such a way that light bathed the property until later in the afternoon, but the department headquarters building was one of those places that went into shade at about two-thirty in the afternoon in winter.
Mayor Wakefield’s property, high up on the western-facing slopes overl
ooking the town from the east side, didn’t have that problem. It took advantage of all the sunlight the day could offer at any time of year.
As he drove up the snow-packed road toward Wakefield’s, Wolf squinted as the day’s final rays of sun knifed through the pine trees, cutting into the edges of his vision. KBUD was playing an old Widespread Panic tune that reminded Wolf of his high-school days—back when he would have been coming home this time of the evening after an afternoon of skiing with his brother, John, or his best friend, Nate Watson.
Wolf chugged some water out of a half-frozen bottle and felt it douse his empty stomach, realizing he still needed to sit down and eat for a straight hour or so.
As he got closer to Wakefield’s, he thought about his brother again, and how he had died. John had been murdered, made to look like he had killed himself. Had Wolf missed something the other day with Jen Wakefield? It had looked like a cut-and-dried suicide, but if the same thing had happened today, after two murders in town, maybe he would have scrutinized the scene more thoroughly.
He lowered the volume of the music and turned into Wakefield’s driveway. He raised a hand to block the setting sun and pulled in next to Chris Wakefield’s Ford truck.
Wolf got out and walked to the ornate wood door and rang the bell. It chimed inside, and a few seconds later Chris Wakefield opened it up.
“Oh, hi Sheriff,” he said. “Can I help you?” Chris was fully dressed with his coat and boots on, looking like he was ready to leave.
“I came to speak to your father.”
Chris stepped aside. “Dad! Sheriff Wolf is here!”
Chris Wakefield was in his late teens, almost Wolf’s height and, if Wolf wasn’t mistaken, rumored to be a very good skier. He watched Chris closely, scrutinizing him for signs of nursing injury from hurling himself off a sixty foot cliff earlier in the day.
“Yeah, okay, let him in!” Mayor Wakefield said from somewhere inside.
Chris turned back to Wolf and opened the door wider.
