by Jeff Carson
“And stupid,” Burton said. “Leaving that headlamp here like that?”
The excavation continued slowly while Burton talked to Wolf. Wolf observed Sobeck taking photos with the DSLR, Triplett listening to Sheriff Roll, Sheriff Roll pointing into the distance and complaining about something, Pete looking up at the breaking clouds toward the west, Milo rubbing his temple with one hand and listening to his boss without acknowledging, and Special Agent Rushing bending over the body.
They were a beaten crew. Wolf had seen it before, and too many times—when pressure was pushing in on all sides to get something solved and the only thing breaking wide open were the psyches of the personnel involved.
Later, mistakes would be exposed. Fingers would be pointed. And Sheriff Roll knew it. That’s why the man’s eyes were filled with resignation, his shoulders slumped as if his body was losing the battle against gravity.
“You listening to me?” Burton asked.
“No.”
“Screw you.”
An hour and a half later, the sun was back out in full force, warming the bottom of the valley to a balmy mid-sixties. Wolf’s clothing was dry, his stomach still empty, his mouth parched for water that nobody seemed to have thought to bring.
Rushing and Jackson had the body fully exposed, and every once in a while, the wind lined up to give them all a whiff of death that reminded them why they were all there.
“I’ve got something interesting over here!” Rushing called.
“What is it?” Roll asked as they gathered near the body, the smell of decay stronger than ever.
“See this?” Rushing pointed to a piece of jewelry on Kyle’s finger, glinting in the light. A silver bracelet with a tag on it.
“It’s wrapped around his fingers,” Rushing said. “There’s an inscription on the tag that reads Brothers Forever.”
“That’s interesting,” Roll said. “Anyone recognize that piece of jewelry?”
Burton turned around and walked away from the grave.
“I find the state of the jewelry interesting,” Agent Rushing said.
“Why’s that?” Roll asked.
“Because look at Kyle’s hand.”
“It’s covered in blood.”
“That’s right. You can see, the entirety of the front of his torso is covered in blood, which means he way lying on his front when he fell from the gunshots. He bled out, painting everything, including his hand, in blood. If he was holding this bracelet when he was shot, when he fell, the bracelet would have been covered in blood.”
“But it’s sparkling clean,” Roll said. “Which means somebody put it in his hand after he was shot.”
“Precisely,” Rushing said. “And like I said, it’s wrapped around his finger. Somebody placed this in his hand, then wrapped him and dragged him down here.”
“Okay,” Roll said. “Now that’s interesting.”
Wolf saw Burton stood a dozen paces away, staring back at the hole. Wolf joined him. “Did you hear that?”
Burton nodded.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I just feel like shit.”
A minute later, Sheriff Roll walked over to where Wolf and Burton were standing and looked up at Kyle’s house on the hill, the crease on his forehead deeper than ever. “What do you make of that?”
Wolf shrugged. “Looks like the killer was trying to leave a message.”
“You recognize that bracelet?” Roll asked Burton.
Burton shook his head.
“This is a cluster.” Roll eyed his watch. “I have to get back down into town.”
“Because you have Kyle Farmer,” Wolf said.
“Yeah. Because we have Kyle Farmer.” The sheriff eyed his watch again.
“If you’d like,” Wolf said, “Burton and I could go with you to give the news to Jed and his boys.”
“Screw that.” Detective Milo walked over. “I’ll go with you, sir.”
Roll stared at his detective, then nodded to Wolf. “Thanks. I appreciate the offer. But Milo’s right. We can handle it.”
Triplett walked up and cleared his throat. “Sir. By my calculations, Sobeck and I have been going straight for thirty-nine hours now. Not that I’m bitching about it…I mean I am, sorry. I’m just sure as hell hungry and thirsty and could use a shit and a nap.”
Roll put up his hand. “You’re right. Something’s gotta give here.”
Special Agent Rushing stepped up and joined the group now gathering around the sheriff.
“Special Agent, my deputies need a rest. You and your colleagues have been going just as long as we have.”
“It’s no sweat. The other two are done down at Guild’s place and headed up here now. We can work in shifts.”
“I need to keep somebody up here with you while you finish.”
“I’ll stay,” Sobeck said. The deputy’s eyes were wide open, but he looked dead on his feet.
Roll nodded. “Thank you, Jimmy. Triplett, you can come down with us.”
“No,” Triplett said. “My partner’s staying, I’m staying. We’ll get our rest then. I can wait.”
Roll nodded. “All right. We’ll see you tomorrow at 0800 at the Marshal’s office. That okay with you?”
He looked to Burton and Wolf. “Milo and I will take you to your car at Guild’s place.”
“We don’t know where the Farmers are going to be,” Milo said.
Roll nodded. “I know. We’ll have to call and tell them to meet us somewhere.”
“After seeing them in action this morning, I’d say the more people the better,” Wolf said. “Deputy Sobeck says Jesse and Kyle said that fight at the Soaring Eagle Bar broke up at around 8:30 pm Friday night. I’m not saying Deputy Sobeck’s lying, but I think it’s in your best interest to lock down the exact time there. If you’re thinking Jesse came up here, took the gun out of Kyle’s shed, and marched down to shoot Guild, then if you’re off by twenty or thirty minutes there’s no way Jesse could have made it by 9:38 to shoot him.”
Burton straightened. “Wolf’s right, we have to lock that time down. We’ll come with you down to the bar. Buy you a beer. You look like you need it, old man.”
Roll eyed Burton and laughed, too hard. “Yeah, yeah, okay old man. We’ll go to the Soaring Eagle Bar to buy me a beer.” His face fell. “Good a place as any I guess to let a man know his son is dead.”
“Doesn’t matter where you do it,” Wolf said. “There’s no good place for that.”
Roll took a deep breath, looked up the hill, and then at Burton. “You think you can make this?”
Burton waved a hand and walked.
And, surprisingly, Burton climbed back up the mountain with the spryness of someone half his age.
Chapter 20
“This place is beautiful, I tell you,” Burton said, leaning against the windshield.
Wolf eyed him, seeing that Jack Daniels was behind the wheel again.
The drive down to Guild’s place had taken them a half an hour, a drive during which everyone in the vehicle had been accompanied by the soundtrack of Burton snoring in the back seat.
Sheriff Roll had remained silent the entire drive, brooding on the task ahead. Milo had also fallen asleep during the short drive, leaving Wolf plenty of time to stare out the window and contemplate the past, present, and future. He kept his mind off dead bodies and job security and focused instead on his grandson’s green eyes, ridiculous giggle, and big smile.
Upon arriving at Alexander Guild’s house, Wolf and Burton climbed into the warm cab of Wolf’s SUV, the comfortingly familiar driver’s seat for Wolf, the soothing bottle of Jack Daniels for Burton.
Another twenty minutes later, they were driving toward Ridgway on Highway 550.
“I gotta get down here more often.” Burton sat back and sighed. “Freakin’ beautiful, I tell you.”
The man was in a good mood because he was sipping on the Jack Daniels bottle again, but he was not wrong. The late afternoon sun had dipped be
hind clouds over the big mountains flanking the valley, and shafts of light lanced down, dappling the ground beneath.
Wolf hung a right off the highway and into Ridgway. They passed the dirt road leading to the Marshal’s office on the right, Lucille’s Diner with its bacon smells, then parked at an old-western looking saloon building. Neon beer signs hung in the windows, glowing behind a simmering reflection of the sky.
“About time.” The cork in Burton’s hand squeaked as he sealed the bottle and set it at his feet. Wolf noted the remainder of the liquid had again been cut in half, and estimated Burton had consumed a good six or seven shots in the time it had taken them to coast down from Guild’s house. Just a spit in the gas tank.
They stepped out into cool air, moistened by the earlier rain and laden with the scent of bar food. Wolf’s mouth exploded in anticipation, but he tamped down his spirits when he saw Roll was on the phone with Milo at his side.
“Don’t envy that man right now,” Burton said.
They strolled nearer the front bumper of Wolf’s vehicle, listening as they approached Roll.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Jed, I know. I’m—” Roll pulled the phone from his ear and poked the screen with his finger. “Dammit!”
Burton, Milo, and Wolf stood with their heads bowed and watched Roll take a walk away from the parking lot. He tilted his head back, took a moment, and returned with a steely look.
“Okay. He knows. I screwed up. But he knew. There was no hiding it. I couldn’t lie.”
“I know, sir,” Milo said.
“Nothing you can do but what you did,” Wolf added.
“Well,” Burton said. “Let’s get you two a beer, how about that?”
Roll narrowed his eyes and stared at Burton. “Best idea I’ve heard in a long time.”
The inside of the place was classier than the exterior led on. The bar lined the back wall, armed with what looked to be a few dozen pour handles offering craft beer. The floor was stained dark, the walls were painted earth tones, adorned with pictures of the majestic surrounding mountains and antique farming equipment.
It was 5:15 pm, and a lot of patrons were out for what was likely happy hour at the Soaring Eagle Bar. Pool tables occupied the right-hand side of the room, sturdy-looking dining furniture filled the left. Milo and Roll chose a table and sat down.
The bartender came out from the bar and met them at the table. “Sheriff, detective. How are you guys doing?” His somber demeanor, and the glances they were getting, said Roll’s phone conversation had been observed through the windows.
“A pitcher of beer, please.” Burton pronounced it pisher.
“You got it. And here are some menus, in case you need them.”
“Oh, we’ll need them,” Burton said.
“Sheriff, detective? You two okay with the beers?”
“Yes, thank you, Joe. And how about some waters all around.”
Wolf ordered a tonic with a lime.
“And we wanted to ask you some questions, Joe,” Roll said to the bartender. “About that fight between Jesse and Kyle Friday night.”
“Yeah? What about it? You know, I had Kyle’s father and two brothers in here earlier asking about that.”
“Is that right?” Roll asked. “What were they asking?”
“Just about the fight. About what happened.”
“And you told them?”
Joe shrugged. “Yeah.”
Roll nodded. “Okay. Well, we’d like to know about what time that fight happened. Do you remember exactly?”
Joe put his hands on his hips and looked out the windows. “Must have been eight or eight-thirty. It was right around sunset.” He looked at his watch.
“Is there any way to pinpoint that more precisely?” Wolf asked.
“Maybe. Let me check.” Joe turned and headed for the bar.
Wolf faced the windows, and the peaks outside. The Colorado Rockies were playing on the ceiling mounted TV, and it felt good to zone out on the action, if only for a few minutes.
“Here you go.” The bartender set down the drinks. “And I have this.” He pulled out a piece of paper. “I closed out Deputy Sobeck’s tab right after they left. I remember that, specifically, because Jimmy helped break up that fight. I was thanking him, and he told me to just close him out. That was at 8:27 pm. And, that was no more than five minutes after Jesse and Kyle were out of here.”
Roll took the piece of paper and handed it back. “Thanks, Joe.”
“No sweat.”
“How did that fight go down, Joe?” Wolf asked.
Burton took charge of the pitcher and started sloshing cups full.
“Well, Kyle gave Jesse a pretty good beating, the way I saw it.”
“And you heard what the fight was about?” Wolf asked.
“Yeah. Apparently, Jesse and Hettie were screwing around behind Kyle’s back. Kyle was screaming about it for everyone to hear. It was like a Jerry Springer show.” Joe chuckled, then stopped when nobody joined him.
“Anyway, we all piled out of here and watched while they wrestled around. Kyle was throwing punch after punch into Jesse’s head. Jimmy finally went out there and put Kyle in one of those cop ninja holds and broke them up. He made them split up and leave. Kyle got into his pickup and peeled off, and then Jesse and Hettie drove away in Jesse’s Jeep.”
“Thanks, Joe,” Roll said.
“No sweat. Now can I take your orders?”
When it was Wolf’s turn, he ordered a cheeseburger and fries and handed over the menu. Sipping his tasteless carbonated drink, he leaned back into his chair. Roll and Milo both stared blankly at the television, while Burton drank and tended to everyone else’s glass like both were his job.
“It’s not looking good for Jesse,” Roll said. “Just admit it, Hal.”
Hal slurped his beer. “Not from where I’m sitting.”
“Oh yeah?”
Movement outside caught Wolf’s eye. He stood up.
“What is it?” Roll asked, turning around to see the Farmers’ pickup truck sliding into the parking lot, kicking up a cloud of dust.
“You told them where we were?” Milo asked.
“Well yeah, I told him I wanted to meet him, then…you guys stay here.” Roll walked to the entrance.
Wolf and Milo hurried after him and slipped out the door before it closed. The air was still laden with dust.
“What happened to him?” Jed Farmer said as he walked towards the sheriff.
“Jed, please…”
“What happened to him!” The man’s cheeks were streaked with tears.
The older son—Seymour, Wolf remembered—was crying too. The youngest stared straight at Wolf with an unblinking gaze. All three of them looked like violence was on their minds.
“Answer me!”
“We think he was shot,” Roll said.
“You think? What do you mean? You said you found him, didn’t you? Did you find him?”
People were gathering at the windows inside, but none dared to come out.
“Yes, Jed. We found him. He was shot. I told you, he’s dead.” Roll’s voice failed him when he said the word dead, and it came out as a whisper.
Jed’s eyes flicked to Wolf. “Did he do it?”
Wolf said nothing.
“Did your nephew kill my son?”
Burton came up next to Wolf. “We don’t know. But it doesn’t look like it to me.”
“To you? And how about to everyone else?” Jed looked at Roll. “What did he say last night? You guys brought him in, right? What did he say?”
“We haven’t talked to him yet,” Roll said.
“You haven’t talked to him yet?”
“You know that’s perfectly within his rights, you know that.”
“Which means he’s guilty.”
Roll looked down at his boots. “Jed. It means it’s within his rights to not speak to us.”
Jed Farmer looked at Roll like a predator watches prey cowering at its feet. “Wh
ere did you find him?”
“I can’t tell you that, Jed. It’s a crime scene.”
“Where!” The man’s voice echoed in the still air.
“I’m sorry, Jed. Really. I am. Seymour, Gabriel, I’m sorry about your brother.”
“I want to see him,” Jed said.
“You can see him when we get him to the morgue.”
Jed closed his eyes. “When’s that gonna be?”
“Not for a few hours.”
Jed’s eyes shot open and found Burton. “You guys talked to him. He ran down to the Canyon of the Ancients. Why? What’s that got to do with anything? Did you find him in the Canyon of the Ancients?”
“It was just a spot where he and I used to go hiking,” Burton said. “That’s all.”
“But he was shot. He was shot and killed.” Thoughts flickered behind the man’s eyes. “And what’s this I’m hearing about Jesse and Hettie screwing each other behind Kyle’s back? What’s this about everyone saying they got in a fight here? Hettie and Kyle were dating, and your nephew was screwing her. It’s clear as day, sheriff. Look at the facts. Jesse did it.”
“We don’t know that for sure,” Burton said, the drink in him adding a bit too much force in his voice.
“Jesse was screwing that girl,” Jed said. “And her father was killed by Alexander Guild a few months ago. Jesse wanted Guild dead, and he wanted my son dead. All for that bitch.” Jed’s voice was like a panther’s growl. “That’s all there is to it, sheriff.”
“I assure you, we’re working on figuring out exactly what happened to your son.”
“Is that why you’re here now? Sipping some suds and having some burgers? Maybe shoot a bit of pool before you get back to figuring out what happened to my son?”
“No, you know that’s—”
“I want to see him.”
Roll nodded. “I know you do. I’ll let you know the instant you can.”
“What are you doing here?” Jed asked. “You said there’s a crime scene. You should be out there. Figuring this out.”
“They got the CBI up there working the scene,” Burton said.
Wolf cringed at Burton’s intrusion. The fact that he slurred half the words didn’t help. Wolf jabbed him with an elbow before he could say more.