Divided Sky

by Jeff Carson

“After the hospital I went back up to the scene. So, not really. You?”

  “A few hours.”

  “What’s up?” Roll asked.

  “I have some new information.”

  “Yeah?”

  Wolf told Roll about the bracelet wrapped on Kyle’s fingers being Jesse’s.

  “Is that right.”

  Triplett looked up from his phone. “He’s trying to get caught.”

  “I was kind of thinking along the lines that maybe somebody was trying to make it look like he did it,” Wolf said. “He asked his uncle for help, but left the bracelet his uncle would certainly recognize in Kyle’s hand?”

  Roll sipped his coffee. “Jesse’s agreed to talk to us this morning. We’ll make sure and ask him about that. I appreciate the intel, thank you.”

  “You’re going to talk to him?”

  “That’s right. We’re leaving in a few minutes.”

  “And how about the autopsy?” Wolf asked. “Is it done yet?”

  “Yes, sir. We’ll be seeing Kyle at the morgue this morning, too.”

  “Prints on the headlamp?” Wolf asked.

  Roll sipped his coffee. “They had partials, but no match.”

  “No match to Jesse Burton?”

  “No.”

  Wolf frowned. “Are they sure?”

  “They’re sure. They have Jesse’s prints, checked them against the partial. No match.”

  Wolf and Rachette exchanged glances.

  “Where’d they take the body?” Wolf asked.

  “Up to Montrose. Everything’s up in Montrose. One of these days we’ll join the twenty-first century down here.”

  “I hope not,” Triplett said under his breath.

  Wolf stared at Roll for a beat. “You mind if Detective Rachette and I tag along this morning?”

  Roll narrowed his eyes. “I appreciate the help about the bracelet, but I think we have this covered, Detective. No offense. I’ve just got enough on my plate to juggle anyway. Adding another couple detectives to the mix is more of a hindrance.”

  “I promised Burton I’d see this through,” Wolf said.

  Roll clucked his tongue. “Not really my problem.” He got up and forked open the blinds.

  Triplett swiped and tapped his phone. Rachette sniffed and crossed his arms.

  “Just like that? I’m supposed to go back home empty handed?”

  Roll shrugged. “This was never your case, Wolf.”

  Wolf looked out the doorway and saw Cassandra Windell stirring a cup of coffee. She glanced inside the room and walked away. “Sheriff, could I speak to you privately for a moment?”

  Roll snapped the blinds shut and, after some deliberation, nodded to Triplett.

  Slowly, Triplett rose to his feet and walked out.

  “You too,” Wolf told Rachette.

  Wolf waited for the room to clear and then spoke softly. “When Burton and I first came into town, he told me a story.”

  “Did he? And what was that story about?” Roll crossed his arms.

  “About something he once saw down in Ouray.”

  Roll chuckled. “You really gonna try this right now, son?”

  “Try what?”

  “You’ve been hanging out with that old bastard too much.”

  “It’s true, though. Right?” Wolf looked to the still-open doorway and lowered his voice some more. “You were cheating on your wife with another woman, and he saw it happen.”

  “You don’t need to lower your voice, Detective. I have nothing to hide.” He stepped toward Wolf. “Are you really about to try and threaten your way into this case?”

  Wolf blinked. “It’s true.”

  “You want to know something interesting about that woman Burton saw me with down in Ouray all those years ago?”

  “Sure.”

  “It is true. I was cheating on my wife with her. Her name was Helen. And you want to know something interesting about Helen? Just like me at the time, she too was in a troubled relationship. In fact, she left her husband right after that. And I left my wife a few days later. And now? Guess what?”

  Wolf shook his head.

  “Helen’s my wife!” Roll’s voice all but echoed through the building. He looked Wolf up and down. “When this case is said and done, I might just have to reconsider my stance on David Wolf and the way he kept that information on Jesse Burton’s whereabouts from this investigation. I’m sorry, son, but I’m going to have to make this year just as bad for you as your last year. No choice.”

  Wolf lowered his eyes and nodded.

  “Now get the hell out of here. Before I have you thrown out.”

  Wolf stayed where he was. “I Googled your current wife. She’s your second.”

  Roll stared at him.

  “I’ve met Helen before. She works with Montrose County. Narcotics task force. Does a lot of planning and admin work for the team.”

  “Good job, Detective. You want a merit badge?”

  “I’ve met your receptionist before, too. Cassandra Windell.”

  Roll sucked in a tense breath and his eyes showed his real rage had morphed to the artificial kind.

  “It took me some time, but when I saw you two together yesterday, it clicked. The first time I met Cassandra was a few years back at the LEO conference in Crested Butte. She was your companion at that event at the bottom of the ski resort convention center. That’s where I met her, and then we saw you two later that weekend together back in town. Sheriff MacLean and I were staying in a bed and breakfast, and you were staying there too. In fact, you were at the other end of the hallway from us, but you were oblivious to that fact. Probably because you were preoccupied with her.”

  Roll walked to the door, looked out, then shut it.

  “I remember MacLean telling me something to the effect that you ‘got around more than a carousel,’ or something not-clever like that. I thought nothing of it, until Burton told me his story about Helen and your first wife, and I saw you and Cassandra. You know how the saying goes: Once a cheater, always a cheater.”

  “All right, listen here, asshole.” Roll pointed his finger.

  “I don’t give two shits about you and whatever carousel you’re on,” Wolf said. “I care about seeing this case through for Burton. He’s concerned about his nephew. He’s let the kid down in the past and doesn’t want to let him down now. I’m here to help, not hinder your investigation. If he’s the killer, then he’s the killer. I have no stake in the outcome. I just need to see it through.”

  Roll put his hands on his hips. He scratched his head. “I didn’t think anyone else from the conference was in that bed and breakfast.”

  “Only another sheriff from a neighboring county and his chief detective.”

  “Shit.”

  “Three doors down. We spoke a few times.”

  “Really?”

  “You were caught up in the moment.”

  Roll stared at the floor.

  Wolf slapped him on the shoulder and opened the door. “I’m going to grab some coffee. Let me know when we’re leaving for Montrose.”

  Chapter 25

  “They’re not coming back?” Patterson sat down at her desk and wiggled her mouse, waking up her computer screen for something to do. Then she stood back up. “What do you mean they’re not coming back? Why?”

  “Rachette says he’s staying to help Wolf,” Yates said. “I guess Wolf wants to stay and help with the case down there. Have you heard about Burton?”

  “Yeah.” She had heard the news last night, actually. Of course, she hadn’t heard the news from Wolf himself but from MacLean.

  “We’re all supposed to be at the meeting,” Patterson said. “All of us. Not just me and you.”

  Yates shrugged. “They’re not coming.”

  Wolf had been ignoring her calls for two days now, only shooting her a robot-sounding text last night that he was okay and would be home soon. No mention of the harrowing experience of bringing Burton into the hospital after a hea
rt attack. And now this, deciding to skip out on the meeting, and still no word.

  She kept her face blank, trying to hide the hurt. “All right. Whatever.”

  She turned back to face her computer. An update box popped up on screen and she ticked the button to start a minutes-long process to make her computer usable again.

  Yates sat at his desk. “You want to carpool to the meeting together?”

  “Oh yeah. Sure.” She stood up and went for another cup of coffee. She was still running on fumes. Once again, she’d gotten no more than a few hours rest the night before. At least she’d gotten home in time for dinner with the kids.

  Wolf and Rachette were staying down in Ridgway.

  She knew it must be important, but she just couldn’t shake the feeling something more was going on. Was Wolf ignoring her? Surely he’d heard about the interviews now that he was with Rachette. Was he feeling animosity toward her for not saying anything? Or was there just too much going on down there for him to deal with.

  For heaven’s sake, Burton had had a heart attack the night before. He was in the hospital right now, hanging on by a thread. She poured a cup of coffee, mentally slapping herself in the face. Get it together, woman.

  She needed sleep.

  And she needed this Council meeting to be over, for better or worse. After that, whatever was to be decreed by the powers that be would be decreed. And she could get on with her life. They all could.

  She froze on her way back to her desk, because at the head of the squad room she saw Carl Yorberg walking to MacLean’s office.

  She watched with interest as the man knocked on MacLean’s door.

  Through the glass, MacLean looked up from his desk and waved the man in, offering him a seat.

  Carl refused the seat and launched into a speech that had them both looking out the windows, and straight at her.

  She looked over her shoulder, but that was dumb, they were clearly looking and talking about her. With her face growing hotter, she narrowed her eyes and tried to lip read, but it was impossible through the cracked blinds.

  “What’s happening?” Yates stood next to her. “Oh, look, our favorite person. What the hell does he want now?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Carl gestured, and again the two men looked straight at Patterson.

  “What are they talking about?” Yates straightened. “That asshole better not be making a complaint.”

  Carl seemed to be done with whatever he had to say, and MacLean gave him a hearty handshake.

  They walked out of the office and MacLean led Carl straight for them.

  “Detectives,” MacLean said. “You know Mr. Yorberg?”

  “Mr. Yorberg,” she said.

  “Mr. Yorberg.” Yates nodded. “How are you and the missus doing?”

  “We’re doing great,” Carl said. “And, in fact, that’s why I came in to talk to the sheriff here.”

  Carl stared at her, looking like he might pass out or something, and then he broke into a strained smile. “I wanted to thank you for what you said yesterday morning. I went into the library after you left and got on a computer and do some research, you know, some looking into the communications I’ve had with the man I told you about.”

  Carl studied one of his yellowed fingernails.

  “Well, the more I looked at the messages, the more I realized you might have been right. And I started digging through the forums, and I found some people actually warning about this guy. Heck, I feel like an imbecile, but I’m not too proud to say thank you. You saved our family a lot of money by talking with me.”

  She felt herself blushing under the attention. “Well, I’m glad I could help.”

  “Thank you.” Carl held out a hand.

  She grabbed it and shook, feeling something sticky on her palm. “You’re welcome.”

  “Bye, Sheriff.” Carl walked out.

  Wiping her hand on her jeans, she eyed MacLean and Yates.

  “What was that about?” Yates asked.

  “That was a citizen thanking his public servant for a job well done,” MacLean said. “Good piece of work, Patterson.”

  Yates looked uncomfortable, confused, and now she realized she had failed to tell Rachette or Yates about her visit to the Yorbergs yesterday morning.

  “Weren’t you and Rachette with Carl and Minnie Yorberg for most of a day Sunday?” MacLean asked.

  Yates pulled his eyebrows together. “Yeah.”

  “And yet Patterson here figured out the inverted pyramid scheme Carl had himself wrapped up in. Or was that you guys? Did you help with that?”

  Yates looked at Patterson and shook his head. “No, sir. That’s the first I’m hearing about it.”

  “Yeah, I can see by the look on your face.” MacLean slid his eyes to Patterson. “Good work, Heather. I told you you’re good at this job.”

  MacLean stared at her for an awkward few seconds, and then left back to his office.

  Yates stared at her. “You didn’t tell us about going to talk to Carl and Minnie yesterday morning?”

  Patterson shook her head, her face flushing hotter. “It completely slipped my mind with all the news about Wolf and Burton.”

  Yates nodded. “Ah.”

  “I’m sorry. I forgot.”

  After a long silence, he squinted. “Is it all true? Is Wolf getting axed, and you’re stepping in?”

  The blood drained from her face. “No. What? Yates, I don’t know what’s going on. I’m just as in the dark as you are.”

  Yates looked toward MacLean’s office.

  MacLean stood on the other side of his office windows. He had a cell phone to his ear, smiling while he spoke. Staring right at her.

  Yates left the squad room.

  “Yates. Damn it.”

  MacLean shut his blinds, an act he rarely did. “I like to be as transparent as I can,” was the man’s catch phrase that he beat into his deputies like a sales slogan.

  Fists clenched by her sides, she sucked in a deep breath through her nose and walked toward the sheriff’s office.

  But DA White strode into the squad room and cut her off.

  She stopped and watched the two men converse for a few seconds outside his office and then leave.

  “You okay?”

  She turned and saw Charlotte Munford-Rachette staring at her with a concerned expression.

  “You look like you’re about to punch somebody’s lights out.” Charlotte looked down at Patterson’s hands.

  Patterson unclenched her fists.

  “What’s going on?” Charlotte asked. “What did Tom do?”

  “What?” Patterson shook her head. “Tom didn’t do anything.”

  Charlotte joined her watching MacLean and White leave down the hall. “Is this about Wolf? Tom told me about his interview with the council.”

  There was no sense lying to her friend. And she knew that anything Tom Rachette knew, his wife was fully briefed on. “Yeah, it is.”

  “You think you’re going to take Wolf’s job?”

  She flicked her eyes to Charlotte. “That’s what Tom said?”

  Charlotte’s face flushed. “No. He—”

  “I’m not going to take Wolf’s job, Charlotte.”

  Charlotte shook her head, then stood with her hands on her hips. “Well, isn’t that what’s going on?”

  “No. It’s not. And I can’t believe one of my friends would accuse me of doing something like that.”

  “It’s not something you’re doing, Heather. It’s something that’s happening. It’s out of your control.”

  “Whatever, you don’t know what you’re talking about, so why don’t you just stop. We all have to stop spreading rumors. It’s childish.”

  Charlotte held up her hands and walked to her desk.

  Patterson suddenly felt trapped. Her heart raced inside her chest and there was no stopping it. She grabbed her car keys off the desk and left. Exactly where she was going, she had no idea.

  Chapte
r 26

  The drive north from Ridgway to Montrose wound into increasingly open land. The bleached looking hills on either side of Highway 550 were covered in low shrubs and winding motorcycle trails.

  Wolf gazed out the window, inhaling the scent of Rachette’s chewing tobacco floating through the cab.

  “I don’t know,” Rachette said. “I’ve been thinking. Maybe Jesse’s psychotic. Maybe he came back to the scene of the murder with a different set of boots on. Maybe he decided he wanted to be caught and tucked that bracelet in Kyle’s hand.”

  Wolf looked at him. “And the headlamp?”

  Rachette spat in a can. “He borrowed it from a friend. He dropped it in the commotion of burying a dead body. It was dark, he couldn’t find it. You know, like when Thelma drops her glasses on Scooby Doo?”

  Wolf turned and stared out the passenger window some more. He was dead tired and glad Rachette was here, if not to poke holes in his theories, then to drive.

  The monotony of the haul back and forth between Ridgway and Montrose seemed to add weight to his eyelids, and when he closed them once, he woke up to the jarring of Rachette parking and shutting off the engine.

  “My ass hurts,” Rachette said, opening the door and standing. “Haven’t driven this much in one day in…well, a couple days. But still.”

  Wolf got out onto tired legs and stretched.

  The parking lot outside the Montrose County Morgue baked twenty degrees hotter than the temperature they’d left down in Ridgway. The surrounding land was table flat, albeit backdropped with the mountains to the east and low hills to the west, checkered with crops that filled the air with a spicy scent.

  Wolf and Rachette parked between the Ouray County FJ and an Explorer cruiser. They walked to the front entrance of the Montrose County morgue, joining Roll, Milo, Triplett, and Sobeck before walking inside.

  The air smelled of chemicals, and if the contents of the building didn’t induce gooseflesh, the temperature did.

  They were met at the front by the county coroner, a bald, round man wearing frameless glasses named Dr. Fingston.

  Wolf followed in the rear as they were led to through a series of corridors, each colder and more sterile than the last.

  “Here we are,” Dr. Fingston said as they entered the formaldehyde stench of the autopsy room.