by Jeff Carson
Rachette cleared his throat. “So the issue is that we need to get Jesse up there, to wherever the Farmers tell you they are?”
Roll pulled his eyebrows together. “You employ this man?”
Rachette ignored him. “And you obviously don’t want Hettie to die, which will happen if you don’t bring Jesse to them. And if you bring Jesse up, that puts him in danger. Seems to me, the only way you could stall them is by telling them you figured out it wasn’t Jesse.”
“Then they’re going to want to know who did it,” Roll said.
“But you could tell them it’s a trade. Hettie for the truth.”
“This isn’t poker. I’m not gambling for a woman’s life with a three-six off-suit.”
Rachette folded his arms. “Just trying to brainstorm.”
“We’re wasting time,” Wolf said. “Let’s go. You make a call to the Timber Ridge Lodge.”
“And if you don’t find anything?”
“Then we deal with that, then.”
Roll snorted. “And what do I do about Sobeck?”
“I think it’s time you ask him what he did after that bar fight.”
“And if you do find something at Sobeck’s?” Roll asked.
“Then we have something to gamble with.”
“Probable cause, huh?” Roll nodded. “All right. Go. I’ll call. Go fast.”
Wolf and Rachette jogged out.
Chapter 34
The manager of the Timber Ridge Lodge looked between Wolf and Rachette, eyed their badges again. “What’s going on, anyway?”
“We just need to get into that room, please,” Wolf said. “Time’s ticking.”
“Time’s ticking.” The manager scoffed. “And you have no warrant.”
“We have probable cause.”
“Yeah, that’s what the sheriff told me over the phone. Probable cause for what?”
Rachette slapped a hand on the counter. “Probable cause for me shoving my foot so far up your—”
Wolf pulled him away. “Sir. We have a young woman in danger, and we have probable cause to believe her life depends on us getting inside that room.”
The manager turned his back as he fetched a key from a hook. “Sounds like bullshit, and next time tell Roll to come here himself and not send his lackies.”
“Lack—”
Wolf put a finger in Rachette’s face. Rachette clenched his mouth shut.
“Okay, follow me.”
They trailed the manager outside and walked down the rear of the building along a wooden walkway. They passed balls of fragrant pink flowers hanging from hooks, and the whistling hummingbirds feeding on them. A column of steam rose from a pool in back. Two elderly women sat sipping wine, their bared breasts floating in the water in front of them.
Rachette nodded and gave a salute. “Afternoon, ladies.”
They waved back with smiles.
Wolf gave him a look and Rachette’s face went sullen.
The cliffs behind the building rose hundreds of feet. Wolf had been to Ouray many times, but usually just passed through. It was known as the Switzerland of America due to the jagged peaks surrounding the town. Thermal hot springs leaked out of the rocks, filling clothing-optional pools all over the valley.
The manager went straight to a first-floor room.
“Please don’t touch the doorknob,” Wolf said.
The manager backed away and handed over the key. “You open it then.”
Wolf and Rachette put on latex gloves and bent down to study the doorknob. Bright afternoon light reflected just so off the stained wooden walkway, illuminating the entire knob clearly. Wolf saw nothing out of the ordinary but knew without a proper dusting by the forensics team there was no way to know with the naked eye.
Gingerly, he inserted the key and twisted the knob. The door opened with a creak. Inside, the room was littered with dirty clothes. The bed was unmade.
“When is the last time the cleaning staff was in this room?” Wolf asked.
The manager shrugged, keeping his distance. “Not for a few days.”
“Can you get more specific than that?”
“I don’t know. I guess it was last Friday morning.”
Wolf stared at him. “The staff doesn’t come in to clean every day?”
“Not this weekend. She had an emergency down in Durango. I didn’t get to it. Last cleaning was Friday morning.” The manager’s face said take it or leave it.
“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t touch the room from now on unless Sheriff Roll tells you otherwise, okay?”
The manager nodded and left.
“Bye now,” Rachette said.
Wolf went inside first. The queen-sized bed stood along the right wall, flanked by two nightstands, both littered with beer cans.
“Check that inside knob, will you?”
“On it.”
Beyond the bed, a mirrored closet stood halfway open, revealing a pile of dirty clothing on the floor inside.
Wolf went to the closet and picked through the clothing with a pen from his shirt pocket. Holding his breath, he found a pair of jeans and checked every square inch for signs of blood.
There were none as far as his macroscopic vision was concerned. Not even on the inside of the legs, where murders who stood over bodies and finished their victims off were often hit by spatter.
“I’m not seeing anything on the knob,” Rachette said.
The shirts piled on top of the jeans looked clean, minus normal wear and tear of a man thrust into bachelorhood and whose sole piece of furniture was a queen bed. Food stains on the front—red, but most likely ketchup looking at the downward strike angle below the chin. Pizza smears from hands without napkins.
Wolf left the pile as it was and walked to the bathroom.
Rachette stood inside. “Not much here.”
A toothbrush sat on the counter, next to it a travel-sized tube of toothpaste. A boxy wooden framed shower had a bottle of men’s bath wash sitting on the plastic basin.
A towel hung on a hook behind the door. Wolf plucked it off and looked on both sides. Nothing obvious.
“We need Luminol,” Rachette said, bending over the sink.
“Yeah.”
“I don’t know what we thought we were going to be able to find. But without that CBI forensics-mobile, it’s not gonna be squat.”
Wolf eyed his watch. It had taken them twenty-nine minutes from the Marshal’s office to where they were now. “We have to go to Sobeck’s house.”
“And do what?”
“If Sobeck did all that to Kyle Farmer, he’d need a tarp and a shovel.” Wolf thought back on the design of Sobeck’s house. “He had a detached garage.”
“Yeah,” Rachette said. “He did.”
“Back to Ridgway.”
They left the room and shut the door behind them, Wolf dialing Roll as he walked.
“What do you have?” the sheriff asked.
“There was nothing here.”
Roll exhaled into the phone.
“How about you?” Wolf asked. “Did you talk to Sobeck?”
Sobeck paused for a moment and when he spoke again, his voice was quiet. “I did.”
“And?”
“And he’s understandably upset, and he’s saying what I thought he would say. That he had nothing to do with any of this. That he went straight back to the Timber Ridge Lodge after the Soaring Eagle Bar. That he thinks Jesse was just lying, trying to pull the wool over our eyes.”
Wolf sat back behind the wheel of his SUV and fired up the engine. Rachette was already inside. “We’re on our way back up. But we’re going to stop by Sobeck’s house.”
“His house? Why?”
“Because if he did do any of this, he would need a shovel and two tarps, right?”
Roll said nothing.
“You there?”
“Yeah. Yeah. Fine. You keep me posted as soon as possible.”
Wolf hung up.
Chapter 35
&nb
sp; “You two again.” Jill Sobeck leaned against the door jamb and crossed her arms. “What do you want?”
Wolf stood on the front deck of the house, Rachette behind him at the base of the stairs. “Ma’am, we’re—”
“Who’s that?” A woman in her sixties came up behind Jill.
“It’s just some men who work with Jimmy.”
The woman pushed her head out. “What’s going on?”
“Hello, ma’am.”
She stared at Wolf expectantly.
“Mom. Please head back inside. Okay?”
After a suspicious glare she ducked back in. Jill’s kid was asking questions in the background now, and grandma told him to get back to playing.
“Sorry to bother you.”
“Are you?” she asked.
The corner of Wolf’s mouth rose. “Yes. But it’s important. Could we please talk to you outside?”
She looked utterly annoyed but stepped out and shut the door behind her. “What?”
“We’re hoping we could have a quick look inside your garage.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“You know about Kyle Farmer’s murder, right?”
“Of course. Everyone knows about it.”
The door opened and her mother stepped out, shut the door behind her. “Why do you want to see inside the garage?”
“Mom. Go back inside.”
Wolf looked between Jill and her mother. “It has to do with the case.”
“You have to have a warrant for that.” Jill’s face was an ice mask, but the crease between her eyebrows exposed concern.
“That’s right. We need a warrant. Or we have to have your permission. I’m asking your permission.”
“What are you looking for in there?” her mother asked, nodding toward the outbuilding.
Wolf kept his eyes on Jill. She was wavering, thinking it over. “Jill. A woman’s life hangs in the balance here.”
“Whose life?”
“Hettie Winkle’s.”
Jill’s face fell. “Why? What’s going on?”
“He was here Friday night,” her mother said. “Told you, Jilly. He was inside that garage.”
“Mom.” Jill closed her eyes.
“Who was here?” Wolf asked.
“Jimmy,” her mother said.
“Jill, your husband was here Friday night?”
“My mom says he came over and was inside the garage. I never saw it. I was sleeping on the other side of the house. She told me the next day. Now what’s going on with Hettie?”
“You’re friends with Hettie?”
“Yeah. She works at the diner with me. She’s younger, but we’re close. Now what’s happening? You tell me or you’re not getting anywhere near that garage.” Her lips quivered.
“Kyle’s family is threatening her,” Wolf said.
“Why?”
“They want to know what happened to their son,” Wolf said. “We need to figure that out. And we think looking inside your garage might help us.”
“My room’s right there,” her mother was down off the porch and pointing at a wide-open window on the ground floor. “I heard some clanking Friday night, thought it was raccoons or maybe a bear. I saw him come out carrying a bunch of stuff.”
“What kind of stuff?” Rachette asked.
She pantomimed by pitching out her arm. “Held a bundle of blankets under one arm, and a shovel in his hand. Something else. Boots, I think.”
Wolf and Rachette eyed each other.
“What time was that?” Wolf asked.
“Middle of the night. Just after midnight. He parked down the street. Or must have, because he walked away down the road. Went around the bend, around those trees and out of sight.”
Jill’s mother pointed at a berm landscaped with pine trees.
“I saw his headlights come on, swivel away, and he drove off. I went to the kitchen and watched his taillights go all the way down to the highway.”
“Then where?”
She frowned. “I don’t know. He went out of sight.”
“Did you see if he turned north, or south toward town?”
“North. Away from town.”
Wolf eyed his watch. “Could we please take that look now?”
Jill nodded, wiping her eyes. “Mom, go back inside.”
“You gonna show them?”
“Yes! Go inside!”
Her mother climbed the stairs and went back inside.
Wolf stayed silent, trying not to push Jill. She looked like she was still wavering, but then she walked toward the garage.
Wolf and Rachette followed.
“After my mom told me what she saw, I looked in here.”
She went to the side of the two-car garage, inserted a key, and opened the door, revealing a space that had been decorated with an anal-retentive touch. She went in first and they followed. The afternoon light illuminated boxes with little plastic screw drawers atop a clean workbench. Tools hung on the pegboard walls. A table saw stood opposite on a smooth concrete floor that Wolf would have been comfortable eating off of.
The first car spot was vacant, serving as a workshop space, while a motorcycle, a four-wheeler, and a riding lawnmower filled the second spot. Behind them, a tic-tac-toe board design of shelves stood against the far wall. A wet-dry vacuum, tires, and large plastic bins were neatly stored in their proper places, including a pile of folded moving blankets and a stack of black tarps.
Jill hooked her thumbs on her jeans, facing a shovel that stood in the corner. “He usually hangs everything up in its place. So it was a little strange to see he left the shovel here,” she said. A rake, spade, hoe, and a few other implements of the same matching brand hung neatly on the wall, proving her point.
Wolf pulled out his cell phone and turned on the flashlight, then bent down and put it on the blade of the shovel. Dirt clung to the metal, but he saw no obvious signs of blood on it or the handle.
“Did you touch this?” Wolf asked.
“Yes. I hung it up. But…then I got a feeling and I put it back where I found it.”
Wolf stood and took a cell phone picture.
“A feeling?”
She nodded. “Because there’re also boots over there. Over on the ground by the shelves.”
Rachette and Wolf moved toward the shelving on the other side of the garage and saw a pair of boots sitting on the concrete. Dried mud was crusted on the sides of the soles. Using his shirt sleeve, Wolf tipped one over, exposing the bottom.
He flashed the bright beam of his phone, illuminating the familiar tread pattern that had stomped through the blood, and had left the single, perfect print in the mud behind Kyle’s gun shed.
He snapped some more cell phone photos as Rachette bent down next to him and studied the upturned boot. “Looks like that could be blood in there,” he said under his breath.
Wolf looked up and met Jill Sobeck’s now watery gaze.
“Please explain to me. You said you got a feeling. Did the sight of these two things make you suspect some sort of foul play?”
She wiped her nose. “Well, no. Not like, right away. I got a bad feeling when we heard about you guys finding Kyle Farmer yesterday. And then, when I learned more about the Alexander Guild shooting, this just…I realized this looked all wrong in here. On Saturday, I came in and put the shovel back and ignored the boots. But once I heard about the investigation, and Kyle, I… came back in and got that bad feeling. So I put the shovel back where I originally found it.
“I’m telling you, it’s not like Jimmy to leave a shovel sitting in the corner like this. Or his boots muddied and sitting out. The military ingrained some organizational habits in him, you know? And…my mom saw him. Friday night. Saw him come in here for this stuff. I started wondering if…something might have been wrong.”
“With him?” Wolf asked.
She nodded, almost imperceptibly.
“Have you told anyone about this?” Wolf asked.
She looked
at Wolf desperately. “That’s why I was talking to Deputy Triplett earlier this morning. I usually have my mom take me to work, but I asked him to come pick me up today.”
“You told him?” Wolf asked. “He saw this?”
Her face dropped. “No. I chickened out. I ended up just asking about the case.”
They stood in silence, and Jill started crying. “I was so scared.”
“But you suspected that Jimmy might have had something to do with the two murders we’re investigating,” Rachette said gently.
She shook her head emphatically. “No. I mean, I don’t know.”
“We heard about what happened with your son,” Wolf said.
She looked at him.
“About how he hit him, and that’s why he’s not staying here right now.”
“It was a total accident. Zachary just came into the room in the middle of the night and caught him at the wrong time. He lashed out because of his condition, he wasn’t trying to hit Zachary. He was having a nightmare, and just pushed out.” Tears streamed down her face. “But Jimmy didn’t mean to do it.”
“I served in Afghanistan, too. It’s not easy to come back and forget.”
She wiped her eyes. “When I came in here and saw all this, I could see what he’d done. I could see why he would want to kill Alexander Guild for what he did. We all wanted to kill the bastard for shooting Hettie’s father. Hettie’s father was Jimmy’s friend, and Hettie works with me at Lucille’s. She was so devastated, and the way Guild got off without a single thing happening to him? Just a slap on the wrist for supposedly protecting his property? And Jimmy had been in a support group with Hettie’s father. They’d become close.” Her voice became a whisper. “And there’s more. More reason for Jimmy to want to kill that bastard.”
“What’s that?” Wolf asked.
“There was a time when Alexander Guild came into the diner. He was totally inappropriate. Put his hand on my arm, then the next time I came back to the table he caressed my leg. I slapped him in the head and walked away from the table. It was a big deal. You’ve seen Lucille, she saw me and came over apologizing. He wasn’t as nice as you two, though. He almost got me fired. Stormed out. Made a big scene.