Thicker than Water

by Danae Ayusso

  Emma nodded. “How is that investigation going, Jimmy?”

  James made a face. “It isn’t. They’ve all been transferred to Deer Lodge…that’s where the state prison is,” he explained when Cat cocked an eyebrow. “Eureka’s jail is only designed to hold drunks overnight and the occasionally seventy-two hour holds. Anything longer than that and they have to go to Deer Lodge. It wasn’t like they were making a lick of sense anyway.”

  “What do you mean?” Cat asked. “Mickey said that you caught each of them.”

  “We did. But they kept going on and on about a woman that took them out,” he said in a clipped tone as he stabbed at what was left of his food.

  “A woman?” Emma scoffed. “Please, a woman couldn’t have taken out four armed men...Colt mentioned it was four. That’s just ridiculous.”

  “Five,” James corrected. “She took out the getaway driver as well. Four of them said that it was a woman who attacked them, and the others say that it was police brutality. But what five of the eight agree on; someone was shot.”

  Cat snorted and Emma gasped.

  “Was there a body?” Emma asked.

  “Nope. Just some blood, but Colt said that it was from a dog that was struck by a car. Is it just me,” he said, looking contemplative, “or is Colt keeping a lot of stuff to himself lately?”

  Cat struggled to bite her tongue.

  “Don’t say such things,” Emma warned. “He’s been through so much in his life.”

  James rolled his eyes. “And I haven’t? I lost my parents and my twin sister, not to mention, lots of friends and a deputy.”

  “Colt lost his parents and grandfather?” Cat asked, she wanted to test a theory.

  They nodded.

  “I heard about the ice fishing accident but I don’t understand what happened with his parents,” she admitted. “I’ve jogged over the bridge at Nhn Pinkham Creek Road a few times, but how a car could drive off of it is beyond me.”

  James snorted. “That wasn’t on the list of routes we gave you.”

  Emma ignored him. “The bridge was redone after the accident. It only had wooden railings along the sides before,” she explained. “It was tragic. They went through the railing. The sheriff said that it appeared they swerved to avoid something on the bridge and one of the deputies said it was obvious that they must have been distracted or fighting because the tracks veered right off the bridge without breaking. Both were ejected from the car on impact. His mother died instantly of a broken neck, but his dad drown in the creek.”

  That doesn’t make sense. Fury is hell bent on buckling up because his dad was a stickler about it. He was so strict about it that he even refused to leave the driveway until everyone was buckled up.

  Cat wanted to press it, but she needed to talk to Colt first.

  “I’m tired of talking about Colt,” James said in a huff, pushing his plate away. “I’m still irritated that he’s been keeping stuff from me.”

  Emma rolled her eyes and pushed back from the table. “Jimmy, you keep forgetting that Colt was never an open up and tell the world everything type of man. He’s naturally reserved and has spent the past five years on the mountain in silence, alone, and now he’s neck deep in the middle of his waking nightmare. You need to cut him some slack and show a bit of understanding and compassion. Why don’t you get off your ass and get him out of that damn holding cell and stop acting as if he’s someone or something else. Ugh! You used to do that as a kid as well, and he hated it. Colt is a quiet, self-contained man that doesn’t need to talk about his feelings or fill the silence with incoherent ramblings like some grandsons I know,” she grumbled the latter then headed to the kitchen.

  James shook his head. “She doesn’t know anything,” he mumbled.

  Cat wasn’t so sure about that. “I’m heading home. I’m not all that hungry and really just want to crawl into bed and finish that Bourne book I’m halfway through.” She stood and James stood at the same time. “I hope you catch him this time, Jimmy.”

  James smiled. “Me too,” he said and followed her from the dining room and to the backdoor. “I know this must be really crazy, especially since you’re from the Midwest and the most exciting thing that happens out there is tornados, cow tipping and drunken tractor races,” he said with a chuckle.

  “Yeah,” she dryly agreed. “None of my detective books could have prepared me for finding myself smack dab in the middle of a real life mystery. But I can confidently say that none of the sheriffs in those books look as good as you,” she said with a wink and he laughed.

  Cat started out the door when James grabbed her arm. “Hey Cat,” he said, pulling her to a stop and she fought the cringe and whimper threatening to break past her lips as his fingers pressed against the tender, healing flesh on her bicep from the incident at the bar.

  “Yeah?” she asked, the single word coming out slightly strangled sounding.

  “Thanks for being such a good friend,” he said. “I know that I do not say it enough, but you have helped a lot with Colt and Mickey.” His hold on her tightened and she started to get lightheaded from the pain. “You have been so good about the body you found and everything else… Most people would have freaked out and ran for the hills, but you have been here through it all and trying to be reassuring and as helpful as possible. We really appreciate it,” he said.

  Cat’s hands shook and she was weak in the knees suddenly. “Don’t mention it, Jimmy,” she said through clenched teeth. “I gotta go,” she said.

  He smiled, giving her arm another squeeze before releasing it. “Of course. Let me or Grandmother know if you need anything… Are you okay? You look a little under the weather all of a sudden.”

  She shakily nodded, trying to get her head to stop spinning and to clear the flashes of light from her vision. “Just not feeling well,” she said again. “Good night, Jimmy.”

  “Night, Cat,” James said and leaned against the doorjamb and watched her stumble towards the cabin, her arms wrapped around her waist, the oversized black sweater she wore causing her to seamlessly blend into the darkness. When the door to the cabin shut behind her, he looked at his hands then shook his head and headed back into the kitchen, closing the door behind him. “Oh Grandmother, I think we should talk,” he called out, grabbing the serving tray with the apple pie on it and a dessert knife in passing.

  When the door at end of the hall opened, Colt was on his feet in an instant; he hadn’t seen anyone all night and he was starting to worry. He watched the sun rise between the mountains as it struggled to cut through the smoky haze lingering midway up the mountains. He expected Cat to make another visit last night, but she hadn’t, and it disappointed him, not that he’d tell her that. James never showed back up. Dinner wasn’t served as it should have been. And the bullpen was as quiet as a tomb. There was a knot in his gut and it told him that something was very wrong, and it was accompanied by the feeling of unfathomable loss which could only mean one thing; Cat was in trouble.

  Agent Gerard walked in, his face completely void of emotion. His clothing was dirty, hands and face were smudged with soot, sidearm in hand, and eyes trained on his target: Colt.

  “What happened?” Colt asked, stepping off of the bed.

  “What’s happened?” Agent Gerard asked, raising his gun. “You have some nerve, you sonuvabitch!” he yelled. “You know, I believed your little routine. I really did,” he said, jabbing his gun in Colt’s direction. “That whole spiel about protecting someone…how you’d take the rap in order to keep them safe, I actually bought it. I didn’t think you had anything to do with this. I was mainly trying to smoke out the one who was responsible since I thought you might have been the target or trigger, but then you had to offer up that little bit of information about the dumbwaiter. And like a fucking rookie, I bought it. And you know what it cost me?”

  Oh no.

  “Two members of the U.S. Border Patrol that volunteered to help breech the site! You killed them, you sick sonuvab
itch.”

  Colt kept his hands up, showing he was unarmed. “I didn’t kill anyone. I haven’t been in that estate since I was barely a teenager.”

  “Shut up! Anything that was of use went up in flames along with the lives of two Border Agents. Two deputies are in the hospital as are two of my agents.”

  Colt swallowed hard. “Salvati?” he whispered.

  It will kill Rossi if something happened to him.

  “Don’t act like you give a damn,” Agent Gerard snarled. “You put him in the hospital, just like you put all those people in the ground!”

  “More than just me knew about the dumbwaiter,” Colt argued, raising his voice in hopes of drawing the attention of anyone in the station since the door at the end of the hall was left open, but the bullpen was quiet. “Everyone that went there when I was younger knew about it. Michael Ray, James Bull, Jimmy Lake, Jeff Joyce and Roy Clark… each of us knew about it.”

  Agent Gerard cocked the hammer of his Glock 23 back. “So you’re saying one of them is Pope and rigged the place to blow?”

  “No,” Colt admitted. “Michael Ray lives in Spokane, the last I heard. James Bull died when he was twenty-four in an ATV accident around Crater Lake. Roy Clark has M.S. and can’t even hold a pencil, let alone, put a bomb together. Jeff Joyce is Mickey’s older brother, he’s a Border Patrol agent over in Bonners Ferry. Jimmy is the Sheriff,” he said with a shrug then his eyes widened. “It isn’t possible,” he whispered to himself, putting his hands down.

  “What isn’t possible? That you’re a homicidal killer?” Agent Gerard shouted.

  “It can’t be…there’s no way,” Colt choked, fighting the bile rising in his throat. He slumped down on the bed, his mind racing in a million different directions at once. He could barely breathe, it felt as if the walls were closing in on him, and flashes of light started to cloud his vision.

  “I’m out of patience so I’m just going to make it look like you tried to escape,” he said. “Good bye, Detective.”

  “Wait!” Colt shouted when, from the corner of his eye, he saw a pair of black Altama combat Vulcanized boots silently rush down the hallway and it was accompanied by the bang of a gunshot echoing down the corridor.

  ****

  Cat finished applying the last of her bondo and pinned her wig into place. She needed to see Colt right away. There were so many unanswered questions that she only trusted him to tell her the truth on. She called Salvati last night, but it just went to voicemail. Most likely he was caught up in processing the latest scene; she warned him that he better bring her a copy of the report by breakfast otherwise she’d kick his ass to the Bronx and back, but he was late.

  Since returning to the cabin, she’d been going over everything again and again. She had each report and statement memorized, and the more she tries to find context, the more nothing makes sense.

  “The case was all over the place, as if it was intentionally supposed to be that way,” Cat said, talking the case aloud for the millionth time. “There was nothing sporadic or careless in any of the victims, regardless of what Six and Seven might have suggested. The only thing I can figure out is they were purposely left like that. Pope wanted it to appear as if he was losing control; that he was starting to slip up. The question was: why?

  “After so many perfect kills, so many beautifully displayed bodies and clean crimes, why would he feel the need to suddenly change his M.O. and start breaking his own apparent rules? Pope from five years ago was an artisan, a master of his trade and craft, the Pope from today is a complete psychopath that appears as if he’s bored. How is that even possible?” she asked her reflection. “To go from one extreme to the other isn’t normal. Typically they go from psycho to artist, they evolve. They don’t go backwards. I feel…I feel as if it’s staring me right in the face.”

  The face looking back at her was just as frustrated as she was.

  “Yeah I know, I have issues,” she complained and finished wrapping her arm in clean gauze. Last night James accidentally broke the butterfly closures in his embrace, and by the time she got to the cabin, blood had soaked through her sweater. Luckily she wore black and it guised it, but it has yet to stop bleeding; she’d have to take Colt up on his offer to take her to the veterinarian he knows that wouldn’t ask questions.

  Cat headed to the bedroom, stopping to toss her latex gloves, toothbrush and comb in the fireplace in passing, then started to get dressed. Her bulletproof vest was sitting on the bed with her pants; she hadn’t slept in the bed last night because it didn’t feel right without Colt. She contemplated putting her vest on or not. The longer sleeves would rub against her arm like they did yesterday, hence why the wound broke open so easily, and she wasn’t intending on visiting any crime scenes. She was just going to run by the jail and sneak a peek at Colt and tell him of her revelation last night, and that she loved him, before joining Emma for breakfast.

  “The things that damn man causes me to do,” she grumbled under her breath and quickly finished dressing, pulling a fitted long sleeve shirt over her head and grabbed her running shoes.

  The knock at the door startled her, and she quickly grabbed the Beretta from the nightstand and her cellphone. After quickly flipping through the security feeds, she groaned and shoved the gun in the back of her pants.

  Cat unlocked the front door and forced a smile. “Good morning, Jimmy,” she greeted. “What do I owe the pleasure?”

  James looked up at her, his eyes moving over her body appraisingly before they met her eyes and he smiled. “Nothing. I was just concerned that you might still be under the weather, that’s all. Can I come in?”

  “I really wasn’t expecting company,” she said.

  “It’ll only take a minute,” he assured her. “I promise.”

  Cat shook her head. “I was just heading out.”

  “I talked to Colt this morning,” he said, interrupting her.

  She cocked an eyebrow. “I hope prison food is treating him well. He’s a big guy and needs more than prison bologna sandwiches and an orange for dinner.”

  James chuckled. “Yes, he’s fine. He actually wanted me to give you a message.”

  Cat looked behind him, the area was quiet, she didn’t see any other officers lingering, no FBI agents waiting to kick in her door and search the place. “Ten minutes then I’m going for my run before breakfast with Emma,” she said and waved him inside.

  He smirked. “It won’t take long, I promise.”

  ****

  Colt removed his arms from his head and looked from the unconscious Federal Agent on the floor with the metal barbs sticking out of his back to the rookie holding a taser in his hand.

  “You okay?” Mickey asked, kicking Agent Gerard’s gun away from him.

  “Why did you do that?” Colt asked.

  Mickey gave him a look. “He was going to kill you.”

  “So, you knocked him out first so you could kill me?” he demanded. “Nice boots, did you enjoy the free show? Rossi is even more beautiful without her costume on, huh?” he venomously sneered.

  Mickey huffed and tossed the keys to the cell to Colt. “One, I’m not going to kill you. In case you missed it, Detective, I just stopped that asshole from killing you. Two, Rossi is beautiful, but I’ve never seen her without her costume on outside of pictures from NYC.”

  Colt didn’t believe him in the least. “Nice boots.”

  Mickey glared at him. “The boots I thought Raven gave them to me as a joke, since they’re a size too big. They were left in my bottom drawer where she used to leave me lunch…” he paused and wiped his hand across his eyes to wipe away the tears that had gathered there. “Sorry.”

  Colt quickly unlocked the cell door and grabbed Agent Gerard’s ankles. “A little help,” he said.

  Mickey helped him get the unconscious agent into the cell then removed all of his weapons and handcuffed him to the bed before closing the cell door. When Mickey turned, he found the agent’s gun pointed at his head. />
  “I’m not going to ask twice; what in the hell is going on?” Colt demanded.

  The rookie’s eyes widened. “The others, with backup from Border Patrol, breeched the old Mayor’s estate, but it was rigged to blow. Two Border Agents were killed, the rest are at the hospital being treated for first and second degree burns and smoke inhalation,” he said quickly.

  “I’m already aware of that,” Colt hissed. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  “Raven and I had been dating for the past year,” Mickey said.

  He gave him a look. “You have a crush on Rossi,” he pointed out.

  Mickey shook his head. “I admire her, yes. Have a crush on her? No. I like my women short, Native American, abusive, kinky as all hell, and completely dominate in bed but nurturing outside of the bedroom. I’ve always been friendly with people, and you have to admit, Rossi is one of those people that you can’t help but be drawn to. The others at the station didn’t know, and we pretended to hate each other in public so they were none the wiser because it’s against policy to fraternize with co-workers...and it was foreplay. Raven was working on the stones that were found at Five’s dumpsite and figured out where they came from. She was going to tell me what she found out that night, but I was dispatched on a bullshit call across town that no one actually made. When I got back to the office, Raven was gone, and they found her body hours later...” he paused and wiped away the tears that had rolled down his cheeks.

  “Raven kept her notepad hidden,” he continued, trying to keep a strong front. “Her notes from cases and her findings, hypothesis on cases that she was too self-conscious to voice to the others in case of being wrong. You told her to always keep a notepad when she was a rookie so she did. Unlike the rest of us though, she only wrote in Siksika so no one but her or one of her people could read her notes. I found the notepad taped under the drawer. When I came back to the station and found it under there, I knew that something was wrong and went looking for her, but I wasn’t fast enough...”