Alive and Killing (A David Wolf Novel)

by Jeff Carson

  His gut tightened at the thought of her lying sprawled on the hardwood floor with a puddle of blood growing underneath her head.

  Just then he heard the thump of boots on the back porch and he saw two figures dressed in black sprint onto the lawn. One ran strangely, with a limp arm at his side, and Wolf knew instantly it was the man Jack said he’d shot. They came right at him. The first man was much quicker, and a flashlight flicked on in his hand.

  Wolf turned and ran as fast as he could, dodging the white trunks of Aspen. The ground was pitch black, and his right eye streamed with tears, making it impossible to see where he was stepping. His feet crunched down on jagged sticks and rocks, and slick decaying wood, all tearing skin with each step. Despite the pain, he accelerated to full speed, and continued as fast as he could in the direction he remembered as downhill.

  More spits came from behind, and the night lit up around him with each, but the bullets missed each time. Wolf saw the bouncing light of the man’s flashlight on the trees, and it seemed to be gaining on him, becoming more focused on him.

  Wolf dodged left and right, but was immediately weary of his losing speed, and opted to go straight again. In his fastest all-out sprint, he grunted in defiance of any danger, knowing he must be gaining a lead on the men behind him. A few steps later the trees around him vanished, and he was looking at points of light, blurry in his wet vision. The instant he realized it was the lights of the valley below, he was already tipping forward with his legs whiffing the ground that had dropped out underneath him.

  The wind rushed in his ears, and he looked down, and saw nothing. His head thumped, and stars filled his vision as he connected with the ground. His naked skin raked against rocks and gravel as he twisted uncontrollably, like a fighter pilot caught in a death spiral, smacking cold bushes, and thick juniper trunks, and bouncing off boulders, until he finally slid to a stop on some sand on his back.

  He lay motionless for a few seconds, sucking in deep breaths with lung-stinging exertion, watching the blanket of night stars above twist and return like a rotary phone dial.

  For what seemed a few minutes, he lay in a thoughtless daze, and then finally he sat up. He looked up the mountainside he’d just tumbled down, and his awareness came back to him in a flash, sending his heart racing.

  He stopped his breathing and listened, and only heard the faint whoosh of cars and trucks driving on the road far below him, and the bouncing of his shivering jaw. There was no movement above, no one coming down the hill. Nothing.

  Wolf walked up the slope deliberately, slowly, keeping behind the junipers and sage bushes when he could to shield himself from the aim of the gunmen above. His feet slipped almost every other step up the steep incline, and the flesh on the bottom of his feet was so raw he couldn’t feel it anymore.

  By the time he reached the back yard, his whole body shook, which felt like a jackhammer on his bad arm. But he still stood motionless, surveying the windows for any movement. Then he saw her. Luke was face down on the hardwood floor of the eating area inside, and that was all Wolf needed to take the risk of running to the house.

  He sprinted across the lawn, up onto the wood deck, and darted through the open sliding glass door. He slipped on his feet, slick with blood and moisture from the lawn, and ducked down next to Luke.

  “Luke. Luke.” He studied her close, and couldn’t see any blood. There was nothing on her white t-shirt or on her gray sweatpants.

  “Kristen,” he tried, and pushed her over onto her back. She flopped over and her eyes were closed. He checked her pulse, and it was strong. He pulled open her eyelid to check the pupil, and she twisted her head and groaned lightly.

  Relief she was okay quickly gave way to panic that he was seconds from getting shot in the back. He remembered his pistol, and how it sat on the bed of the spare bedroom in his holster.

  He stood up and turned around. There was no one in the living room or kitchen. He pressed himself against the wall and peeked down the hallway toward the bathroom and bedrooms. There was no movement, so he stepped out and slunk down the hall, and peeked in the bedroom.

  He grabbed his gun, and though he was shivering harder than ever, he felt warmed by the assurance that the weapon was now in his hand. He stalked through her bedroom, down the hall, past Luke and out into the garage. There was no one. They were gone.

  When he returned to the kitchen, he saw Luke grabbing her head and leaning on her elbow. She looked up at Wolf and her jaw dropped.

  “What happened to you?” She croaked.

  Wolf looked down at his naked body. Bright red blood flowed down his left arm from the wound that was now ripped wide open. The entire right side of his body, from foot to shoulder, was streaked with red scrapes with blood droplets oozing from them. Everywhere in between was covered with dirt skid marks or dangling pieces of squashed plants.

  He walked past her and to the front door, then opened it and looked into the night. The road at the end of the driveway was clear of cars, and at that moment he remembered seeing a black SUV, when he’d gotten up off the ground below the window and headed into the trees. He remembered it’d been how he’d gotten his bearings of where downhill was.

  “I think they’re gone,” Wolf said turning around.

  Luke was gone, and Wolf raised his gun.

  Then she stepped out of the hallway and into view. She held her own gun, and a blanket. She walked to Wolf with a vacant look in her eyes and handed the soft, heavy, enveloping square of warmth out to him.

  Chapter 39

  Luke woke from a heavy, dreamless, sleep. No, something had woken her. Something close, but how close? A dog barking?

  She blinked and focused on the dim room in front of her. There was a tube in her arm, and she was tilted up at an angle. A dark television mounted high in the corner of the room reflected a small rectangle of light, and above it was a ceiling lined with institutional looking asbestos tiles.

  She turned her head, and squinted from the pain that throbbed against the right side of her skull.

  “Uhhhh!”

  She sat up abruptly, forgetting the pain to see what made the horrific noise next to her.

  Wolf sat facing her in a chair on her left. His arms were crossed, like he was cold, and his eyes were scrunched tight. His head was tilted unnaturally forward, like he was worried about something crawling up his legs.

  She realized he was sleeping. They were in the hospital. She was in a hospital bed, and he was sleeping next to her.

  “Jack!” He yelled.

  She fought the pain and leaned out of the bed and grabbed his leg.

  “Wolf,” she said.

  The chair squealed as he pushed himself back and opened his eyes. Then he shook his head and looked around. For an instant he was in sheer terror, like some unseen demon was coming at him. The next instant, he saw Luke and relaxed his face.

  “How are you doing?” he asked.

  Luke stared at him. His folded arms rose up and down with his heaving breaths. “How am I? How are you? Are you okay? You were having a wicked dream.”

  Wolf blinked and gave a thousand yard stare, then shrugged. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a dream I’ve been having lately.”

  “You said Jack,” she said quietly. “You yelled it.”

  There was a soft knock on the door, and Luke realized she was exposing her naked ass through a hospital gown to whoever was about to walk in. She sat down and felt the bowling ball shift in her skull again.

  “Come in.” She said testily.

  It was Danny. “What the hell are you doing here?” She asked.

  Her big brother rolled his eyes and stepped into the room. Wolf stood up and Dan walked over to him.

  Here it goes, she thought. Danny was predictable as ever when it came to men in her life. Not that Wolf was a “man in her life”. Would he be? But being seated so close to her hospital bed, her older brother was bound to jump to the same hot-headed conclusion he always had growing up whenever a member of
the opposite sex talked to her. You’re not good enough for her. Forget it. If you have a problem with that, here’s my fist.

  “Hey. Haven’t seen you in a long time, how are you?” He said, as he shook Wolf’s hand.

  Luke scoffed. “Are you kidding? You two know each other?”

  Danny was smiling and sizing up Wolf like an old friend he hadn’t seen in years. “We played—“

  “Football together. Yeah, yeah.” Luke said. “Why the hell am I in this hospital bed?” She pointed at Wolf. “You should be in here, not me.”

  “They stitched me back up last night, cleaned and patched up some abrasions,” Wolf shrugged and then raised his eyebrows. “You, on the other hand, you passed out when the cops got to your house last night, and you’ve been out ever since. How does your head feel?”

  She put her hand on her scalp and felt a huge bump that fit inside her whole palm. “Ahhh. Jesus.”

  “You have a concussion,” Wolf said.

  Luke pressed her fingers on the bump, feeling a small scab on the peak of it underneath her hair.

  “Thanks for making the call last night,” Danny said to Wolf, “Officer Rachette came to my hotel as soon as he’d heard from you, and I drove straight here. I’ve been waiting outside for you guys to wake up for hours.” He shook his head. “What the hell happened?”

  “A couple guys broke into your sister’s house, and they knocked her out, and shot a few times at me, then I guess thought better of it and left.”

  Luke had a vague memory of Wolf standing over her naked, holding a pistol in his hand, and dismissed it for a perverted dream.

  “Is that what happened?” She said, “I don’t remember shit.”

  Wolf didn’t answer, and Danny looked between them. “What the hell is going on? Are these the same guys that were shooting at you and your son the other night?”

  Wolf paused for a second, then nodded. “Yes. They are. Last night one of the guys had a limp arm, from where my son shot him the other night. It was them.”

  “We have to tell my brother about Brian,” Luke said.

  Danny frowned and looked at her. “What?”

  Wolf told him to sit down, and they spent the next few minutes getting him up to speed. About Wolf and his son seeing Jeffries on the trail, and how he was a part of Brian’s explosives ordinance team that went MIA. About the gold that showed up on Luke’s doorstep, and how Brian and his team were seemingly killing—each other and other innocent people—all in the effort to keep their secret safe.

  When they were done with their story, Danny stood up and cracked the window shades with a finger. He stared out for a few moments, then let them snap shut and turned to Luke. There was burning hatred in his eyes that she hadn’t seen in her older brother before. Not even when their father had left, had his eyes shown such disdain. She knew he’d always resented his little brother, for reasons she couldn’t fully understand growing up, and it was like he had been waiting for permission to finally hate Brian. Permission granted.

  “Why didn’t you tell me about this? You knew about this for, for what? Months?” He said, glaring at Luke.

  “I didn’t know anything,” she said, “but I did know that if I told you anything, you’d freak out.”

  “But you suspected,” he pointed at Wolf, “after they shot at him and his son, you suspected, and let me leave town to, no offense Wolf, to go watch a stupid music festival? When our brother is roaming the mountains killing people?”

  Danny shook his head and turned to the window again.

  Luke didn’t speak, and took a deep breath. They sat in silence, listening to the electric hum of the monitor next to her, and the muffled voices out in the hall.

  “I always knew Brian was screwed up,” Danny finally said, “but this is a whole new level for him. Murdering women? Trying to kill is own sister? For some money he can only spend if he acts like a dead man for the rest of his life? What the hell?”

  Luke’s stomach sank.

  “He didn’t try to kill your sister.”

  They looked at Wolf.

  “They shot at me. They hit your sister in the back of the head.”

  Dan looked at Luke, and then back to Wolf. “So, what? He didn’t try to kill his sister. Noble move. He still tried to kill a cop, and his son. He’s still fucked up.”

  Wolf sighed and looked up at the ceiling, and then down at his watch. “Dan, last night I was telling your sister that that load on Jeffries’s back was huge. It must have been over a hundred pounds of gold in that pack. I don’t think he came from up the trail. It’s just too steep.” Wolf shook his head. “We need topo maps, and we have to go back up there.”

  “And we need the cavalry this time,” Dan said without hesitation. “We aren’t screwing around after last night. I don’t care if this is my brother or not.”

  Wolf raised his eyebrows. “I don’t object to that. I’m about done getting shot at.”

  Luke pulled the sheets off and slid out of the bed.

  “Whoa,” Wolf held up both his hands, “you need to rest with a head injury like that.”

  Dan smirked and turned away.

  Luke gave Wolf the same glare she used to give her brothers growing up when they were about to get her wrath. The kind of wrath that used to leave chunks of scalp on the floor when she was through.

  “Get me my clothes,” she said.

  Wolf nodded without another word, and he and her brother left the room.

  Chapter 40

  Wolf drove Luke’s Tahoe up Grimm Lake Road as delicately as possible.

  Luke sat next in the passenger seat as they bounced, scraped and jolted their way up, all the while leaning forward and gripping the ceiling bar, trying to keep her head still as she stared out the windshield with drooped eyelids and a slack face.

  Wolf knew she was fighting the jarring pain in her head that each movement caused, but didn’t mention it. Because she’d made it clear not to when he did the first time, and he was learning that Special Agent Kristen Luke had a sharp edge that one needed to be wary of.

  There was a stream of five more SUVs behind them, four GSPD, and one FBI, carrying a total of ten men with all the latest equipment and gadgets they would need to...to what?

  Wolf hoped his hunch was right, and after a preliminary look at the maps, chances were good that it was. The plan was simple, return to where Wolf saw Jeffries, and retrace his suspected path on foot. Satellite photos showed a thin off-road trail—a jeep trail that, they all agreed, would probably make the road they were on now look like a paved interstate highway comparatively.

  That fact made them opt to stick to Grimm Lake Road—driving up to the lot Wolf and Jack had parked at, and go from there on foot, rather than risk traveling up an unknown route that could even be washed out from the melt waters that flowed strong only a matter of weeks ago.

  Wolf finally reached the lot and bounced to a stop. He pressed the parking break, shut off the engine, and passed the keys to Luke. Her eyes looked dull, and her face was completely slack.

  She narrowed her eyes, reading his thoughts. “Don’t worry about me,” she said.

  Wolf turned away and slid out of the truck.

  It was mid-morning, and the air was crisp and cool. There was no wind, which made the sun warmer on Wolf’s skin. He zipped up his Carhartt, which he’d gotten, along with a change of clothing, from his SUV in the FBI field office parking lot last night.

  The fresh bandage on his upper arm felt tight, and the pain from each movement seemed worse than ever before. He figured that was probably a normal effect of getting a line of thirty stitches, then ripping them all open and sewing them back up. He took the white sling out of his pocket and draped it over his head, then tucked his arm in.

  “We’re quite the healthy pair,” Luke said, hobbling up next to him.

  They watched patiently as each vehicle lumbered into sight, parked, and their occupants stepped out and got situated.

  After ten minutes of pac
king and gearing up, they were on the trail and heading up at a good pace.

  Wolf took the lead, followed closely by the two FBI agents from Luke’s field office, Special Agents Brookhart and Harris, then Officer Richter, and the remaining train of men and women GSPD officers, with Luke somewhere in the middle.

  Wolf saw that even after twenty straight minutes of a brisk pace, they all kept up easily, and Luke was no exception.

  Just before they reached the point where Wolf and Jack had seen Jeffries, a soft ringing came from the pocket of Special Agent Brookhart. Wolf watched Brookhart pull out his cell phone, wondering just what company he used, and how much it was going to cost Wolf to change to that plan.

  “Brookhart,” he said. “Yes,” then he paused, “okay, thanks.”

  Brookhart hung up and shoved the phone back in his pocket.

  “They’ve identified some fingerprints at Agent Luke’s house.”

  Wolf stopped and turned around. “And?”

  “Brian Richter.”

  Wolf looked back at Officer Dan Richter, he was craning his neck at the mention of his name.

  “What was that?” He asked, and stepped up to join them.

  “That was our lab,” Brookhart said, “we found your brother’s fingerprints at the scene last night. At your sister’s house.”

  Officer Richter shook his head and looked back at Luke, and then waved her up.

  She approached quickly. “Yeah?”

  “They found Brian’s fingerprints at your house last night,” Dan said.

  Luke’s face dropped even lower than it already was, and she shook her head.

  They stood and stared dumbly at one another for a few seconds, and then Wolf turned and started walking again.

  …

  Ten minutes later they reached the meadow where Wolf and Jack had seen Jeffries and stopped. The lack of wind and the warm sun above was getting to Wolf. He’d broken into a full sweat, and unzipped his Carhartt to let the cool air into his torso. The scratches covering the right side of his body were inflamed by the rubbing of his sweaty clothing, and it itched underneath his arm bandage, to the point he wanted to shoot it again with his pistol, just so he could feel anything else but the nagging irritation.