Dark Mountain (The David Wolf Series Book 10)

by Jeff Carson

  That was something else.

  She was photographing sex. Other people who did that were called pornographers. Moreover, she knew that her client, Chandler Mustaine’s wife, was no saint. This was far from a noble cause mission. That perfume-doused low-life wench screwed other men by the busload. But she wanted her payday, and she was shrewder than her idiot husband, who hadn’t asked for that prenuptial agreement when they tied the knot eleven months earlier, despite his stable of lawyers’ insistence. And now Mr. Mustaine was in for a serious surprise, all thanks to Heather Patterson’s brilliant detective work … detective work that could’ve been pulled off by her two-year-old son.

  She gave herself a mental slap on the cheek, stood up, and dared a peek around the tree.

  “Oh God.”

  Mistress Three was mashed up against the window, fogging the glass with frantic breaths.

  Heather snapped two photos and ducked back.

  Her phone vibrated again, reminding her of the new text message, so she pulled it out and looked.

  The 970 area code told her that the number was northern Colorado. She entered her PIN and a picture flashed up onscreen. Initially, she was desensitized to the graphic photo on her phone, her eyes having just endured the horror on the other side of the tree.

  Then she stood up straight as she realized what she was looking at. And when she read the message underneath the picture she began running. In her haste, she collided with a tree, scraping her arm and bashing the two-thousand-dollar camera.

  As she swerved through the trees, memories came flooding back—a needle jabbing into her skin, her captor’s smile, a dark car trunk, the realization that the heat beneath her was from another human being …

  She stopped and leaned up against a tree. Sensei Masterson was right; she needed to breathe.

  So, she did.

  She scrolled through her phone contacts, looking for a familiar name.

  The sound of knocking on glass pulled her attention toward two naked people staring at her from the window. Chandler pointed at her, miming a gun with his thumb and index finger, then disappeared into the house.

  “Shit.”

  She pocketed her phone, took the camera off her neck, and ran as hard as she could.

  CHAPTER 7

  Wolf parked in the station lot and walked around the building to Main Street.

  Traffic was heavy for a Friday morning in June and he knew it would get progressively worse as the day wore on.

  From a real-estate developer’s point of view, they were living in the next gold-rush era. Put a for-sale sign in dog poop and it went for twenty grand over asking. To Wolf, Rocky Points was becoming claustrophobic.

  Or maybe the dead body up on County 18 still lingered in his nostrils.

  He crossed at the four-way stop and hung a left, then jogged the block and a half to Wind Shade Bliss, a gallery showcasing local and state artists. This weekend’s exhibit featured the works of a hot new up-and-comer named Lauren Coulter.

  The artist’s black Audi Q7 was parked in front of the building with the hatchback raised, revealing cloth-wrapped paintings inside stacked like books on a shelf.

  A young girl skipped out of the gallery doorway toward the car.

  “Hey,” Wolf said.

  Ella Coulter, Lauren’s seven-year-old daughter, gave him a double take and stopped. “Hey, Dave!”

  Wolf suspected this girl’s smile had something to do with the Earth’s recent climate change. She had green eyes and her mother’s squint, long auburn hair, and a toothless grin.

  She slammed into him and wrapped his torso in a hug.

  It had been under a year since Ella and her mother had moved into his ranch house. He’d spent months trying to bond with the girl, which had been surprisingly difficult. For the better part of the winter, Ella had been quiet and shy.

  But their relationship had risen to the next level one afternoon when she’d twisted her ankle. Lauren, a nurse at County Hospital and a far more qualified candidate to handle the situation, had been out and Wolf had taken over, bandaging her injury and soothing her with hugs and ice cream.

  Then there was the incident of the bonked forehead on the tree branch, which he’d handled masterfully, taping the wound shut and making her laugh even as blood gushed down her face.

  He and Ella had gotten close over the months that followed, and now she was like a daughter to him. But times like these reminded him she was not. She hadn’t yelled “Daddy!” She’d called him Dave.

  He and Ella’s mother weren’t married, and Wolf often pulled back from getting too close. Because the last thing he ever wanted to do was disappoint this little girl.

  She scurried away to the car and grabbed a painting.

  “Careful, honey,” a man’s voice said from the gallery doorway. He was tall and lean, wearing yellow-framed Italian-style glasses perched on a handsome face. His hair glistened and was styled appropriately for a fashion photo-shoot, and his wardrobe said he was someone who defined style where others followed it.

  The man stopped on a dime, his shoes clicking on the sidewalk, and turned back toward the doorway. “So I said to him, forget it. I’ll pull the exhibit.”

  Lauren came out wearing jeans and a Gibson guitars T-shirt, both fitting her trim figure snugly. Her red hair was pulled back in a ponytail and her green eyes narrowed as she smiled. And right now, she was smiling at the man, her face painted with a certain awe that she normally reserved for Wolf.

  “Are you serious?” she asked.

  “Yeah.” The guy looked at Wolf and stopped. “Hi.”

  “Hey.”

  Lauren gave him a double take. “Hey, there you are. I … you’ve met Baron, haven’t you?”

  Wolf shook his head.

  “This is David?” Baron asked, his lips curling into a smile.

  No man’s smile had ever dazzled Wolf. Until now. Baron’s teeth were white and straight, his lips symmetrical and wide. He had a diamond stud earring that added to the effect. His slicked-back hair shimmered in the outdoor light and he was young and fit. Handsome, too, at least five years Wolf’s junior, and could probably bench press Wolf a dozen times. Otherwise, a real loser.

  “Hi.” He shook Baron’s hand, noting the strong grip.

  “I’ve heard so much about you. Ella won’t stop about the great David.”

  Lauren cleared her throat and put her arm around Wolf. “I talk about him, too, Baron.”

  “You do?” Baron held a straight face and smiled. “I’m kidding—she’s always talking about you too.”

  Baron looked at Lauren and shook his head. “My goodness, David. You are a lucky man. What a beautiful, talented woman you’ve found yourself.” He stared a beat too long at Lauren’s torso.

  Wolf wondered what it would sound like to punch this guy on the forehead.

  “It’s a little early for lunch, isn’t it?” Lauren asked.

  “I’ll just keep going with the paintings,” Baron said. “Nice to meet you, David.”

  “Yeah.” Wolf pasted on a fake smile and watched the man grunt while he picked up a giant canvas.

  “Oh, geez, Baron. Here, David can help you.”

  “He’s got it.”

  She looked at him, appalled.

  “Hey, yeah. Let me help you with that.”

  “No, no, no. I have it.” Baron whisked away inside.

  Lauren studied him and smiled. “What’s going on? You jealous?” she asked, pulling him into a hug.

  “Me? No. But he is.”

  “Whatever.” She laid her head on his chest.

  Wolf’s phone vibrated in his pocket.

  “Whoa, what’s that?”

  Smiling, he pulled out his phone and paused.

  “Who is it?” Lauren asked.

  He pressed the call-end button and pocketed the phone. “Heather Patterson … I’ll call her back later. How’s the show coming?”

  “Oh, good. I’m so nervous.”

  “Nervous? You k
now everyone already loves your paintings. What are you nervous about?”

  “I know you love my paintings.” She narrowed her eyes and looked at him suspiciously. “Or you say you do. But these people are, like … real …”

  Wolf lowered his voice. “Assholes?”

  Lauren rolled her eyes. “Real influential critics in the art scene.”

  “Yeah, like I said.”

  Ella came skipping outside and went to the hatchback. Wolf went over and helped her pull out a painting.

  “Did you know Baron lives, like, right next to the Empire State Building?” Ella asked.

  “Uh, no, I didn’t.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Can you take this big one?” Lauren pointed at a tall painting wrapped in brown paper.

  Wolf recognized its shape. “Ah, the sunset one.”

  He grabbed it and followed Ella inside the building. The old wood floor creaked under Wolf’s weight. The interior smelled like scented candles. Floor speakers standing in the corner streamed New Age music.

  “Hey, David.” Kitty Pickering, the art-gallery owner, tended to a hanging wire on the back of a frame. She wore a canvas apron over a floral dress and white blouse. As she moved, the silver adornments draped around her neck tinkled.

  “Hi.”

  Baron was up on a ladder, hammering a hanger in the wall. “I want that one over here.” He pointed at the painting Wolf had just put down.

  Wolf eyed Lauren and brought it to the base of the ladder.

  “Lift it up to me.”

  Wolf raised the painting.

  “Hey, is there something happening with you guys today?” Kitty asked. “I saw a bunch of vehicles peeling out of the parking lot earlier.”

  He pulled the corners of his mouth down, brainstorming vague responses. “I’m not sure.”

  “Do you have a bruise on your forehead?” Standing on her toes to look, Lauren ran her fingers over his forehead. “You do. What happened?”

  “Nothing. Just a stupid thing.”

  She stared at him suspiciously and then walked back outside.

  “Can you get that bubble wrap off the bottom?” Baron held down a painting to Wolf.

  “Sure, Baron.” He pulled off the plastic and shoved it in his pocket. “Anything else?”

  Baron shrugged. “No.”

  Wolf watched Baron hang up one of Wolf’s favorites: the sage-covered landscape north of town at sunset after a cleansing rain.

  “She really is a gifted artist, isn’t she?” Kitty gazed up at the painting.

  Wolf nodded. “Yeah.”

  Kitty flicked a glance behind him and he stood straight at the sight of a familiar man talking to Lauren outside.

  First Baron, now him? Wolf went out the door to the sidewalk.

  “Everything okay?” he asked.

  Greg Barker, former SBCSD deputy, stood with crossed arms, smiling and nodding at Lauren.

  Lauren looked up at Wolf with a strained expression. “Yeah. You?”

  Ella came trotting outside again. She became shy at the sight of the tall, red-headed man and sidled up next to Wolf’s leg. “Hi.”

  “Hey there.” Barker unfolded his arms and hitched his thumbs on his jeans. His muscles had gotten bigger since he’d been summarily fired from the department.

  “Can I help you?” Wolf asked, letting his voice frost at the edges. Watching Baron ogle his girlfriend was one thing, but watching this man stand within a block of his girlfriend and her daughter was another.

  “Ah, no. I was just … I saw Lauren had her paintings and I was just asking about the exhibit this weekend. Sounds exciting.”

  Wolf said nothing.

  “Anyway … I hear there’s an opening in the department for detective.”

  Barker and his father were still connected to the back rooms of the government buildings, it seemed. Which said a lot about the people running things.

  Wolf cracked a smile at the incredulous suggestion.

  Barker kicked an imaginary rock on the ground. “Anyway. I happened to be stopping by to officially put my name in the hat.” He looked up at Wolf. “I’m a changed man, Chief.”

  Wolf nodded. “Okay. Hardly the place or time, Greg. See you around.”

  “Yeah. Right. Anyway, good luck tonight, Lauren.” Barker walked away.

  They stood in silence for a full minute until he’d disappeared around the corner.

  “I need a shower after talking to him,” Lauren said, looking pale.

  Ella had been kidnapped a couple of years previously, and although Greg Barker hadn’t done it, his actions within the department had, arguably, set off the events.

  “Who was that guy?” Ella asked.

  “Just someone I used to work with.”

  “Why did he say he was a changed man?”

  “Oh …” Wolf looked down at Ella. He recognized the look of a seven-year-old who was going to beat an explanation out of him.

  “He once did something bad to David, honey,” Lauren said.

  “What did he do?” she asked.

  He falsified a report, saying I was derelict in my duty to help a drowning man in his upturned vehicle in the river. He tried to make me look bad to undermine the entire department so that he could get me and the sheriff fired and a different candidate could come in, take over the department, and hire him into my position.

  Wolf said, “He called me a doo-doo face.”

  Ella giggled. “That’s bad.”

  “Dang right it is.”

  Lauren passed Wolf a small painting and he handed it to Ella. “Can you take this one in? I have to talk to your mommy.”

  Ella grabbed it and walked inside.

  “What’s happening?” She studied his face. “Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”

  “There’s a …” He looked over both shoulders. “… situation happening this morning. I’m not going to be able to make lunch.”

  “Okay. Yeah, no problem. Sounds … situationy.” She turned and pulled another painting out of her Audi. “Are you going to be able to make tonight?”

  He nodded. “It shouldn’t be a problem.”

  Her eyebrows peaked.

  “I’ll try my best.”

  “Be right back.” She walked away and into the shop, then materialized a few seconds later with Ella on her heels.

  “Sorry,” he said, sensing she was upset now.

  She stood in front of him and rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry about it. Like I said, I’m just nervous. But I can handle these people, right?”

  “There’s nothing to handle. Just watch them gawk at your paintings.”

  “No, but like … the interviews. There’s that woman from Vanity Fair, for Pete’s sake. The pictures and all that.”

  “Yeah.” Guilt stabbed him now. “Listen, I’m going to try and be here.”

  “Okay.” She stretched up and kissed him.

  Her lips tasted like strawberry lip gloss.

  “Can we have ice cream today, mommy?” Ella stared at the shop two doors down and licked her lips.

  “It’s going to be tough today with the show … maybe Baron can take you.”

  “Or could you take me?” she asked Wolf.

  “David has to go back to work today, honey.”

  “What about tomorrow? Or the next day?”

  Lauren shrugged at Wolf. “It’s hard to say no to a seven-year-old.”

  “Impossible. And, of course, I would never want to. Yeah, sure. I’ll take you.”

  “Yesssssss.” She ran back into the gallery building.

  Wolf smiled after her, then watched an SBCSD vehicle drive past.

  “Okay,” she said. “Go take care of your situation. Call me, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  They kissed again, and as he walked away he glanced inside and saw Baron’s head swiveling back to whatever he was pretending to do.

  “Later, Baron,” he said to himself.

  CHAPTER 8

  Wolf twisted open hi
s office window blinds, letting in light to warm the frigid air hissing out of the floor vents.

  From the department’s third-floor perch, the western windows offered an unobstructed view of the ski resort, which was verdant from bottom to tree line. Snow still webbed the crags of the twin granite spire-like outcroppings known as Rocky Points.

  His phone vibrated again, reminding him of his voicemail. He pulled it out and slapped it on the desk, then collapsed into the leather swivel chair and fired up his computer.

  While the PC woke up he pressed the phone to his ear, awaiting Heather Patterson’s voice.

  She’d once been his best detective, but after a particularly nasty encounter with a serial killer, ending with her getting acquainted with the trunk of the killer’s car, she’d quit the department to devote more time to her young son, Tommy.

  The last time he’d spoken to her was three weeks previously when she’d showed up at the station—something to do with a case she was working for Leary, Crouch, and Shift, one of the largest criminal defense and family law firms in the Colorado Rockies, and her new employer.

  He’d detected no regret that she’d quit. Her stories involved her family now, and that was good. Bad for him. She was impossible to replace, as the stack of résumés piled next to his computer monitor reminded him.

  “… help … message …” Wolf checked his phone and saw he had full reception. “… as soon as possible. I’m coming over there now. I’ll be there in an hour or so. Shit. I’ll call you back.”

  He tried to listen to the voicemail again and got the same result. The poor reception had jumbled what she’d said, but the angst in her voice had been loud and clear.

  He called her back and it went straight to voicemail.

  The computer screen flickered to life and he swiveled to continue his battle with technology, this time with the ever-updating PC that pre-dated Chautauqua Valley’s first inhabitants.

  After a few seconds, he was inside his email. He scrolled down the screen, passing over three requests for meetings, some paperwork attachments for him to print and sign, a message from MacLean with the subject “New hire candidates,” and other headache-inducing reads that he could put off until later.

  He almost shut down the computer, but decided to check the junk-mail folder just in case. More than once, that oldest trick in the book had caused him to miss a vital document.