Dark Mountain (The David Wolf Series Book 10)

by Jeff Carson

  The mother was dead and the child needed immediate medical attention if she was going to live. Chambers was in the hut, tending to the girl’s wounds, and the rest of them had disarmed Paul and brought him outside.

  Wolf had wrestled Paul to the ground and now sat on his chest, pinning his arms to his sides with his knees.

  “Here,” PFC Chan said, handing him a zip-tie.

  “I pushed him. I pushed him.”

  The ranting coming out of his former-best friend’s mouth was smothered by the crescendo of chaos behind him. Women were shrieking at the top of their lungs and pushing out of the hut. Children cried, clutching tightly to their mothers and ducking away from the soldiers as if they were demons.

  “I’m gonna flip him over and put on the zip-tie,” he said to Chan. “Help me!”

  Chan snapped out of his shell-shocked daze and knelt at the ready.

  Wolf’s whole body shook, and with it his voice. “Ready?”

  “Yeah.”

  Without any resistance, Paul rolled over onto his stomach and put his hands behind him.

  Wolf stood him up, gripped his shoulders, and turned him around.

  Paul’s eyes were wide, unblinking. An animal on the hunt.

  “I pushed him,” Paul said.

  “What are you talking about?” Wolf grabbed him by the edges of his flak jacket and shook him. “What are you talking about, Paul? Wake the fuck up!”

  His voice was a whisper, only for Wolf. “I pushed him.”

  Wolf shook his head. “I don’t understand, Paul. Who did you push?”

  Paul’s eyes shimmered and he looked up. Clenching them shut, tears cascaded down his cheeks.

  “Get him out of here,” Wolf said.

  CHAPTER 52

  Wolf sat behind his desk, welcoming the soft leather seat’s cradling embrace. His legs ached from standing the past three hours at Pat Xander’s funeral reception. He suspected it was a hangover from all the hiking four days previously—another reminder that his body didn’t recover like the old days and he wasn’t in as good shape as he’d thought.

  “Overall a good service,” Rachette said, plopping down on Wolf’s pleather office couch like he’d just run a marathon.

  Charlotte sat down next to him and leaned back into the cushions. “Too many frickin’ funerals in this town. Maybe we should move to Chicago or Detroit. Somewhere safe to raise this child.” She looked over at her husband’s vacant gaze and put a hand on his cheek. “Sorry, baby. I’m just bone tired. You’re right. It was a great service.”

  There was a knock at Wolf’s door and Lorber ducked inside. “Hey, bunch of us are going to Goggs tonight to throw some back. You know, unwind all this tension. You guys in?”

  Pale-faced and with his bandaged left hand hoisted in the air, Rachette locked eyes with the medical examiner. “Hell, yeah.”

  Charlotte gave a sidelong glance at her husband, concern creasing her forehead. She nodded at Lorber. “I’ll drive whoever can fit in my car.”

  Lorber stepped inside and folded his arms. “Why?” He raised an eyebrow. “Are you not going to be drinking or something?”

  “No, I’m not.”

  Wolf met Rachette’s gaze and smiled, hoping the dual scabs on his lips didn’t split open again.

  “And why not?” Lorber asked.

  Charlotte and Lorber had a staring war until he surrendered and looked away. “Fine.”

  “I’m pregnant. Didn’t you figure that out, like, days ago?”

  “You are?”

  “Shut up.”

  “Well, yeah. I knew. But you never officially told me. So … I didn’t want to say anything, you know. The golden rule is to never ask if a woman is pregnant, right? I mean, that’s putting your foot in your mouth right there.”

  She frowned. “No. You’re talking about if you think a woman looks like she’s pregnant, but really she’s gained weight. Are you saying I gained weight?”

  Lorber’s eyes popped wide behind his John Lennons.

  “Oh, honey, no,” Rachette rubbed her knee. “You look great. Hot as ever.”

  “But you’re gonna be a fat ass.” A female voice came from the doorway and Patterson peeked inside. “It’s inevitable. Hi.” She knocked. “Can I come in?”

  They ushered her inside, their tones suggesting she’d been silly for asking … everyone but Lorber, who shuffled aside without opening his mouth.

  “Hi.” Just like the rest of them, Patterson was still dressed in black from the funeral. She’d left the reception early, citing her screaming child as the reason.

  “How’s it going?” Wolf asked.

  “Good, thanks.” She held her bandaged left hand close to her body and in the other dangled a manila folder. Patting it against her leg, she stepped toward Wolf’s desk.

  “Hey, yeah. What’s up?” Rachette asked. “Can’t keep away from the station? You miss this place, don’t you?”

  She narrowed her eyes at her former partner.

  “What’s that?” Rachette pointed at the folder. “You gonna submit your résumé for the open detective spot?”

  “Uh … yeah, right.” There was a flash in her eye, and frustration crumpled her forehead. “You know what? I’m sorry. I’ll just—”

  “No, please,” Wolf said, beckoning her closer. “What’s up?”

  Keeping her eyes on the floor, she walked over and slapped the folder in front of him.

  Wolf ignored it, studying her face. “Rachette’s right, isn’t he?”

  She raised her chin and stared out the window over his head.

  Everyone leaned toward her. The air vent clicked on. In the silence, it sounded as loud as a hydroelectric dam turbine.

  “Yes, he is.”

  “Knew it,” Rachette said.

  Charlotte slapped him on the shoulder.

  Wolf narrowed his eyes. “You quit once. Why would I hire you again?”

  “Because I made a mistake. And perhaps, because of recent events, you could …” She swallowed. “… perhaps consider doing me a favor.”

  “You’re saying that because you saved our asses, I should do you a favor.”

  “Yes, that’s the general idea.”

  “But you quit. Now you’re unreliable.”

  She snorted. “Oh, I think we’ve established I’m reliable.”

  If it weren’t for her, Rachette and Wolf would’ve been sitting in the ground right now and they all knew it. As they all contemplated that fact, the silence took over again.

  “You’d be demoted,” he said.

  “That’s where the favor would come in.”

  He blinked.

  “I’d be hired back at my old position.”

  “At the same rank.” Wolf raised his eyebrows.

  “Yes. You could call my year away an extended leave. A sabbatical of sorts.”

  He nodded and swiveled his chair to study the bookshelves. “So the favor is not to hire you back. Which would already be a mighty big favor.”

  “No. I’m the best candidate, that’s just a fact. To rehire me is good judgment on your part.”

  He failed to suppress a smile.

  She jumped at the crack in his serious expression. “The favor is the sergeant thing.”

  “But you quit.” Wolf raised his voice a few decibels higher than he’d meant to.

  The words made Patterson shut her eyes.

  He was trying to get her to think. She didn’t really want the job, did she? “You quit the department for a valid reason. One that nobody judges you for.” He locked eyes with Lorber.

  The ME dropped his gaze to the floor.

  Wolf gestured out the window toward her office building poking through the trees in the distance. “You have a huge office overlooking the valley.”

  “A sick car,” Rachette offered. “Or, it used to be. Sorry, go on …”

  Wolf nodded. “A great salary. A schedule that allows you to see more of your son.”

  A tear fell down her cheek, and
he shut his mouth, realizing that each of his words drove a dagger deeper into her heart. Why, however, was the ten-million-dollar question.

  “I made a mistake,” she said. “I let my emotions take over, and instead of working out my issues with the department, like I should’ve, I freaked out and quit.” She turned to Lorber. “I let down the department. I let down the people who counted on me.”

  Lorber looked up from his shoes with shimmering eyes.

  “I won’t quit again.” Her words were directed straight at the ME. Turning in place, she looked at Charlotte, then Rachette, and finally landed her glare on Wolf. “I won’t quit again.”

  The temperature rose with the heat in her voice, and Wolf wondered whether electric sparks were going to shoot out of her eyes.

  When the vent kicked off he heard himself blink.

  He scraped the manila folder into the trashcan next to his desk.

  “I want you to seek someone to talk to.”

  Her face dropped.

  “If I hire you.”

  “Yes. Of course. I will. You’re right.”

  He sucked in a deep breath, then nodded. “Okay, you’re hired.”

  “Yesss!” Charlotte jumped up.

  “All right!” Lorber punched the ceiling accidently, sending flecks of tile to the ground, then wrapped his tree-branch arms around Patterson.

  “Ow, my ribs!”

  “Sorry.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Patterson’s eyes were flowing freely now.

  Joining in the group hug, Charlotte began to cry too.

  “My God, easy.” Rachette leaned back on the couch and pulled his feet up. “Watch the finger.”

  When the celebration had dissipated, Wolf clasped Patterson’s hand. He said nothing, but thought that he’d just recommissioned the best detective he’d ever met. That, and that she owed him for keeping his mouth shut about illegal cellphone-tracking software. But that favor could be pulled another time.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  Wolf smiled. “Welcome back.”

  “All right.” Rachette held up his hands. “It’s four fifteen. My pain pills are wearing off, so what say we hit the bar early?”

  Patterson checked her watch. “I could do one. I’ll buy.”

  “Sir? You coming?” Rachette asked.

  He nodded. “I’ll be there in a bit. I just have a few things to finish up.”

  “Hey, Patterson. You’re buying?” Rachette asked, following them out.

  “Yeah.”

  “Wait up. Stop.”

  She turned around. “What?”

  He stepped close. “I’m going to ask you one more time. Okay?”

  She frowned.

  “Are you buying?”

  “Yes, Tom. I’m buying.”

  “Pinkie-swear?”

  She closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath through her nose. “Ah, shit.”

  Rachette smiled at Wolf, gave him a thumbs-up and followed her out the door.

  CHAPTER 53

  Wolf drove up the steep hill to his ranch headgate. Passing through, the terrain flattened and the scene rose in his windshield. Deep green grass covered the flat expanse of land in front of the house. Behind it, scorched trees littered the mountainside from the explosion and resulting fire some years back. Between them, countless pine saplings competed to be the next-generation forest.

  Lauren’s Audi sat in the carport, reflecting the orange sunset behind him. As he rolled forward, Ella came running around the house and fell on the grass.

  He leaned into the windshield and was relieved to see her pop back up and continue running.

  He wondered why she was moving so fast, then realized she was coming to meet him. Maybe she would jabber his ear off about something amazing that had happened to her—like the time a pine cone had fallen from a tree and hit her on the head.

  He was excited to find out.

  Lauren sat on the front porch with a glass of red wine and a bottle of Newcastle beer in front of her, and she raised the drinks into the air.

  He smiled wide, thinking he’d be hard-pressed to be welcomed home with a better greeting.

  The SUV rocked to a stop next to Lauren’s and he got out onto the gravel.

  “Dave!” Ella hugged him and then backed away. “You’ll never guess what happened.”

  “A pine cone fell on your head?”

  She frowned. “No … but a momma deer came behind the house with three of her baby deers.” She popped her eyebrows high and nodded.

  “That is awesome.”

  “Yeah. I’m gonna go see if they’re still back there.” She ran in between the cars to the rear of the house.

  “Please stay up here where we can see you, honey!” Lauren yelled.

  “I know! I know!”

  This time of day, you kept your children close in the mountains. Wildcats were most active during the twilight hours.

  Lauren stepped off the porch with their drinks and walked to him. She smiled and glowed by the light of the blazing sky. Not that her lightly freckled, tanned skin needed any help. Walking on bare feet through the flower-speckled grass, she wore a pair of sweatpants and an MC Escher drawing-hands long-sleeved shirt.

  Wolf took the frosted beer from her outstretched hand. He kissed her first and then they clinked their drinks. The bottle was cold, and felt good on his scabbed lips. He took a long swill and it warmed his insides.

  He followed her back to the front deck. “Wow, look at this.” A plate sat on the table with an array of crackers, meats, and cheeses. “What’s going on here?”

  She shrugged. “Just thought I’d make a little something.”

  “Beer Goggles has nothing on this place.”

  After running an errand in town he’d foregone beers at the bar and was glad for it.

  “Dig in. There’s mozzarella, salami, and ham.”

  “And my favorite crackers with the sesame seeds on them,” he said, stacking one inch-high and shoving it in his mouth.

  She watched him with rapt attention.

  “Thank you,” he said, lifting his beer. “Wow.”

  She smiled, looking relieved.

  “Everything okay?” he asked, not used to so much pointed attention.

  “Take a seat. Relax,” she said.

  He shot her a suspicious look and sat down. Maybe she felt bad about the Baron thing. Maybe she’d nothing to feel bad about concerning that matter and he should shut up about things that were beyond his comprehension.

  Ella came pattering around the front of the house and began doing as many cartwheels in a row as she could manage without falling over.

  His body and mind were still exhausted from the past weekend’s events and today’s funeral, but as he sagged into the springy metal chair, he felt his insides recharging. Like he’d plugged into an outlet by coming home with these two girls by his side.

  Birds chirped and flitted through the meadow, and an elk ate grass at the edge of the woods a few hundred yards away.

  This was their own personal happy hour.

  His legs and back relaxed in the oversized seat cushions. They were Lauren’s chairs she’d brought with her when she’d moved in last summer.

  That got him thinking about the old wooden chairs in the barn, waiting in a corner, collecting spider webs, ready to dish out splinters to the next person who touched them.

  Why were those old chairs still sitting in there? He could’ve chopped them up for kindling over the winter, but he’d kept them.

  He knew the answer, and that’s what tightened his chest right now. Because he was saving them, just in case. Because this happy hour was just that—happiness that felt like it had a ticking timer.

  Four evenings ago, he’d brushed shoulders with death more than once. He’d resigned himself to dying. More than that, he’d expected it. He’d held his final breath, felt warm blood on his face, and never expected to take another. And yet now he lived. Coming out of the ordeal, he felt an underlying impa
tience with any of the bullshit, petty pursuits of the normal lives of the living.

  He stared at Lauren’s beautiful face.

  “What?” she asked, looking unnerved.

  He put down his beer. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I forgot something in the car.” He stood up and hesitated at the sight of Lauren and Ella exchanging a glance. He narrowed his eyes with the dawning realization that he wasn’t privy to some important information. “What’s going on?”

  Lauren swallowed and shook her head, then took a sip of wine.

  “Okay … I’ll be right back.”

  Eyeing the seven-year-old and her mother, Wolf walked off the wooden deck, kicked through the grass, and opened the hatch of his SUV.

  The backpack sat inside, still damp from the hike days ago. He needed to properly wash all the clothing along with the bag itself, and then let the pack air outside for a few days. As he unzipped it, the Fabian stench that billowed out told him burning all of it would be a better option.

  He fished inside and pulled out the tiny box. Its velvet cover was wet and the hinge squeaked as he opened it. The ring was like an explosion inside.

  The certainty he’d felt only seconds ago wavered.

  She’d already turned him down once. What’s to say she wouldn’t do it again?

  He stared at the mesmerizing sparkle of the diamond. Why did he even like the idea of getting married? He’d failed at it the first time around. But something primal inside of him wanted Lauren, and Ella, for his own. Because without the marriage they were in stasis. People got married because they wanted to commit, so they could get on with building the rest of their lives together. Because they loved one another.

  “What’s that?” Ella materialized out of another dimension next to him.

  He snapped the box closed and shoved it in his pocket. “Nothing.”

  “Are those wind chimes?” She reached into the back and pulled them out by the top rope. The beetle-kill pine tubes clapped together, sounding like an octopus playing a xylophone.

  “Oh! This is awesome! Are these ours?”

  Wolf smiled. It was impossible not to. “Yeah.”