Where Angels Fear

by D. K. Hood

  “That’s not my call.” The nurse unbuckled her wrists and went to work.

  Olivia fought the drug. “Please, help me escape and my mom will give you money.”

  The nurse’s dark eyes moved to her face. “There is no escape.”

  Forty-One

  Kane pulled his truck into the driveway of Wyatt Sawyer’s neat brick home. He lived in the more prosperous end of town. The path leading to the house was clear of snow and salt crystals crunched under his feet as he followed Jenna to the front porch. A stack of icicles sat beside the steps as if recently removed. He had done the same with his own porch to avoid walking into them on his way in and out, so he assumed Wyatt Sawyer was a tall man like his cousin.

  He glanced through the frosty window to the family room. Inside, a wide hearth held a roaring wood fire with dancing orange flames that curled smoke up the chimney. A basket of pine cones and logs sat beside the hearth. A large comfortable sofa and two matching chairs surrounded the fire and a polished wood occasional table held an expensive-looking bronze statue of a stag. It looked pristine and resembled the perfect scene in a perfect house. He stood to one side as Jenna pressed the bell and heard chimes echoing inside. The door opened to reveal a tall man in his forties dressed in jeans, a dark blue sweater and slippers. He gave them an astonished look.

  “What can I do for you, Sheriff?” Sawyer frowned. “Not a break-in at my plant, I hope?”

  “No.” Jenna took out her notepad. “Are you Wyatt Sawyer?”

  “I am.” Sawyer folded his arms across his chest.

  “I’m Sheriff Alton and this is Deputy Kane.” Jenna’s voice gave nothing away. “I believe there was an accident at your plant late Friday and Doctor Weaver attended. Is that correct?”

  Kane watched the man’s body language and expression but he betrayed nothing.

  “Yeah, that’s right. Is that a problem?” Wyatt raised one eyebrow.

  “As it was an industrial accident, yes.” Jenna lifted her chin. “What happened?”

  “Nothin’ for you to worry about, Sheriff.” Wyatt stepped to one side. “You’d better come inside. It’s too cold to talk out here.” He turned and led the way into a mudroom beside the front door. “Now, why is my injury a matter for the sheriff’s department?”

  “If it happened at the plant, it needs to be reported.” Jenna cleared her throat. “Who was involved?”

  “Just a minute. Those rules are if the plant is operational and an injury involves one of my employees. Right now we are in shutdown.” Sawyer frowned. “I was doing some maintenance and cut myself. It wasn’t bad enough to call the paramedics so I called Doctor Weaver.”

  “If it wasn’t anything to worry about, why not drive into town yourself and see the doctor, or go to the ER?” Jenna pulled back her hood and looked at him. “Are you okay now?”

  “I am.” He gave Jenna an engaging smile. “Thank you for askin’ but at the time I was bleedin’ and concerned the cut might have been deeper than I figured.” He took a step closer to her and pulled down the neck of his sweater to display a small bandage. “Would you like to see?”

  Kane cleared his throat. Sawyer was being way too familiar with Jenna. “Maybe if you explain how the injury occurred?”

  “Oh, sure.” Sawyer straightened and dropped his hands to his sides. “I’m not sure if you’re familiar with the workings of a meat processin’ plant but I’d be happy to walk you through anytime.” He raised both eyebrows at Jenna as if he was asking her to the movies. “The steers come into the kill floor, get processed, then the carcass is hung on a hook that moves along a production line and goes through many hands before it’s packed. I was replacin’ one of the block and tackles on the line. The hook swung around and hit me right here.” He pointed in the region of his collarbone. “Darn thing cut right through my clothes and gave me a puncture wound. It bled like the devil, so I went to my office, packed it with a bandage and called the doc.” He shrugged. “She checked me out, put in a couple of sutures and I was good to go.”

  “You did clean up any blood and sterilize the area?” Jenna stepped away from Sawyer, wrinkling her nose. “I’m sure you’re aware of cross-contamination?”

  “Yeah. I’ve been in this business for years and we have inspectors crawlin’ over the place all the time. They’ll be there the day we open before Christmas.” Sawyer opened his arms and shrugged. “I’ve never had a complaint. My plant is spotless. I follow the rules. You’re wastin’ your time here.”

  Kane narrowed his gaze, taking in his neat appearance, short manicured nails and designer stubble. He portrayed a wealthy businessman and wondered why he’d bother to do the heavy work. “Why didn’t you leave the maintenance crew to fix the problem when they got back? I gather the plant is in shutdown over the holidays?”

  “Yeah, we shut down for four weeks, sometimes more if the weather prevents the cattle trucks, but I have a small crew who come in to process ten steers from Black Rock Falls the week before Christmas to make sure the local stores have enough supplies to carry them through.” Sawyer pushed both hands into his back pockets and leaned casually against the wall. “My maintenance crew have everythin’ runnin’ smoothly and I have a couple of guys on call should I need them but I didn’t bother draggin’ them out and payin’ them for something I could do alone.”

  Why not have it repaired before you shut down the plant? Kane rubbed his chin. “So did you just happen to notice it was faulty?”

  “Nope.” A flash of annoyance crossed Sawyer’s face. “When the maintenance crew is in a production area, the workers are off the floor. It’s a safety issue. I’d overlooked a report from one of the supervisors on the kill floor that a block and tackle was faulty. I decided to fix it before we did the short run next week.”

  “Okay, that’s all I need for now.” Jenna gave Kane a meaningful glance and shut her notebook. “Thank you for your time.”

  “My pleasure.” Sawyer opened the front door and smiled at Jenna. “It was nice meetin’ you, Sheriff.”

  Kane followed Jenna back to his truck and waited for her to buckle up. “What do you make of him?”

  “I couldn’t pick a hole in his story.” Jenna pulled up her hood and shivered. “As he fits the same type as the Axman, I figured I’d push him a bit to see if he showed aggression but all he did was hit on me.” She pulled a face of disgust. “I don’t really need to know about the cattle-slaughtering process.”

  Kane started the engine and waited for the snow on the windshield to melt before turning on the wipers. “He likely thought it would interest you. This is a hunting town and most people aren’t squeamish about the process of dressing an animal for the table.” He backed out of the driveway and headed toward the Pauls’ residence. “I did see a flash of annoyance when I challenged him but he employs hundreds of people, so wouldn’t be used to anyone questioning him about how he runs his business.”

  “Hmm, well at least he’s given Doc Weaver a reason to be hanging around the industrial area during the shutdown.” Jenna let out a long sigh and reached for the Thermos of coffee. “Not that I believe for one minute she’s working with the Axman but since she turned up unannounced on my doorstep, I’m convinced she’s up to something.” She poured two cups of coffee. “I’m drinking this before we speak to Ella. I want you to take the lead in the interview. When you spoke to her last time she wasn’t under the influence of drugs, and you’ll be able to read her better than me.”

  Kane looked at her, then returned his attention to the road. “Yeah, she wasn’t exactly lucid when we found her on the highway. Date rape drugs would be a good choice if the Axman wanted her to forget what happened.” He sighed. “What’s not fitting in this scenario is why leave a witness when he had a second chance to take her? It’s not logical.”

  “It’s as if he had an insight into our investigation, which is impossible.” Jenna sipped her drink. “Maybe he figures we’ll believe she’s the killer and the Axman is a figment of her imagi
nation?”

  Kane processed what she had said then nodded. “If we did believe that, it still leaves us with where she stashed the car and Sky’s body. Okay, I guess we only have her word she stayed out in the freezing cold in a blizzard all night, she could have gotten a ride back to the highway and then waved down a truck.” He shrugged. “That might make sense if she was involved but then the Axman blows that theory to hell by letting Levi Holt escape. If Rowley comes back from Blackwater and Holt has an identical story to Ella’s, we know we’re right and she’s innocent.”

  “Unless Holt is involved and he reported the attack as a cover for her.” Jenna raised one eyebrow. “That would make sense. If Holt is involved, he could have been in the car with them. I’ll give Rowley a call and make sure he establishes Holt’s whereabouts at the time of Sky’s disappearance.” She opened her cellphone and made the call.

  The snow pelted the windshield and the wind increased, blowing up great clouds of white across the highway. Kane slowed to avoid a sedan creeping along in front of them. He turned to Jenna. “The weather is closing in. I hope Rowley and Webber make it back from Blackwater without too much trouble.”

  “So do I.” She barked out a laugh. “I don’t fancy staying in the motel tonight either. If it gets any worse, we won’t get home.”

  Kane reached for his coffee and smiled. “Don’t worry, I’ll get you home.”

  Forty-Two

  Life was certainly looking up for Rowley of late. The sheriff was handing him more responsibilities. Since Kane’s injury and during the sheriff’s illness, she had relied on him to keep the office open along with semi-retired Deputy Walters. He’d figured once things had gotten back to normal, he would be back to handling the local squabbles and parking tickets; but his work must have met with her approval. Although driving to Blackwater in the dead of winter with a blizzard on the way was not his idea of fun, the new Yukon sure made life easier. He turned up the music and grinned at Webber. “It’s good to get out the office for the afternoon.”

  “Why don’t you turn that noise down for a while and bring me up to speed on what we’re doing.” Webber tipped back his Stetson and rested one boot on the dashboard. “And no, I’d rather be in the ME’s office than out in the darn cold freezing my balls off.”

  Rowley frowned at the disregard for his new cruiser. “I will as soon as you stop damaging my truck.”

  “Huh, yours, is it?” Webber grinned and dropped his foot. “Nice ride, you’re lucky. I’d have thought old Walters would have been the next in line for a new one. So give me the rundown.”

  Rowley gave him the details of the attempted assault on Holt and the information Kane had gotten out of the mailman. “Levi Holt is at home and we need to interview him first, then send a message to the sheriff. She wants to see if the stories match and if they do, we have to eliminate the chance the pair are working together.”

  “Two people working together makes more sense and having Holt make out he was attacked along the same straightaway would be pure genius.” Webber opened his cellphone and accessed the online case file. “His statement is practically useless. The deputy who took this down must have had the brains of a monkey.”

  Rowley took the exit ramp into Blackwater and turned off the music to listen to the GPS guiding them to Holt’s residence. He pulled up behind a snow-covered SUV in the driveway to a ranch-style house and slid from behind the wheel. A blast of cold air hit him full in the face. Winter had a smell and a taste, like digging into a freezer for that last quart of ice cream. He led the way up the steps to the porch and pressed the bell. The door opened and a man in his twenties, with ruffled brown hair and a sleepy expression, stood to one side as if he’d been expecting them and waved them through the door. Rowley removed his hat. “Levi Holt?”

  “Yeah, that’s me.” Holt led the way down a narrow hallway and into a toasty kitchen smelling of bacon and coffee. “You’ll be deputies Rowley and Webber. Sheriff Alton called earlier to make sure I’d be home. You’re here about the man who attacked me.” He went to the counter. “Take a seat. Coffee?”

  Rowley pulled out a chair. “Yeah, thanks, I’m Rowley.”

  “How about you, Deputy Webber?” Holt placed three large cups on the table then all the trimmings, before returning with a full pot of coffee.

  “I’d be obliged.” Webber removed his hat and dropped into a chair. “I read the statement you made to the local deputy and it has more holes than a leaky bucket.” He leaned on the table and eyeballed him. “What really happened out there?”

  Wondering why Webber had jumped straight to the chase rather than put the witness at ease, Rowley took out his notebook and pen. “How about we start with what time the incident occurred?”

  “Late… before midnight, I guess.” Holt sat opposite them, poured the coffee and pushed the cups toward them. “It all happened so fast. I was freaking out, I thought for sure the guy was gonna kill me.”

  Rowley took notes as he explained what had happened. “Can you describe the man? How tall was he?”

  “Big, six two, maybe.” Holt rubbed his chin and stared into space. “He was white and had dark eyebrows, small eyes. Real intense like Dracula or somethin’. Man, when he came at me with a wrench, I was out of there.”

  “Did you get a good look at his face?” Webber added cream to his cup.

  “Nope, he was wearin’ a hoodie with a cowboy hat and had a scarf tied around his face. He was like an old cowboy out of a movie headin’ off to rob a bank.”

  Holt’s carefree attitude was setting off alarm bells for Rowley. People who experienced trauma rarely made jokes. It was as if he was being too helpful. “Can you describe his vehicle, the make or color?”

  “He had his headlights and flashers on so everything looked orange but I figure it was a late-model white pickup. I’m not sure of the make, a GMC maybe?” Holt shrugged. “I was runnin’ for my life, not lookin’ at the make of the jerk’s car.”

  Rowley nodded. “Are you sure it was a wrench he threatened you with?”

  “Yeah, I got to see it real close.” Holt narrowed his gaze. “But I got a hit in. I smashed him hard with my flashlight, hurt him too.”

  “Where did you hit him?”

  “On the right forearm or wrist.” Holt shuddered. “Then he came at me again. He smashed my window and put a dent in the side of my door. It’s outside if you need to see it. The deputy wrote up a report for my insurance but I can’t get it repaired until after the shutdown.”

  “Yeah, we’ll take a look before we leave and take some photos if you don’t mind.” Webber leaned back in his chair. “Where were you coming from?”

  “Louan. I work at Tire and Mechanical and rent a house there. I was on my way home to spend the holidays with my folks.” Holt reached for his cup. “I left work, went home, showered and changed. I had my bags packed. I stopped in for a meal then drove straight through.”

  Rowley looked up from his notes. “Did you leave Louan anytime in the last two weeks?”

  “Nope.” Holt looked at him with a suspicious glint in his eye. “Why?”

  “So you don’t go out at night drinking or chasing women?” Webber smiled at him. “I sure do.”

  “So do I but not in the last two weeks.” Holt narrowed his gaze at Webber. “Tire and Mechanical closes down for four weeks and we had to stay back the last two weeks to catch up. People wanted their vehicles ready for the snow and we had them linin’ up. I finished up, went home as late as nine and fell into bed most nights.”

  “Can anyone verify that?” Webber leaned both forearms on the table. “We’re checking on everyone who came through Black Rock Falls in the last two weeks.”

  “Yeah, sure.” Holt took Rowley’s notepad and wrote down three numbers. “My boss is the top one and the other two are the guys who share the house with me.”

  “Okay.” Rowley indicated toward the notepad. He’d prepared a statement from the Blackwater file and added the extra relevant details.
“Read through my notes and if that is a true and accurate account of what happened on the night of the incident, sign and date it.” He waited for Holt to read the pages.

  “Yeah, that’s everything I remember.” Holt signed the pages.

  Rowley picked up the notepad and stood. “Okay, thanks, we’ll take those photographs of your truck then be on our way.” He turned to Webber. “You handle the vehicle inspection. I’ll chase down these people then contact the sheriff.” He headed for the front door.

  The weather was closing in when they arrived at the Blackwater Motel. Rowley pushed open the door to find a surprisingly clean foyer and leaning on the front counter in a cloud of perfume was a buxom woman in her thirties. She gave him the once-over and smacked her ruby lips as if she planned to eat him for dinner. “Afternoon, ma’am. I was wondering if I could talk to the proprietor.”

  “Well, that would be me.” She looked up at Webber. “My, they grow them tall in Black Rock Falls.” She patted her dark hair. “Are you lookin’ for a room?”

  Rowley bit back a smile. “Ah no. I was wondering if you’d happen to remember if Jeff Knox had a woman in his room on Friday night?”

  “I’m sure I don’t know.” She eyed him suspiciously. “I don’t go spyin’ on my residents.”

  “Residents?” Webber gave her a long look. “Do people live here on a permanent basis?”

  “Some do.” She smiled at him. “Men mostly. They like a clean room and a hot meal and I provide both. I take in their laundry as well.”

  Rowley smiled back, hoping being nice and spinning a good yarn would get him a room number. “I need to speak with him. We picked up a woman during an investigation who says she was with him Friday night; she had his wallet and a wad of cash. We figured he might want it back.”

  “You drove all this way to return his wallet?” She frowned. “How come I find that hard to believe?”

  “Knox is her alibi.” Webber shrugged. “But we understand if you’d rather not give us his room number.”