by Jeff Carson
Wolf nodded. “Yeah. I guess it’s not really rocket science, huh?”
“Yeah, but why would she be distant and cold because of that? She knows that’s your job.”
“You know her history. Her ex-husband killed her father and beat her within an inch of her life. Then Ella’s kidnapping. She was spooked and left town.”
Luke leaned back. “So there you go. It’s not you. It’s the situation.”
“But that wasn’t it.”
Luke straightened again. Her eyes were shimmering, her face smooth. The top of her shirt was open revealing the skin of her upper breast painted in moonlight.
“That wasn’t it?” she asked.
“I know. I sound like a head case. But I saw the look in her eyes. She was breaking up with me, not leaving town. She would have said, ‘I’m leaving town because of this,’ and then there wouldn’t have been a ‘we need to talk’ speech at all. I can read people too, you know.”
Luke nodded. “Okay. So what else happened that morning? You guys have some trouble in the sack?”
He rolled his eyes. “No.”
“Maybe she senses that you don’t want to be a father all over again.”
For a second Wolf pulled his eyebrows together, took in a breath to respond, and then let it out.
I wish you were my daddy.
Ella’s words echoed in Wolf’s head.
Ella … Jesus.
Lauren’s response.
She’d had been so bent out of shape at her daughter’s innocent question. What had Lauren done? She had gone to the stove and put her head down, cracked some eggs. And then he got the Sally Claypool call.
Blinking, he realized he had blanked out.
Luke was studying him, a hint of a smile on her lips. “Do you?”
“Do I what?”
“Want to be a father again?”
“I …” Wolf stopped himself. He was glad it was dark to hide the heat rising in his face.
Luke watched him, her eyes narrowing.
“I just …” He almost climbed out of the car. Almost got out and walked away to the river’s edge. And why? Why was he so upset? “I was in the army when Jack was her age.” It came out of his mouth without him even thinking about it.
“Ella’s age?”
Wolf looked into the side view again.
She leaned back and gazed out her window. “I get it. You’re older now. You already had a kid. Jack’s in college now, you’re done with all that BS. But even if you decided you wanted to be a dad again, like you said, you were gone when Jack was Ella’s age. So you think you might not be good enough, because you don’t have any experience to draw back on. Cause, being in our profession, shit, we both know that having a bad father can screw up a kid. Especially a girl. That can put her on the stripper pole. Out on the corner selling herself for the next fix.” She clucked her tongue and looked at Wolf.
Wolf blinked. “Thank you. Kristen.”
“You’re welcome. I gotta pee.” She leaned over and fished her shoes off the floorboards.
He squinted when the cab light blazed to life, and then the door thumped and her crunching footsteps receded toward the river.
For a full minute Wolf sat motionless.
I wish you were my daddy.
Ella … Jesus.
Taking out his cell phone, he tapped the screen and it glowed in his hand. He stared at Lauren’s name and phone number.
“So was I right?” Luke appeared at the window with her head poked inside.
Wolf darkened his phone and pocketed it. “About what?”
She climbed in and slammed the door. “I should charge money for this.”
Wolf twisted the cap off his water bottle and took a sip. “Yeah. Maybe quitting the bureau is something you should consider. Maybe you could quit right now.”
“Aw, but then you’d be so bored.”
They sat in silence for another few minutes, letting the sober reality of the situation grip their hearts again.
The radio scratched. “All units status report.”
Luke plucked the radio off his dash.
“Unit one, nothing.”
“Unit two …”
The teams rattled off different versions of the same news.
“Unit seven, nothing,” Luke said and put down the radio.
“I say we do another few laps,” he said.
“Agreed.”
“Then we need to take some shifts to get some sleep.”
She closed her eyes and sighed. “Oh, man do I ever agree.”
Wolf started the engine.
Chapter 26
Hey!” Something hard connected with Wolf’s shoulder.
He cracked his eyes, snapping out of a dreamless sleep. His right arm was numb, twisted and shoved into the crevice between the seat and the passenger door. A stream of drool hung off his chin.
The engine roared and the SUV lurched forward with scraping tires.
Straightening, he finally came back to the moment. They were parked along the river after a long night. He checked the dash clock. 5:38 am. The sky outside was cobalt blue with a golden glow to the east. A mist hung over the river. “What’s going on?”
“They found her.”
Wolf looked at her. If her tone had been ambivalent, then her hard expression was clear as the water flowing in the Chautauqua.
“Where?” he asked.
He realized the radio was blasting out a constant chatter, but Luke had turned it down. He turned it up and got all the answers he needed.
***
Wolf stood at the edge of Wildflower Park, a three-acre expanse of manicured grass in the center of town surrounded by aspens and pines, and stared at the fluttering tarp covering Lindsay Ellington’s corpse.
“Don’t they have any decency?” Somebody asked behind him.
They were referring to the two news helicopters thumping overhead. They’d arrived just as Wolf and Luke had, and for ten minutes they’d been swirling and dipping in the sky, changing positions as the situation on the ground changed.
Right now an FBI team clad in white forensic suits was out there, rushing to erect a pop tent, while the rest of them stood back to maintain crime scene integrity.
“Shit,” Luke said for the fifteenth time in the last five minutes.
Another SBCSD vehicle came up the road, its engine screaming, its turret lights flashing. With chirping tires it stopped and Rachette and Patterson came spilling out.
They saw Wolf and Luke and came over.
No words were necessary.
“Wish we could shoot those assholes.” Rachette eyed the choppers.
“Excuse me.” An FBI agent was unrolling yellow crime scene tape. “Step back a few paces, please?”
They did, and when they turned around Wolf saw the line of civilians that had gathered on the road. They were dressed in bathrobes and fleeces, holding onto one another as the scene unfolded.
“See if they saw anything, then get them away,” Wolf said.
Rachette and Patterson nodded at one another and jogged toward them.
Wolf watched the terror on their faces. One woman started wailing, a damn of tears breaking and streaming down her face.
“Who called it in?” Wolf asked.
Luke looked around. “It was Unit 8.”
Wolf turned to the group of SBCSD uniforms gathered behind him. “Who called it in?”
They all shook their heads.
“We did.” A group of FBI agents stood a few feet away. One of them raised his hand.
“Special Agent Shecter,” Luke said. “This is Detective Wolf.”
“Tell me what happened?”
Shecter shook his head and swallowed. “We’d passed by here a few times. And then … the last time we noticed her.”
“You didn’t see anyone?”
“No, sir.”
Wolf eyed the street. There were cars and trucks and SUVs parked on both sides in front of low houses. They were on third
street, three blocks off of Main. The gleaming glass of the county building poked through the trees in the distance.
“Brazen son of a bitch,” Luke said.
A black Tahoe came squealing around the corner and parked. ASAC Todd and Hannigan climbed out, approaching at a brisk jog.
Luke broke off and approached her superior.
The crime scene tape bounced and twisted on the wind. The pop tent was up and the side-panels zipped on. Camera flashes lit up a doorway that had been pulled open like curtains. Inside white suits bent over bare flesh.
A black BMW SUV came speeding up the street and through a four-way stop without slowing.
A group of civilians on the sidewalk pulled their horror-filled gazes from the scene to watch District Attorney White park and get out of his car.
White was dressed in jeans and a fleece, a Boston ball cap pulled low on his head. He walked up, pausing to scan the crowd of gathered law enforcement. He saw Wolf, kept scanning. Apparently finding nobody better, the DA locked eyes with him and marched over.
“What do we have?”
“Lindsay Ellington,” he said.
“I know we have Lindsay Ellington.” He looked at the tent, and then back at Wolf. Grabbing his jacket, the DA pulled him away. “Come here.”
Wolf twisted his arm, yanking his jacket out of the DA’s grip.
White ignored him and kept walking further. After a dozen paces he stopped and turned. “What the hell happened down in Durango?”
Wolf took his time joining the DA. “We learned some things.”
“Learned some things?” White snorted and smiled. “What things?”
It was a good question. “I learned that I need to spend some time with Deputy Attakai to get more answers.”
“That’s what you learned? Well that’s not going to happen. His lawyers are threatening to press charges against us and the Bureau if we continue along that route.”
“Where was he last night?” Wolf asked.
“Feds had surveillance on him. So I assume he was sitting at home.” White stared at him. “You can’t talk to him. So, what else you got?”
Wolf sucked in a deep breath and eyed the crime scene. He flexed his hands and cracked his knuckles.
White stepped in front of him, his face close. “I’m not sure why MacLean is so attached to you. I’m beginning to think you must have something on him and that’s why you still have a job. Because frankly I’m not seeing it.”
Wolf leaned closer. “I wouldn’t expect a man of your intelligence to see much. Now get away from me.”
White flinched, clenching his eyes and stepping back. A mock-flinch. Checking his Rolex, he said, “You’d better figure out what you learned in one hour. We need to know which direction to steer this thing.”
Another engine revved as it approached. More chirping tires.
MacLean climbed out of his SUV and walked toward them.
Wolf left them to talk.
“What was that?” Luke asked under her breath.
“Nothing.”
For the next thirty minutes Wolf and Luke helped Rachette and Patterson question the civilians that were now gathered a block away. Each person had a similar version of events from the night before—they were vigilant and aware of their surroundings. Some insisted they were scared and had trouble sleeping. But when it came down to it, none of them had seen or heard anything.
Wolf now stood next to the crime scene tape in a state somewhere between contemplation and deep sleep. There were no lights in the park. Tall trees surrounded it. Most of it would have been submerged in moonlight shadow for most of the night. No wonder no one had seen anything.
If the killer had parked on the road, he would have had to drive up with headlights on. Open and close a car door. Neighbors could have seen him.
Wolf studied the trees. A person could have parked another block away and brought Lindsay through the trees.
“Rachette! Patterson!”
They came over.
He pointed. “He could have parked over there and walked through the trees.”
They nodded and took off in a jog.
Dr. Lorber came out of the tent and made his way toward Wolf. Ducking under the crime scene tape he stood next to Wolf and looked around.
“Same everything,” the tall ME said in a low voice. “Severed ear. Rope burns on her wrists and ankles. Cuts on her skin. She’s only been dead a few hours. Looks like she was strangled where she is. Nobody saw anything?”
Wolf shook his head.
Lorber stretched his neck.
“Nothing left by the killer?” he asked.
Lorber shook his head. “No. Not that it looks like. Guy’s wearing latex gloves while he’s doing it.”
“Syringe mark?” Wolf asked.
“Yep. Same place. Back of the neck.” Lorber looked up like a fly was attacking him. “Don’t those things ever re-fuel?”
They stood in silence a few more moments and Lorber ducked back under the tape. “Well. See you in a bit.”
Luke came up next to him and Wolf relayed what Lorber had told him.
A few minutes later MacLean appeared next to them. “What the hell was that earlier?”
“What?”
“With White?”
Wolf shrugged.
“Listen,” MacLean pointed at Luke and Wolf. “We need to go over everything you three found out in Durango. We’re no longer giving this investigation over to the fed task force. We’re changing direction on this. So,” the sheriff tapped his watch, “Two hours.”
When MacLean left Luke rolled her eyes. “Another God damned meeting.”
Wolf stared at nothing. “Yep.”
“Hey,” she held up her cell phone. “So I got an email ten minutes ago from Esther Buntley.”
“Esther Buntley?”
“Terrence Buntley’s daughter? The funeral home guy?”
“Yeah.”
“She says a guy came in and talked to her about Wilcox right after Wilcox quit the job.” She raised the phone and read from the screen. “A man with the La Plata County Sheriff’s Department came in and asked about Fred Wilcox’s employment history and current whereabouts. I don’t remember his name or the exact date, but it was right after Fred stopped coming into work. The sheriff’s deputy was dark skinned and dark eyed.”
Luke lowered the phone. “Sounds like Attakai if you ask me.”
Wolf said nothing.
“Hey, you hear me?”
“Yeah.”
She walked away. “There’s coffee over here if you want it.”
Wolf ignored her, staring at nothing with unblinking eyes.
A few minutes later Luke appeared again, slurping coffee through a lid. “So, I’ve been—”
“You have the keys?” He turned and held his hand out.
“What? Oh, yeah.” She fished his SUV keys out and handed them over. “Sorry, forgot.”
He walked away.
“Where are you going?”
“I have to go home.”
She stepped quickly behind him. “Home? Are you kidding?”
“Jet’s been alone for two days.”
“Didn’t you get somebody to take care of him?”
He nodded, still walking. “I need to get some stuff, too. I’ll see you at the meeting later.”
He climbed into his SUV and drove.
***
“Where the hell is he going?” Hannigan asked.
Luke watched Wolf drive away. He rolled through the stop sign and pointed the unmarked vehicle toward Main Street, and then he gunned the engine and disappeared into the town below.
She looked at her partner and narrowed her eyes.
“What?” he asked.
“We have to go.”
Chapter 27
Wolf raised his Bushnell binoculars and studied the interior of the vehicle again. Two men with loosened ties. Two tired men who’d been there all night. They were chatting with bored expressions.
He leaned against the trunk of a pine tree. The scent of sap and pine needles filled his nose. A woodpecker flitted between the trees and landed on a branch, his head cocking to the side to study the strange looking animal visiting his territory.
The bird took wing and flew out into the clearing, keeping low to the ground, and then he disappeared inside the copse of trees on the other side of the ski slope that dumped out at the rear of the condominium building.
Wolf backtracked into the woods again, keeping the Caprice Classic out of sight behind the trunk of the pine tree. If he couldn’t see it, they couldn’t see him. Sound enough logic for Wolf.
Making his way back into the forest, he moved down slope, jogging quickly between the trees until the end-unit condo blocked his view of the FBI vehicle.
Satisfied, he walked straight toward the building.
A man was sipping coffee on his back porch and looked up from his newspaper.
“Top of the morning,” Wolf said with a wink.
The man blinked and set down his coffee, eyeing Wolf’s gun and badge on his belt. “Morning.”
The next condo’s windows were covered inside with tightly drawn drapes. Probably weekend warriors back down in Denver.
He walked to the last one and climbed up onto the wooden deck. The built-in pine bench creaked as he torqued his body over. When he stepped his weight made the nails in the weathered wood squeal.
The blinds inside the windows were twisted open revealing a flickering TV inside. The drapes on the other side of the sliding glass window were drawn, beyond the glass a light glowed inside the kitchen.
He walked straight up to the door and knocked with two knuckles—knock, knock, knock, knock—then he turned to the rear and hiked up his pants, like it was a normal thing he was there and he could wait patiently while the occupant opened up.
When he heard footsteps within he turned around.
Deputy Jeremy Attakai was inside staring out with wide eyes. He wore boxer shorts and a tee shirt and held his police issue Glock.
Wolf widened his eyes and raised his hands, then lowered them and smiled easily. Hooking his thumbs on his belt, he stared down at the door handle, his blank stare radiating total expectation that the door would be opened for him any second.