David Wolf series Box Set 2

by Jeff Carson

“With Mr. Heeter?”

  Wolf shook his head. “We don’t think so. From what we’ve gathered about Olin Heeter, he’s not exactly the picture of health. He’s over seventy years old and out of shape. The person my deputies encountered was fast.”

  She blinked and stared into her glass.

  “Tell me about the day your father left. When was that again?”

  She gave him a sidelong glance. “The sixth. The sixth of July. I’ve told you this.”

  Wolf nodded, feigning recollection.

  She looked up at the ceiling. “Geez. I don’t remember much, I mean, I don’t know much. I was locked in that damn room until late morning. When my mother let me out, he’d left us.”

  He scrunched one eye. “So on the night of the fourth, he locked you in the room. And then the next night, the night of the fifth, our Sheriff’s Department came and asked if you and your family had seen Nick Pollard.”

  She nodded.

  “Then your father locked you back in the room that night?”

  She nodded. “Yes. He was angry again. He seemed completely gone after your father and that other deputy came to talk to us.”

  Wolf nodded. “And then you say he left on the sixth.”

  “Yeah. Like I said, I woke up late, my mother let me out, and he was gone. He’d left us.”

  “And the bag of bloody clothes. It was gone.”

  “Yes.”

  “And then you and your mother came down to Rocky Points and talked to the Sheriff’s Department. Talked with my father.”

  She nodded.

  Wolf raised his eyebrows. “But your father didn’t leave you.”

  Kimber nodded and took a sip of her whiskey. “I know.”

  “So,” he stared at her, “knowing now that your father was shot in the head and dumped in the lake instead of driving away in his truck on the morning of the sixth, do you want to revise your story?”

  She looked at him and shook her head. “For what? That’s all I know.”

  He stared at her.

  “I don’t remember hearing a gunshot. It’s silent up there. I would have heard a shot.”

  Wolf watched a tear trickle from her eye down her cheek, past the mole on her upper lip, and drip off her chin.

  “I don’t know. I think maybe …”

  “What?”

  She sniffed and looked up at him. “I think that maybe my mother killed my father.”

  “But like you said, you didn’t hear the gunshot.”

  “But I didn’t hear the gunshot,” she whispered.

  Wolf shook his head and took a sip. “Yeah, and your father killed Nick Pollard. Anything could have happened all those years ago, and all I have is your word for it.”

  She leaned back and stared at him. After a few seconds, she pushed her drink forward, making to get off her stool.

  “Please, sit,” he said.

  She leaned forward and deflated back onto the stool.

  “Look, you have to look at this from my point of view. All we have is your word, and that’s not good for you.”

  “But you know someone called my father from the gas station. That person put Nick’s blood on the phone. I was at the fireworks show at that exact time. There’s phone records.”

  “So? That tells me nothing. Unless we can somehow prove Nick Pollard died in that window of time that you were at the fireworks show, then I don’t give a shit what you were doing that night.”

  “Ooookay.” She slid off the front of her stool. “I think this was a bad idea.”

  Wolf flipped a hand in the air. “Fine. Leave.”

  She leaned nearer. “I had nothing to do with Nick Pollard’s death.”

  Wolf nodded, looking into his drink. “What about the night of the sixth?”

  She picked her jacket off the back of the chair and paused. “What?”

  “The sixth. The fourth, you were at the fireworks show and then locked in the room. The fifth, the Sheriff’s Department comes and talks to your family, and then you were locked in the room that night. And the sixth? Your father’s gone, and then you say that a couple of days later your mother went missing.”

  Wolf watched in the mirror while her brain ran calculations.

  She nodded. “That’s right. So?”

  “So what did you do the night of the sixth?”

  “The sixth?” She shook her head. “I don’t know. Nothing.”

  Wolf stared at her and narrowed his eyes. He stopped short of mentioning Olin Heeter’s testimony of seeing something dumped in the lake. Instead he shrugged and said, “Okay.”

  “Okay.” She stared at him and then put her jacket back down. “So what?”

  “So sit down.” He studied her beautiful face, and again at her liberal and unnecessary use of makeup. He tilted his glass back and ended up sucking ice. With a roll of his neck, he sat straight and realized he was way past okay to drive.

  “I have to use the restroom.” He got up, leaving her dumbfounded, standing in place.

  When Wolf was done, he returned to the bar and realized he’d been moving unconsciously for the entire act of voiding his bladder and washing his hands, because his mind was whirling with possibilities.

  Wolf walked slowly, half in a trance towards Kimber, who had now sat back down, apparently shrugging off their harsh exchange. He watched as the bartender lined up another drink on the bar, and realized for the first time that Kimber had been sipping the same drink all night.

  Sitting down, he snapped out of his thoughts as a commotion ensued at the entrance. A few men barged in, howling with laughter, and headed to an open pool table, pushing aside chairs like they owned the place.

  Wolf twisted on his barstool and narrowed his eyes when he recognized the tallest of them as Carter Willis.

  Carter removed his Armani jacket and the other two took off their hooded sweatshirts. The two men wore tight T-shirts, showcasing their bulging tattooed arms. Carter rolled up the sleeves on an expensive-looking button-up and looked over, locking eyes with Wolf.

  Wolf stared back.

  The two other men eyed Wolf with smirks, and then Carter mumbled something to them and walked straight over.

  “Okay. Who the hell is this guy?” Kimber shifted forward on her stool and eyed Wolf.

  Wolf turned back to the counter and stirred his drink.

  Carter stood next to him and leaned on both hands. “Can I get two pitchers of Bud and three glasses?”

  The bartender nodded and got to work pouring. “Hey, what was it, Sheriff Wolf?”

  Wolf ignored him.

  “All right. Dave? Can I call you Dave? Listen, I’ve heard all about you.”

  Wolf kept silent, resisting the urge to clench his fists.

  Carter shook his head. “Have it your way. I just wanted to apologize about the other night. I know you and Sarah are involved and were out to dinner, and I was a little rude barging in like that. And I just wanted to say sorry.”

  He looked up at Carter’s reflection in the mirror.

  Carter slapped him on the shoulder, sending Wolf’s hand into his drink, spilling a dollop onto the bar.

  Wolf clenched his teeth as the sharp sting from the blow on his skin dissipated to a warm, tingling ache. He took a deep breath and looked at the liquid as it spread into a comma, reflecting the baseball highlights above.

  “It’s just hard to forget a piece of ass like that once you’ve had it, you know?”

  Wolf twisted and punched as fast and as hard as he could with a backhand left, connecting with air where Carter’s head had been a split instant before.

  Carter ducked easily and jabbed once into Wolf’s nose with lightning speed.

  Before Carter’s hand had left Wolf’s skin, Wolf jerked back and connected an uppercut to the chin, sending Carter sprawling back with fluttering eyes. With a crash and tumble, Carter knocked over two barstools and landed on them. As Wolf stepped over a downed stool, he blinked away stinging tears as a gush of blood flooded his throat.
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br />   Carter finished bouncing off the wooden legs and put his hands down to push himself up, a move that left him vulnerable.

  Wolf kicked and it connected with Carter’s nose.

  “Watch out!” Kimber yelled.

  Wolf turned, hearing more than seeing a pool cue hurtling toward the side of his head. His skull thumped and he landed hard on top of Carter.

  For a split second, Wolf was incapable of moving, his consciousness ebbing into darkness as he lay on top of Carter’s wriggling legs. With the sound of ripping clothing, he was yanked to his feet and then another blow hit him square in the jaw. The last thing he saw was a shotgun and Kimber grabbing tattooed arms; then he went to sleep.

  Chapter 44

  Patterson listened to the eighth purring ringtone in the earpiece. The digital clock read 10:25 p.m. and her eyes were stinging, losing the fight against gravity. This was the perfect end to the longest day on the planet.

  “Jesus Christ, don’t they have employees on duty on Sunday ni—”

  “Boise County Sheriff’s Department,” said a bored voice.

  Patterson straightened in her chair. “Hi, this is Deputy Heather Patterson from the Sluice County SD in Colorado. We found a burned vehicle yesterday with two yet unidentified bodies inside. The VIN came back registered in Idaho in your county. I’m doing a follow up call—”

  “Please hold.”

  The line clicked and a recording of a man talking about Boise Sheriff Department’s commitment to serving and protecting the people of southwestern Idaho crackled in her ear.

  She leaned back and blew out through her nose.

  Her cell phone lit up and started dancing across her desk.

  She leaned forward and read the screen with a sigh. Scott. She had missed three of his calls today, and when she’d called him back he hadn’t answered. Now she was going to have to leave him hanging yet again.

  The phone stopped vibrating and darkened, plunging the room into silence once again, save for the recording in her ear.

  The squad room was black, the only light the red flash of computer-monitor switches and the small cone of photons under her desk lamp. The ground outside the windows was painted with moonlight.

  The recording went silent in her ear. “Deputy Michelson speaking.”

  “Hi.” Patterson introduced herself. “I’m trying to get some information on a man we might have found down here. Looking to see if you have a rap sheet on him.”

  “Rocky Points, Colorado, huh?” The man’s tone was breathy, couldn’t-give-two shits-but-I’m-still-asking.

  “Yeah. The name is William Van Wyke. I’m looking for priors, anything you have on him.”

  A long exhale. The squeak of a chair. Finger taps on a keyboard. “Yep. Here we go. A licensed private investigator. Registration is current with our department. Other than that, squeaky clean. Looks like he’s working on the right side of the law. Wait, what did you say happened to him?”

  “We found him burned up in a car, shot four times. Or at least we think it’s him. Someone made sure his teeth weren’t going to tell us, and he was a piece of charcoal after the fire.”

  The deputy gasped into the phone. “Hey, Rocky Points. They’re talking on the news today about a bunch of bodies being pulled up from a lake near there, aren’t they?”

  “Yes, they are.”

  “In your county?”

  “Yep.”

  The deputy let out a long whistle. “Well, have fun with that. That’s some messed-up—”

  Patterson jumped as the station line rang shrill and loud on her desk.

  “Look, thanks for your help. If you find anything else, please give us a call. Again, it’s the Sluice County Sheriff’s Office, and I’m Deputy Patterson.”

  “Got it. Have a good one.”

  Patterson hit the button and switched to the main line. “Sluice County Sheriff’s Department.”

  “Hi, my name is Doug Orden. I live up on Bear Hill Road. I’m pretty sure I just heard three gunshots.”

  Chapter 45

  Wolf was hot.

  With exertion that made his head throb, he squinted to see. But the light was too bright and the images were washed out.

  He heard the chopper in the distance, and by the sound of the rotors it was ready to lift off. Everyone was almost on board, and he was supposed to be sweeping the perimeter of the jungle, but he couldn’t see a thing.

  He was hot and his pack was heavy. So heavy he couldn’t move.

  The rotor of the chopper thumped, thrumming in his skull, but the wash didn’t reach him. He was so damned hot.

  As he looked back toward the jungle line, his earpiece roared with distressed yells, almost rupturing his eardrums. His head shrieked with pain from the sudden cacophony, and he was flooded with panic.

  “They’re dead, and it’s all your fault!” someone screamed at him.

  With a loud bang, he was slammed by a wall of heat as the helicopter exploded.

  Wolf grunted and tried to sit up, but something was on top of him. Something heavy and unmercifully hot was pinning him down.

  He opened his eyes and saw a twirling ceiling fan, and then a face inches from his.

  As he laid his head back, he was shocked by the sudden thud of pain that hit the back of his skull. His vision twisted for an instant, and then he blinked and looked again at the face in front of him.

  “Are you all right?” it asked in a soft voice.

  His chest heaved as he tried to normalize his breath. His nose was plugged, blood draining down the back of his throat. He closed his eyes and relaxed, realizing it was Kimber.

  But wait. He opened his eyes again. That was his fan mounted on his bedroom ceiling.

  The pressing heat on his body. Without having to move he realized that Kimber was lying stark naked with her full weight on his left side, her leg draped across his crotch. The sweat trapped between their bodies made the scrapes on Wolf’s upper thighs itch.

  “What’s going on?”

  She peaked her eyebrows and smiled. “You’re at home. You got beat up by a bunch of thugs last night. And a little drunk to boot.”

  He reached up and touched the side of his head, sucking in a breath at the sudden pain. “Ah.”

  “Don’t touch it. If it feels half as bad as it looks then I’m sure it hurts.”

  Wolf took a few deep breaths as he ran his fingers over the goose-egg bump above his ear, all the while feeling the sheets as they pulled across his naked skin. Suddenly it was all too much, and nausea rose from within.

  “Get up.” Wolf pushed her off and closed his eyes. “Get up.”

  The sheets rustled and the bedsprings rose as she got up.

  After a few more breaths the nausea abated and he looked over and saw Kimber standing fully nude.

  “What happened?”

  “I just told you, you got beat up by—”

  “No. I mean with us.” Wolf wiped sweat off his forehead.

  She looked genuinely confused. “You don’t remember?”

  He shook his head. The motion felt like a sledgehammer to his temples.

  “The bartender, he had a shotgun. Got those guys off you. You got up and said you were all right. He was wondering if he should call your deputies, but you said no, and then you told me to take you home.” She looked down at the sheets, and then she bent down and pulled up the comforter to cover her breasts. “And so I took you home.”

  Wolf closed his eyes. He remembered the fight with Carter, and he remembered what the man had said to him. In fact, Wolf felt rage course through him again just thinking about it, and it only served to make his head pound further.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  Wolf cracked an eyelid and looked over at his nightstand. There was a wad of bloody gauze and bandages, and next to it was a bottle of peroxide.

  “You were bleeding pretty bad. I got it to stop. I didn’t think you needed stitches. It’s just those head wounds won’t stop sometimes.”


  He blinked. “And after you patched me up? We …”

  She smiled sheepishly. “You don’t remember?”

  “No I don’t.”

  “Maybe you do need to get that checked out.” She rolled her eyes and put a strand of hair behind her ear. “Jesus. I’m sorry. I had no idea.”

  He was thirsty as hell, like he’d swallowed some of the gauze and it was stuck in his throat. With immense effort he sat up, feeling dizzy as he looked around the room.

  The light outside was dim. Was it morning or evening? He swept his legs off the edge of the bed and sat. The nightstand clock said 6:14.

  “This is going to sound like a stupid question, but it’s morning, right?”

  She chuckled. “Yeah. Who the hell were those guys, anyway?” she asked.

  He stood up, feeling too dizzy to worry about his nakedness. He paused to look out the window and saw an elk grazing under a pine. The window’s cold aura got him walking again. “Nobody to worry about.”

  He walked to the bathroom and saw his clothes from the night before hanging on the shower-curtain rod.

  “There was quite a lot of blood on your shirt, and some on your jeans. I washed them for you.”

  He looked at her and nodded thanks.

  She returned the gesture.

  He looked in the mirror, tilting his head to check out his wound. It was a bump the size of a golf ball with a red T-shaped split on the tip, clearly visible through his hair. The slightest touch sent a current of pain through his entire skull.

  His nose was swollen and the skin was darkening in between his eyes. He wondered whether he was going to have two black eyes for the … shit. The debate. Life came back at him like a slingshot.

  “What is it?” Kimber stood next to him, still naked, staring at him in the mirror.

  He looked down at her and frowned, thinking of the absurdity of the situation. “How did you know how to get to my house last night?”

  She shook her head. “You told me how.”

  “I’m going to take a quick shower. Then you can take one if you want and we’ll head back into town.”

  She narrowed her eyes and then, without a word, turned and closed the door behind her.