David Wolf series Box Set 2

by Jeff Carson

  “The second Levi comes back, tell him I want to speak to him,” Shumway said. “Tell him to come down to the station. It’s very urgent.”

  “Sure, yeah. We’ll tell him,” Mathis said.

  “I may be around for a while,” Wolf said. “I’d appreciate it if you’d stay available if I have more questions.”

  Mathis shrugged. “Where else are we going to go?”

  “Of course we will,” Karen said.

  “Thank you.” Wolf exchanged glances with Boydell and Shumway, and they stepped away.

  “Uh … Detective?”

  Wolf paused and turned around.

  They smiled and pointed at Wolf’s feet.

  Jet stared up with a quizzical brow, a hand shovel in his mouth. He dropped the utensil in front of Wolf, backed up, and sat.

  Wolf took the slimy shovel, wiped it dry on his shirt, and handed it to Karen. “Sorry.”

  “No problem.” She laughed and turned to Mathis. “We should get a dog.”

  Wolf left them to debate the point. “Jet, come.”

  “I’d like a word, Detective,” Shumway said, stepping next to Wolf. “What was my daughter doing with you?”

  He chose his words. “I had little choice, Sheriff.”

  Shumway nodded and scratched his chin. “Yeah. She’s a real … goddamned handful. I’m sorry for the embarrassment you had to endure because of her.”

  Wolf eyed him. “It’s no problem. She’s a … seems like a good kid.”

  Shumway snorted and stopped suddenly. “Boydell, you’ll take Megan back?”

  Boydell poked up the bill of his cap and nodded.

  Megan stretched her arms overhead, ignoring the conversation about her.

  “And how do we get down to Dig 2?” Shumway asked.

  Boydell stepped to them. “Can’t miss it. Just keep going, and then down the hill. It’s steep, and at the very end there’s a doozy of a bump, so go slow. It curves right. Follow it and you’ll hit the camp a quarter-mile up the wash.”

  “Thanks.”

  Boydell nodded. “I’ll keep you posted if I see Levi.”

  “Maybe you could swing by his camp tonight,” Shumway said.

  Boydell walked to his truck. “Will do.”

  “I’ll lead the way,” Shumway said, walking to his own truck and climbing in.

  “Up,” Wolf told Jet as he opened his rear door.

  Wolf watched Megan as she walked silently to Boydell’s passenger door like an inmate being escorted to a prison bus. A pair of purple Converse like the one’s Karen said Steven Kennedy wore was hard to miss, and Wolf had specifically asked her whether anyone had worn them. She’d inserted herself into the situation, and now she’d made herself out as a liar.

  With eyes laser focused on the ground in front of her, she opened the door and got in.

  Chapter 19

  Patterson cranked up the air conditioner in the SUV and leaned toward the windshield.

  “Okay, sounds good, honey. I love you,” Rachette said in a cuddly voice that threatened to make Patterson’s stomach turn again.

  He hung up the phone and slowed, creeping around a tight turn. They were five minutes off Rocky Points’ main strip and already socked into pine trees and steep hills.

  “This is dumb.”

  Rachette looked at her. “This is necessary work. That’s something you’d say to me.”

  “Wandering around on hundreds of miles of road, only able to see a few hundred feet in front of us until the next bend, with no clue as to where we’re going? This is dumb.” She shook her head. “We need to think this through, not waste our time because MacLean wants to look like he’s doing something for Senator Levenworthless and his precious bones. And while you’re at it, speed it up.”

  Rachette let out a rhythmic hiss between his teeth. “Whoa, woman. You are not in the best of moods today. You need to find a toilet again or something?”

  She ignored him, relaxing her jaw as she realized it had been locked shut.

  “Hernandez says Senator Levenworth is buddy-buddy with everyone,” Rachette said, “which includes the district judge.”

  “Whatever. Doesn’t mean the guy can get evidence crucial to a double murder released,” she said, hoping her skepticism was founded on reality. Could this senator really corrupt the system so flagrantly?

  They rode in silence for a while.

  “Hey.”

  With a roll of her eyes she looked over, taking the Rachette bait.

  “It’s going to be all right, okay? I know you’re probably going through some … stuff with the wedding coming up and all. Maybe some second thoughts?” He held up his hands. “Hell, I don’t know. And I saw the way you looked when I mentioned the pregnancy thing.”

  She turned back to her window. “This is dumb.”

  After another few moments Rachette asked, “So?”

  “So what?”

  “What did it say?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Oh, come on. You think Charlotte’s blind? She saw the pregnancy test in your hand. What did it say?”

  Patterson’s heart raced. “When the hell did you guys even discuss that? Just now?”

  “That was her on the phone.”

  “Well, duh. That was like a two-minute phone call.”

  “Not gonna tell me?” He eyed her. “I don’t see why you’re so cranked up about kids. Charlotte’s ready to churn them out when she gets married. Shit … I guess I need to pop the question soon. You think it’s too early?”

  Patterson stared out the window.

  “Fine. Thanks for the pep talk.” Rachette pulled his phone out again and dialed a number. “Damn. It goes straight to voicemail.”

  “He’s out of range.”

  Rachette shook his head and clanked the phone in the center console.

  “What’s the problem?”

  “Nothing.”

  Was he mad that Wolf had not taken him? Was he worried? Patterson would have paid a few bucks to know her partner’s thoughts. She’d always marveled at Rachette’s loyalty to Wolf. She felt it too, but clearly not at his level.

  “So … seriously?” Rachette turned to her with a sly smile. “You’re not going to tell me? Preggers? Heather Patterson, a mom?”

  Maybe she would pay a few cents.

  She leaned back and closed her eyes, focusing on her hara, the spot just below her naval. She pushed as she drew breath in, filling her lungs from bottom to top. Then she exhaled, pulling in her abdomen, blowing the air out of her nose in a steady, powerful stream.

  The abdominal breathing was a technique she’d learned from her sensei in Aspen long ago to calm her mind and promote peace within her body. It was a technique that came in handy being Deputy Thomas Rachette’s partner.

  With each exhale, the built-up tension in her body released, the fire within extinguished. In the real world, fire grew hotter, blew embers and spread with wind, but in her body the air dissipated the heat away from her, setting Rachette alight.

  She opened her eyes and sat upright. “Wait. Stop.”

  “What?”

  “Stop the car!”

  “Shit.” Rachette cranked the wheel and jammed the brakes. The SUV scraped to a stop. “Get the door open! Don’t puke in here!”

  She looked at him. “I’m not going to vomit.”

  “Then what the hell?”

  “I figured out where the moving truck is.”

  “What? How? Where?”

  Patterson glared in thought, nodding her head. “Yeah, I’m sure of it. Turn around and head north.”

  “Why? I’m not going back to the station. I don’t care if you’re pregnant or not, you can get out and walk your ass back there.”

  “Shut up for a second and listen. Tell me this. When did that fire start?”

  Rachette blinked. “Which one? The Durango or the new one?”

  “The new one.”

  “Sunday morning? That’s when I heard about it.�
�

  “Could have been Saturday night, though.”

  Rachette narrowed his eyes. “Yeah … I guess. I don’t know.”

  “And what was the cause?”

  Rachette sat silent.

  “Before we left the station, I watched a video of a guy purchasing a gas can. The Brushing gas station. The gas station near that fire.”

  “With taquito-boy?”

  “There was a guy who went inside with a big hat on. He bought a gas can, a candy bar or something, and then he picked something up off the counter after he was done paying.”

  Rachette shrugged.

  “When you were mooching your taquitos, do you remember what was on the counter, just to the right of the clerk window?”

  “Napkins?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Matches. The guy purchased the gas can, then grabbed some matches and walked out.”

  Picking up his can of chewing tobacco from the cup holder, Rachette opened it, took a pinch and slid it between his lip and gum.

  Patterson ignored the smell as it permeated the cab and climbed up her nostrils. Normally it was a well-established rule that Rachette put his “dips” in outside, in the bathroom, anywhere but in front of her, but he’d had a little sister he liked to beat up on when he was a kid, and enjoyed treating Patterson the same way from time to time.

  “It fits,” Rachette said, finally looking over. “Embers blow off the truck, set the brush on fire.”

  “No shit.”

  “But Barker called up there and they said they hadn’t seen the truck.”

  She shrugged. “We know how communication can get muddled sometimes.”

  Rachette cranked the wheel, hit the lights, and pushed the gas. “It fits,” he said again, tapping the wheel. “Nice work.”

  “It all came from the thought of setting you on fire.”

  “I’m glad I could help.”

  Chapter 20

  The SUV kicked sideways off another rock and Wolf lurched in his seat.

  Shumway reached the bottom of the decline well ahead of Wolf. Hitting the forewarned spot way too fast, his truck bucked and bounced high with an explosion of dust.

  Wolf edged his way over the same depression and reached a flat dirt two-track road below.

  They were at the bottom of a canyon now. Juniper, pinyon, and boulders covered the hills on both sides. A dry wash lay to Wolf’s left.

  After hanging a hairpin right, the road continued over a low hill ahead.

  Mathis had been right—there was no way a UrMover truck could have made it down that slope. Much less back up it.

  So how had they got the bones out? There was no way they’d packed a seventy-five-percent-complete, twenty-five-foot-high set of dinosaur bones into the bed of one truck and gone up that hill on Saturday afternoon. They’d probably split the bones between the two trucks.

  Or maybe there was a storage unit, Wolf thought with a nod. That would make more sense—shuttle a few bones out, store them in a unit, repeat the process over time until the whole skeleton was out, then load them all up in a rented UrMover truck and drive down to Rocky Points.

  Wolf eyed Jet in the rear-view mirror. “You all right?”

  Jet opened his mouth and panted.

  Winding side to side, up and down, the drive was easy, following a dry wash at the bottom of the valley.

  A quarter-mile later, Wolf pulled up behind Shumway’s parked truck.

  Shumway was already out and leaning on his door.

  Wolf shut off the engine and stepped outside.

  The whine of a commercial jet lingered overhead. A blast-furnace wind rustled the sage and juniper, blowing sand across the ground with a soft hiss.

  A tarp flapped near the bottom of the wash. Wolf peeked through the swaying foliage and saw three people near a camp looking back at him.

  He opened the rear door and after a brief protest Jet lumbered out, loped to the shade of a tree and lay down in the powdery dirt.

  Wolf grabbed a couple pairs of rubber gloves from the box on the floor and shut the door.

  Shumway stood patiently with a hand on his holstered Glock.

  “You have the warrant?” Wolf asked, holding out a pair of rubber gloves the sheriff.

  Shumway took the gloves, nodded, and extended a hand. After you.

  Wolf passed him and led the way off the road and down a gradual slope.

  They approached a complex of tents—red to the right, then blue beyond that, and a darker blue one to the left. A tarp, set up at an angle to shade a large pit, fluttered in the distance.

  The camp had all the fixings of a paleontology dig, with shovels of all sizes and types strewn about, dusty brushes near the hole in the ground, leather gloves, and the paleontologists themselves.

  “Good afternoon,” Wolf announced.

  They were all there—Steven Kennedy, his wife Felicia, and Molly “Mo” Waters—and they were all staring with unreadable looks. A trio of camp chairs sat underneath a white shade tent that was staked at the corners. Three paper plates with half-eaten sandwiches lay on a fold-out table. Underneath the table a box lay filled haphazardly with dry goods, and in the dirt stood a half-empty bottle of Scotch.

  “I’m Detective Wolf from Sluice–Byron County, Colorado, and this is Sheriff Shumway from here in Windfield County.”

  They nodded, their faces frozen masks.

  Steven stepped forward first and held out a hand.

  Standing just about Wolf’s height, six two or three, he was slim and fit, looking better in the face than he had in the DUI photo Wolf had seen earlier. His eyes were clear and bright, intelligent, and his skin was deeply tanned.

  “Steven Kennedy. Nice to meet you. This is my wife, Felicia.”

  Steven’s smile was confident and easy, framed by dark-brown stubble. He tipped up a worn New York Yankees ball cap with one hand and shook with the other.

  Felicia squinted underneath a wide-brimmed hat and offered an outstretched hand. “Hi. I’m Felicia.”

  Felicia was thin, small and athletic, and looked like she feared no ultraviolet radiation anywhere but on her face, because she wore a tank top and short cargo shorts that displayed her sunbaked cocoa skin.

  Molly Waters was next. She wore a baggy T-shirt, jeans, and hiking shoes. A few strands of white hair jutted out from underneath her floppy hat, which shadowed her freckled face. She glared at Wolf with small eyes and swallowed, offering no greeting.

  “Mo?” Wolf asked.

  Her grip was rock solid. “Molly. My friends call me Mo.”

  Wolf nodded. “Then I’ll call you Molly. And Professor Green? Where’s he?”

  Molly’s hard gaze dropped and she took a step back.

  “He’s up at the university,” Steven said. “Had some business. What’s this about?”

  “What kind of business?” Wolf asked.

  Steven shrugged and the two women looked like they’d gone deaf.

  “Eighteen-year, huh?” Wolf asked.

  They all three frowned with confusion.

  “The Scotch.” Wolf pointed behind them. “Glenlivet 18. That’s an eighty-dollar bottle there. You guys must be connoisseurs. Or are you celebrating something?”

  They all kept their attention on the bottle, lips closed, waiting for someone to say something.

  “Yeah,” Steven said with another winning smile. “We don’t drink much, but when we do we want it to be the good stuff. What can we do for you two?”

  Shumway stepped up next to Wolf.

  Steven raised his chin and eyed the sheriff.

  “We’re looking for Professor Green,” Wolf said.

  “And like I said, he’s not here. Is there anything else we can help you with?”

  “Yes,” Wolf said. “We need to take a look around your camp. You can help by standing still right here while we do.”

  Wolf made a production out of pulling on his rubber gloves, unnecessarily snapping the material a few times.

  “You can’t do th
at without a warrant,” Steven said.

  Shumway produced the warrant and handed it to Steven. “Well then, luckily we have one right here.”

  Wolf stood still and studied their boots while Steven read the warrant with Felicia.

  “Hey, what the hell? It says here you’re looking for a gun. W-what?” Steven’s confidence had disappeared. “Why are you looking for a gun?”

  Wolf watched as each of their faces dropped, but Molly seemed the most openly perturbed by the news.

  “Something wrong, Molly?” Wolf asked.

  “Yeah, you’re looking for a gun. What the hell does that mean? Someone’s been shot and you think we did it?”

  “I never said anyone’s been shot,” Wolf said. “Do any of you have any weapons on you now? A gun?”

  “No, we don’t,” Steven said.

  Wolf pointed to Molly. “Can you please lift your shirt? Show me your waistline.”

  She did as she was asked, displaying a leather belt cinched around a ghost-white belly and nothing more.

  Wolf walked to the red tent and unzipped it. He pulled open one flap and saw the interior was strewn with women’s clothing, though he couldn’t tell which woman’s it was. Outside the tent’s opening hung two pairs of panties clipped to clothes hangers.

  “Like what you see?” Felicia asked.

  Wolf caught the tail end of a sneer on Felicia’s face as he ducked inside the opening. It smelled like perfume and campfire. He shuffled in on his hands and knees and moved the sleeping bag aside, then looked under each piece of clothing.

  “Just tell them,” Molly said outside.

  “I will, just—”

  “Tell us what?” Shumway asked.

  Wolf started to duck out of the tent and then paused as a revelation unfolded. Clearly Felicia lived out of the tent, but there was no sign of her husband ever being there—no sleeping bag, no musky body-odor scent of a man who showered little. No men’s clothing. He thought it odd, but then again, maybe they just liked their personal space.

  Wolf backed out and stood up. “Tell us what, Molly?”

  “We have a gun,” Felicia said.

  Shumway raised his eyebrows and gripped his pistol.

  “Where?” Wolf asked.

  “It’s for emergencies, you know?” Steven said, twisting and pleading to Shumway too. “There’s frickin’ animals out here. Rattlesnakes galore. It’s dangerous. Not that we ever use it. We’ve actually never used it. It’s Green’s gun.”