by Jeff Carson
“—a truckload of teenagers. Yeah, I know. I’ve been keeping an eye on him for the last year per MacLean’s orders. Sir, I trained with SWAT up in Bozeman. I’ve seen action before. Besides, I know the roads around her like the back of my hand. You’ll probably not want to go into his place full-bore with everyone rolling up and spooking him. I know exactly where his house is. Where we can stop early and walk in from a distance.”
She stopped talking and held unflinching eye-contact with Wolf.
Her eyes were the color of the darkest rainforest wood, and just as hard, Rachette thought.
Wolf stared at her for a beat, then nodded. “Okay. You’re coming with us.”
She nodded, the tough façade cracking a bit as she noticed for the first time Rachette and the others looking at her.
“You two stay here,” Wolf said, pointing at Nelson and Chavez. “Keep those neighbors away, and I don’t have to tell you to stay out of the house. Let’s go.”
“I’m driving,” Rachette said to Yates.
Cain’s Jeep slowed and turned on the unmarked county road that Wolf recognized as the same one they’d used to get to the mine the previous morning. Wolf followed close in his own SUV with Rachette and Yates behind him.
Here the forest was dense and tall, covering the flat land of the valley floor. The road followed a straight path for a mile or so then veered toward the western wall of mountains toward a steep valley, where the mine lay another few miles up and over a knife-edged peak.
Wolf tried to see exactly where the mine was, remembering the view he’d been given from up there of the Dredge Valley. But as he slipped into Deputy Cain’s trail of dust he brought his thoughts back to the moment at hand.
How, when, why, or what did he know her from? His mind kept turning circles trying to come up with the answer. Every moment he spent with this woman he had the feeling of déjà vu, like they’d crossed paths before. Why did he keep mulling this over? Because she was startlingly attractive? Probably.
"It’s coming up here on the right,” Piper’s voice came through the radio.
He pulled the radio and pressed the transmit button. “Copy that.”
Her brake lights bloomed through the dust and all three vehicles pulled over. Wolf stepped out into even cooler air than before. Clouds blocked the sun, threatening rain.
Deputy Cain closed her car door and joined him in the shade. "He lives just right up there," she said, pointing down the road to a clearing in the trees. “On the right side.” To the left stood a second property, set back and just inside the line of pines on the other side of the clearing.
“Who lives there?” Wolf asked.
She shrugged. “I’m not sure.”
A dog’s bark filtered through the trees.
“He has a huge pit bull,” Cain said.
“Is it nice?” Rachette asked.
“I’ve never stuck my hand in the fence to see,” she said.
The dog was now interspersing growls between barks.
“I’m going to go out on a limb and say hell no,” Yates said.
“Let’s go.” Wolf led the way, hugging the right side of the road.
Hammes’s metal chain link fence came into view first, followed by the front of his house. The dog barked even more intensely, putting its giant paws up on top of the chained-shut gate.
“Hey, buddy,” Rachette said, making kissing noises as they walked up.
The dog bared its teeth and barked, spitting saliva. Then it squatted down and did its business. After two seconds it kicked some dirt backwards and began barking again.
“Yeah, that thing’s a full-blown menace,” Rachette said.
The dog dropped back and paced inside a well-worn groove on the other side of the fence. The yard behind it looked like it was once grass but was now almost completely dug up. Plastic toys, all chewed to shreds, littered the space.
A cracked concrete path led from the chained gate to the front door. The house was a squat one-story, its blue paint shedding in large flakes. Like most other places in town, it appeared to have been built at least half a century ago.
Though there was no proper front porch, Rick Hammes had set out a mangled couch and two wire chairs on the dirt. A stump placed in the middle, littered with beer bottles and an overflowing ashtray, served as a table.
Wolf squinted, studying the bottles, and put his hand on the butt of his gun.
“What is it?” Rachette asked.
“Those beer bottles are the same brand that were inside Mary Dimitri’s house.” Wolf recognized the labels.
“No vehicle parked outside,” Yates said, nodding in the direction of the twin-rut driveway with a detached shed at its end. “That shed doesn’t look big enough fit one, either. I don’t think he’s home.”
“What does he drive?” Wolf asked.
Cain spoke up. “A beat-up Dodge pickup.”
“Color?”
“Gray.”
A pathway led from the shed to a house side door, which was on the outside of the fence and unguarded by Cujo.
“Sheriff’s department!” he yelled, knocking on the door.
The others fanned out behind him. He flicked a glance to Cain, noting she looked rock solid under the pressure. She ignored him, stepping sideways to get a view to the back of the house.
“What do you see?” he asked.
“A back door,” she said. “Closed. Two windows. I see no movement inside the windows.”
Wolf knocked again. Again, no answer.
"Do you have his phone number?" he asked Rachette.
Rachette pulled out his notebook and read off the number. Wolf dialed it and listened to the trill in his ear. He had to step away from the dog in order to hear, but nobody answered anyway.
"You've reached Rick Hammes, fuck you," the outgoing message said. He shut off the phone and put it in his pocket.
“Sir.” Deputy Cain pointed and nodded toward the rear of the house.
Wolf and Yates could see her pointing beyond the back of the house, to the neighboring place down the road. A man was outside, watching the action. He raised a hand and waved.
They waved back, and then the man started down the road toward them. They walked to meet him halfway.
The neighbor was dressed in old jeans and a red and black checked flannel dirtied with food stains down its front. He wore a trucker hat sideways on his head, shading the sun from his eyes. A look more utilitarian than stylish.
"You guys looking for Rick?"
"Yes, sir,” Wolf said. “Do you know where he is?"
"Must still be up in Aspen…or Vail? Somewhere doing some construction work or something. I've been tasked to feed that demon monster of a dog every day for him while he’s gone.”
The man stopped and stared at the dog with squinted eyes. “He'll bark like that for a good half-hour now that you guys came by. He does the same thing to me. I just fill up the bowl and scoot it underneath the fence. Try to not get my arm chewed off in the process. First time I did it he stole the bowl. It’s still in that yard, lost forever as far as I’m concerned. Rick owes me four bucks for that when he gets home. But I figured out a great way to do it.” He smiled, revealing castle-turret teeth.
When the man said nothing more, Wolf said, “Yeah? What’s that?”
“I took an old broom handle and drilled a hole in it. Screwed an old bowl of mine onto the end. Now I just fill it up with food, push it under, pull it back. Hah!” The man clapped with delight. When he laughed it sounded like an engine failing to turn over. His eyes landed on Deputy Cain. “Well, hello. Who’s this?”
"When did Mr. Hammes leave?" Wolf asked.
The man cocked his head and pulled up his pants high on his hips. "Heck must've been…what’s today?”
“Tuesday,” Rachette said.
“Then it was a week ago. He left last Tuesday. No, Wednesday.”
“And you’re not sure if it was Aspen or Vail?” Wolf asked.
The man thought
. “Vail. Definitely Vail. Because he mentioned Edwards, too. You know, the town down the highway from Vail? Got that real expensive hoity-toity ski resort there. Beaver Creek. I used to ski there before they had all the ritzy places that cost ten-grand a night, or whatever it is.” He looked at Cain. “I used to be a ski patroller back in my day for Rocky Points.”
Wolf cleared his throat. “Are you sure he’s been gone since last Tuesday or Wednesday? Did he come back at any time?”
"You know, funny you should ask that. The dog barks if a squirrel farts, you know what I’m saying? But he really goes off if somebody comes over. That’s what brought me out to look and see what you guys were doing. Anyway, I heard the dog barking like this last night. I was in bed and it woke me up. I was going to come see what was going on, but he stopped before I got my shoes on. Only person in the world that can get that thing to shut up is Rick. He said he was coming back today or tomorrow, so I figured he might have been back.”
“Did you see anybody?” Wolf asked. “Did you come out and look?”
“Nah. Once the dog shut up I went back to sleep. Besides, I can’t see my wiener from my face at night. Probably for the better.” He looked at Rachette and laughed heartily again.
Rachette gave him a thumbs up.
“Did you hear anybody?” Wolf asked. “A vehicle?”
“Nah.”
The man eyed Deputy Cain again, looking like he was going to say something.
"We appreciate you speaking with us, sir.” Wolf pulled a card from his back pocket and handed it over. “Could you please give me a call if you see or hear Rick Hammes come home again?"
“Yeah, sure. You got it, Sheriff…David Wolf?”
“That’s right.” Wolf shook his hand. “And I’m sorry I didn’t ask you your name.”
“I’m Ned. Ned Larson. Say, you related to Dan Wolf? Sheriff from way back?”
Wolf nodded. “That was my father.”
“He was a good man.”
“Yes, sir. He was, thanks for saying. And if you could give me a call I’d appreciate it.”
“Right. You got it.” The man turned to Piper Cain and winked.
She pulled Rachette’s move and gave Ned a thumbs up.
They parted with the neighbor and walked back toward house. The dog had stopped barking as it squatted down and relieved itself once again.
“Got the shits, buddy?” Rachette asked.
Wolf averted his eyes as they walked past, because clearly Rachette was right on the money.
Yates put his phone to his ear, plugging the other with a finger as the barking started back up. After a brief conversation he hung up and turned to them. “That was Lorber. They’re almost at Mary Dimitri’s.”
Chapter 13
Wolf’s feet hurt from standing for over an hour in front of Mary Ellen Dimitri’s house. He rolled his neck, sneaking a glance toward the group of deputies talking near the side fence. He could have joined them, but while the deputies let off some steam, he felt obligated to maintain a vigil against the growing number of neighbors gathering on the street. They kept their distance, but Wolf had already turned away one overly curious man.
Deputy Cain was laughing heartily as Yates told a story, and Wolf wondered if she was interested in the detective. She was probably closer to Yates’s age than his. She seemed to be in her mid-thirties, but she had that ageless quality about her. She must have eaten incredibly healthy.
On his next inhale Wolf felt his own gut push against his belt. Over the last year his activity level had definitely dropped. He was going to get back into the gym as soon as this case was over.
“Stop staring.”
Wolf started and turned to see Lorber standing next to him, somehow appearing from the thin Colorado air.
“What did you find in there?” Wolf asked, ignoring the smirk on Lorber’s lips.
When Lorber’s grin disappeared the exhaustion shone through again. “I’m setting time of death at twenty-four to forty-eight hours. I’ll be able to get more specific once I get her on the slab and cut into her.”
Lorber had a way with objectifying the dead like no other. Wolf had once decided this was the man’s defense mechanism that allowed him to do the job.
Another smattering of raindrops fell from the sky and Wolf zipped his jacket a few inches to his chin. Behind the clouds the sun was dropping lower in the sky, and with it the temperature.
“Daphne will crack into the phone,” Lorber said, “but I agree with you: it’s an older model so it shouldn’t be able to hold a charge very long. It was sitting at about nineteen-percent power when we bagged it. I’m leaning more towards she was killed last night. We’ll get an outgoing text or call. We’ll probably be able to pinpoint time of death by that alone. Nobody goes more than a second without messing with those devices anymore, and especially nobody from her generation.” He flipped a hand at the group of deputies. “See?” he said, as Rachette answered a call.
Wolf said nothing. It was best to refrain from engaging the demon that took over when Lorber was low on sleep and food.
Two forensic technicians pushed Mary Dimitri’s bagged body out on a gurney and wheeled her to Lorber’s van.
“If Hammes’s prints are on that bottle,” Lorber said, “they’ll show up immediately in the databases. I’ll get that going when we get back to the lab.”
“Have you talked to Daphne lately?” Wolf asked. “She’s still up at the mine, right?”
“She is, and I have not.”
“Okay, thanks. Keep me posted.” Wolf turned to join the deputies at the side yard.
Rachette paced past him, his cell pressed to his ear. “… just have that one dude pitch. What’s his name? Jepson? Jefferson?…oh yeah…I know…I’ll be there next week, though…make sure to tell him to keep his right shoulder level when he’s swinging…”
Yates, Nelson, Chavez, and Cain stood silently, watching Mary Dimitri’s body being loaded.
“Any news from Lorber?” Yates asked.
“Nothing yet.”
Rachette walked up to them, pocketing his phone. “What did I miss?”
“Who was that?” Wolf asked.
“Charlotte.”
Wolf looked at his watch—6:15. “TJ has a baseball game tonight. Is that what you two were talking about?”
“Yeah.”
“You missed last week’s game, too, because of training.”
Rachette nodded. “Yeah. Well, cop first, right?”
Wolf felt the other eyes on him. He felt Deputy Cain’s eyes on him. “Why don’t you head back and catch your son’s game.”
“No, sir, it’s okay.”
“That’s an order. Yates, you head back with him. Nelson and Chavez, you two stay here.”
“What are you going to do?” Yates asked.
“I’m heading to the casino to find out when Mary Dimitri was last seen at work and who she might have been with.”
“You sure you don’t need help?” Rachette asked.
Wolf shook his head. “No. Go.” He looked at Deputy Cain. “Thanks for your help today. You can head home, too.”
“I’ll go with you,” she said.
He wanted to say no, almost said it, but then nodded. “Yeah. Okay, thanks.”
The other men were staring at them in silence.
He waved a hand. “Get out of here.”
As Wolf walked to his SUV, Cain asked, “Should I ride with you?”
“Uh, yeah sure.”
She started toward his SUV when Wolf shouted “Wait!” He ran past her and opened the door, scooping all the trash— fast food bags, wadded-up napkins, and three stray French fries—into one bag, and put it in the rear.
When he got behind the wheel she was already seated in the passenger seat. He was acutely aware of her scent battling it out with the smell of old food and months of general use.
She lowered the sun visor and looked in the mirror, touching the numerous bandages on her face.
He
fired up the engine and cracked the windows. “Sorry about the…” He let the sentence trail into nothing.
“The what?”
“The smell of my car.”
She smiled. “I’ve smelled worse. My ride’s not the cleanest either.”
“I had my head inside of it yesterday. But I appreciate the lie.”
Wolf turned the SUV around and headed toward Dredge’s Main Street.
“Left here,” she said, then checked her cell phone and put it in her pocket again. Her hands patted out a beat on her leg.
“You sure you don’t need to go home?”
“No. I’m fine.”
He nodded, letting silence take over for a bit.
“How long have you lived in Rocky Points?” she asked.
“All my life. I was born in the county hospital.”
“Oh, wow.”
“What about you?” Wolf asked. “Where are you from?”
“Summit County. My father was a deputy with the sheriff’s department. We lived in Breckenridge.” She pointed out the window to the north, where a wall of mountains separated them from her childhood home.
“You said you worked up in Bozeman?”
“I was with the Gallatin Sheriff’s Department for nine years.”
“Nine years. Wow. So, what brought you here?” he asked.
“My father’s not doing too well, and my mother passed away a few years ago.”
“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that. What’s wrong with him?”
“Dementia. Alzheimer’s.”
He thought about his own mother down in Denver, also battling the early stages of dementia.
“You left your job in Bozeman to take care of him?”
She stared out the window. “Yeah.”
Silence enveloped the cab for the next block, until Wolf said, “That’s noble of you. You must love him very much.”
She said nothing in response, but took a deep breath, and Wolf heard tension in the exhale.
“You probably want to turn here,” she said. “And park on that side there.”
“Do they ever use this many parking spots?” Wolf asked, as they coasted through an asphalt lot the size of a football field. “Doesn’t seem like they would get this many visitors from Denver. It’s nowhere near I-70.”