by Jeff Carson
“I can take care of him if need be. Please don’t feel pressured. But, yes, I am.”
They walked slowly toward the house, watching Ella as she let Drifter tackle her to the ground.
Lauren looked at Wolf with suspicion. “Are you telling the truth about Jack and Cassidy?”
He rolled his eyes.
“Sorry, of course you wouldn’t lie about something like that.”
He said nothing, watching the gears turn behind her eyes.
“Perfect timing,” she said. “You have to listen when God gives you perfect timing. My dad said that to me once.” She stopped and scrunched her face. “Okay, fine. We’ll take him.”
He smiled. “You won’t regret this.”
Now she rolled her eyes. “Why is it when somebody says that, you immediately regret your decision?”
“I guess I should warn you—he likes to chew furniture.”
“Oh, good. Anything else?”
He smiled.
They stood in silence, watching Ella and Drifter’s antics some more.
Wolf felt like his chest had been connected to an air hose set on high.
“You gonna tell her?” he asked.
“I probably should. Hey, Ella!”
“What?”
Lauren gave Wolf a knowing smirk. “It’s time to go.”
“Awwwwwww. I’m playing with Drifter.”
Wolf watched as Lauren walked over and quietly gave her the news.
Ella squealed, then looked at her mother, and then to Wolf.
Wolf nodded.
She squealed again, and wrapped her arms around Drifter.
Drifter peed on her shoe.
“I have a kennel you guys can take.”
Lauren smiled. “That would be great.”
“I’ll throw in a blanket or two as well.”
Ella ran over and hugged Wolf’s legs. This time, instead of turning away, she looked up at him. “Thank you.”
“Thank you, Ella.”
They hugged again, and Ella walked to her mother.
Wolf gathered some canine paraphernalia, and Lauren packed it in the truck.
Ella strapped herself in next to the kennel in the back seat.
Lauren stood staring at the ground for a moment, then looked up at him with her kaleidoscope eyes. “Goodbye, David.”
“Bye, Lauren.”
Ella rolled down her window. “Bye!”
Wolf smiled. “Bye! You take care of that dog, now!”
“I will!” The window went up.
Lauren climbed into the truck and drove away.
Wolf stood and watched until the truck disappeared through the headgate.
The sun perched on the tip of the western peaks, blazing in the cloudless sky.
He shut his eyes, letting the warmth fill his body. When he opened them, the sun had begun to dip behind the mountain.
He started at the sight of an elk staring at him from the trees. It raised its snout into the air and took a sniff, then lowered his head and ate some grass.
Wolf went up the steps, through the door, and stood in the living room.
His ears rang faintly over the dead silence.
As if in a trance, he walked to his bedroom.
He climbed onto the bed, lay down, and went to sleep.
Chapter 33
Wolf's eyes snapped open to a sound.
He sucked in a deep breath, then stretched and yawned. When the fabric of his flannel pulled on his skin, he realized he still had his clothes on.
His body felt heavy, a sensation he recalled from his teenage years when he’d slept in until noon.
There was that sound again, like a buzz saw.
Outside his bedroom windows the sky was aglow with subdued sunlight.
He sat up quickly and twisted. He put his feet down on the floor, noting his boots were still laced to his feet.
The noise again. The phone vibrating on his nightstand.
“Hello?” His voice croaked like he hadn’t used it for six months.
“Hey, sorry. Wake you up?” It was MacLean.
“Nah.”
“You slept?”
Wolf stood and stretched again, and had to cycle through a long yawn before he could speak. Out the window, the eastern sky was lit, not the west. “I guess. What’s up?”
“Rise and shine. Happy Sunday morning. We’re having a debrief at oh-nine-hundred.”
“Okay.”
“How are you holding up? You get any rest yesterday?”
Cool air leaked into his window. He saw the screen lying on the grass outside, and the scar in the earth where he’d scraped up the pile of broken Scotch bottles. Two deer were eating at the treeline. Beyond that was the mound of earth—Jet’s final resting place.
“Hey, you there?”
“Yeah, sorry. It was good,” he said. “Much needed R and R.”
“Yeah? Glad you enjoyed it. I spent my Saturday trying to explain how we didn’t get this guy three months ago to a bunch of media jackals and self-righteous council members. Blood-sucking bastards can’t give us a pat on the back for solving the case. They want it done faster. I love election years.”
Wolf made his way to the kitchen.
“Anyway,” MacLean said, “time to join reality again. And Wolf?”
“Yeah.”
“Me, you, and White need to have a private debriefing.”
“Okay.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it,” MacLean said. “You showed your true colors Friday. Anyway, we’ll do that at oh-eight-hundred. My office.”
“Got it.” Wolf ended the call and started the coffee.
He grabbed a quick shower, shaved, and got dressed. The refrigerator had enough greens for him to make only a small smoothie, so he added a few eggs and toast to his breakfast and got out the door with an hour and a half to spare before the meeting.
He stopped at his rear bumper and slowly scanned the world around him. He sucked in a breath through his nose, taking in the scent of the barn’s weathered wood and the wet forest.
His vision seemed wider. It was as if he’d been wearing a baseball cap pulled down low, and somebody had pulled it off.
As he climbed into the SUV and backed out of the carport, Lauren’s words echoed in his mind.
You have to listen when God gives you perfect timing.
A sprained ankle had brought him and Lauren together. He’d been waking up every day, ruminating over that perfect timing for the better part of a year. Now he could only think of the permanent smile plastered on Ella’s face as she drove away next to that puppy, and he couldn’t stop smiling himself.
He shifted into drive and hit the gas. Patterson had been driving his SUV during the Zack Hood incident, so his own vehicle sat in Lorber’s bomb shelter as evidence. The acceleration of this temporary cruiser was sluggish in comparison. That and the cupholder was too narrow for his preferred to-go coffee mug.
He jammed the brakes and came to a stop before the headgate, spilling some of the hot liquid on his hand.
Lauren’s words echoed again.
Perfect timing.
He shifted into park, and shut off the engine, letting the silence envelop him. Like the raging Chautauqua below, ideas flowed into his mind.
He got out of the car, pulled his phone from his pocket, and dialed Margaret Hitchens.
“Yeah?”
“Hey.”
“What’s up?” She spoke loud over a hissing background noise.
“I need to ask you a few questions.”
“I’m driving. Can I call you back?”
“No. Pull over.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes. It’s important.”
She sighed heavily into the phone and the noise dissipated. “Okay. I’m not driving anymore. What’s up?”
“What’s going to happen to Warren Preston’s land?”
She scoffed. “Funny you should ask. I was on my way to speak to some prospective developers
right now.”
“Today?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“A firm from Denver.”
He frowned. “How? I mean it’s Sunday. Has Preston Rock and Supply even shut their doors yet? We’ve only just pulled Warren Preston out of that snow. Chris Alamy just died.”
“Preston was leasing the land. The owner will sell it. And I said prospective developers. There’s nothing going on yet, but when it goes for sale people will have to move fast. You snooze, you lose on that piece of land. They want to discuss feasibility with me. Pricing for units, cost of construction, permits, etcetera.”
Wolf paced in the grass next to the headgate. “Who’s the owner?”
“A man named Rod Bloom. Lives up on Cold Lake.”
“This guy Bloom will develop it?”
“No. Whoever decides to buy it will.”
“So now that he has his land back, he’s selling it to developers.”
“Well, actually, no. The deal is more complicated than that.”
“More complicated how?”
“I don’t know all the details. Like I said, I’m just helping this one firm. But from what I gather, Bloom sold an option for purchasing the land to another firm. The firm I’m talking to has an inside track to put in an offer.”
“Do you know which firm owns this option?”
“No. I’ll know more after this meeting. Why? What’s going on?”
“Do you have Rod what’s-his-name’s number?”
“Rod Bloom.” She sighed. “I don’t know how to do that with my phone while I’m on it.”
He said nothing.
“Okay, let me look.” After some fumbling and cursing, she read the number aloud.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. So why are you asking all these questions?”
“I have to go.”
“Oh, of course you aren’t going to tell me. Fine. Goodbye. I’m driving.” She hung up.
He typed in the number and hit the call button.
Chapter 34
Five days later …
Thursday, 8:34 a.m
Wolf parked his SUV and got out into cool dense air scented with lake water and pine.
Forest hid any houses that might have lurked in the woods, although Wolf guessed that if there were neighbors, they were a good distance away. The trees had been cleared for a few acres, and in the middle of a gently sloping lawn stood a hulking home built from sturdy logs and plenty of glass.
The lawn ran down to the shore of Cold Lake. A dock jutted out into Sluice–Byron County’s largest body of fresh water. A piercing reflection lanced off the wood finish of a Chris Craft Riviera-style boat as it bobbed on a passing wake.
“Mr. Wolf!”
Wolf peeled his eyes away from the waves. A man in jeans and a salmon sweater stood waving on the front porch.
“Mr. Bloom?”
“That’s me.”
A man in a suit and tie came out of the front door and stood next to Bloom.
Wolf shut his vehicle door and walked past a Mercedes SUV that was ticking and radiating heat from the hood.
“Thanks for agreeing to speak to me,” Wolf said.
“Please, come on up. We’ll sit on the porch.”
Wolf’s boots crunched along a gravel path to the front entrance. Flower boxes burst with color all over the exterior of the house, like a swiss-style chalet.
Wolf stepped up the stairs and took the man’s hand. “Chief Detective Dave Wolf.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Rod Bloom. You can call me Rod.”
“You can call me Dave.”
Bloom smiled and looked like he meant it. Wolf supposed it was tough to frown living here. And since Wolf had called Rod Bloom for the first time five days ago, he’d learned that Bloom had plenty of other reasons to smile. The man owned vast tracts of land across the country, from ranches near Telluride, to farms in Tennessee, to an island in the Caribbean, to this estate on the southern shores of Cold Lake.
“Nice place.”
“Thank you. This is my lawyer, Henry Tiller.” Bloom steered Wolf away from the man and led him along the deck. The lawyer, a tall, skinny man, followed them mutely.
They walked along the exterior of the house on a wrap-around porch until they reached a deck overlooking the lake below.
“I’m sorry we couldn’t meet earlier this week,” Bloom said. “But as I said, I’ve been on business in New York for too long. Please, take a seat.”
Wolf wondered what kind of deals a man like Rod Bloom had been working in New York.
Two coffee cups sat upside-down on a black metal table. Bloom gestured to a cushioned chair and Wolf sat.
The waves below sparkled like diamonds. A fishing boat sped past and disappeared around a bend.
“I always love coming back here after a trip to a big city. Give me forest, lake, and mountains over skyscrapers any day.”
Wolf silently agreed.
A sliding glass door opened, and a pretty woman in her sixties stepped out with a carafe. She stood and smiled warmly at Wolf. “Hello.”
“Pia, this is Dave Wolf. Dave, this is my wife, Pia.”
“Dave,” Wolf said. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”
Pia upturned the coffee cups and poured. “Room for cream?” She had a thick accent that Wolf failed to pinpoint.
“No, thank you.”
She finished and went back inside. The glass door hissed shut.
“Please.” Bloom gestured to the steaming liquid.
“Thank you.” Wolf took a sip and was pleased to find it strong and hot.
“I’m sure you can understand the presence of my lawyer.”
“Of course.”
The lawyer stood with hands clasped behind his back.
Bloom slipped on some sunglasses from his pocket. “I must say, your insistence to come meet me was a little annoying at first. But, as I read about the details of this case, I have to say I’m intrigued. What is it I can do for you?”
Wolf pulled out his notebook and flipped to the pages of notes he’d accumulated over the past few days. “Just to be clear,” he said, “you owned the Preston Rock and Supply land yourself, correct? There were no partnerships with other people or companies?”
The lawyer said his first words. “He never owned that land.”
Bloom waved him off. “I own a corporation that owned that land. Henry’s trying to throw you off with technicalities. But, yes, I owned the land myself. Without other partners.”
“Could you please describe the lease agreement you had with Warren Preston that enabled him to run his rock business on that property?”
“He signed a forty-year lease to operate.”
“Forty years?”
“Forty years is relatively short for a ground lease,” the lawyer said.
Bloom nodded. “It’s true.”
“Okay. But there’s so much development happening these days along that section of the river.”
“Yes. So?”
“Wouldn’t you want to develop that land? It’s my understanding that you could make a lot more money with a single project, say, a condo complex, than a forty-year lease on a business. Millions instead of thousands.”
Bloom shrugged and gazed over the water. “Warren Preston signed that forty-year lease in the heart of the economic downturn, when there wasn’t anything along that portion of river, and no prospect of any development in the Chautauqua Valley. I was grateful for the income back then. And now … well, I was grateful that Warren could run his business at a relatively small cost in return.”
“Relatively small cost?”
“I gave him competitive terms.”
Wolf nodded. He knew all these technicalities from interviews with Betsy Collworth and with help from Margaret, but he wanted to hear the answers from this man’s mouth. So far, Rod Bloom seemed to be shooting straight.
Bloom narrowed his eyes. “Why?”
“I guess I’m w
ondering if you ever regretted your decision to lease the land. On competitive terms.”
“No. A deal’s a deal. I don’t play woulda-shoulda-coulda. I’ve learned to never regret the past, Detective.”
The lawyer walked to the table and took up position behind Bloom’s shoulder.
“Can you please tell me about your sale of the rock yard land?” Wolf asked.
“I sold an option to a firm in Rocky Points a few years ago. They’re doing what they want with it. It’s not my problem anymore.”
“What were the terms of that option?”
Bloom raised a hand to keep his suit-man at bay. “Ten-year option for a percentage of market value.”
“And, so, now that Preston and Alamy are gone, and the rock business is gone, the option has been exercised, and you will earn market value for the land.”
“A percentage of the market value.”
“You’ll earn millions.”
The lawyer bent down and whispered in his ear.
Bloom smiled. “I don’t have anything to hide, Henry. Yes, Mr. Wolf, I’ll make a percentage of the market value of that land.”
Wolf narrowed his eyes and nodded. “Why would you do that? Why not just sell it yourself to get the full market value rather than a percentage?”
Bloom shrugged. “I took a calculated risk. Preston was a workhorse. If that asshole Zack Hood hadn’t killed him, he’d have kept paying the lease for another twenty-five years and I would have made money on the option and the lease. Then you’d be calling me smart in this meeting, rather than questioning my sanity.” Bloom smiled and gestured to his house. “It doesn’t matter to me. I’ll come out okay in the end with a percentage.”
Wolf looked at his notes.
“Mr. Wolf, as you would expect, I’ve been keeping up with this case the best I can, seeing as it took place on my land. I read all the newspapers. Your investigation found that Warren Preston was murdered by that man up in Brushing, Zack Hood. Chris Alamy, the manager at Preston Rock and Supply, was also present at the murder. Hood killed him to keep him quiet. And then there was Hood’s demise, when your heroic actions saved that little girl’s life.” Bloom looked at him hard.
Wolf held his gaze and saw through the man’s eyes to the thoughts lurking behind them. This past week, local news stories had never strayed far from mentioning Wolf’s panic attack on the mountain.