by Ty Patterson
‘Thank you,’ the note read and when Zeb looked up, the manager winked at him.
He took a sip of his juice and was getting his mind back to the Klattenbachs when a shadow fell across him.
Chapter 6
Sheriff Jeremy Garav loomed over him and growled angrily, ‘First, you find a body and make a heck of a lotta people unhappy. Then, you’re rude to our welcoming committee!’
Zeb stared at him nonplussed and started to protest when Garav’s eyes twinkled and a smile creased his face. He gestured when Zeb started to rise. ‘I got a call from Tony,’ he nodded in the direction of the restaurant manager, ‘who told me Jed, Billy, and Kane had been picking on you. I hurried across as quick as I could, by then you had ‘resolved’ the matter.’
His fingers drew quotes in the air as he seated himself with a sigh. ‘Back and knees,’ he grumbled, ‘not what they used to be.’
He greeted a couple of townspeople who stopped by their table but didn’t introduce Zeb even though they cast curious looks in his direction. ‘You’re a minor celebrity,’ he said when he finally turned to Zeb. ‘The whole danged town knew you were here within minutes of your checking in.’
‘That kind of town, huh?’ Zeb asked, making small conversation, hoping the sheriff would leave soon.
‘All small towns are like ours, buddy. So what brings you back? I thought you’d be several hundred miles away.’
‘Who were those guys? Your welcoming committee?’ Zeb stalled. He won’t like it if I tell him I’m going to look into Klattenbach’s killing.
Garav waved the question away as if the men were of no consequence, ‘Louts. They spend all day drinking and annoying townspeople. I’ve put them in the slammer a few times. They’re not bad, like real criminals; they have too much time on their hands and think too much of themselves. They won’t cause you trouble.’
‘Eleanor,’ the sheriff pointed a thumb at a table next to Zeb’s which was now empty, ‘was seated right there, and heard something about you breaking their legs.’ He chuckled briefly. ‘That would put the fear of God in them. They’re all bark. No bite.’
‘So what brings you here?’ the sheriff persisted, a faint smile playing on his lips.
He knows I avoided his question. Zeb thought swiftly, decided against telling the truth, and brought up a map of the region on his screen. ‘I was leaving, but didn’t feel good about it. It felt like I was running away from my vacation. I’ve still got several days left before I head back home. I figured I’d head to Fremont National Forest.’
That’s lame. I wonder if he’ll buy it.
The sheriff looked at the map and then back at Zeb. ‘There are quicker ways to get to the forest. Coming to Dalton is a big detour.’
Zeb raised his hands in defeat, ‘Alright, sheriff–’
Garav rose suddenly, mumbled an excuse and approached a woman who was entering the restaurant. She was a silvery blonde, dressed in a cream suit, and when she came inside, she removed her shades and smiled when she spotted the sheriff.
Cherie Klattenbach! Zeb recognized her immediately from Werner’s file. He studied her, noting the grey in her hair, the easy smile, and the fine lines on her face. Isn’t it a school day? he wondered. and heard Meghan snickering in his mind. Yeah, Zeb. She found out her ex is killed. She would go to school like nothing happened, wouldn’t she?
He turned his back on the screen, closed the files and enlarged the map, conscious of Cherie Klattenbach’s glance in his direction. Probably the sheriff pointing me out. The ex-wife hesitated, but at a vigorous head shake and a gesture from Garav, made her way to Zeb.
‘Mr. Carter?’
He rose and shook her hand. ‘Zeb, ma’am.’
‘Only if you call me Cherie.’
She broke the awkward silence that followed with a chuckle. ‘I too wouldn’t know how to react in a situation like this, Zeb. I was ready to run away when Jerry pointed you out … he insisted I meet you.’
‘I’m sorry for your loss, ma’am.’
‘We split up a long time ago, Zeb. He was a good man, we just weren’t compatible. He was a good friend, however. Jerry tells me you too were in the Special Forces?’
‘Yes, ma’am–’
‘Cherie. I insist.’
‘Sure, ma’am. I was in a different unit. It was just luck that I was out there, when I came across…’ he trailed off, not finding the right words.
‘Jerry told me, Zeb,’ she smiled at his reluctance to use her first name. ‘Mike was like that, too. He was very formal with women. Always held the door open. “Yes, ma’am.” “No, ma’am.” His friends were similar.’
‘When Jerry called me that day with the news, I wasn’t that surprised or shocked, Zeb. I had spent six years with Mike … each time my phone rang, I dreaded answering it. I wanted him to quit, but the Army was his life. I am equally headstrong and neither of us was willing to compromise. I moved out with Morgan and came here. He quit a year later, but it was too late by then.’
The torrent of words surprised him, but he kept quiet and listened. Listening was second nature to him. He could sit for hours, motionless, listening.
She broke off and looked out of the window and discreetly wiped her eyes. Zeb followed her gaze and spotted a girl on the sidewalk, leaning against a truck that gleamed and shone in the sunlight. She was in bright colors, a loose red shirt over blue jeans, but she looked sombre. She brushed her hair away from her face as her fingers moved rapidly on her phone.
That’s Morgan.
‘That’s Morgan, our daughter,’ Cherie confirmed. ‘She thought the world of him, Zeb. She wanted us to get together again. Not many people know it, but she suffers from blood cancer. The curable type, thankfully.’
Zeb didn’t know how to react and schooled his face to show no expression, but something must have shown on him, for she patted his hand and smiled wanly. ‘We discovered it a few years back, and ever since then, Mike sent us every dollar he had. I wasn’t too proud to turn him down. Anything for our girl.’
‘Are you married, Zeb? Any kids?’
‘No, ma’am.’
She nodded absently, her eyes back on her daughter, who was now chatting to a couple of friends. ‘You wouldn’t understand, in that case.’
‘When did you last see him, ma’am. Your husband?’
She turned round to him, her lips quirking in a small smile. ‘You planning to investigate his killing?’ The mirth fled her face at the word and she shivered visibly. ‘The way he died … I can’t even imagine it. Why was he there? Jerry is a good sheriff, but he’s out of his depth. He’s requested help from the state police.’
‘I’m rambling, aren’t I? I’m dumping on you. You find my husband’s body and now you have to sit here and watch his wife come apart.’
Zeb didn’t say anything as she wiped her eyes and drank the glass of water he offered. She finger-waved at the sheriff who was looking over with a concerned expression and had taken a step towards them. Garav stopped at her gesture and turned his attention back to the restaurant manager.
‘I hadn’t met him in a few months,’ Cherie answered Zeb’s question, finally. ‘He called about ten days ago, said we wouldn’t have to worry about money anymore. I remember laughing and asking if he was going to sell his kidneys.’
Her face turned white as a thought struck her. ‘Oh my God,’ she whispered, her hand instinctively covering her mouth. ‘I got a–’
You got half a million dollars, Zeb silently completed her sentence.
She rose abruptly, apologizing to him, ‘I’ve got to speak to Jerry, Zeb. Something came to me just now. Thank you for listening.’
‘Ma’am,’ he stopped her. ‘Where was he working last?’
‘In a gang, in Portland. The Portland Hoods’ she replied in a shaky voice, and grabbed the sheriff by his arm and walked him out of the restaurant.
Zeb rose when Cherie and Garav disappeared around a corner. He left a generous tip and left the restaurant and
considered his options. Garav will loop in the state police. The money could be an insurance payment.
He mulled that over in his mind as he watched Morgan and her friends. Which insurance company acts so swiftly? How would they know about Klattenbach’s death? Another thought came to him as he looked in Morgan’s direction. How did Klattenbach end up working with a gang? Did he steal from them? Is his death connected to the gang?
He walked around the town, working on various angles while soaking in the small-town atmosphere. He would have loved to listen into the calls between the sheriff and the troopers, and the lines they would pursue. They’ll probably focus on the money, try to trace it back.
He stopped suddenly and apologized when a couple had to go around him. Werner can access their investigation. It’s plugged into all state police systems. Werner will know more than Garav will, what the troopers are up to. It’s not like the state police will share a lot with a small time sheriff. I’ll check out the gang.
His decision made, he went to the town square, bought cards for the twins, and headed back to his hotel. Checking out was quick. Loading his stuff in his SUV didn’t take time, he had just his backpack and a duffel.
He tossed his bags on the rear seat, his jacket on the front, and when he was shutting the passenger door, he realized Garav was wrong. The sheriff had said Jed, Billy, and Kane wouldn’t trouble him anymore.
There they were, heading towards Zeb in the hotel’s parking lot, walking fast. Their shapes contorted in the reflection on the SUV’s door as they came closer. Hands empty. No weapons. Loose shirts. There could be guns in their waistbands. His Glock was in the vehicle, and he thought of getting it out.
No guns, he decided, when they approached closer. They didn’t have the look. They’re just small town punks. Lost face and want to do something about it. He turned around and faced them, ready, alert, feeling the blood pulse through him, slow and steady.
‘Looking for someone?’ he asked in a conversational tone.
‘Yeah, you,’ Jed, the red-haired one replied arrogantly. ‘We were being polite in there,’ he jabbed a hand in the direction of the restaurant. ‘There was no need to go crazy on us. We come to teach you some manners.’
‘Came,’ Zeb corrected him.
‘Huh?’ Jed’s brow creased as he tried to process Zeb’s reply.
‘Forget it,’ Zeb sighed. ‘You sure you want to do this?’
‘Bet yer ass. We’re gonna whip you so bad you’re gonna think twice about being rude.’
‘My mistake. I didn’t know you were being polite and courteous.’
Jed spent a few seconds trying to figure out Zeb’s meaning. ‘You’re funning us, aren’t you?’ he snarled finally.
Zeb had enough. ‘Are you all talk?’
Jed swung, a haymaker that Zeb read long before the swing started. He ducked easily under the blow, grabbed the hand, twisted it and smashed Jed’s face in the door. He pulled the red-haired man back and shoved him in Billy’s direction who was breathing hard, prepping himself to join the fray.
Jed’s head plunged into Billy’s midriff and the two men fell. Zeb took a couple of steps to the side and looked questioningly at Kane. Kane didn’t meet his eyes. He was looking down at his friends, his mouth open, his hands clenching and unclenching. He shuffled his feet and took a step back, signaling he wanted no part of the fight.
‘Damn it, Kane,’ Jed roared when he raised his head. ‘Get him,’ he yelled through split lips. He cursed and swore when his friend turned and ran away.
Jed got to his feet, shook his head, breathing harshly. ‘I’ll get you. I’ll beat you to pulp–’
‘This can end here,’ Zeb interrupted him. ‘You can walk away, while you’re still able to.’
‘You won’t be able to walk away when I’m done with you,’ Jed goaded and charged.
Zeb waited till the attacker was on him, turned slightly to take the first blow on his shoulder, and watched Jed’s eyes widen in triumph. The victorious light turned to shock when Zeb’s knuckles punched his sternum. Zeb followed up with a knee to Jed’s unprotected groin and raised the man by his hair when he was collapsing.
‘I said I would break your legs, didn’t I?’
Jed moaned in reply and screamed when Zeb dislocated his shoulder.
He left Jed and Billy in the parking lot and went to the restaurant where he found Tony, the manager, waiting for him, his phone to an ear.
I bet those two will spin a different story to the sheriff, he thought while he waited for the manager to end his call.
‘I’m calling the sheriff.’ Tony mouthed at him while waiting for his call to be connected. ‘One of my men was out for a smoke, he was there the whole time, watching what went down. Those guys never learn.’ The manager’s eyes darted as he surveyed the restaurant, multi-tasking, and got a server’s attention and directed her to a waiting couple.
‘Yeah, he’s here, in front of me.’ He spoke in his handset. ‘Nope, doesn’t look like he’s in any hurry.’ He listened for a moment, chuckled, and hung up. ‘Sheriff’s coming. He asked me to hold you back if you started manhandling anyone else.’ He eyed Zeb up and down and said straight-faced, ‘I’ll say you overpowered me … in case you want to have another go at those guys.’
Garav rolled his eyes theatrically when he approached Zeb and the manager. ‘You got a beef with anyone else in this town?’
‘He’s got no beef with anyone! He was minding his business both times. It’s that Jed you need to talk to,’ Tony rounded angrily on the sheriff. ‘They pick on newcomers every time, you know it. This time they had it coming.’
‘Tony–’
‘You–’
‘Tony,’ Garav repeated mildly.
Tony quietened and glared at the sheriff. ‘What?’
‘Let me do my job, okay? You got an eating house to run, don’t you?’
‘It’s called a restaurant, sheriff. Not that you’d know the difference, since you never tried our food,’ Tony sniffed and went to his office, leaving them alone.
‘You see what I’ve got to deal with, in this county?’ Garav leaned against the manager’s desk and folded his hands across his belly. ‘Jed called me. He said you tried to kill him and his friends. What’s your story?’
Zeb told him and when he had finished Tony returned with a man in the restaurant’s uniform. ‘Jake’s your witness, sheriff. He saw everything.’
Jake was a reliable witness and when he’d finished his narration, the sheriff took a formal statement, made a few calls and told Zeb he was free to go. ‘Try not to run down anyone as you leave,’ he deadpanned.
First Tony, then Garav, Zeb shook his head and powered his vehicle and left Dalton.
It was when he was on the US-26 W that Cherie Klattenbach’s words came to him. ‘You wouldn’t understand,’ she had said.
Zeb’s hands tightened instinctively on the wheel. I do ma’am. I was married once. I had a son. Zeb would find Klattenbach’s killers and bury them in the desert, for no son or daughter should have to lose her hero father under those circumstances.
He stared blindly out of the windshield at the highway that unfurled like a ribbon taking him to Portland.
I’m coming.
Chapter 7
‘His name is Zeb Carter,’ Privalov told Nikolai Voronoff. ‘He runs some kind of security agency in New York. You know, where they tell fat executives how to protect themselves. Ex-Army guy. Special forces.’ He read out a few more details from the screen in front of him and waited for Voronoff to respond.
‘Check your email,’ Voronoff grunted.
Privalov hung up and logged into a free email application. He went to the drafts folder and read the brief message from Voronoff. Rough him up. If he still doesn’t back off, kill him. Is the other problem taken care of?
The other problem was Descadeo.
Yeah, he typed, and saved the email and exited the program. He and Voronoff had access to the same email account and compose
d draft messages to communicate with each other. A draft email never got sent. There was no internet traffic for the ever-listening, ever-watching intelligence agencies. No messages to be scooped by their algorithms. Low tech always beat high tech.
Privalov rose from behind his desk and watched people scurry down below from his twentieth floor office in downtown Portland. Ants, always hustling, always running, always working. They thought action, movement, was progress. Privalov shook his head at the dumb people, finished his vodka and went back to his seat.
Russian Culture Center, the sign board on his office discreetly proclaimed. It was a legitimate business and gave him the cover he needed to travel all over the country. Russians are a deeply misunderstood people, he said during business meetings, while organizing fight nights in parallel.
He tapped on his computer and watched the green dot speed up the highway, towards Portland. Carter. Privalov leaned back and crossed his arms behind his head. ‘Rough him up,’ Voronoff had said. Privalov could have arranged that in Dalton itself, but the town was too small to make it look like a random incident.
He had eyes on Carter as soon as the man had been identified in his RV. He had one of his men place a tracker on Carter’s SUV when he had returned with the sheriff. He knew where Carter went and what he did. He knew the former soldier would likely go asking questions at the Portland Hoods establishments. He knew everything except what Carter thought.
He dialed a number and spoke briefly in his cell phone. Organizing a welcome for Carter. Carter wouldn’t know what he had gotten into once Privalov’s men were done, and if he had any sense, he would back off.
And if he didn’t … Privalov had an answer to that too.
Voronoff made several calls after reading Privalov’s reply and hung up after he was satisfied with the various responses he received.