by Jeff Carson
“What?” MacLean blurted. “When did they get that email? I never heard anything about that.”
“The day after Wolf and Luke escaped. After the Gunnison sighting.”
“They didn’t tell me that.” MacLean’s face was red.
“They didn’t tell you, or us, anything because they suspected you were involved.”
MacLean swallowed and petted his goatee.
“They involved me because I was partnered with Lancaster. I gave him some false information and then lured him into the station so they could take him down. But he’s dead.” Patterson’s eyes frosted over. “He shot two FBI agents in their flack jackets, and … he’s dead.”
“Wait a minute,” Rachette said. “What was this plan of theirs?”
Patterson shrugged. “Basically the same as yours. They knew the cartel had shot up Wolf and Luke’s truck and they were still after them, and they would jump at the chance to use Jack as leverage to get to him. They sent me a text message that looked like it was from you, and gave a bogus address up in the mountains to lure them in.”
“Where?” Rachette pressed her. “What address?”
“I don’t remember the number.” She pulled out her phone. “Up on Star Ridge Road. And then you guys, no more than a few minutes later, called me and had pretty much the same plan.”
“Star Ridge Road,” Rachette said with a sour face, “that’s a turn off the same county road we were on. But the cartel somehow got spooked by the feds, didn’t take the turn, and then decided to drive right where Jack and Burton were? That doesn’t make much sense.”
The truth hit Wolf like a punch in the nose. He closed his eyes and mouth to contain the scream welling up from within.
He opened his eyes. “I was just with Frye. He said that half the agents were waiting at a farmhouse on Star Ridge, and the other half were following in vehicles. They were going to pinch them in at the farmhouse, but Frye thinks the following vehicles got too close. The cartel was just running. It was dumb luck the route they were taking was toward Jack.”
Rachette exchanged a glance with Wilson. “You think?”
“Baine,” Wolf walked away from them, “I need you to take me back to Burton’s wife’s cabin. Jack left a few things we need.”
“Wait,” Rachette protested.
“Uh … sir?” Baine stood in his spot in their circle. “My truck is wasted.”
Wolf stopped. “Oh, yeah. Patterson, give me your keys.”
Patterson stood with a confused look.
“Come on, damn it!”
She dug them out and flung them as fast as she could.
He caught them and pointed. “Luke’s shot, go see to her. Baine, let’s go.” He tossed the keys to Baine. “You’re driving. I’m in no shape to.”
Baine fumbled the keys and then followed after him.
“Hey, can I get my phone back?” Rachette asked.
“No. I still need it.”
Wolf walked away from confused grumbling and climbed into the passenger seat of Patterson’s squad SUV.
As he settled into the leather cushion, he pulled out Rachette’s phone and set it on his leg. Then he pulled out Pope’s phone and set it on the other.
Baine slid behind the wheel and eyed the phones on Wolf’s lap. “Jesus, we’ve got a midget on the force, and her name is Patterson.”
Wolf ignored him.
“What’s with the phones?”
“I have to make a call. Drive.”
Baine cleared his throat and drove.
Chapter 47
Patterson stood still watching the SUV rumble away in a cloud of dust.
A helicopter thumped overhead, pulling her attention to the sky.
“Medevac on the way to pick up Burton,” Rachette said, massaging his shoulder.
Patterson stopped a passing FBI agent. “Hey, what happened, exactly?”
The agent looked annoyed. “These cartel guys pulled out automatic rifles and shot us to shit, that’s what happened.”
“Yeah, but—”
“Hey, we lost an agent in the firefight and we have another two down.” He pointed back toward the ambulance. “So if I may, please?” He walked away.
Patterson watched Luke get carried on a stretcher into the ambulance. For a second she considered running to speak to her, but that would only cause more delay and confusion. She was shot, and she was in good hands.
“Did they see you following them or what?” Rachette asked another nearby agent.
“Who?”
“The cartel. You guys had a trap set up, right? And we hear they passed it by.”
The agent faced off with Rachette. “There’s no way we were made. I was the lead car following them, and we were a half-mile behind. A half-mile filled with dust.”
“That’s not what it looked like to me. You guys were right on their ass.”
The agent stepped up to Rachette. “What are you trying to say?”
MacLean stepped between them. “Hey, agent, I’m Sheriff MacLean with the SBSD. And I think my deputy has a good question.”
“With all due respect, sir. I don’t think he does. I think he’s trying to say one of my agents tipped off the bureau or something.”
Patterson turned away from Luke and stepped toward the ensuing argument.
Another few agents saw what was going on and stepped near.
“Hey, hey,” MacLean held up his hands. “We’re not causing trouble. Answer my deputy’s question, son. Were you guys made? You say you were a half-mile behind. But we saw you following closer than that when you passed us.”
The agent refocused on the question. “We were a half a mile out, and we were going to close in when they turned into the farmhouse. That was the plan.
“Only we got word they never turned, so on ASAC Frye’s command we closed the gap. Agent Frye and other agents left the farmhouse and caught up with us. We were trying to get a game plan on the fly of how to get them. We knew they were armed to the teeth from previous surveillance.” He shook his head. “Frye was telling us to hang back just as these guys pulled off on this road and opened fire on us. Is that what you wanted to know?”
MacLean was lost in thought. “Thank you.”
The agent shook his head and walked away.
Patterson watched MacLean. His lips were chomping and his eyes were glazed over.
“Sir? What do you think?”
He held up a finger. “I think if you’re working with the cartel you stay away from the action. You don’t get involved in it. You don’t get caught up in a firefight. If you did that, you’d be worried about allegiances in the heat of the moment. Your fellow agents would see.” He looked up and faced the trail of dust Wolf and Baine left behind. “Your fellow deputies would see.”
Patterson went rigid. “What are you saying?” She looked around the circle and stopped at Munford. “Wait. Was she with you guys that whole time?”
“Whoa, easy,” Rachette said. “She’s not working with the cartel.”
“You sure about that, Rachette?” Patterson beamed a look at Munford. “You’re track record’s not too good with reading women.”
Munford stood frozen.
“Hey,” Rachette stepped in front of Patterson and put both hands up. “Back off—”
Patterson shoved both of Rachette’s hands away. “Don’t touch me.”
“Hey, guys, cool it!” Wilson was transfixed on something. “Where’s MacLean going?”
MacLean’s truck fired up and showered rocks into the line of SBSD vehicles as it sped away.
She turned around and realized her mistake. “Shit. Let’s go!”
Chapter 48
Scrolling through one cell phone, Wolf steadied the other on his lap as they bounced down the dirt road.
“Who are you calling?” Baine asked for the second time.
Wolf ignored him.
“What … is that your phone?”
Wolf found the phone number in Rachette’s phone and
memorized it. “Just making a call.”
Baine almost ran off the road. “Dang it.”
Wolf eyed him. “What’s wrong? Gotta take another shit?”
Baine wiped his forehead and rubbed his hand on his pants, like he was trying to start a fire with his palm.
Pocketing Rachette’s phone, he began searching one by one through the contacts in Pope’s phone.
“The trouble with these damn cell phones,” Wolf said, “is that you never remember a phone number any more. I can remember five of my childhood friends phone numbers to this day, and not one of my deputy’s. Kind of messed up, huh?”
Baine let out a noise—something between a gasp and a laugh.
“Ah, here we go.”
Wolf held up Pope’s phone and made a production of pushing his index finger on the screen.
Baine looked over with an uncomprehending frown.
Wolf nodded. “The call.” Waiting patiently, he looked at the screen. “Ah, roaming. It might take a few seconds, I guess.” He put it to his ear and heard nothing, and then there was a patchy ring.
Baine’s face fell.
Wolf dropped the still ringing phone on the floorboards and pointed the Beretta at Baine.
“I can see the gerbils running in that tiny brain of yours. You’re wondering if you can pretend your way out of this. Like the phone in your pocket isn’t vibrating. Like I didn’t just figure out your phone number was programmed as #8 in the cell phone of a drug cartel member.”
Baine sagged and started to pant like an overheated dog. “I had to. They were going to kill my sister and her family if I didn’t do what they said.”
“I don’t believe that for a second. We’re the sheriff’s department. We’re stacked with some good firepower ourselves, Deputy Baine. What I do believe is they sweetened the deal with money.”
Baine swallowed and gripped the steering wheel with ten wriggling fingers.
“I was wondering how someone breaks into your locked desk without you knowing to steal that interview tape, then also manages to erase the file off YouTube that you emailed me that first night.”
Baine shook his head. “I had to, sir. I had—”
“Don’t call me sir. You have no allegiance to me.”
Baine’s breathing stilled and so did his hands. Glancing down at Wolf’s lap, he jerked the wheel to the left and straightened his arms.
The truck revved high and then tilted left as it flew off the steep shoulder, and they sailed into a cluster of lodge pole pines.
Wolf floated in his seat. He put both legs on the dashboard, dropped the gun, and tried to get a hand hold on something before the impact.
But it was no use, it all happened too fast.
His entire world was an explosion of glass, the crunch of metal, a white powdery airbag punching into the side of his head, and then he was weightless. Perhaps he was dead.
Then there was a symphony of springs popping, shafts cracking, aluminum bending, and liquids sloshing as he connected hard with the rounded plastic and hard leather of the interior.
And then it was over.
Dust and airbag powder stung his corneas as he blinked. It was impossible to see through the cloud of debris, so he closed his eyes and tried to feel his limbs one by one. He was conscious, that was something, but other than that he could feel no specific sensation.
Suddenly his head spun, and with a gasp he opened his eyes.
The dust had settled somewhat. Everything was upside down.
He was on the roof, he realized, lying on his back, and he was staring at Baine, who hung upside down, still strapped in his seat with a seatbelt.
A deflated airbag, streaked in red, hung from the steering wheel in front of Baine. As he jolted awake, blood erupted from Baine’s nostrils like twin geysers and splattered everywhere.
With a new sense of urgency, Wolf started to move for the first time, and felt that his right leg was completely numb. Looking down, he saw the bend in his thigh and knew his healing femur fracture had snapped in two.
His arms were mobile—painted in warm blood from scrapes and lacerations from the glass, but otherwise free of broken bones.
Baine unclipped himself and landed on Wolf.
Wolf howled in pain—proof that his leg had plenty of feeling left in it.
With labored, gurgling breaths, Baine righted himself, with no regard to how much suffering he put Wolf through as he rolled on top of him, and then he was in Wolf’s face.
“I had no choice.” Baine’s teeth oozed strings of red saliva and his nose poured hot blood onto Wolf’s neck.
Wolf locked eyes with Baine’s maniacal gaze and kept silent. With slow movements he began to grope for a weapon along the rooftop underneath him, hoping against all odds that he would find the cold steel of the Beretta among the pebble sized shards of glass.
“No choice.” Spittle flung out between Baine’s teeth onto Wolf’s closed mouth.
Something snapped Baine out of his current state of rage. It was a seatbelt strap hanging down near Wolf’s head.
“Should have worn your seatbelt, Wolf.”
Wolf grabbed the loose strap and wrapped it once around Baine’s neck, then grabbed both ends and pulled as hard as he could.
Baine’s eyes bulged, and he tried to pry his fingers underneath the straps.
With all the strength he could muster, Wolf grunted and pulled harder.
Sagging onto Wolf, Baine’s face turned lobster red as he gagged and squirmed. Then Baine thrashed, and his knees were slamming into Wolf’s thigh, sending fire hose pulses of pain through his body.
Baine saw the effect, so he started running in place on his knees.
“Ahhh!” Wolf leaned up as hard as he could, connecting a head butt against Baine’s nose. Then another. Then another.
Baine sagged to Wolf’s side, and Wolf steered him onto his back on the spacious felt roof. Wolf pulled himself on top of Baine, his grip on the seatbelt strap relentless, but the pain in his leg was almost too much to bear.
Baine’s face turned bright red and his puffy lips began moving, pleading.
Wolf let up the slack and Baine sucked in a desperate breath.
“Tell me everything.” Wolf’s own voice was muffled behind a growing symphony of ringing bells.
“I had to, Wolf. You have to believe me.”
“Was it you? Did you kill Sarah?”
“No. Please. I’ll tell you everything. I can’t breathe.”
Wolf released a little more pressure. A veil of black started to creep in from the edges of his vision.
“It was Lancaster. He did it. I’ve just been reporting to these guys. Just keeping them informed. That’s it. It was that big white-skinned guy, Pope. He came to me a couple months before the election. Told me I’d be working for them from now on, or he’d kill my sister and her family.”
Wolf shook his head, trying to shake the darkness back.
“I love them, Wolf.”
Wolf tightened his grip, and the darkness seemed to recede. “I loved my family, too. I loved Sarah.”
“It was … Lancaster.”
“You knew he killed Sarah and you let him live? You could have told me from day one. You bastard, we could have taken them down.”
“I was scared—” Baine made some choking noises and his eyes rolled.
Wolf let up again on his grip. “You deserve to die,” Wolf said between desperate breaths. The darkness was taking hold again, and his vision began to tilt.
Baine’s eyes widened, and then relaxed. “I almost got strangled just like this for that taped interview with Gail Olson. I thought I was doing what the cartel wanted, keeping you in power so I could be their inside man in the new department. I didn’t know that Lancaster was already in place inside MacLean’s department and they wanted MacLean to win the election.”
Baine was stalling, letting Wolf slip further and further into the darkness, and there was nothing Wolf could do about it. He felt his grip slac
ken more on the vinyl straps. His arms began to shake.
Baine held still and talked faster. “Man, that Pope guy was pissed. I had to go back and get rid of that video. That was when Lancaster and I became acquainted. He said he’d get rid of MacLean’s copy. Said I was lucky to be alive, and I couldn’t screw up again or else my sister and her family were dead.”
Wolf shook his head. “Shut up.”
“But I guess he couldn’t get rid of MacLean’s video copy. The sheriff put it in a wall safe in his house or something. I got rid of your copy. Remember when I was there that day at your house? I just pretended to put it back in your desk. You were messed up on pain pills. And that scotch you were drinking.”
Wolf’s arm shook, almost giving way. “Shut up.” He pulled on the belt.
His head thumped, like a bowling ball hit him in the nose, and he collapsed onto Baine’s chest. His ears were filled with a thousand bells chiming at once.
He felt himself being rolled over by Baine’s strong hands. Blinking rapidly, his vision was like he was bobbing in fifty-foot seas.
Baine straddled Wolf and pressed the seatbelt across his neck. “I had no choice Wolf. I had no choice about all this. And you should have worn your seatbelt.”
Wolf let out a hacking noise as Baine pressed harder. Wolf felt and heard a crunch in his throat. Trying to suck in a breath, his diaphragm convulsed.
Mercifully, Baine let up on his grip.
Wolf’s lungs wheezed as he sucked in a breath. It was the most painful yet relieving thing he’d ever felt.
“You know, your wife made those noises after I shot her in the chest that first time.” Baine’s red teeth glimmered.
Wolf’s eyes went wide and he punched the side of Baine’s head as hard as he could.
Baine ignored the feeble gesture and pressed again on the strap, cutting off the air once more.
“God damn she was so beautiful. You really messed up with her, didn’t you? David Wolf, otherwise the perfect boy scout, a worthless screw up like the rest of us when it comes to women.”