by Jeff Carson
Baine’s cheeks shook as he pressed as hard as he could.
Wolf’s face felt like it was going to explode.
“Allow me,” a voice came from somewhere else, and then the barrel of a pistol pressed against Baine’s forehead.
There was scorching heat and light, and then choking gunpowder smoke, and then nothing but darkness. Ringing bells and darkness.
Chapter 49
A pair of monarch butterflies floated near her perfect face, flapping against the warm wind as if striving to stay near. Her smile was too bright to look at directly. Wolf had to squint so hard his surroundings became an overexposed wash of light, but he was content to lean back and close his eyes knowing she lay on his shoulder, her straw hair tickling him softly as it blew on the freshening breeze.
Cracking his eyes, he saw vivid blue orbs filling his vision. “You gonna wake up?”
He smiled and nodded.
“Wolf.”
Wolf blinked.
“Hey.”
Wolf searched for the voice and found it in a wheelchair next to him.
“How the hell do you pee?” Luke leaned forward and lifted his bed sheet.
The blue wrapped plaster encased his entire right leg, crotch area, waist, and part of his left thigh. A bar connected them both to keep them immobile for the time being. According to the doctor he’d be stuck in this peeing dog position for two weeks before some of the cast came off.
“I was wondering why my leg was so warm.” He grabbed a sip of water from the bottle next to him.
She laughed. “You were dreaming about Sarah.”
Reality came back to him: beeping machines, a button for pain medication, a button for his bed, crappy daytime television.
“I was?”
She nodded. “You said her name.”
He leaned back and closed his eyes. “I need more meds.”
“They got me on Percocet. Good stuff.”
Wolf nodded and cracked an eye. “How are you feeling?”
She looked down at her leg, which was in a cast and jutting out in pike position.
“I don’t think I can even get in that position, and they put a cast on you like that?”
“You said that joke yesterday.”
Wolf smiled. “I need more meds.”
“I wanted to come by, read you this email before I get out.”
“The all-this-was-for-nothing-email? I don’t know if I want to hear it.”
They stared at one another for a second, both knowing Wolf was lying. He wanted to hear it, and he owed Luke everything for what she had done for him.
This Agent Tedescu email he’d been hearing so much about supposedly explained Wolf’s innocence, but if he and Luke had simply turned themselves in and let the FBI go about its business of taking down the cartel, Sarah’s justice would have been left in the hand of lawyers. High priced cartel lawyers like the ones who had gotten Gail Olson off for possession of twenty-two pounds of marijuana and over one hundred thousand dollars, and reduced it to nothing and turned it into a counter-suit against the Ashland Police Department.
Witnesses would have been murdered.
Sooner or later, it was going to end the way it did.
“Let’s hear it,” Wolf said.
Luke cleared her throat and read off the screen of her phone.
“Dear Agent Frye,
“This message is to you, who I feel I owe more to than our SAC, who we both know I’ve never gotten along with since Farmington, and to the agents of the Denver Field Office of the FBI. When you are done reading this and acting as you feel fit, please share this with them.
“I am sending this email explaining the conduct of myself and Special Agent Paul Smith in the last three years.
“I’m pretty certain I’m being hunted and my days are numbered. In fact, I’m sure I’m on my final day of living and I need to clear my conscience, and make sure the Bureau knows that my wife and children knew absolutely nothing about what Agent Smith and I have done.
“I have given Special Agent Kristen Luke the location and access to a storage locker in which we have placed physical evidence that will prove the existence of the ‘Ghost Cartel’. In case the information in that storage locker is not self-explanatory, or if the information is gone because the Ghost Cartel has beaten Special Agent Luke to it, which is a very real possibility, I want to explain everything. Lives are at stake.
“In case it is in dispute, let me make it perfectly clear that Special Agent Luke knows nothing about what we have done, either. She has been a solid, respectable partner who has been dedicated to upholding the oath she took when she joined the Bureau.”
“Agent Smith and I have known about the existence of the Ghost Cartel, the players, the members, the exact methods of operation, for over three years.
“Two years ago, Agent Smith figured out that a corporation named WCB Holdings had purchased some rural properties in Byron County. Upon further investigation, and with the help of a real estate agent named Sarah Muller from Rocky Points, Colorado, we found WCB Holdings to be a shell company for the Ghost Cartel.
“Smith and I staked out and took extensive pictures of these properties, proving they were illegal marijuana grow facilities. Following their business activities for months, we documented and took pictures of the operation, which included the smuggling of vast amounts of marijuana from Colorado to other western states including California, Nevada, Idaho, and New Mexico, all funneled through Ashland Moving and Storage, located in Ashland, Colorado.
“Just recently we learned that Sarah Muller had been approached again by the Ghost Cartel, once again under the guise of WCB Holdings, to purchase two more properties, this time north, just outside of Rocky Points, Colorado.
“This is where I tell you about me and Agent Smith’s illegal activities. I’ll spare you the long story explaining the why’s, and say only that the humiliation we had to endure after the Farmington raid went south, and the aftermath, and the demotion, and the split up, and how we were treated as less than agents from that point on, was too much for us to bear. We were changed. We were broken, and we broke our oaths. I cannot speak for Agent Smith, but I’m not proud of it.
“After we compiled a detailed case file against the Ghost Cartel, instead of bringing it to our superiors, we took a copy of the entire file to the Cartel itself. We made it clear that upon our deaths, we had a mechanism in place to inform the bureau about everything if harm should come to us. Our silence cost them a fee, and we’ve been collecting that fee for the last few years. I won’t discuss the exact amount, but know that my wife was not aware of this payment or its source. She was under the impression I’d inherited the money from my late father’s estate.
“As we all know, three and a half months ago Agent Smith was murdered, along with the real estate agent in Rocky Points, Colorado. This has to do directly with the new properties purchased by the Cartel outside of Rocky Points, the fact that Smith and I learned about them, and the political race for Sheriff of the newly merged Sluice and Byron counties.
“Agent Smith and I realized the Cartel was expanding northward into the former Sluice County—expanding its operations as the size of the county expanded. Agent Smith approached the Cartel and told them we required more money since we would be keeping this new information quiet. As Smith put it, their operation grew, so our fee needed to grow.
“They acquiesced, and began paying us more money. I was increasingly frightened by the prospect, but Agent Smith was not. He did not have a family to worry about. He seemed to be living his true calling, acting the extortionist to dangerous men.
“Agent Smith, as we all know, ended up dead in a sedan with the real estate agent in question. The reason is clear enough. The reason I was spared for all this time is not, but I was told Smith’s death was not a sanctioned move inside the cartel. I’m not sure what this means, other than there could be a power struggle happening within the Cartel itself. Perhaps a breakout faction of the Carte
l murdered Agent Smith, fed up by his brazen moves. Perhaps this faction has won an inside battle, and that is why they are going after me right now.
“As far as the former Sheriff of Sluice County goes, he is innocent of all wrong-doings, no matter how it will look by the end of the day. I know this because Agent Smith and I were given those photos of Gail Olson making a drug swap with the Sluice County deputy. Gail Olson worked for the Cartel, and as far as we could gather, the Cartel made her set up the Sluice County deputy named Rachette, and they took the photos of her making the drug hand off.
“We were given those photos because we were told if we were to be paid more money, we needed to start pulling more weight in the Cartel’s affairs.
“We started working with a man named Clayton Pope, whose profile is included in the storage unit, but easy enough to gather yourself. It was clear to me that Pope did not like us, and I’m pretty certain he is the one after me today.
“Back to the point, Pope ordered Smith and I to put the pictures into play to make the Sluice County Sheriff’s Department look bad, and help MacLean and the employees of the Byron County Sheriff’s Department retain power in the merged county going forward.
“Why? Because the Cartel has a mole or moles inside the Byron County Sheriff’s Department, and they want to keep them there as the county expands. We suspect the man named Lancaster is a mole. His attitude spurred us to look into his financials, and he is clearly taking payments. After a thorough investigation into MacLean and his financials, it’s clear that the sheriff is unaware of the infiltration inside his department.
“All of the information Agent Smith and I have compiled on the Ghost Cartel and proof of what I’ve said in this email can be found at the Trout Creek Moving and Storage facility in Gunnison, Colorado—Unit # 62.
“I’m afraid time is short on retrieving this information, however. Jeffrey Lethbridge was our lawyer we secretly tasked to pass on the information to the Bureau upon our death. Somehow the Cartel found out his identity, and the nature of our relationship with him, and he and his entire family have been executed this morning. Furthermore, his copy of the storage key has been taken.
“I have given my copy of the storage unit key to Kristen Luke in hopes she can beat them to the contents inside.
“I’m not proud of what Agent Smith and I have done. But I hope in the end this email and the information we’ve compiled can help bring down these evil men.
“By the end of today, I know I’ll have suffered a fate which I deserve.
“We messed with the bull and got the horns.
“Please, sir, I implore you. Please make sure my family does not suffer the same fate as I have.
“Sincerely.
“Terrence Tedescu, former Special Agent.”
Wolf took a sip of water. “What I don’t get is this email came in to Frye that night we were camped out in the woods, right?”
She nodded. “Yep.”
“So why wasn’t Frye and the FBI waiting for us at the storage unit the next day?”
“Because I didn’t get the email until later that day.” Frye’s voice came from the doorway. “I was driving all around the mountains, chasing your ass, and the poor excuse for cell service you guys have up here never did deliver Tedescu’s email to my phone until a day later. After we’d already missed you at Gunnison.”
Luke wheeled back from Wolf’s bed and swiveled to face her boss.
“That, and it eventually came to my personal email address, and I’m not in the habit of scouring my personal emails on my phone when I’m chasing a perp. So I didn’t see the email in time. And then once I did see it, you guys had already disabled your phones and weren’t answering our calls.” Frye walked in uninvited and gazed out the hospital room window. “Nice view.”
Wolf followed his eyes to the western peaks, which were darkened in afternoon shadow.
“What day is it?” Wolf asked.
“It’s Tuesday,” Luke said. “Four days after.”
Wolf remembered the gun poking in the truck window and pressing against Baine’s head. He recalled the light and heat.
“It was MacLean,” Wolf said.
“He saved you,” Luke said with a nod. “He followed after you and Baine in his truck, saw you guys wrecked in the trees.”
Frye cleared his throat. “According to Sheriff MacLean, he heard Deputy Baine confess to murdering your ex-wife.”
Wolf’s eyes glazed over as he remembered his final moments of consciousness that day. “Yes. He did.”
Luke exhaled. “Tedescu said nothing about Baine in his email.”
“Like Tedescu said, the cartel was expanding.” Frye walked to Wolf’s bed and looked him in the eye. “Right into your department.”
Wolf shook his head. If there was one deputy in his department that had the personality to cross to the dark side, it was Baine.
“I need to ask you.”
“No.”
“You haven’t heard my question yet.”
“You’re going to ask if I suspect any other deputies might have been working with the cartel. And my answer’s no.”
Frye stared silently and then nodded. “We raided seven grow houses and the moving and storage company down south.”
“And?”
Frye shook his head. “Huge operation. We seized over a thousand plants, and we’re not done weighing the product yet, but it’s going to be a lot. We brought in twenty-one suspects, and most of them are singing, and we’ll bring in more today. Ashland Moving and Storage had a fleet of ten rental trucks with false bottoms. That’s how they moved the product from here to their final destination.”
“And why frame me and leave me alive? That’s what I want to know.” Wolf closed his eyes. “Why not just plant the gun and shoot me in the head from three hundred yards and get it all done with? Or better yet, come kill me and make it look like suicide?”
Luke put a hand on his foot and squeezed gently.
Wolf looked at her.
“Now both of those things would have looked suspicious, wouldn’t they? First an FBI agent killed, then a real estate agent, then a drug runner, then a former sheriff?”
Wolf thought about Jack. Had he visited him this time in the hospital? “I was a wreck back then. I could have killed myself.”
“They were going to take you down in the County jail once you were mixed in with the general population,” Frye said. “One of the men we took in named Luther Garcia knew the whole plan. He says our Pope guy took control of the cartel just a few days ago. It was his idea to eliminate the Smith and Tedescu blackmail issue and to set you up. The whole plan was killing two birds with one stone, eliminating the blackmail issue and putting their inside man in the sheriff’s office.”
“And they had to eliminate Sarah, too,” Wolf said.
“Yes.”
Wolf shook his head. “What if I got a good lawyer and stayed out of jail?”
“The charges would have stuck. The bail would have been astronomical.” Frye nodded. “We would have made sure of that given the nature of the crime. You would have spent at least a few nights with general population. And from what this Garcia’s saying, they were going to get to you there. Needless to say, now we’re looking into corruption in Quad County. It’s a damn mess.”
They sat in contemplative silence.
“But,” Frye said, clapping his hands, “You can thank your girlfriend here for defying orders, and the late Agent Tedescu for being a scumbag disgrace to the Bureau with a conscience. I’ve got a busy rest of the day. Feel better, Mr. Wolf.”
Frye left without saying another word.
Luke stared after him, then wheeled forward and banged her foot against the bed. “Ah, crap.”
“What did that mean?” Wolf asked. “You going to be in trouble after all?”
She shrugged. “No. He’s just passive aggressive by nature. She turned around and bent her head back at an awkward angle. Lips pursed, she stared at Wolf. “Give me a
kiss.”
Wolf smiled and leaned over.
They squirmed and grunted, and managed to peck each other, connecting more teeth than lips.
Luke wheeled away. “I’m getting out. I’ll see you later.” She stopped at the door and turned on squeaky wheels. “I’ll send Jack in.”
Wolf’s body stiffened as he watched her leave, a knowing, sympathetic smile on her face. “Luke.”
She stopped and reversed into view.
“Thanks,” he said. “Sarah says thanks, too.”
She lowered her eyes and wheeled through the door.
Chapter 50
Wolf stared at the doorway for an eternity.
Shadows accompanied with sounds passed by—medical personnel murmuring about patients, squeaky wheeled gurneys, footsteps and a lone cough—but Jack would not come.
Maybe Wolf had been assuming too much of the state of his and Jack’s relationship. Wolf had found the man who killed Sarah, and though he’d been unable to dole out the justice himself, justice had been served.
But it still remained like Jack had said it: Wolf had failed Sarah that night. He’d ignored her phone call and voice message and gone out drinking. He’d ignored her pleas for help, ultimately landing in bed with a deranged psychotic instead of taking care of his family.
Lowering his eyes, Wolf stared at the sheets through a blur of tears.
“Dad?”
Wolf blinked and wiped his cheeks.
“Can I come in?”
Wolf nodded. “Yes.”
Jack walked in hesitantly, studying every nook and cranny of the room like he suspected they were on some hidden camera television show. He put his hands in the back pockets of his jeans and stopped to the foot of the bed.
His green eyes were ringed red.
“I’m sorry,” Jack said.
“About what?”
“Doubting you.”
Wolf swallowed. “I’m sorry, too. I’m so sorry.”
Jack walked to the side of the bed. “It’s not your fault.”