by Jeff Carson
Wolf closed his eyes and leaned back to dismiss further conversation. Wolf was dead tired, dead tired of shitty people doing shitty things, and dead tired of thinking about it.
Rachette apparently got the hint and kept silent for the rest of the drive back to HQ.
Wolf stepped out of the SUV into the headquarters’ dirt lot and swiveled on his heels. He looked at the peaks and sucked in the scent of pine and approaching rain. It was good to be home.
The air shook with a continuous rumble, and Wolf could feel the hair on his arms rising as the sky darkened above.
Rachette pulled Wolf’s backpack out of the SUV and set it at Wolf’s feet. “It’s been raining every day since you left. That looks like a mean one, though.”
Wolf nodded and slung the backpack over his shoulder. “Thanks for the ride again. I’m going home.”
“You aren’t going to stick around for Wakefield’s statement? And what about Julie Mulroy?”
“You guys can handle it. I have a lot of sleep to catch up on. Kind of a big day tomorrow.” Wolf started walking to the open garage where he’d left his SUV.
“Hey, Sarge?” Rachette hadn’t moved from the side of the truck.
Wolf stopped and turned. “Yeah.”
Rachette looked over both shoulders and toward the garage, then stepped close. “You going to stick around if you don’t get the sheriff’s appointment?”
Wolf gave a half smile as the air around them lit up with a bright flash. Thunder crashed almost immediately, and a large dollop of rain smacked the bill of Wolf’s hat, but they both stood unmoved.
There was a funeral for his brother to be arranged, his mother to comfort, and, yes, either he or Deputy Sergeant Derek Connell was going to be appointed to sheriff within the next twenty-four hours—something Wolf couldn’t stop thinking about, especially hanging around this second-year deputy.
Rachette stared unblinking, shifting his weight from side to side.
Wolf turned and walked to the garage as the sky opened in a downpour. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Chapter 52
Monday Morning—9:08 a.m.
Wolf sat motionless in the stiff wooden chair as a trickle of sweat rolled from his armpit, down his torso, and against his tucked uniform shirt. The council meeting was progressing at a no-nonsense pace, and what started out for Wolf as a case of sweaty palms had quickly escalated to an all-out body drenching.
The smell of glazed doughnuts and burnt coffee filled the air, and a bright beam of sunlight shone through the distorted window, illuminating a swimming cloud of dust particles.
The deafening collective murmur faded as a wave of hushes swept across the packed, standing-room-only town hall.
Wolf kept still as the county council members and the mayor passed their votes toward the chairman at the end of the table on stage.
Gary Connell collected all eight votes, seven for the council sitting at the front of the room, representing the collective political clout and wisdom of the entirety of Sluice County, and one for the mayor of Rocky Points, and stacked them in a neat pile.
Five votes. That’s what Wolf needed; the majority vote of the eight people on stage to become the next sheriff of Sluice County. One of them had a son Wolf had beaten to a pulp seven days ago, and another had a son they’d been questioning all night about Jerry Wheatman’s death.
Wolf knew these two men alone had influence over the other five votes on that stage. Margaret Hitchens was unflappable, and would undoubtedly vote for Wolf. But the other five? Their votes were easily persuaded, and now their votes were etched in pen on those tiny sheets of paper.
Wolf flinched as hot breath moistened his left ear. “You got this. You got this.” Rachette patted his shoulder from behind with one loud slap, which attracted a few glances their way, then sat back in his chair a row behind.
“Yeah, you got this.” Nate Watson, his long-time teammate on the football field growing up, and now lifelong friend, sat next to him. The veins were bulging from his forearms, and he bent the Styrofoam cup in his hand to the point just before breaking.
Nate used to be his hard-nosed running back, always there to block even the largest of guys for Wolf in the backfield. Now he had that same intense look Wolf had seen a million times, like he needed to protect Wolf, but he couldn’t find who to bash his shoulder pads into.
Wolf gave him a quick slap on the knee.
Nate flicked him an annoyed glance and glared forward again.
Wolf’s mother was to his right, leaning forward and bouncing her leg, with eyes glued to the front of the room as well.
They were sitting in the middle rows of the large room with a lot of bodies between him and the small stage in front, but Wolf had a clear enough view of the back of Derek Connell’s head.
When they had entered the building twenty minutes earlier, Connell had already been sitting there. Since then, his head hadn’t turned more than ten degrees.
A good-looking man Wolf had never seen was sitting to Connell’s immediate right. He wore a denim shirt, jeans, and cowboy boots, and he lounged back with his cowboy hat on his chest. His facial hair was just past a five o’clock shadow by design, shaved neatly around his neck. His medium-length surfer-blond hair was deeply grooved and shiny, like he’d dunked his head in a bucket of gel and then combed it.
Wolf didn’t understand the man’s presence, so he didn’t like it one bit.
Gary palmed the microphone and it squealed, and then he leaned back to speak to the mayor in a hushed whisper. They nodded their heads, and then the chairman leaned forward. “Okay, all the votes are in. Derek Connell. Eight votes to none.”
Wolf blinked and his face flushed as the room’s collective gasp echoed off the hundred-year-old walls.
“Awwwwww!” Rachette’s voice was loud in Wolf’s ear, snapping him out of his stunned state.
“Mr. Connell, do you accept this appointment by the convened county council as the new sheriff of Sluice County, Colorado?” Gary continued.
Derek Connell stood up. “I do, Chairman.”
“Mr. Connell. This job is to not be taken lightly. Please stand before the council and raise your right hand. Do you swear to …”
“Ssssssssscrew this.” Rachette shoved his head in between Wolf and Nate. His pupils were pinpoints, eyes fixated on the muscle-bound frame of Derek Connell, Sheriff Derek Connell, who was now speaking with his right arm raised at the front of the room.
“Are you kidding me?” Nate Watson looked around the room, and then stood up. “Are you kidding me?”
The room went silent for a moment at Nate’s outburst, and then Gary continued swearing in his only son as the new sheriff of Sluice County.
Wolf looked down the line of council members. They were all, including Margaret Hitchens and the mayor, reading memos or shuffling papers, or whispering to their neighbor behind a hand—anything but making eye contact with anyone in the rest of the room.
The mystery man that Connell had been sitting next to was turned sideways in his chair, staring at the townspeople with a glimmer of amusement in his eye. The man caught Wolf’s gaze and held it for a second before turning forward.
Standing with clenched fists, Wolf’s mom stomped down the row of chairs and pushed her way to the back of the room.
In mid-sentence of the official swearing-in ceremony, Gary locked eyes with Wolf and flicked his head to the back doors.
“This guy is our boss now?” Rachette shook his head and walked away.
Wolf put his hat on and stood up.
At the front of the room the father spouted his lines, his voice loud and unwavering. Before the father, his son stood tall and rigid, his hand raised, nodding as though he’d rehearsed this moment long before.
Wolf narrowed his eyes, disgusted at the sight. “This guy is our boss now.”
THE END
The Silversmith
David Wolf Book 2
Chapter 1
Sergeant David Wo
lf leaned against the bumper of his Sluice County Sheriff’s Department-issue Ford Explorer and watched a few angry people stream out of the town hall building.
It was warm already for a September morning and getting hotter by the second, and Wolf was sweating under his khaki uniform shirt.
“Oh my God,” Deputy Tom Rachette pleaded to the cloudless sky. His hands gripped his head and his mouth was wide in horror. “This isn’t happening.”
“Something’s going on.” Nate Watson, Wolf’s long-time teammate on the football field growing up and lifelong friend ever since, stood shaking his head. “Eight votes to none? For that guy? This is BS.”
“This is unacceptable.” Wolf’s mother was shaking, tears in her eyes. “What are you going to do?”
Wolf stood still, eyeing his mother.
“Your father would be horrified. I don’t understand. After all our family has given to this county over the years … after all we’ve just been through—”
“Don’t worry, Mom,” Wolf said, because that’s all he could think to say. Because since Derek Connell had been announced as the new appointed sheriff of Sluice County, Wolf had been speechless.
A steady stream of citizens of Rocky Points and other far-flung regions of Sluice County were pouring out of the town hall building now, and many of them looked at Wolf with shakes of their heads and shrugs of their shoulders.
Wolf put on his poker face and waited. Gary Connell, the county council chairman and Derek Connell’s father, had signaled Wolf to wait and talk to him, and Wolf intended to do just that. The meeting had left a foul taste in Wolf’s mouth.
A few seconds later, Derek Connell came out of the building. His thumbs were hooked on his belt, his pectorals were out, and he moved with a heel–toe sheriff’s strut.
Wolf hadn’t seen Derek Connell’s ugly face since a week ago today—not since their altercation on top of the cliff, when Derek had tried to push him and Wolf had gotten lucky and seen it coming.
Wolf still hadn’t told a single soul about what had happened that day, but now it was apparent that Connell had been filling the ears of the council with a story of his own. One that Wolf hadn’t been around to defend himself against. By the looks of Connell, he probably didn’t have to work very hard to garner any sympathy.
Connell’s face was a mess. Both eye sockets were deeply bruised; a mix of blue, purple, yellow, and green puffy flesh. His nose was larger than normal, split on the bridge with a red horizontal slice, and a large bump in the middle that hadn’t been there a week ago. His lips looked like they were in the middle of a particularly nasty herpes outbreak, and a line of stitches above his right eyebrow gave the illusion of one brow longer than the other.
Wolf marveled at the damage, vaguely remembering the repeated elbows he’d given Connell once he’d finally gotten him on the ground. He honestly couldn’t begin to guess how many times he’d hit Connell in the face. Apparently it was more than just a few.
Connell’s beady blue eyes found Wolf and narrowed. He wiped his nose gingerly and walked over.
“Mrs. Wolf, so nice to see you. Glad you could make it today.” Connell opened his muscular arms for a hug.
She turned around and got into Wolf’s SUV without saying a word.
“Huh. Okay.” He held out a hand to Wolf. “Sorry, man. Better luck next time.”
Wolf didn’t move.
“Aren’t you going to congratulate me?” Connell shrugged and thrust his hand towards Rachette.
Rachette hesitated and then shook it. “Congratulations, Derek.” He winced as his skin went white under Connell’s grip.
Connell shook for a few seconds too many, his blue eyes boring into Rachette’s. He finally let go and walked towards his own SUV.
“Aren’t you going to shake my hand there, tough guy?” Nate flexed his chest and squared off to Connell’s back.
Connell kept walking and held up his index finger. “Meeting in the sit room at ten. Be there or be sorry.”
The SUV rocked as he jumped in and slammed the door. The mystery blond man that had been sitting next to Derek in the town hall meeting was in the passenger seat, staring at them with no particular expression.
The SUV backed up fast, skidding to a halt, then spit rocks at them as it left.
Rachette shook his hand as the SUV turned onto Main Street with a squeal. “Oh good.” He squinted and coughed on the dust. “This is going to be good.”
Wolf walked back toward the hall building.
“Wolf!” Nate ran up next to him. “I’m heading up to Laramie for the week.”
Nate’s tenacity on the football field had never been enough to make up for his lack of size, so he never did play college ball after high school. Instead, he steered his determination toward academia, double majoring in geology and business at the Colorado School of Mines. Now he owned Watson Geological Services, a thriving enterprise that employed forty-one geologists in Wyoming, Colorado, and Utah. Wolf knew he’d be going up to Laramie to help some big oil and gas company for a substantial amount of money.
“All right. Have a good week.”
“I will.” Nate pulled Wolf to a stop, and then patted him on the shoulder. “I know how much this meant to you. I’m sorry. You going to talk to Gary?”
Wolf nodded.
“Give him hell. I’ll see you on Saturday.”
“Hey. I’ll take Brian fishing with me and Jack this week,” Wolf said.
Nate nodded. “Thanks. I owe ya.”
Chapter 2
Margaret Hitchens stood just inside the door speaking to Gary Connell in a hushed voice.
Turning to leave, she almost ran into Wolf and looked up with a start. “Oh, hi, David.”
He grasped and shook her outstretched hand.
Margaret’s family had always been close to Wolf’s growing up, and she had known his father personally. As far as Wolf had been able to figure out, there had been a love affair that hadn’t lasted between Margaret and his father. Maybe when they were ten years old. He didn’t know. All he knew is it was before his mother was in the picture.
Despite Margaret’s obvious past longing for Wolf’s dad, she had always been a good friend to the entire family, Wolf’s mother included. Wolf thought her a good person with a sharp wit. She was fun to talk to, and everyone in town considered her the real-estate expert.
“Hi, Margaret.” He nodded and moved to step past her.
To his surprise, she held on to his hand and squeezed. “Good luck with everything, David. The job sounds great.” Then she let go and left the room.
He paused, and then twisted on his heel, but he didn’t have a chance to ask her what she meant. She was already out the door.
Gary stood speaking softly, cupping an old man’s hands with both of his own.
The old man stood with the reverence of a devout Catholic praising a beloved priest after mass. Three people waited in line behind.
Mayor Wakefield was scooping up his leather bag from a chair and putting it over his shoulder. He noticed Wolf and walked towards him with an exhausted expression.
“We didn’t see you last night at the station,” Wakefield said.
Wolf nodded. “I needed to get home and take care of some things.”
“I hear Julie Mulroy is denying everything Chris told you.”
Wolf nodded. Yesterday the mayor’s son had shed some light on the suspicious death of a teenaged boy named Jerry Wheatman, implicating a girl in town, Julie Mulroy, as the killer.
“I’m not sure justice will come for what happened. But Chris will be okay. He did the right thing in the end.”
Mayor Wakefield gave Wolf an unreadable look, then nodded. “I hope you enjoy your new job. You’re going to be missed. I hope you know that.”
“New job?” Wolf asked.
The mayor paused, stared at Wolf, then laughed and shook his head as he walked out the door.
More than a little confused, Wolf walked to the now vacant wood seats in the room
and sat down.
Five minutes later the doors closed, muffling the outside crackle of tires on gravel.
The old boarded floor squeaked as Gary walked up behind Wolf.
He cleared his throat. “How you doing, David?”
Wolf stood up and walked to the window without saying anything.
People were still milling about in the parking lot, talking in pairs or small groups. Arms were flailing, pointing to the hall, anger creasing their foreheads.
Gary joined him and sighed. “They’ll get over it.” He folded his muscular arms and leaned against the window.
Wolf gave him a sideways glance. Gary stood looking out with a mischievous half smile.
“Eight votes to none?” Wolf asked.
Gary rubbed his face and looked over his shoulder to the closed door. “I convinced everyone on the council to vote for Derek.”
The floor seemed to drop an inch under Wolf’s feet. He looked at Gary and felt his face warm.
Gary had just admitted to sabotaging a moment that Wolf had been working towards for years. A moment that Gary Connell knew the full weight of.
Wolf forced himself to look back outside. He could hardly contain the anger.
Gary seemed to read Wolf’s expression and shut his eyes. Holding up both hands he said, “Just listen. I know you wanted to be sheriff. But I convinced everyone because I’ve got something much better for you. Please, don’t fret about it.” Gary glared at Wolf and put a gentle hand on his arm. “Just keep your cool and come over tonight to my place for dinner. Have I ever let you down in the past?”
Wolf looked at Gary but said nothing.
“I’ll explain everything tonight. Seven o’clock. Don’t be late.” Gary patted his shoulder and walked out.
Chapter 3
Wolf put his arm around his mother and pulled her close as they looked at the gaping hole in the ground.