by Jeff Carson
For the third, and final blow, from a man, she’d finally dropped her lesbian façade and opened herself up to love. Brendon had been a different sort of guy, charming and funny, and showed his abrasive side only to the worst of people who deserved it. A real looker. The whole package.
She’d turned him down for months at Quantico, where they’d met, and when they found themselves stationed together in Chicago, she decided she couldn’t fight him anymore. She decided she didn’t want to. After two years of dating, they’d built what she considered at the time a solid relationship, and despite the entirely unique pressures of them having the same high-stress, high-pressure job of being FBI special agents, they’d gotten married.
Nowadays, she was disgusted by the thought of her “first love.” Because she’d been the one who’d let the man in. It wasn’t her father leaving, or an attack out of the blue, it was she who had done it to herself. She’d invited Brendon into her life, despite her instinct telling her not to, and watched as he screwed around on her, humiliating her in front of her entire field office in Chicago. It was disgusting to think about—her naiveté in thinking a man could be a source of joy in her life.
Luke thought of these three men at various times in life. It was her past, and was what had shaped her into the special agent she was now, and every once in a while these three men would loom big in her mind.
But since she’d met David Wolf, these three men seemed to flash in her brain every minute. It was her instinct talking to her, and she was listening. Wolf was big trouble. Not in the truest sense of the word—trouble. Not like he was into holding up people at the ATM and doing drugs kind of trouble. He was just … trouble.
But she also knew her troubled past wasn’t doomed to repeat itself, and she was finding Wolf to be a man she wanted to confide in. She was at the end of her rope, and the truth was getting too big for her to handle alone. Someone else had to know, and there was something about Wolf. Sure, he was trouble, but it sure seemed like he could help, too.
As they sat in the Mountain Goat Bar and Grill, eating their late lunches, she watched Wolf shovel food into his mouth in silence. After completely humiliating her in the alley a few minutes before, calling her out, her literally exposing herself to him mentally and anatomically, now he sat with seemingly infinite patience. He wasn’t pushing her, not asking a single thing. He was letting her start.
So she did.
“My dad left us when I was in high school. I was the only one who kept his last name—Luke.” She shrugged. “I don’t know why. I guess I had ideas back then. My two brothers changed their names, but I …”
She let the sentence die and felt her face flush.
“Why’d you come to Glenwood Springs from Chicago?” Wolf asked, gratefully skipping past the subject.
“I wanted to keep an eye on my mother, and Wade Jeffries’s sister and mother.”
Wolf narrowed his eyes. “So you had met Jeffries’s mother and sister before.”
“Yeah. Seven months ago, when my brother died, or … went missing. I came home for my brother’s memorial service after he disappeared. Then after that I went back to Chicago, and I started doing some digging into my brother’s death, talking to a few contacts I have in the CIA. They said he’d been in Tora Bora, the caves where they were looking for Osama bin Laden when the war in Afghanistan started all those years ago.”
Wolf nodded.
“You know the area?” Luke asked.
“Yeah.”
“Then you know. That was the battle of Tora Bora, what, over a decade ago? And my brother’s up there with his team still blasting tunnels a decade later? Why? Didn’t you guys get all that done back then?”
Wolf shrugged. “In theory. It doesn’t make sense he was there. But I’m not privy to military intelligence.”
“Well, my contacts said the same thing: The whole team shouldn’t have been there.” She shoved her plate to the edge of the table. “Anyway, I came back home to Glenwood for vacation a few months after my brother’s service, and went to go talk to Wade Jeffries’s sister. I don’t know what I was looking for, other than just someone to talk to about it, I guess. Our brothers were both missing in Afghanistan and she was a short car ride away. I didn’t know if maybe she had some knowledge about the whole thing. Maybe she had contacted her brother before he’d disappeared, or whatever.
“And what I found was his sister was acting strange. Like, real strange. She was hiding something, no doubt. I asked her if she’d heard anything from her brother before he went missing, and she said no. But she was lying, plain as day. Her mother was even worse when I asked her. These two were acting like they were covering for Wade. Like he was hiding behind the door the whole time when we were talking, or something.”
Wolf raised his eyebrows and took a drink of his Coke.
Luke played with the straw in her own drink, thinking about the way Julie and Wanda Jeffries had broken out in a sweat when she’d asked them about him.
“And?” Wolf asked, showing his first sign of any impatience.
“I left.” Luke shrugged. “And then hacked into their emails.”
Wolf raised an eyebrow.
“And I found an email buried in Julie Jeffries’s deleted folder that caught my attention. It said, Don’t worry, I’m still alive. I’ll see you soon. No signature, no nothing.”
“And the email address?”
“It was from a throw-away Gmail account created two days after Jeffries and the rest of my brother’s team went missing, created from an IP address in Kabul, Afghanistan.”
Wolf nodded. “So, it stood to reason, if Wade Jeffries was still alive, which looked to be the case, your brother was still alive.”
“My brother was the EOD team leader. He was in charge of where these guys went, what they did.” Luke’s eyes gushed without warning. She realized she hadn’t told a single soul what she’d been thinking for over four months, not even her older brother, and now that she’d shared her secret, her burden, a flood of emotion surged through her.
“So, yeah, he’s gotta be alive.” She wiped her tears. “Gotta be one of these men. And shooting at sheriffs and their little boys. And killing people. Innocent women.” She shook her head. “Goddammit. I can’t believe he would …” She clenched her eyes shut. “That’s what I’ve been trying to hide. I knew my brother had to be involved in this, and I just …”
When she opened her eyes, Wolf stared back at her with a relaxed gaze. It was an unreadable expression that made her uneasy.
“I don’t know,” she continued. “I thought I could buy some time, and find him, and get him to stop whatever the hell he’s doing. My little brother always listened to me. I was the reason why he was in Afghanistan in the first place. I pushed him to go, and he did. I know you probably hate me, and want to just about kill me right now.”
Wolf sighed and looked past her.
“I’m sorry,” Luke said.
Wolf put his elbows on the table, and looked vacantly at the walls. “I guess I see where you were coming from. I had a brother, and I would have done anything for him. And I probably would have been itching to kick his ass, alone, if it looked like he was going around killing people.”
Luke sniffed in response, unsure of what to say.
“There’s only one thing. Something that doesn’t add up.”
Luke tilted her head. “Yeah?”
“The guy I killed at the fire. That wasn’t your brother, or any of the other men on his EOD team who disappeared that day in Afghanistan.”
Luke frowned, and remembered the description Wolf had given on the trail that day they’d met. Wolf had said that the man he’d killed had had red hair, or really light blond, with a mouth full of moles. It had startled her to hear that then, as none of the men on the EOD team could have possibly been mistaken for looking like that. They all had dark hair, brown, or darker, dark eyebrows, and most definitely did not have moles on their faces.
“Are you sure?” sh
e asked. “The guy didn’t just have some scabs on his chin, or his lips?”
“No. The guy had moles. I was only inches away, and I saw them clearly. No mistake. And I remember faces, especially the ones I shot with a .357 in front of my son. And none of those four faces was the guy I killed at the fire. And …” Wolf stopped talking.
“What?”
“I just don’t get why they’d fake their own deaths, and come home. What’s in it for them? A life of dodging civilization? A life of dodging any of the people you used to know? And I keep thinking about Wade Jeffries on that trail. He had some serious equipment in his backpack, like bomb material … or something. What was he carrying? Why was he running?”
Luke turned around in her seat and waved her hand at the bartender for the check.
The man behind the bar was sweaty and pale, like he wasn’t feeling well at all, but he immediately responded with a nod and walked their way.
“Thanks,” she said when he dropped it off. Then she turned to Wolf. “I think I may have the answers to those questions.”
Wolf wiped his hands on his napkin. “Oh? And what are those?”
She scooted out of the booth and put on her jacket. “I need to show you.”
“Show me what?”
“Something that came to my house a few days ago.”
Wolf looked like he wanted answers, but once again he kept quiet, stood up and followed her out the door. That patience of his was becoming irresistible to Luke. And now she was bringing him home. Trouble, she thought one final time as they left the Mountain Goat and walked into the cool drizzle.
Chapter 32
Rachette stood in the doorway of a large merchandising tent at the base of the mountain and looked outside at the steady rain. It wasn’t raining hard, but it was relentless, going for two hours now.
He sipped on a styrofoam cup of coffee and looked out at Patterson, who had just returned from her secret errand for Wolf, and was now walking with Jack and the big guy from Garfield County, Richter, toward the stage. Jack and Richter were enthralled by a story Patterson was telling, and then they were laughing. She was probably telling a story about how Jack Nicholson had once come to dinner at her family’s house and pissed in the houseplant.
“Deputy Rachette,” said a nasally voice, snapping him out of his daydream. Rachette turned to find Charlie Ash.
“Hello, sir. How are you doing today?” Rachette held out his hand, trying to contain the surprise in his voice and movements. He’d spoken to Ash once before in his life, and was sure he’d made zero impression on the new chairman of the county council at the time. Now Ash was coming up behind him and using his name, like they were actual acquaintances.
Ash ignored Rachette’s hand, or he needed a new set of glasses. Rachette suspected it was the former.
Ash was the same height as Rachette, which was to say he was shorter than average. Ash’s neck had a stoop, reminding him of a vulture, and the older man wore a red Rocky Points Music Festival baseball cap over his bald scalp. He thought the chairman’s eyes looked calculating. Intelligent. Almost the exact color of the gray sky above. The gold-framed eyeglasses were expensive.
“Where’s Mr. Wolf this afternoon?” Ash asked, still yet to make eye contact with him.
“I’m not sure where the sheriff is at the moment, sir.” His instincts were telling him to lie, which would somehow protect Wolf.
Ash locked eyes with him, catching him in the middle of his scrutinizing glare, then swiveled and looked out toward Patterson, Jack, and Richter. “I didn’t know the Sheriff’s Office offered babysitting as a service. That’s a new development I’ll have to discuss with the council. May be a new revenue stream. We could put out an advertisement.”
Rachette took a sip of his coffee in response.
“What do you think about the new recruit, Deputy Rachette?”
Rachette raised his eyebrows and nodded. “She’s good. Sharp.” Rachette knew full well that Ash’s son had been thrown out on his ass after his interview, and Ash would have to be pretty bent out of shape about it.
“Well, she’s signed the contract, but it still needs final approval.” Ash sniffed and sipped his own cup of coffee.
He frowned and flicked a glance at Ash. “I thought you needed her to be hired to get grant money from the state.”
Ash nodded. “Yes, I admit.” Then he tilted his head. “Or, we could have promoted another deputy up to sergeant. We would have gotten the same grant money that way. Ratio of lower and higher ranks within the department”—he waved a hand—“or some bureaucratic stipulation I can’t remember exactly. But we left that decision up to Sheriff Wolf. And he chose to go with the new hire, instead of”—Ash looked over at Rachette and slapped his shoulder—“pulling those up the ladder who lifted him there.”
Rachette frowned and looked outside at Patterson, and then back at Ash. He felt his face getting hot, his chest tightening as his lungs took shallow breaths, and wondered just what the hell Ash thought he was doing, driving a wedge in between him and Wolf in such an unsubtle way. It was ridiculous and childish. And, yet, the sliver of doubt was inserted into Rachette’s mind, and was already working its way deeper. If what Ash was saying was true, why wouldn’t Wolf promote Rachette? Hadn’t Rachette proved himself over the past two and a half years in the department? Maybe not. Maybe Rachette was expecting too much in such a short amount of time.
“Well,” Rachette said, “I’m sure Sheriff Wolf knows what he’s doing.”
Ash blew out of his nose and brought the coffee cup back to his lips. “That’s one way to put it.” Ash took a loud sip, slapped him on the shoulder again, turned around and walked back toward the racks of clothing and volunteers setting up tables of merchandise. “I’ll see you around.”
Rachette stood silent. Prick.
He turned and walked outside, and the drizzle cooled his hot cheeks. Patterson turned and waved at him, and he gave a little nod in return, wondering just what she had been doing for Wolf, and why he couldn’t have been the one doing it.
He shook his head and poured the rest of his coffee out. It hissed and exploded into a small cloud of steam.
Prick.
Chapter 33
Wolf checked his wound underneath his hooded sweatshirt as Luke drove them south through town on Grand Avenue. The bandage had a large patch of maroon underneath where he felt his cut, and he hoped it was still stitched together. Now, when he moved his arm, there was a short stab of pain followed by a long, echoing ache to the bone.
“Sorry about that,” Luke said, keeping her eyes on the road.
Wolf swore there was a hint of a smirk on her face.
“I have some first-aid stuff at home,” she added. “We’ll check it out, and redress it.”
He nodded and zipped up his sweatshirt. “We need to talk to the Garfield County Sheriff’s Department, see what they found on the casing and soil samples.”
“Here.” She passed him her phone. “You can use mine. Look up GCSD.”
Wolf navigated through the menus, found the number, and dialed it up.
It rang twice and a woman’s voice answered. “Garfield County Sheriff’s Office, Glenwood Springs Headquarters. How can I help you?”
“Could I speak to Sergeant McCall, please?”
“One moment.”
The phone clicked and soft music played for a few seconds, then clicked again, and the woman came back on. “I’m sorry. Sergeant McCall isn’t answering. Can I transfer you to somebody else?”
“Could I talk to someone in forensics, please?” Wolf asked.
“And who’s calling?”
“This is Sheriff Wolf of Sluice County. I was with Sergeant McCall at a crime scene yesterday, at Grimm Lake, and we gathered some evidence that you guys were testing. I’d like to discuss the results with someone.”
“Hold,” she said, and the soft music returned.
The music cut out and a male voice answered. “Michaelson, here.”
“I know who you are. What can I help you with, sir?”
“I was wondering if you guys picked up any fingerprints on that cartridge brought in yesterday, and if there was any news yet on the soil samples.”
“No fingerprints on the cartridge,” he said quickly, “and as far as the soil samples go, we need a few more hours. We’ve got the top-of-the-line equipment here, but even that can leave ya impatient.” He laughed for a beat.
“Okay.” Wolf shook his head at Luke. “Not even any partials on the cartridge, huh?”
“Nope. Nothing. Clean as a whistle.” The phone rattled for a few seconds, like he’d just dropped it. “Can I take a number and I’ll call you about the soil samples when the tests are through?”
Wolf gave his number and hung up.
“Nothing?” Luke asked.
“No.”
As they drove south out of town, the valley opened a little wider, and the red earth that saturated the surrounding hills became swirled with browns and grays. They passed a golf course on the right that edged its way up to the rippling waters of Roaring Fork River, filled with people with less pressing problems.
A few miles past it, just when Wolf wondered whether Luke lived in the next town of Carbondale, she slowed and turned left on a dirt road. The road passed through a flat farm field, and then meandered up into the hills.
There were houses along either side of the road, but there was plenty of nature in between each of them. Wolf could smell the wet junipers and sage through the open vents of Luke’s car.