Brother's Keeper

by Richard Ryker

  “I didn’t see any signs,” she insisted.

  “Well you got two minutes and I’m impounding your car.”

  Brandon hung up the phone.

  He stood several feet from the door, phone to his ear, as if in conversation.

  Michelle rushed out of the courtroom, all at once throwing her coat on and searching for her keys in her purse.

  “Right, I understand,” Brandon said into his phone to no one.

  She passed by without a look his direction.

  Brandon swept toward the courtroom door and passed through. To the left of the bench was the hallway that led to Gillman’s office.

  The judge’s door stood open, a fresh stack of court files piled on the desk. Brandon left the switch off, relying on the natural light that spilled in from the windows that lined the hallway.

  He didn’t have much time.

  The top drawer on the left side of the judge’s desk was locked, just as he’d left it. Brandon had hoped, knowing his chances weren’t good, that it would be open. The drawer was the top of three, each progressively larger drawers. All were locked.

  “Dammit,” he said.

  He felt underneath for a spare key.

  He didn’t find one.

  There was a long, thin drawer in the middle of the desk. The kind people stored pencils, pens, and business cards in. He slid it open.

  The drawer was bare except for one item. A photograph.

  Brandon picked it up, squinting in the relative darkness of the room.

  It was a photograph of Judge Gillman and Erik Olson in hunting gear, both kneeling behind an elk one of them had downed.

  Brandon turned to the picture on the wall, the one with the judge and his two daughters and boy. He compared the two.

  The boy in the family photo was a much younger Erik Olson.

  How could Erik Olson and Judge Gillman be related?

  He snapped a picture of the photo with his phone, then photographed the family photo and the one with the judge and Sheriff Hart. He slid the picture back into the drawer and closed it.

  Brandon checked the window in the hallway and scanned the parking lot. He spotted the judicial assistant speaking to the lot’s security guard. The man shrugged his shoulders, probably laughing at her story and saying it must be a practical joke. Her sour expression said she didn’t find it funny.

  The judicial assistant shoved her keys in her purse and headed back to the courthouse. Then, her eyes rose to the window where Brandon stood. He slid to the side, out of sight.

  It was time to go.

  Standing in the darkened doorway, Brandon scanned the judge’s office again. He wouldn’t have time for more searching.

  Outside the courtroom, Brandon fell into an open spot on one of the long benches, next to a group of potential jurors. He waited for the judicial assistant to pass. When she had, again without a glance at Brandon, he headed for the parking lot.

  Brandon started the SUV, still trying to make sense of what he’d found.

  Was Erik Olson the judge’s son?

  A cousin or family friend? Maybe they’d adopted him?

  The close connection between Gillman and Olson, whatever it was, must be the reason he’d allowed Nygard to stay on the Randall property. To nab Olson, he’d have to increase the pressure on Nygard. In the meantime, the judge and the sheriff had put up one obstacle after another.

  Nygard was still out there, breaking the law, poaching timber and laundering money for the local drug trade.

  Last time Brandon checked, those were against the law, and in this town, Brandon was the law, corrupt judge or not.

  It was time to pay Nygard another visit, but through a less direct route.

  ***

  On the way back from Port Angeles, Brandon received a call from Tori.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “I talked to Emma.”

  “Last night. I know.”

  “About the boy who threatened her. And the note left on her car,” she said.

  This wouldn’t go well for Brandon. By all measures, theirs was what people called an amicable divorce. As if the word amicable could be tied to something as destructive as ending a ten-year partnership and love affair.

  Whatever they had, it worked. And he wanted to keep it that way.

  “Oh,” he said.

  “I’m her mother—”

  “I’m aware of that.”

  Probably not the best thing he could have said.

  “Brandon…”

  “I didn’t want you to worry.”

  “So, you hid from me the fact that my daughter’s life was in danger?”

  This wasn’t an argument he wanted to have, especially with Tori, one of King County’s best prosecutors.

  “Everything will be fine. I’m having an officer follow up on the threat,” he said.

  “Don’t talk to me like I’m some citizen making a complaint, Brandon. I’m your wife. This is your daughter.”

  Ex-wife. Probably not the best time to remind her of that, though.

  “I get it. I should have told you.”

  She was silent for a few moments and Brandon knew from experience she was either building up energy for a full-on tirade, or she was ready to forgive him and move on.

  “How close are you?” she asked.

  “I have a couple of ideas,” he said.

  “That doesn’t sound promising.”

  “I got the sheriff, mayor, even the local judge on my ass,” he said.

  “Why the judge?”

  He explained the mysterious connection between Erik Olson, his main suspect in Eli’s murder, and Judge Gillman.

  “He’s part of the family but has a different last name?”

  “Right.”

  “Did you ask the judge?”

  “He’s already gone out of his way to put up walls. If he is related to Olson, he’ll do whatever he can to cover that up. I just need to figure out the relationship.”

  “And then what?”

  “It’s a start to helping me know how to find Olson. I need Olson’s prints to match to the car involved in Eli’s murder.”

  “Have you tried vital records?”

  “For Olson?” Brandon asked.

  “For the judge and his wife. How many children did she have? What were the children’s names?” she said. “That sort of thing.”

  “Good ideas,” he said.

  “And Brandon,” she said. “Be careful. I know this is important to you. But don’t go getting yourself killed. Or fired. It’s not worth it.”

  “Killed? Maybe not. Fired…”

  “Funny,” she said. “And if anyone lays a hand on my daughter…”

  “I got it,” he said. “She’s escorted to and from school.”

  “By her boyfriend?”

  “Please. I don’t want to talk about it,” Brandon said.

  “It’s a normal part of life, Brandon. She’s going to date. Just like you did in high school.”

  He didn’t want to think about what he’d done in high school.

  “Maybe,” he said. “But I don’t have to like it.”

  Brandon spent the drive back to Forks mulling over Tori’s suggestion. Reviewing the vital and court records…not criminal, but civil…was a good idea. It could reveal the connection between the judge and Olson. In the meantime, he had to find Olson.

  That meant getting to Nygard.

  He had a plan for that.

  ***

  Back at the station, he picked through his notes from the interview with the two men he’d arrested a couple of weeks earlier. One of those men, Cal Landenberg, had revealed the location of Nygard’s encampment.

  He’d helped Brandon once before. In Brandon’s experience, that meant he was more likely to help again.

  Brandon copied Cal’s number from the file.

  There was no answer, so he left a message. “This is Chief Mattson from Forks Police Department. I need you to call me ASAP.”

  Ten
minutes later, Cal called back.

  “Mattson here.”

  “You called me,” Cal said.

  “You staying out of trouble?” Brandon asked.

  “Why?”

  “I’ll take that as a no,” Brandon surmised.

  Cal didn’t respond.

  “I need your help again,” Brandon said.

  “You said if I helped you the first time you’d keep me out of it,” Cal said.

  “But you’re already back in the game, isn’t that right?”

  It was a guess, based on his earlier answer.

  “How’d you know?” Cal asked.

  “I know lots of things, Cal. I’m a detective,” he said, forgetting momentarily that he wasn’t a detective any longer. That he wasn’t even supposed to be working Eli’s case.

  “What do you want from me?” Cal said.

  The kid was easy. Too easy. He was going to get himself in trouble, most likely as the fall guy for thugs like Nygard.

  “You still in contact with Nygard’s team?”

  Cal paused before answering, “Sometimes.”

  “Sometimes like today?”

  “Everything around here goes through him. You know that,” Cal said.

  “I need to know when he’s hauling next,” Brandon said.

  “You’re asking me to tell you where he’s cutting?”

  “Only when and where he’ll have the timber,” Brandon said.

  “I don’t know,” Cal said. “He’s always moving stuff around. If it’s at his place, it won’t be for long.”

  “That’s the point, Cal. I need him when he has it in his truck.”

  Cal cleared his throat. “Is this about your brother?”

  Brandon stifled a cough, surprised by Cal’s intuition. “What about him?”

  “It’s just that…Nygard talks a lot of crap about, you know, your family.”

  “I need you to be more specific, Cal,” Brandon said, forcing restraint into his voice.

  “You know. I mean, no disrespect…”

  “Just say it,” Brandon said.

  “He brags about how he’s going to take you out. Your family, too.” Cal paused. “I don’t want anything to do with that. Just so you know.”

  Brandon staved off an urge to hang up and head to Emma’s school to make sure she was okay. He was picking her up in a couple of hours. Then, she would spend the long weekend with Tori in Seattle. That gave him just three days before she returned, if he let her come back to Forks. Because of what he now knew about Nygard’s threats, that wouldn’t happen until Nygard and his clan were behind bars.

  It could be Nygard was talking crap about the local police chief to gain credibility with his fellow criminals. But Nygard’s associates had already killed one cop. What was to stop them from going after Brandon or worse, Emma?

  Matthew Nygard’s harassment could have been a shot across the bow, a warning for Brandon that more was to come. Not just for his investigation into Nygard’s dealings, but for the death of his daughter, Alissa.

  “I know you don’t want anything to do with that, Cal,” Brandon said. “But I need to know if Nygard said anything specific about me or my family.”

  “Like when or how he’s going to off you or something like that?”

  “Yes, Cal. That would be good for me to know.”

  “No. Nothing specific,” Cal said.

  “Okay. When’s the next time he’ll be out with a haul?”

  “Tonight. We’re meeting him down toward Quinault.”

  The Quinault Reservation was about an hour and a half south of Forks, down in Mason County.

  “Then what?”

  “I don’t know. He usually takes it back to his place. My boss…please don’t ask me who that is…is worried about going onto Nygard’s property ever since the whole thing with Olson.”

  “You’ve seen Olson?” Brandon asked.

  “No.”

  Of course he hadn’t. That would make things too easy.

  “You telling me the truth, Cal?”

  “I swear. We haven’t talked since he disappeared. After his girlfriend got killed…sorry.”

  “She jumped,” Brandon said.

  “But you were chasing her…sorry…that’s what Nygard says.”

  “Okay. Tonight. What’s he driving now?”

  “It’s an old yellow International Scout. It’s got the canopy on the back to hide what he’s hauling.”

  The same truck Nygard’s son had used to stalk Emma.

  “What time?”

  “Meeting him at five thirty. Just before sundown,” Cal said. “Um, if I’m there, are you going to bust me too?”

  “No.”

  “Promise?”

  “I can’t promise anything. But I’ll do my best,” Brandon said.

  Cal gave him the milepost and forest service road nearest to the location. Brandon could make things easier and wait outside Nygard’s encampment, but there was a chance he had cameras surrounding the property. It would strengthen his case if he knew where Nygard had stolen the wood. If it came to it, they might even match the tree to the timber in his truck.

  None of this would be necessary if Judge Gillman would have cooperated and granted the warrant. Brandon had video evidence of Nygard stealing wood and hauling it off. That should be enough for Brandon to sniff around Nygard’s property. But it wasn’t, not for a judge trying to protect the area’s leading timber thief.

  “Cal, you seem like a good kid,” Brandon said. “I’m going to give you some advice. Get out of the area and away from Nygard, Ferguson, and their people. You’re not cut out for criminal work.” He wanted to say he was too soft, but that would only set him on the path of trying to prove he wasn’t. Brandon remembered the earlier conversation where Cal had mentioned his mother down in Aberdeen. “You got a mom who cares about you. You think she wants to go visit you in jail?”

  “No.”

  “You got a girl?” Brandon asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Kids?”

  “She’s pregnant.”

  “All the more reason to find real work. When this is done I’ll see about hooking you up with something down in Aberdeen.”

  “A job?” Cal asked, surprised.

  “Someone who can help you find one good enough for you to support your family.”

  “Thanks,” Cal said.

  He had a few hours before heading out to the location Cal had given him. Brandon gave his dad a call.

  “What?” his dad answered.

  “I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for a couple days.”

  He cleared his throat. “Out fishing.”

  “Where?” Brandon asked.

  “Nowhere around here.”

  Something about his dad’s tone didn’t set right with Brandon.

  “Should you be driving with the pain meds you’re on?” Brandon asked.

  “I can take care of myself,” he replied.

  “You’re not drinking are you?”

  “Ah hell, mind your own business.”

  And with that, he hung up.

  It wasn’t like his dad to be so secretive. Grumpy and pissed off, sure. Secretive, never.

  Once Brandon provided Olson’s guilt and charged him with Eli’s murder, things would be back to normal, or at least the closest to normal they could be after someone you loved dies unexpectedly. Olson had to pay for what he’d done to Eli, and if the whole damn lot of his associates went down with him, including Judge Gillman, then so be it.

  Chapter 27

  Around three in the afternoon he said goodbye to Emma and set out south of town on Highway 101. It was Friday and Emma would be working late, but Brandon hoped to arrive home before her shift ended.

  After about an hour on the highway, he found the service road where, according to Cal, Brandon would find Nygard and his men. It had rained all night and through the morning, so he was able to spot the fresh tire tracks leading up into the forest. The sky had cleared, leavi
ng behind a fuchsia sunset layered through thin, high clouds.

  They had cut the lock, but closed the gate to give the impression nothing was amiss.

  He headed to the next service road north of the location. The gate there was far enough back from the road that his truck was well-hidden behind the brambles and shrubs that stretched almost to the edge of the highway. He backed the SUV in and waited.

  Nightfall enveloped the hills and woodlands. Brandon resisted the urge to start the engine to stave off the encroaching chill. The SUV’s lights were on even when idling, and he couldn’t risk being spotted by Nygard. So, he sat and waited, wiping the windows every so often to keep the condensation from blurring his view of the highway.

  The good news was it was too damn cold to fall asleep.

  In the time he’d been there, several vehicles passed. None of them were the vehicle Cal had described.

  It struck him that Cal could have lied. About the location or the vehicle. Or the time. It all depended on who Cal feared more: Nygard or the law. He hoped it was the latter, for Cal’s sake.

  The highway had sunk under a shroud of mist-filled dark when Nygard appeared. The International Scout’s dim headlights barely punctured the night as it passed.

  Brandon counted to ten, started his SUV, and pulled onto Highway 101.

  He held back, hovering below the speed limit to keep his distance. Once, another truck came speeding up behind Brandon, only slamming his breaks once he realized he was riding a cop. Brandon pulled over to let him pass. Allowing a car between them wouldn’t hurt.

  He spotted Nygard in the distance, chugging along the highway. He must have a huge load of timber to be traveling so slow.

  They approached the Randall mill. He wanted Nygard on the property. Preferably unloading the wood.

  Brandon slowed the SUV until he lost sight of Nygard, then flipped his lights off. He was far enough away that Nygard wouldn’t notice the change. He pulled off the road, waited about one minute, then got back on the highway.

  He reached the property just as Nygard’s taillights faded into the forested area behind the mill.

  Brandon parked and hiked up the road, the same way he’d gone with Will the last time he’d visited Nygard. If Nygard did have cameras, there was a chance he hadn’t checked them yet.