Cold Lake (19 page)

The Pony Tavern was a boxy log structure on Main Street, known for its pool tables and craft beer. Located a few blocks to the south of the station, it was right across the street from The Edelweiss, where Kimber was holed up for the second night in a row.

Wolf parked his SUV and crunched across the parking lot, eyeing Kimber’s black Chevy Blazer across the street. It was just like her father’s old missing one in Wolf’s report, but not identical. It was her mother’s old truck, a final gift before ditching out on her daughter.

Stepping inside, he was surprised to see her talking animatedly with the bartender inside.

Wolf ordered a double whiskey and sat next to her.

“You’re early and going for the hard stuff, huh?”

Wolf smiled.

“You know they have the best selection of beer in Rocky Points here.” She pointed to the sign that said
We have the best selection of beer in Rocky Points
hanging on the wall.

“I’m in the mood for something with a little more bite.”

“I’ll take one of those, too.” She pushed her beer aside. “Too bitter anyway.”

Wolf’s first sip was like gasoline going down his throat, but he enjoyed the immediate warmth traveling through his torso.

They sat in silence for a minute, watching muted baseball highlights on the screen above the bar, the soundtrack instead two men shooting pool, the clack of their balls piercing over the faint country music coming out of the jukebox in the corner.

“This place is rockin’ tonight.” Kimber swiveled on her stool.

Wolf watched in the bar mirror as one of the men missed his eight ball shot. “It’s perfect.”

Wolf watched Kimber’s reflection as she studied the place. Her hair was pulled back, a thick brown ponytail resting in between her shoulder blades, a cream-colored silk blouse shining in the yellow overhead lights.

Turning in his stool toward her, he smelled her perfume: subtle and flowery. Her worn jeans were snug on her legs. She was wearing more makeup than he’d ever seen her wear, as if she were making an effort. Wolf felt a tinge of self-consciousness about his jeans and a t-shirt that he’d been wearing under his uniform all day, both probably smelling less than breezy.

“You eat yet?” He asked.

“No. You?”

“Nope.”

They ordered burgers and he another whiskey, and then ate the meal in silence. She seemed to have something on her mind, and Wolf certainly had plenty to think about as he ate.

She swallowed the last bite of burger and said, “Wanna talk about it?”

“About you?”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I thought you were asking if I wanted to talk about what I was thinking about.”

She blushed and ducked into her drink. “Really? About me?”

Wolf nodded. “About you and your family.”

She set down her drink. “Pretty screwed up. Right?”

Wolf took another sip and then his phone vibrated. He fished it from his pocket and checked the screen.

Rachette.

Wolf held up a finger. “I‘ve got to take this.” Into the phone he said, “Hey.”

“There’s definitely someone up there.” Wind buffeted Rachette’s phone.

He switched phone hands and headed toward the jukebox, glancing over his shoulder at Kimber. She sat still, sipping her whiskey and staring at Wolf in the mirror behind the bar.

“What? Where?”

“Up at Heeter’s. Wilson and I were out in the woods, looking for whoever you saw the other night, and we’re certain there was someone out there.”

Wolf leaned on the jukebox with one hand. “Did you see them?”

“Nope. Wilson thinks he saw someone, but just a glimpse.”

“What’s his description?”

Rachette exhaled. “None. But we heard him. Running pretty fast away from us, then he threw a rock to fool us.”

Wolf frowned. “A rock?”

“Yeah. He threw a rock. Freaked us out.”

Wolf exhaled. “So it’s a he?”

Rachette paused. “We both think so. We think it was a young male. The person moved fast. And then he threw the rock.”

Wolf frowned. “What happened at the house? Any identification on the prints?”

“Heeter’s ex-military, so they compared the few prints they could find to his on file. Every print in there is his. Someone went to town scrubbing the place clean. Everything: lamps, tables, light switches, everything.”

Wolf rubbed his face and stepped away from the jukebox as it exploded with sound. “Except for the blood on the doorknobs and the rifle.”

“The rifle’s a Thompson Center ICON .308, looks like it’s been fired recently. Registered eleven years ago to Olin Heeter. A few of the bullets in the box are missing. No prints. Just blood. Whoever used it was clearly wearing gloves.”

Wolf shook his head. “No prints?”

“Nope. Not even a partial on one of the shells in the box. We’re sending the blood samples from the doorknobs and rifle to Lorber for DNA testing. He says he can see if there’s a hit in CODIS, but he also says ‘it will take more than a few days’, were his words. Says ‘work is piling up faster than elephant shit’ he said.”

“And what about Heeter’s truck? You find anything of interest?”

“We found a gas receipt from a week ago in the center console.”

Wolf paused in thought, looking over at Kimber who was laughing with the bartender. “A week ago?”

“Yep. From the Pumapetrol station.”

Wolf switched phone hands. “Where are you?”

Rachette hesitated. “We’re at the marina. We were thinking of heading back to the station.”

“Good. I don’t want you guys poking around up there in the woods at night. You guys might have been lucky. We still don’t know what we’re dealing with. We’ll get up there with the cavalry in the daytime and do a thorough search. Let me talk to Patterson.”

A pause.

“Where’s Patterson?”

“She’s headed back by herself. I’m with Wilson.”

Wolf exhaled. “What did she find out?”

“The rescue divers found something. Say it’s just the right size to be a body, right where Heeter told your dad he saw something dumped. They say they can’t pull it up until tomorrow. Too deep. The equipment they had today wouldn’t reach.”

Wolf looked over at Kimber and switched phone hands. “I put a VIN on yours and Patterson’s desks. I want to know everything about the owner. And I want you to look deeper into Heeter. His business. His wife’s death. His children. His business partners. His potential enemies.” Wolf looked at his watch. “Do what you can tonight and get some rest. We’ll get back on it tomorrow morning.”

Wolf hung up and walked to Kimber.

She looked at her watch. “Work never ends, eh?”

Wolf sat and sipped his whiskey, grateful for the melted ice diluting the taste.

Staring at the muted televisions in silence, Wolf made more progress on his drink than she did on hers, so he ordered another one. When it came he took a generous pull and looked over.

“You’ve never gotten the sense that someone is up in those woods? I mean, besides you or your neighbor, Mr. Heeter?”

There was something like fear in her eyes for an instant and then she pulled her eyebrows together. “No. Not really. I mean, I get alarms all the time. But there’s all sorts of animals in those woods, and I just got so sick of being scared that I started ignoring everything.”

“And you said it’s been a couple weeks since you’ve seen Olin Heeter?” Wolf asked.

She nodded. “Yeah. Not that I keep tabs on him or anything, but I can usually see when he’s up there. You know, lights on at night, and he goes out in his boat a lot.”

Unable to tell if she was lying, Wolf turned back to his drink and took a slurp. “You got sick of being scared, you just said. So you’ve been scared before?”

She frowned and shook her head. “No, not because of a specific incident. I mean, I used to be scared about being all alone.”

Wolf watched her as she talked. She was nonchalant. A tough person who’d been abandoned by both her parents, at least how she had perceived it all these years. It was clear she had built up a wall around her feelings and it was thick. Or, she was hiding something and this was her poker face.

After a sidelong glance she turned and looked at him. “Why? Do you think someone’s up there?”

Ice tinkled in Wolf’s glass as he stirred it. “I encountered someone up there Friday night, and my deputies just had another encounter up there tonight.”

She pulled her eyebrows together. “Was it Mr. Heeter?”

Wolf shook his head. “We don’t think so. From what we’ve gathered about Olin Heeter, he’s not exactly the picture of health. He’s over seventy years old and out of shape. The person my deputies encountered was fast.”

She blinked and stared into her glass.

“Tell me about the day your father left. When was that again?”

She gave him a sidelong glance and then turned and frowned at him. “The sixth. The sixth of July. I’ve told you this.”

Wolf nodded, feigning recollection.

She exhaled and looked up at the ceiling. “Geez. I don’t remember much, I mean, I don’t know much. I was locked in that damn room until late morning. When my mother let me out, he’d left us.”

He narrowed his eyes. “So on the night of the fourth, he locked you into the room. And then the next night, the night of the fifth, our sheriff’s department came and asked if you and your family had seen Nick Pollard.”

Kimber nodded.

“Then your father locked you back in the room that night?”

She nodded quickly. “Yes. He was angry again. He seemed completely gone after your father and that other deputy came to talk to us.”

Wolf nodded. “And then you say he left on the sixth.”

“Yeah. Like I said, I woke up late, my mother let me out, and he was gone. He’d left us.”

“And the bag of bloody clothes. It was gone.”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“And then you and your mother came down to Rocky Points and talked to the sheriff’s department. Talked with my father.”

She nodded.

Wolf raised his eyebrows. “But your father
didn’t
leave you.”

Kimber nodded and took a sip of her whiskey. “I know.”

“So,” he stared at her, “knowing that your father was shot in the head and dumped in the lake instead of up and driving away in his truck on the morning of the sixth, do you want to revise your story?”

Kimber looked at him and shook her head. “For what? That’s all I know.”

Wolf stared at her for a few moments.

She shook her head and squinted. “I don’t remember hearing a gunshot. It’s silent up there. I would have heard a shot.”

Wolf watched a tear trickle from her eye down her cheek, past the mole on her upper lip and drip off her chin.

“I don’t know. I think maybe …”

“What?”

She sniffed and looked up at him. “I think that maybe my mother killed my father.”

“But like you said, you didn’t hear the gun shot.”

“But I didn’t hear the gunshot,” she whispered.

Wolf shook his head and took a sip. “Yeah, and your father killed Nick Pollard. Anything could have happened all those years ago, and all I have is your word for it.”

She leaned back and stared at him. After a few seconds she pushed her drink forward, making to get off her stool.

“Please, sit,” Wolf said.

She leaned forward and her body seemed to deflate.

“Look, you have to look at this from my point of view. All we have is your word, and that’s not good for you.”

She frowned. “But you know someone called my father from the gas station. That person put Nick’s blood on the phone. I was at the fireworks show at that exact time. There’s phone records.”

“So? That tells me nothing. Unless we can somehow prove Nick Pollard died in that window of time that you were at the fireworks show, then I don’t give a shit what you were doing that night.”

“Ooookay.” She slid off the front of her chair. “I think this was a bad idea.”

Wolf flipped a hand in the air. “Fine. Leave.”

She leaned into Wolf’s ear. “I had nothing to do with Nick Pollard’s death.”

Wolf nodded, looking into his drink. “What about the night of the sixth?”

She picked her jacket off the back of the chair and paused. “What?”

“The sixth. The fourth, you were at the fireworks show and then locked in the room. The fifth, the sheriff’s department comes and talks to your family, and then you were locked in the room that night. And the sixth? Your father’s gone, and then you say that a couple days later your mother went missing.”

Wolf watched in the mirror while her brain ran calculations. 

She nodded. “That’s right. So?”

“So what did you do the night of the sixth?”

“The sixth?” She shook her head. “I don’t know. Nothing.”

Wolf stared at her and narrowed his eyes. He stopped short of mentioning Olin Heeter’s testimony. Instead he shrugged and said, “Okay.”

“Okay.” She stared at him and then put her jacket back down. “So what?”

“So sit down.” He studied her beautiful face, and again at her liberal use of makeup that was unnecessary. He tilted his glass back and ended up sucking ice. With a roll of his neck, he sat straight and realized he was way past okay to drive.

“I have to use the restroom.” Wolf got up, leaving her dumbfounded, standing next to her bar stool.

When Wolf was done, he returned to the bar and realized he’d been moving unconsciously for the entire act of voiding his bladder and washing his hands, because his mind was whirling with possibilities.

Wolf walked slowly, half in a trance towards Kimber, who had now sat back down, apparently shrugging off their harsh encounter. He watched as the bartender lined up another drink on the bar, and realized for the first time that Kimber had been sipping the same drink all night.

Sitting down, he snapped out of his thoughts as a commotion ensued at the entrance. A few men barged in, howling with laughter, and headed to an open pool table, pushing aside chairs like they owned the place.

Wolf twisted on his barstool and narrowed his eyes when he recognized the tallest of them to be Carter Willis.

Carter removed his Armani jacket and the other two took off their hooded sweatshirts. The two men wore tight t-shirts, showcasing their bulging, tattooed arms. Carter rolled up the sleeves on an expensive looking button up and looked over, locking eyes with Wolf.

Wolf stared unmoving.

The two other men eyed Wolf with smirks, and then Carter mumbled something to them and walked straight over.

“Okay. Who the hell is this guy?” Kimber shifted forward on her stool and eyed Wolf.

Wolf turned and stirred his drink with his straw.

Carter stood next to him and leaned on both hands. “Can I get two pitchers of Bud and three glasses?”

The bartender nodded and got to work pouring.

“Hey, what was it, Sheriff Wolf?”

Wolf ignored him.

“All right. Dave? Can I call you Dave? Listen, I’ve heard all about you.”

Wolf kept quiet.

Carter shook his head. “Have it your way. I just wanted to apologize about the other night. I know you and Sarah are involved and were out to dinner, and I was a little rude barging in like that. And I just wanted to say sorry.”

Wolf looked up at Carter’s reflection in the mirror.

Carter slapped Wolf on the shoulder, sending Wolf’s hand into his drink, spilling a dollop onto the bar.

Wolf exhaled as the sharp sting on his skin dissipated to a warm, tingling ache from the blow. He took a deep breath and looked at the liquid as it spread into a comma, reflecting the baseball highlights above.

“It’s just hard to forget a piece of ass like that once you’ve had it, you know?”

Wolf twisted and punched as fast and as hard as he could with a backhand left, connecting with air where Carter’s head had been a split instant before.

Carter ducked easily and jabbed once into Wolf’s nose with lightning speed.

Before Carter’s hand left Wolf’s skin, Wolf jerked back and connected an uppercut to the chin, sending Carter sprawling back with fluttering eyes. With a crash and tumble Carter knocked over two barstools and landed on them.

Wolf blinked away the gush of stinging tears and ignored the pain pulsing up and down his nose. A gush of blood flooded into his throat. These were all sensations Wolf felt as he stepped over a downed stool.

Carter finished bouncing off the wooden legs and put his hands down to push himself up, a move that left him completely vulnerable.

Wolf connected a vicious heel-kick to the nose.

“Watch out!” Kimber yelled from behind him.

Wolf turned, hearing more than seeing a twirling pool cue hurtling toward the side of his head. With a deafening crack he was thrust to the side, landing hard on top of Carter’s moaning form.

For a split second Wolf was incapable of moving, his consciousness ebbing into darkness as he lay on top of Carter’s wriggling legs. With the sound of ripping clothing, he was yanked to his feet and then another blow hit him square in the jaw. The last thing he saw was Kimber grabbing tattooed arms, a shotgun, and then he went to sleep.