Ridley Pearson - In Harm's Way

“Franklin, as in Ben Franklin, as in a hun,” Brandon said, just to get his facts straight.

“That’s what I’m saying. Thing is, it was like the same day, dude. So this guy’s laying down the Franklins just to be seen laying them down. Right? What a jerk.”

“And this interests me because…?”

“Fuck if I know. It just don’t make sense to me, and you’re always telling me you want to hear about the shit that don’t make sense.”

“True enough.”

“You’re looking for a cooker, right?”

“I didn’t say anything.” Brandon scrunched up the butcher paper and tossed it over his shoulder into the dumpster without looking. They were always looking for meth cookers. They were also looking for the guy who had tossed the Berkholders’ place to look like a bear attack. One and the same? Or two different guys?

“You don’t want it,” the guy said, “what do I care? Maybe Jimmy Johns wants it.”

Johns was a Ketchum deputy.

“Don’t bite the hand that feeds you, Bonehead. You’ll get credit for this if it pays off.”

“Pays off how?”

“Get the word out that I’d like to talk to this guy if he shows up somewhere. Can you do that?”

“I can do that.”

“Do that, you’ll get more credit. You got it?”

“I got it. Could be your meth cooker, right?”

“Could be.”

“Worth five hours, right?”

“Could be.”

“He’s been around. I can get him for you.”

“Do that.” Brandon pulled out a five-dollar bill. “For the burger,” he said.

“On the house.”

“Can’t accept it. You know that.”

Bonehead accepted the cash. “Why you play it so squeaky clean? Other guys take the burger and the beer.”

“I’ll knock ten off your time you get me this guy in the next twenty-four hours.”

“Ten?” Bonehead’s forehead lifted so fast his entire scalp shifted.

“Who the hell’s that important?” he said.

“Get to work,” Brandon advised.

“You look like something the dog drug in,” Brandon said, climbing back into the Jeep.

Resting his hands on the bottom of the steering wheel, Walt worked to control his voice; maintaining the face of calm in the midst of turmoil was critical to rank and authority within his office. “It took them all of fifteen minutes to reach Aanestead.” The county prosecutor. “He’s blocked the shoes, at least temporarily, until it’s sorted out what my dog was doing in the house when I lacked a warrant.”

“That was fast.”

“He’ll question you, Tommy.”

“And I’ll give him answers. I’ve known Doug a long time. Way before he won the prosecutor’s job. He’s okay. He gets it.”

“You’ll give him answers keeping in mind what we spoke about earlier.”

“Keeping in mind that we have blood evidence on the shoes of a prime suspect.”

“The truth is a piece of glass, Tommy. It’s either whole, or cracked and broken. There’s no in-between.”

“There’s windshield welding,” Brandon said. “Where they suck that epoxy into rock dings and it’s good as new.”

Walt huffed.

“You think he’ll let it through?” Brandon asked. “Let us keep the evidence?”

“Not without a fight. Wynn’s going to put up a fight.”

“Never known Doug to back away from a good fight.”

Walt started the Jeep and drove off. The streets of Ketchum were quiet, the only action outside the few bars and restaurants that lined Main Street.

Brandon caught him up on Bonehead.

“You think it’s good?” Walt asked.

“Felt like it.”

“You’ve got some catsup.” Walt indicated his own cheek and Brandon wiped his face clean.

“Could be the mountain man who did the Berkholders’ place.”

“That’s not what you’re thinking,” Walt said.

“You testing me? Okay, could be the contents of Gale’s wallet. We know the guy lived large and probably carried a wad. Could be our meth cooker. Could be all the same guy.”

“That’s what I’m talking about.”

“It’s not whoever’s using the ATM card,” Brandon said. “ATMs don’t dispense hundreds.”

“Now you’re thinking.”

“So it’s two different guys.”

“And we can assume whoever got the wallet, whoever either found the body or did him in the first place is the one with the card.”

“So maybe our meth cooker breaks into houses for his jollies, or for food, runs into money after he makes his sale, and starts spending it around. Doesn’t necessarily put him with Gale.”

“Whatever his routine, he’s important to us. He’s a big piece of this. And according to Bonehead he’s down here in town.”

“Staying in town? Coming and going? He’s got some money and he’s living it up?”

“Or he’s coming down at night to sell his goods and spend his winnings. I’ll get Gilly some night vision gear and ask him to watch the trails,” Walt said. He owes me that, he was thinking. Walt had given him a second chance, not reporting the forest ranger’s drinking on the job.

“I told Bonehead I’d knock ten hours off his PS if we caught the guy.”

“What’d he say?”

“Acted like it was Christmas.”

“You’ve got to watch offers like that. They can backfire. Now he knows the guy’s important to us. May try to take cash to keep quiet.”

Brandon stewed on the reprimand, finding something to look at out the side window.

“Listen,” Walt said. “It’s good stuff.”

“You’re going to always hold this against me, aren’t you, Sheriff?”

He wasn’t talking about Bonehead.

Walt drove for five more minutes, crossing the bridge over the Big Wood just south of Golden Eagle, a mile south of the turnoff to Fiona’s place, where he’d had to fight to keep from looking as they drove past.

“It is what it is,” Walt said.

“And what is it?”

“Over,” Walt said. “It’s over.”

Brandon crossed his arms and put his head back on the headrest and closed his eyes.

Walt dropped the girls off at the Rainbow Trail Adventure

Camp, getting a hug from each as well as a wistful, puppy-dog look from Nikki that he didn’t know how to interpret. He wasn’t sure if this was the result of some male defect, or denial, or if there was nothing to make of it in the first place, a fine piece of acting by a daughter who wanted her mother back. Beatrice whined from the front passenger seat, wishing the girls weren’t leaving, causing Walt to once again wonder if the dog wasn’t channeling his own conscience. He hesitated there a little longer, considering calling them back to the car, playing hooky for a day and taking them to the park or for ice cream, or swimming in the public pool out at the high school. But they loved the camp far more than a day with him, or so he convinced himself in order to justify his driving off and leaving them for Lisa to pick up, which is what he did.

Except for a chaotic press conference that had gone passably well, and some news trucks out front in the office parking lot, the prior day had moved monotonously slowly as he’d weeded his way out from behind his desk and hoped for something to bust open the Gale investigation. The county prosecutor had determined that the existence of the lilies in Boatwright’s garden, and the truck tires being the same manufacturer-Goodrich-as the impressions left at the crime scene were enough to win Walt a search based on probable cause. But he cautioned Walt not to be too hasty. There’d be formidable opposition from Boatwright’s attorneys once Walt took it to the next level, and he wanted time to prepare. He also wanted to coordinate with the King County prosecuting attorney so they didn’t accidentally jeopardize the Caroline Vetta investigation by coming off the blocks too early.