Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

Tammy Granger’s voice drawled out of the SUV’s speakers. “We have a report of a stolen trailer at twenty-one County Road 30, a.k.a. Powerline Gulch Road. Nearby units, please check in.”

Wolf sipped his coffee in the gas station parking lot and listened to the silence that followed while staring out the window toward the spot Tammy was speaking about. The road, a red slice in the green carpet of sage and juniper, led up and over a rise no more than a few miles away.

He picked up the radio. “Wolf here. I’m nearby. I’ll check it out.”

“Thank you.”

“Who called it in?”

“Andy Tallbaum.”

Tallbaum . The man grew up with Wolf down south in Rocky Points, both attending the same schools. But Tallbaum was two years younger and had run with a different type of crowd, so Wolf didn’t know much about him, other than after his schooling, he used to frequent Beer Goggles Bar and Grill.

That was back when Wolf used to hang out there a lot himself. Jack had been just a kid. Now, a couple of decades later, Jack was a father to his own kid. And Wolf was a grandfather.

My God, time kept on flying.

The Toughbook computer mounted on Wolf’s dash told him Tallbaum was convicted of DUI five years prior.

“Okay, I’m on it,” he said and hung the radio on the hook.

He fired up his engine and headed north on Highway 734 to the next exit, which forked off the road a mile onward.

As he hung a left onto the dirt, he swerved around a deep puddle, a remnant of the showers they’d had over the last few afternoons. Over the first two weeks of June, the valley here and down south in town had exploded in green. Flowers dotted the landscape, sometimes quilting it in swaths of purple, blue, or yellow. He lowered the windows and enjoyed the scents of grass and sage flowing in.

The road rose and fell a couple of times over rolling hills. On the third rise, a glint of metal caught his eye down on the left at the bottom of a ravine that paralleled the road.

He climbed the next hill, bouncing through more potholes, and came to a stop. Leaving the engine running, he got out and stepped to the edge of the road, his work boots squishing into the soft shoulder.

Twin tire tracks led off the road, gouging the wet earth, matting the grass, and plowing through bushes, where it met the ravine. At the bottom, in a shallow trickle of water, sat a trailer. Its steel frame bent from the ride.

A box of asphalt roof shingles had fallen off halfway down, leaving a trail, along with a bonanza of pine wood of various cuts, loosely held together by bright orange tie-downs. A torn cardboard box bent on the breeze.

Like the sunflowers dotting the valley, he shut his eyes and pivoted toward the low-angled morning sun, raising his face to drink up the warmth. A refrigerator breeze hit his back.

The cerulean sky was devoid of clouds, save a strip of mist clinging to the river far to the south. The forecast was calling for sixties and sunny, and it looked like they had it right. Not bad for the middle of June.

He climbed back in and drove. A mile later, he pulled up to his destination, a single-wide trailer parked next to a partially framed house.

He parked next to a beat-up Chevy pickup. In the truck bed was a pile of wood strapped in using familiar bright orange tie-downs. The concrete foundation of the house had been poured, and framing was underway, albeit sparse for now. Surely, it was ready to rock and roll with the new shipment of wood.

Wolf shut off the engine and got out.

The trailer door opened, and Tallbaum appeared. Short and rail-thin, he wore Carhartt pants and a black Megadeth sweatshirt.

“Oh, hey, Wolf!” Tallbaum hopped down the two steps and met him with an outstretched hand. “What are you doing here? I figured they’d send some young grunt or something. ”

Wolf shook the offered hand, feeling heavy calluses and too much moisture for his liking.

“Tallbaum.”

“They sending out the big guns to figure this out, eh?”

Tallbaum pulled out a box of Marlboro Reds and lit one.

“Where’s your uniform?”

“I’m a detective. We don’t need to wear them.”

“Aha.”

“Why don’t you tell me why I’m here, Andy?”

Tallbaum exhaled, and the sour stench of a long night of drinking cut through the smoke. His eyes were bloodshot, and the right half of his beard was matted flat.

“Yeah.” Tallbaum walked toward his truck. “So, I wake up this morning, ready to get a jump on my framing. And I see here that some dickhead stole my trailer!” He shouted the last words to the horizon as if the thief were perched behind a bush, having returned to his perfect crime to watch how it played out.

Wolf went to the back of Tallbaum’s truck and eyed the trailer hitch. The mount was still inside the receiver. The ball was an over-worn globe. On both sides of the hitch, rusted chains dangled, broken away from the underside of the frame.

“When were you last driving?”

“I drove home last night after getting the lumber up in Brushing.”

“And you stopped for a few drinks on the way home, did you?”

“Nope. I learned my lesson in that department, Sheriff. I drink here in my place now. It’s so much better. Got me and the beautiful country to keep me company.” He windmilled his arms, stumbling slightly .

Wolf nodded and pointed to the ground behind the trailer. “I don’t see any extra tracks. Do you?”

Tallbaum walked over. The wind had deposited fine, orange dirt in the driveway. The vague outline of Tallbaum’s truck tires as they came in were there, but no telltale signs of theft. Fresh footprints where Tallbaum had stood that morning, presumably cooking up his explanation for the prior night’s events before calling the sheriff’s department, were also visible.

Tallbaum squinted. “No.”

“So, what do you think happened then?”

“What do you mean?”

“You think somebody was able to come in here and steal the trailer off your vehicle without leaving any tracks?”

Tallbaum smoked his cigarette.

“Hop in,” Wolf said, walking to his truck.

“Hey, wait a minute. I’m not going to the station or anything.”

“Why not? Your trailer’s been stolen. You have to make a report.”

“Don’t you have a…I don’t know, report here with you or something I can fill out?”

Wolf shook his head. “Just get in. I know exactly who stole your trailer. I’ll take you. It’s just over the hill there.”

“Over the hill? You think Jake Jackson stole my trailer?”

Wolf ignored him and sat behind the wheel.

Firing up the engine, he turned down the radio and waited for Tallbaum to suck another drag, flick away the cigarette, and then climb into the passenger’s seat. Backing out, Wolf rolled down the windows to counteract the stench and drove out the way he came in.

“I should have known that piece of crap would take my stuff,” Tallbaum said. “I’ve never liked him. Him and that wife of his are always giving me looks whenever I see them.”

Wolf drove, ignoring the incessant talk as he went over the first hill.

“Hey, aren’t you getting married soon?”

“Yeah.”

Tallbaum snapped. “What’s her name again?”

“Piper.”

“Yeah, that’s it.” He whistled softly. “She’s good-looking.”

Wolf gave him a glare that told him to watch his next words. Tallbaum missed the warning.

“No, she’s hot. That’s what she is. Nice work, Wolf.”

The dashboard screen changed, indicating a radio message coming in, and Tammy’s voice came out of the speakers once again.

“Wolf, come in.”

“Wolf here,” he said. “I’m with Tallbaum now.”

“You’re with him now?”

“Yes.”

“Oh…” she paused. “Okay, well…we have a Code Frank. South of the pass.”

Code Frank meant a dead body, which sent a jolt of adrenaline through his system, but he kept his reaction nonchalant. “Okay, I’ll get back to you ASAP.” He turned down the radio dial, silencing the speakers.

Tallbaum was staring at him now. “Who’s Frank?”

Wolf ignored him as he slowed at the top of the hill and shifted into park. “Here we are.”

“Where? What’s going on?”

Wolf pointed down the slope past Tallbaum .

Tallbaum looked, then leaned into the glass. “What the hell?” He opened the door and got out.

“Shut the door,” Wolf said.

“Huh? Why?”

“That’s your trailer, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“Shut the door,” Wolf said again, this time more forcefully.

Tallbaum closed the door.

Wolf let off the brake and drove.

“Hey! Wait! Where are you going?”

Wolf rolled up his window and called Tammy on his cell phone, ignoring a flailing Tallbaum in the rearview mirror.

“Wolf,” she answered.

“What’s going on?”

“Are you still with Tallbaum?”

“No.”

“What happened with his trailer?”

“I found it. What’s happening? Who died?”

“I don’t know. Got a call from Ashland PD. Apparent bear attack. That’s all I know. Patterson and Rachette are already on their way.”

The information shocked his nerves a bit. In over two decades at the department, he had never been called to a bear attack. “Okay. I’m on my way.”

He turned back onto the highway, this time headed south at speed, flashers blinking along the top of his windshield, and dialed Patterson.