Chapter 16

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The next few hours were spent up at Lawrence Hunt’s place, looking through the house for more evidence that might lead to his girlfriend’s identity. When they found nothing, they waited for a tow truck to come get the Chevy.

Meanwhile, Wolf called Patterson and let her know they had a license plate. She updated the APB, rebroadcasting the alert to every department and precinct within five hundred miles.

It was late afternoon as they rolled back into Doyle. Wolf felt another tug of hunger in his stomach, the growing twinge in his back from all the driving, and the desire for a long nap.

The air inside the department building felt like entering a walk-in cooler.

“Good God,” Brandenburg said. “It’s freezing in here. Can we turn that up?”

Larkin looked up from his computer, then stood and went to a wall thermostat. “Did you guys figure out anything? ”

“At least five degrees hotter,” Brandenburg said, disappearing inside his office.

The man turned from the thermostat and sat back down.

“Did you finish submitting the paperwork we talked about?” Brandenburg asked, coming back into the room and knocking on Larkin’s desk.

“Not yet, sir. I was just working on it.”

Nichols entered the building, stripping off his aviator sunglasses.

“Wolf,” Brandenburg said. “Back here.”

He entered the sheriff’s office and sat down.

Brandenburg sat, folding his arms across his mountain of a chest. “So…what now?”

Wolf raised his chin. “I’m interested in seeing this through. I want to help you find Hunt and bring him in. I’d like to follow through on finding Hunt’s girlfriend. She could lead us to him. This is where the action is, not down in Rocky Points.”

“And how do we find her?”

“Well,” Wolf said, “we could start by looking on social media. Why don’t you go to Facebook and Instagram and search Lawrence Hunt.”

Brandenburg snorted but moved his mouse and clicked the keys.

Wolf leaned forward and watched as the sheriff looked at the two social media platforms and then two more for good measure. There were plenty of Lawrence Hunts, but none were who they were looking for.

Brandenburg sat back heavily against his seat, abandoning the computer. “What else?”

“Boots on the ground. ”

Brandenburg stared at him. “You have pressure at home to produce some answers?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“What’s that all about?”

“I have an unsolved that’s getting on some influential people's nerves.”

“The billionaire’s security manager,” Brandenburg said.

“Something like that.”

A smile played on the sheriff’s lips, and then he sighed. “Fine. Where are you gonna stay?”

“You have any good recommendations for hotels?”

“There’s The Lamb Motel. And that’s it.”

“Then The Lamb it is.”

“It’s on the other end of town.”

Wolf nodded. “Thank you.”

Brandenburg looked at his watch. “I don’t know about you, but I’m about to drop dead if I don’t get some rest. Nichols out there has a newborn.”

“Really?” Wolf said. “I didn’t know.”

“How would you?”

Wolf said nothing.

Brandenburg continued. “I’d like my deputy to get home so he can take care of that baby of his and get some rest. It’s been a long, long few days up here. We can’t just sit here and work twenty-four hours a day. We have to take care of ourselves, or else nothing will get taken care of.”

Brandenburg’s eyes were rimmed red. Wolf had seen the same in his rearview mirror on the drive back in.

“Fine? Fine,” Brandenburg said, remaining in his seat. “We’re usually here by seven. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

Wolf nodded, deciding an invitation to stay in town was a step up in their relationship .

“See you then.” He stood, bid the three men goodbye, and went out to his SUV.

The late-day sun had been beating in through his window, and the warm leather seat was like a salve on his lower back.

After punching in The Lamb Motel into MDT, he followed the directions back to Main and headed north.

On the way through town, he passed the Dusty Thorn Saloon and counted five motorcycles parked along the road in front of the place. Neon beer signs hung in dark windows, reflecting his SUV as he coasted past. Getting no view inside, he turned his attention to the motorcycles. They were all Harley-Davidson’s with ape hangers and worn leather saddlebags adorned with studded spikes that hung off the seats. The machines were also filthy with mud and dust, suggesting they were well-used, exclusive means of transport for SOV members and not a group of suburban riders up from Denver.

Wolf thought about going in, getting a bite to eat there, and maybe asking some questions about Irv Hunt’s disappearance and his father’s reaction. Then he thought of his earlier encounter with Snake and decided one encounter with the SOV was good enough for the day.

He was exhausted, and his back was killing him. He needed to check into this Lamb place, take a hot shower, and find a meal elsewhere.

The Lamb Motel was L-shaped, marked by a sign on a pole with a bighorn sheep standing next to one of its young. The building was made from logs, stone, and mortar, like something one would see in Yellowstone National Park.

Pulling off the highway into the parking lot, his wheels rolled over warped tarmac threaded with grass-filled cracks. He stopped under a pull-through portico at the reception office and got out.

Stretching his arms overhead, he took in the exterior of the place. Exactly one car was parked along the building, boasting a Montana license plate.

Instead of entering the office, he walked toward the highway and looked back south into the town, taking in the buildings he had missed while distracted by the Dusty Thorn.

There was a mechanic’s garage, a feed and tractor supply store, an insurance provider, a gas station, and a few other buildings.

A restaurant called D’s Diner sat directly across the street from the motel. Another two motorcycles were parked in front of it. Again, they looked particularly grimy. Through the window, two bearded men were seated at a booth, staring back at him.

Wolf turned back to the motel.

A man watched him from the office window with narrowed eyes as he approached.

Wolf felt like the lone man in an arena.

Ignoring the eyes on his back and front, he walked inside. It was a cool space decorated with old wooden furniture and paintings of bighorn sheep on the walls. It smelled of pipe tobacco.

“Hello.” The man said, shuffling away from the window to a reception desk, limping heavily. “You need a room for the night? ”

“Yes, sir. Do you have any availability?”

“Let me see here.” He looked down at an accounting book and flipped a page. “What is it? June…sixteenth? No, seventeenth. Says here we have a large business conference taking up the whole place.” He looked up with sparkling eyes, a smile upturning his craggy cheeks. “You know, Doyle is a big destination for conferences like that.”

Wolf looked outside at the vehicle parked in the lot. “Oh.”

The man’s chest rattled. “I’m just pullin’ your chain. Nobody comes to Doyle, but people goin’ through Doyle.” He put on a pair of glasses and started writing in the book. “I picked the wrong place to put this business. Your name?”

Wolf told him.

“I see that badge on your hip. You’re a cop.”

“That’s right.”

“Where from?”

“Rocky Points.”

The man kept his eyes on the page. “You’ll be in room nine. It’s at the end.” He pointed out the window to the far end of the building and then shuffled to a series of hooks containing keys. With a shaking hand, he plucked one and dropped it on the counter.

“Good old-fashioned key,” the man said. “Bet you don’t have those in Rocky Points.”

“Thank you.” Wolf chuckled. “Probably not.”

“We don’t have any Wi-Fi, sorry.”

“That’s okay,” Wolf said.

“I haven’t gotten around to installing the system. But people tend to enjoy the silence from life without it anyway.” The man smiled. “At least that’s what a guy told me once. Let me know if you need anything. ”

Wolf picked up the key. “I do actually have a couple of questions if you don’t mind answering?”

The man’s joviality vanished. The wrinkles above his eyes deepened.

“I’m investigating a couple of homicides that happened down south.”

“Yeah?”

“Did you hear about the killings that happened out at the compound?”

The man said nothing.

“Is that a no? Or…”

“That’s a dangerous question to answer, that is.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because it has to do with them.” He pointed an ancient twig finger at the window, then lowered it.

Wolf looked. He had pointed at the two bikes parked across the street.

“Those two bikes are SOV members?”

The man remained silent.

“How about Lawrence Hunt?” Wolf asked. “You know him?”

The man turned his back and closed the accounting book.

“Right,” Wolf said. “Dangerous question. Okay, how about this, can you recommend a good place to eat?”

The man turned around and pointed the exact same way he had before.

“D’s Diner?”

“That’s right. Best food in town. Or you could go down to the Dusty Thorn and get an overpriced plate of trash washed down with a cup of piss. Up to you.”

Wolf cleared his throat .

“But let me give you a piece of advice.”

“Go for it,” Wolf said.

“Cop or no cop. If you go to the Dusty Thorn, don’t be asking questions like you been asking me.”

Wolf nodded and turned for the door. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Have a nice stay.”