“I was afraid of that.”
Because my conservation district overlaps sections of Clearwater County’s, I’ve had a few run-ins with the former border patrol peon turned sheriff. He’s arrogant and about as smart as a box of rocks. He’s also in cahoots with Jerome Wakefield, Sons of Eden’s newest leader. It’s a problem, but there’s very little we can do about it at this stage. Only county commissioners can remove a sheriff from office, and I suspect they’re on Wakefield’s payroll too. The second option is to prove malfeasance, which requires a landslide of evidence and buy-in from the state attorney’s office.
“What’s the latest on your end?” Luke asks as I limp back into the kitchen. Linnea’s staying at Maryanne’s again, but she spent the day here and thawed some minestrone from my freezer stockpile for me before she left.
While I get the soup warming, I update Luke on the illegal logging and the elk poaching I’m convinced is connected to cult members.
“Textbook narcissism.” Luke releases a heavy sigh. “And a sign things are escalating.”
I’m sure he’s right, but all I really care about is nailing these fuckers. “I got a few pictures but it was pissing down rain and they were pretty far away.” Just two blurry blobs in rain slickers. I might be able to track down the brand-new Polaris snowmachine though.
“There’s a chance the state forensics lab will pull traceable evidence from the chain saw or thermos,” Luke says. “Maybe you’ll get lucky and find a match.”
I’ll drive the items to the lab myself tomorrow to expeditethe results. “We could certainly use a break like that.” I reach into the cabinet for a glass and the bottle of ibuprofen. “You going to be able to make the meeting in person Thursday?”
“Yeah. I was going to be in town already to help the assistant D.A. working Salazar’s case, and…” He gives a soft laugh. “…to spend time with Annette.”
I haven’t met the Crimes Against Children task force leader Luke has been dating since they worked a case together last year. Luke’s confided in me that he’s crazy about her, but their jobs are a problem. Luke’s profiling work means he’s called to work cases all over the US, often at a moment’s notice. “Maybe you could make the Crimes Against Children Task Force your permanent gig?”
“The only way I could is to become a field agent, and...” A door shuts in the background. “That’s not in the cards.”
Aw, hell. I hadn’t meant to open that old wound. Luke still suffers from PTSD thanks to a rescue mission that went horribly wrong back when he was a special forces operative. A mission he doesn’t talk about. “Maybe Annette could transfer to D.C?”
“I might be moving home to Maple Canyon.”
“No shit?” I pinch the phone against my shoulder so I can shake out a clump of pills and fill the glass at the tap.
“If I’ve learned anything, it’s that life is too fucking short.”
He’s right, but giving up his career is a big move. Things must be serious. So why the nervous laugh earlier?
“When’s that new kid starting?” Ballard asks like he didn’t just drop this bomb.
“Thursday. He’s got orientation and all that, so I’ll head up there after our task force meeting.”
“Maybe he’ll bring fresh eyes to this investigation.”
“More likely he’ll be a giant pain in my ass.” I gulp down the pills and chase it with a long drink of water.
Ballard laughs, but I’m not at all amused by the idea of having a shadow, especially when I’m in the middle of a high-stakes case. Mycurrent boss, a paper-pusher half my age with almost no field experience, reminded me that I don’t have to like it.Since you’ve continually refused to put in for a promotion, consider this an alternative way to share the gift of your experience.
It’s a bunch of horseshit, but what else is new.
“Linnea get in okay?” Ballard asks.
“She did, thanks.”
“Are you spending some time together before she starts her new job next week?”
“We’re going skiing this weekend.”Thank god for ibuprofen. “And Sofie’s planning a family dinner on Sunday.”
“Those grandkids are probably getting big, yeah?”
“Growing like weeds,” I reply with a laugh.
We end the call with the promise of our task force meetup on Thursday as I limp down the hall, passing my grown kids’ empty bedrooms but pausing at Linnea’s. Though she’s at Maryanne’s again tonight, the neatly made floor bed she insists helps her sleep when she’s transitioning from field work, her partially unpacked duffel, and her headlamp set on her stack of books are comforting reminders that she’s close. It’s not a big house, but it feels ten times bigger when I’m the only human in it.
My unsettled thoughts from my visit with Keo wash through my mind like waves on a forgotten beach. There were times I craved more quiet, more privacy, less noise, less clutter. If only I’d known then how badly I’d miss it.