Signature: A David Wolf Mystery (David Wolf Mystery Thriller Series Book 9) Read online

  SIGNATURE

  By Jeff Carson

  http://jeffcarson.co

  Published By

  Cross Atlantic Publishing

  Copyright © 2016 All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Other Books by Jeff Carson

  Gut Decision (A David Wolf Short Story) – Sign up for the newsletter at http://www.jeffcarson.co/p/newsletter.html and receive a complimentary copy.

  The Appointed (Wolf #1 and #2 Box Set)

  Foreign Deceit (David Wolf #1)

  The Silversmith (David Wolf #2)

  Alive and Killing (David Wolf #3)

  Deadly Conditions (David Wolf #4)

  Cold Lake (David Wolf #5)

  Smoked Out (David Wolf #6)

  To the Bone (David Wolf #7)

  Dire (David Wolf #8)

  Signature (David Wolf #9)

  Sign up for the newsletter and keep up to date about new books (which are always discounted for the first 48 hours) and receive a complimentary copy of Gut Decision by clicking here -- jeffcarson.co/p/newsletter.html.

  Chapter 1

  The creature must have heard them coming because a shrill cry filled the night.

  “Oh … did you hear that?” A pair of tiny arms latched onto Wolf’s leg as the plastic bin lurched again.

  He bent over and shone the Maglite through the cage of the hockey helmet.

  Her eyes were wide and locked on the trashcan. For all the fuss she made wanting to be his wingman she was starting to crumble.

  “David!” The voice coming from his kitchen door echoed into the forest beyond the barn.

  Wolf turned to the shapely silhouette. “It’s okay.”

  “Do you know how painful rabies shots are?” She asked.

  He had never had the privilege.

  An outbreak of barking came from deep within the house. Jet, Wolf’s adopted German shepherd, had informed them of the current problem and then lost his usefulness. At twelve years old, the dog was normally slow, living out his twilight years comfortably seated or lying down, but when it came to raccoons he became a rabid beast. He was probably clawing a groove into Wolf’s bedroom door right now.

  “Mom! I’m okay!” Ella said, releasing her death grip on Wolf’s thigh. She adjusted the mittens, straightened the puffy winter coat and pointed. “Let’s go. He’s probably so scared. You have to get him out.”

  Wolf shone the flashlight beyond the downed trashcan at the corner of the barn. A single raccoon was edging closer—clearly the mother who was refusing to leave the area with her baby in such a predicament.

  In an effort to keep wildlife out of this particular trash can—the one without a heavy duty bear-proof fastening system like he had on the others—he’d strapped a simple thirty-inch bungee cord from handle to handle across the lid. He had been lulled into complacency about this particular bin. Though he’d found it on its side more than once over the years, it had never been opened. Apparently it was time to invest the twenty-two fifty at Rascal’s for a real trashcan.

  There was another shrill cry, this time longer and more desperate, and it drew the larger mother raccoon closer.

  “Stay here.”

  Wolf’s tone froze Ella in her tracks. She stood obediently under her pile of protective clothing.

  It was enough screwing around. It was three in the morning and he needed sleep if he wanted to function at all tomorrow.

  He made for the can.

  The mother went mean, trotting alongside the wall at full steam now, both of them making for the target without slowing.

  I am a man.

  With a deft movement he straddled the can, at the same time swiveling it so the lid pointed at the mother, keeping his flashlight pinned on her shining eyes. The cold wetness of the plastic soaked through the fabric of his pajama pants.

  Shit.

  Her teeth were bared now, her front claws rising on full display with each running step.

  He felt the animal knocking against the bin under him, heard the rustling of plastic bags inside.

  Another cry, this time as if Wolf had put the rodent in a headlock.

  The mother started screaming—short shrieks that said there was about to be blood.

  “Let him out!” Ella shouted.

  “David!”

  Dropping the flashlight on the dirt, Wolf gripped his left hand on the bungee cord that ran over the length of the lid, trying to pry his fingers underneath. It was trivial, mundane movements like these that made him miss his pinkie finger, which had been blown off by a handgun last year. The dexterity of his hand was reduced by a digit, and thus his timing was slowed that extra millisecond to allow the mother raccoon to get too close.

  “Stop!” He pointed at the animal.

  The mother skidded to a stop, pealing her lips back as she shuffled side to side on her front paws.

  Pulling the bungee cord, he released his makeshift lock and popped open the lid with his other hand.

  A ball of fur darted out, knocking the flashlight along the ground. The beam of light twisted and landed on the receding mother and child, who joined a lingering pack at the corner of the barn and disappeared into the woods.

  “Yay! Ha ha!” Ella jumped up and down. “Ha ha! Did you see that, mommy?”

  Wolf plucked the flashlight from ground and illuminated Lauren’s face, who was now standing a foot behind her six-year-old daughter, her arms retracting back to her own sides.

  “Yeah. I saw that.” Lauren’s chest was heaving.

  “Oh, hey.” Ella turned around. “Can I take this off?”

  Lauren took the helmet off her daughter and watched Wolf straighten the garbage can against the barn.

  Free of her helmet, Ella pulled off Jack’s old mittens and swiveled a glance between the two adults. “That was so cool. David saved him.”

  Walking back to the house, Wolf rolled his shoulders and puffed his pectoral muscles, making a show of stretching one side of his neck.

  Ella stared in smiling awe while Lauren rolled her eyes.

  “See you inside,” Wolf said.

  ***

  Three hours
later, a thin hand grasped his shoulder, gently pulling Wolf from his sleep. Warm lips tickled his earlobe.

  “My hero,” Lauren whispered, running a hand down his side, causing him an involuntary muscle spasm.

  Wolf turned, catching her facetious smile. If Wolf had learned one thing about Lauren Coulter in their last year of dating, it was that she relished every moment she could make Wolf lose even the slightest bit of control, which meant all she had to do to get her fix was to touch him.

  Her jade eyes narrowed as she looked at his lips. Without hesitation she reached around the front of him and went straight for the groin, massaging him through his boxer shorts.

  “Good morning,” she said.

  Her lips pulled into a perfect-toothed smile, and then relaxed as they gravitated towards his mouth. The smooth skin of her thigh brushed across his legs as she straddled him, and then she was over him, kissing him on the neck as her fingernails tickled at the waistline of his underwear.

  Another involuntary shudder as she reached inside with an eager, firm grip. With her other hand she hiked up her tee shirt and sighed. Coupled with her firm, warm body pressing against him, the sounds she made drove him wild.

  Wolf pulled up her shirt, revealing her small, golden-skinned breasts and palmed them both. When he tried to pull off her shirt, she refused to unhand her trophy and they became a tangle of fabric and limbs.

  They both laughed. Her smile was perfect. Even after a night of closed-mouth sleep, her breath was intoxicating.

  The doorknob rattled and the door swung open, banging against the wall. An eighty-pound German shepherd strode in with a six-year-old girl in tow.

  Lauren collapsed onto Wolf’s chest. “Hey, baby.”

  “Hi,” Ella said in that conspiratorial tone she used first thing in the morning. She was there to speak to her mother, not to Wolf.

  Sticking true to her routine, Ella rounded the bed, her feet pattering on the carpet to the far side where Lauren had been sleeping three or more nights per week, for months now.

  Lauren slid her hand out of Wolf’s underwear in the most erotic way possible and bent towards her daughter.

  Wolf heard soft whispering and a tiny giggle. He knew the gist of the conversation well, though he never heard it outright:

  “Can I have some milk?”

  “Yes, you can get it yourself.”

  “Can I take Jet outside?”

  “Yes. Be careful.”

  Ella left in a run, and Jet left on her heels, a wagging tail thumping the doorjamb on the way out.

  “Race?” Lauren asked, straddling him again.

  When the kitchen door thumped closed Wolf and Lauren made love furiously. It was a game they had played in this exact scenario before. Lauren had once called it a race to the finish. Either Ella wins or we win. Who will it be?

  Three minutes later, they were both already spent and panting heavily by the time the hinges of the kitchen door squeaked back open. They always won.

  After a quick shower, Wolf changed into work clothes, which consisted of his second-favorite pair of worn Levis, a lightweight flannel shirt, and lace-up leather Gore-Tex work boots that had seen more miles than the tires on his SUV.

  He went to the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee from the steaming carafe. There was a half-eaten bowl of chocolate Cheerios on the table, and a cooling piece of toast on the counter. Lauren and Ella stood on the front deck marveling at something in the meadow.

  Wolf sipped his coffee and walked out the front door to the deck.

  The valley wall to the west was ablaze with sunshine, the highest peaks veined with thin tendrils of dirty snow that clung to the shady crevices.

  At 7:20 a.m., the sunrays had yet to hit the valley floor on Wolf’s acreage, so the air had more than a nip to it. Mid-August at nine thousand feet could host all sorts of temperatures and weather extremes during the day, but it was always cold in the morning.

  With the overnight rains, the air was heavy and the meadow grasses matted down with water, the trees high up near tree line dusted with snow. Two elk grazed in a thin veil of fog that hung motionless to the south.

  Ella was on the railing, staring in awe at the two beasts. “They’re huge.”

  Lauren smiled at the view, sipping her own coffee, then slapped Ella on the back. “Okay, back inside. It’s cold.”

  “Do you ever see bears here?” Ella looked at him, her imagination already running wild behind her eyes before he could answer.

  “Yes.”

  She shot her mom with an I-told-you-so look and stayed put on the railing.

  “Let’s go,” Lauren said. “You have to finish your breakfast, and I have to butter my toast.”

  “Didn’t I butter your toast earlier this morning?” Wolf asked.

  Lauren blinked. “Butter my toast?”

  “You did?” Ella asked.

  Lauren walked inside, pulling a strand of her strawberry blonde hair behind her ear. “You’re a dumbass,” she said just for him on the way by. He watched her hips sway under her flannel pants as she walked inside.

  With great reluctance, Ella followed her mother. “I love your house. It’s so much better than our new place in town.”

  “Ella,” Lauren said.

  “What?”

  Wolf shut the door.

  “Come inside and eat your Cheerios. They’re getting soggy.”

  “That’s how I like them.”

  Wolf was frozen for a few seconds, watching the beautiful woman with the tattoo behind her ear and her beautiful daughter do their morning routine in his kitchen.

  Finishing a glaze of butter on her toast, Lauren turned to Wolf, catching him staring. She did the hair thing again, averted her eyes and went red in the face. “Do you want some toast?”

  “Sure.”

  “Eggs?”

  “Sounds great.”

  Ella stared up at him, at her mother. “Do you know what?”

  “What?” Wolf sat down.

  “I want to be a bear when I die.”

  Wolf raised his eyebrows and sipped his coffee, unsure where to begin with a response.

  “When you die?” Lauren turned from cracking an egg. “Where did you hear that?”

  “Nowhere. I just told you. I want to be a bear. Do you know why?” She waited for Wolf to answer.

  “Why?”

  “Because they’re huge and fierce. And they can scare mean raccoons away, and they don’t have to answer to anyone.”

  Lauren scrambled the eggs in a bowl. “Who told you that you could come back as a bear when you die?”

  “What?” Ella chomped a spoonful of Cheerios, dropping half of them on her lap. She looked up at her mother, then at Wolf. She was trying to figure out what she’d said wrong.

  “Nothing,” Lauren said.

  Wolf winked at Ella. “You like bears, huh?”

  “Yeah. We saw one on the road last month.”

  “I know, you told me about that. That’s so cool.”

  “Yep.” She dove back into her Cheerios.

  Lauren slid a plate of steaming eggs and toast in front of Wolf, and then kissed him on the temple. “I have to go pee,” she declared and left the kitchen.

  Ella dropped her spoon and squinted one eye. “Do bears have mommies and daddies?”

  “Yeah.”

  “They do?”

  “Well, yeah.”

  “Then why is there only one big bear with the little bears when they’re walking around?”

  “That’s the momma bear. She takes care of the cubs.”

  While Ella thought on this, Wolf heard a sound just outside of the kitchen, and then Lauren’s receding footfalls.

  “So … what do the daddies do?”

  Wolf shoved a forkful of eggs into his mouth, brainstorming for an answer.

  “Can daddies change?”

  “What?”

  “Can like, you have one dad, and then another dad comes and becomes your dad?”

  Wolf gave
a noncommittal shrug and took a bite of toast. “Yeah. They can.”

  “I wish you were my dad.”

  “Ella.” Lauren was standing at the entryway, her mouth hanging open. “Jesus,” she muttered under her breath as she walked behind Wolf. There was a loud clank as she fumbled something in the sink.

  Once again looking like she was wondering what she’d done wrong, Ella stared at her mother’s back and chewed a mouthful of food.

  Wolf stood and put a hand on Lauren’s shoulder.

  “Sorry,” she said.

  “For what?”

  His phone started vibrating in his pocket, which sounded as intrusive as a buzz saw in the awkward silence.

  She looked at his pocket and flipped on the faucet. “Better get that.”

  The phone said it was MacLean calling, which meant something was going on. The sheriff rarely called Wolf’s phone. He preferred talking through the channels of one of his underlings rather than to Wolf himself.

  “Hello?” He answered and walked into the living room.

  “We have a DB.”

  He walked out the front door to the front porch, letting the information bounce around in his brain.

  “You there?”

  He shut the door. “Yeah.”

  “I said we have a dead body.”

  “Where?”

  “Start driving down the river. When you cross the bridge, she’ll be on your right. Next to a shitload of cops.”

  Chapter 2

  Wolf shut off his engine and got out of his SUV. A southerly breeze came off of Williams Pass, smelling like river water and soaked mountain foliage. Low clouds polka-dotted the sky, blocking the morning sun for moments at a time.

  He zipped up his jacket and shut the door, then walked to the fluttering crime scene tape strewn from guardrail to guardrail, blocking his access across the Chautauqua River to the highway. Deputy Yates stood with a clipboard, looking like he had plenty to say about the situation and couldn’t wait to start talking.

  “Yates,” Wolf said.

  “Sir.” Yates turned and gestured with the clipboard. “Got a DB.”

  “So I heard.” He nodded past the deputy at the cluster of people in the center of the bridge wearing navy blue windbreakers with F-B-I in traffic light yellow scrawled across their backs. “Why are they here?”