Deadly Conditions (David Wolf Book 4) Read online

  “Try me. Your life depends on it.”

  Prock shook his head and blinked. “We were working together for the last few weeks.”

  “In what capacity?” Wolf asked.

  “I was approached by Irwin Incorporated a few months ago. They offered me a deal: I keep them abreast of progress, and they give me compensation.”

  Wolf frowned in thought, and then understood. “A double agent.”

  Prock nodded in his almost-imperceptible way.

  “Progress?” Wolf asked. “About what?”

  Prock held up his palms. “About our progress of winning the bid for an important contract.”

  “And how was progress going?” Wolf asked.

  Prock looked at Wolf for a second, considering his answer. “Touch and go.”

  Wolf nodded. “Saturday night, at the gala. You licked Stephanie’s earlobe. How did you know her?”

  Prock frowned. “I didn’t lick her earlobe.”

  “Whatever, you were flirting with her, and it was clear to a number of people at your table. How did you know her?”

  “From the party last week.”

  “Charlie Ash’s party?” Wolf asked.

  “Yeah.” Prock shifted in the seat. “Could I have a glass of water?”

  “Not yet,” Wolf said. “The party?”

  Prock sat back again and exhaled. “Cooper introduced me, and we hit it off. We got together in one of the rooms for a few minutes.”

  “And then what?”

  “And then nothing,” Prock said. “We didn’t see each other again that night.”

  Wolf shook his head and looked back at Rachette.

  “She disappeared,” Prock said quickly. “I never saw her again until Saturday night, at the gala, when she came to our table. We talked that night, and she agreed to hang out after she got off work.”

  “So you met her after her shift,” Wolf said. “Then you two went down the mountain together?”

  “Yes.”

  “And then you hooked up with Matt Cooper?” Wolf shook his head and sat back looking at the ceiling. “I don’t get it. Why wouldn’t you take your own car? A cab? One of the shuttles that comes to the roundabout at the bottom of the gondola?”

  Prock rolled his eyes and put the side of his hand on the table, “I couldn’t take the company car, and we didn’t want to take a shuttle, or a—“

  “So Cooper not only flies skiers in helicopters, but he’s fine with giving couples rides to wherever they want to go have sex? He’s just a nice guy like that?”

  Prock stared at Wolf for a second and lowered his eyes to the table.

  Wolf watched Prock’s skin grow hot, like he was either furious or embarrassed. Wolf couldn’t tell which.

  “Why involve Cooper in your little sex adventure?” Wolf asked. “You’re not making any sense. Start telling me the truth.”

  Prock glared up at Wolf. “That was the point. I wanted Matt Cooper involved in the sex adventure.”

  Wolf felt his own face flush, “Oh.” Wolf took a deep breath and stretched his neck. “So you and Cooper?”

  “Yes. That is why we got along so well when we met,” Prock stared at Wolf with drooping eyelids, as if waiting for the judgmental remarks to come.

  “So then what?” Wolf asked.

  “I called Cooper to pick us up. He was at the bar in the village, picked us up, and we drove up to Stephanie’s house.”

  “But you didn’t get there, did you?” Rachette said.

  Wolf looked up at Rachette and then back at Prock.

  Prock leaned forward, “We dropped her off on the side of the road. She wanted us to”—he opened his eyes wide and held up a finger—“There was someone behind us that night. We passed another truck.”

  Rachette blew out of his nose, and Prock twisted in his seat.

  “Why would you drop her off late at night in the middle of a major storm?” Wolf asked. “It was snowing like mad, it had been for hours.”

  “Stephanie and Cooper. They were fighting the whole way up the road. I couldn’t stop them. He was being vulgar, and she was definitely upset. I tried to tell both of them to stop, but they just kept shouting. She was screaming for him to let her out of the car, and wouldn’t listen to either one of us. So he stopped and she got out.” Prock waved a hand.

  “What was the argument about?” Wolf asked.

  Prock squinted and shook his head. “He was treating her like a…prostitute, how do you call it?”

  “A prostitute,” Rachette said.

  Prock nodded. “He was calling her names and insulting her, and she didn’t like it. I think they had a history, a fight before or something.”

  Wolf leaned forward. “Tell me exactly what they were saying.”

  Prock rolled a palm up. “I don’t know…he said that she had to do us both, and he wasn’t going to pay her the cost, as if she had a price or something. It was…it was bad.”

  “And what was her cost?” Wolf asked. “What was her going rate?”

  Prock swallowed and looked at Wolf. “What? What kind of a question is that? What’s wrong with you? I told you—“

  “You said Cooper was talking about a cost. What was the cost he was talking about? Do you remember a specific number?” Wolf asked.

  “I don’t know,” Prock huffed and shook his head, then stared at the top of the table.

  “Was it twelve hundred dollars?” Wolf asked. “Was it one thousand, two hundred dollars?”

  Prock looked up at Wolf. “Yes,” he said carefully. “It was.”

  Wolf sat back and ran a hand through his hair.

  “How did you know about that?” Prock narrowed his eyes.

  “What happened next, after you dropped her off? Did Cooper tell you about the sex tape?”

  Prock straightened. “What? What sex tape?”

  “You didn’t press him about what had just happened?” Wolf asked. “Didn’t want to know what the whole argument was about?”

  “I did. I asked him. But we ended up arguing. He was calling her a whore again, and telling me to forget her. I was telling him to go back and pick her up, and he refused to…and we ended up not speaking for a while.”

  “And that was it?” Wolf asked. “No more bringing up the topic?”

  Prock shrugged and glared at Wolf. “We didn’t have much time to talk about it any more, because an asshole cop pulled us over. Gave Matt a drunk driving test out in the snow.”

  Wolf took a deep breath and crossed his legs. The room was cold, the air somehow penetrating the windowless room through unseen cracks. Just like his office.

  “The other truck that was following you. What kind was it?” Wolf asked.

  Prock narrowed his eyes and looked up. “I think it was an SUV.”

  “What color?” Wolf asked.

  Prock sagged a little in the chair. “It was snowing hard. The headlights were in our eyes.”

  “Did you see it pick up Stephanie?” Rachette asked.

  “No.”

  Wolf changed directions. “What were you and Klammer talking to Charlie Ash about the other day?”

  Wolf watched as Prock’s look changed from frantic and cornered to cool and untouchable in the span of a few breaths.

  “The pursuit of the contract,” Prock said.

  “Specifically?” Wolf asked.

  Prock shrugged. “Just business.”

  “Maybe I’ll go talk to Klammer,” Wolf said. “Let him know about your dealings with the Irwin Corporation.”

  Prock shrugged again. “I was going to tell him anyway. After all, it was the kind of thing I’m paid for. It was a strategic move taking the job offered to me by Irwin, and it was something I couldn’t tell Klammer about at the time, in order to work both sides effectively.”

  Wolf smiled. “Because you believe Klammer is going to come out on top.”

  Prock stared at the wall in response.

  “What were you doing this morning between seven and nine am?” Wolf asked.
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  Prock’s eyebrows pulled together. “I was waking up, then eating breakfast with Mr. Klammer. Why?”

  “Where were you eating?” Wolf asked.

  “The Sunnyside,” Prock said. “Unfortunately. Such terrible cuisine in this country.”

  Wolf got up and walked to the door and Rachette followed.

  “Hey, I want to—“

  Prock’s voice was muffled as the door closed.

  Patterson and Wilson were on the other side of the door in the observation room.

  “Well?” Rachette asked. “Did this guy do it or what?”

  Wolf turned and watched Prock through the glass.

  Prock got up off his chair and began pacing, staring at the floor and mumbling to himself in his native tongue.

  “Let him go,” Wolf said. “Make it clear to Klammer we want both of them to stay in town, though. Let’s put surveillance on them.”

  “But shouldn’t we check on his alibi for this morning first?” Patterson asked. “I can call the Sunnyside.”

  Wolf walked out of the room, and into the hallway. “Okay, go ahead. But I wasn’t chasing Prock this morning, so I don’t think he killed Cooper. And since that X on the helicopter window was the same red X written in the same lipstick, I’m thinking we’re looking for someone else.”

  “Austrians can be pretty good skiers, you sure that wasn’t him this morning?” Rachette asked.

  Wolf shook his head. “Prock could be a World-Cup skier, but that doesn’t change the fact that it was a local who gave us the slip this morning. Whoever that was knew the backcountry too well”—Wolf looked at Wilson—“let me guess, the snowmobile tracks went up to Poacher’s Trail and it was found ditched there.”

  Wilson nodded.

  “That’s how he escaped. Went right back to the mountain, blended in with the Monday morning crowd.”

  They stood in silence for a beat, and then Wolf walked away to the squad room.

  “Who do you want to put on tailing Klammer and Prock?” Rachette was on his heels.

  “I don’t know. It doesn’t need to be covert or anything. Just plant a deputy on their ass.” Wolf looked at Patterson. “Keep on Lorber with that USB.”

  Patterson nodded. “Will do. I’ll go call him, he’s gotta be back by now.” She went down the hall.

  Wolf walked to his office.

  “Where are you going?” Rachette asked, still following close. “Can I come?”

  “I didn’t tell you where I was going,” Wolf said.

  “I don’t care.”

  Wolf took a deep breath and looked at Rachette. “What the hell did you do?”

  “What?”

  Wolf narrowed his eyes and then walked out of his office.

  “Where are you going?” Rachette asked yet again.

  “The mayor’s. Talk to you soon.”

  Wolf walked into the squad room and stopped at Wilson’s desk, pulled the USB out of the computer, and walked out to reception.

  Klammer stood up from his chair in the waiting room. His face was red and his sleeves were rolled up.

  Wolf looked at him and nodded. “Prock will be out in a minute,” Wolf said.

  Klammer stared at Wolf with a bored expression, and then he parted his lips and inhaled, preparing to say something.

  Wolf left out the door before any words came out of the bastard’s mouth. His patience had long evaporated for the back-room games these people were playing.

  Chapter 22

  In Rocky Points in the winter months, and anywhere else in the mountains for that matter, the sun could disappear early in the day, depending on where you were in the valley. Darkness could begin at two in the afternoon in spots, or even earlier. Snow and ice could cling in these places for almost three quarters of the year.

  Wolf considered himself lucky that his ranch house was situated in a way that light bathed the property until later in the afternoon, but the department headquarters building was one of those places that went into shade at about two-thirty in the afternoon in winter.

  Mayor Wakefield’s property, high up on the western facing slopes overlooking the town from the east side, didn’t have that problem. It was one of those places that took advantage of all the sunlight the day could offer at any time of year.

  As he drove up the snow packed road toward Wakefield’s, Wolf squinted as the day’s final rays of sun knifed through the pine trees, cutting into the edges of his vision. KBUD was playing an old Widespread Panic tune that reminded Wolf of his high school days – back when he would have been coming home this time of the evening after an afternoon of skiing with his brother John or his best friend Nate Watson.

  Wolf chugged some water out of a half-frozen bottle and felt it douse his empty stomach, realizing he still needed to sit down and eat for a straight hour or so.

  As he got closer to Wakefield’s he thought about his brother John again, and how he had died. John had been murdered, made to look like he had killed himself. Had Wolf missed something the other day with Jen Wakefield? It had looked like a cut and dried suicide, but if the same thing happened today, after two murders in town, maybe he would have scrutinized the scene more thoroughly.

  He turned down the music and turned into Wakefield’s driveway, and straight into the sun which hung just above the western peaks. He held up a hand to block it and pulled in next to Chris Wakefield’s Ford truck.

  Wolf got out and walked to the ornate wood door and rang the bell. It chimed inside, and a few seconds later Chris Wakefield opened it up.

  “Oh, hi Sheriff,” he said. “Can I help you?” Chris was fully dressed with his coat and boots on, looking like he was ready to leave.

  Wolf nodded. “I came to speak to your father.”

  Chris stepped aside. “Dad! Sheriff Wolf is here!”

  Wolf watched Chris Wakefield closely. Chris was in his late teens, almost Wolf’s height, and if Wolf wasn’t mistaken was rumored to be a very good skier. The type who would launch himself off a sixty-foot drop at high speed?

  “Yeah, okay, let him in!” Mayor Wakefield said from somewhere inside.

  Chris turned back to Wolf and opened the door wider.

  Wolf stomped the snow off his boots and stepped inside. It was warm, and bright as a sunset in the entryway, with the sun streaming in through the huge windows of the next room straight ahead.

  “Well,” Chris said, nodding at Wolf, “I’ll see you later.” He stepped out the door and pulled it shut, leaving Wolf on the thick carpet inside the foyer.

  It smelled like toasted bread, and Wolf heard a plate clank in the distance and then muffled footsteps.

  Wakefield walked around the corner wearing a sweatshirt, sweatpants, and socks, a stark contrast to the usual suit and tie in which most Rocky Points residents were accustomed to seeing the mayor dressed. He wiped his hands on the already dirty looking sweatshirt and walked to Wolf. “Sheriff. What can I do for you?”

  Wolf shook the mayor’s warm and greasy grip. “I just wanted to speak to you about a few things,” Wolf said.

  “Sure,” Wakefield looked down at himself. “I, uh, wasn’t expecting company.”

  Wolf stood still, not sure how to react to the comment.

  “Please, come in,” Wakefield said, turning and walking inside.

  Wolf wiped his feet on the carpet and then followed Wakefield into the living room.

  “Please, sit.” He walked to the windows and pushed a discrete button on the wall. A window blind hummed and lowered with a continuous swish, blocking out the bright rays one foot at a time.

  Wolf sat on the edge of a square leather footrest.

  “There,” Wakefield said when the blind was fully down, and then he sat on a leather chair across the coffee table from Wolf. It groaned and so did Wakefield. “What’s up?”

  The grandfather clock in the corner clunked and then started chiming – big echoing tubes of metal being pounded by mallets. Wolf saw it was five o’clock so rather than shout over the noise he
looked around.

  His gaze was inevitably drawn past Wakefield, and to the open room across the hall that they used as a family den. There were shelves with books, an expensive globe on a floor mount, and other elegant office furniture.

  Wolf stared at the wooden table with the black office chair pulled up to it – a different black office chair. That’s where Wakefield had found his wife last week, and that’s where Wolf had seen Jen Wakefield’s lifeless body sagging off the chair with a blown-out skull that Wolf had heard dripping on the floor hours after her death.

  “Tough to look at, isn’t it?” Wakefield said, snapping Wolf out of his daydream. The clock was silent.

  Wolf sucked in a breath and looked the other way toward the kitchen. There was a big wooden table with an open laptop computer perched on top.

  “Can you please get that computer and bring it over here?” Wolf asked.

  Wakefield looked at Wolf for a second and then got up.

  Wolf watched the man pad down the hardwood hall and go into the kitchen. Wakefield unplugged the computer, picked it up and walked back, stopping to switch on some lights. The sun had dipped behind the peaks.

  “Here,” Wakefield said, and put it on the coffee table in front of Wolf.

  Wolf pulled the USB out of his jacket pocket, inserted it, and pulled up the movie.

  Wakefield feigned interest across from Wolf, but he was fidgeting and clearing his throat too much to fool anyone.

  Wolf pushed play, moved the tracker to the middle of the movie, and then turned up the volume and twisted the laptop to Wakefield.

  Sounds of frenzied sex bellowed out of the computer speakers, and Wakefield looked horrified, but not surprised. He bent forward and shut the computer with a thud.

  “What the hell is going on?” Wolf asked. “You know damn well we found this girl murdered Saturday night.”

  Wakefield stared through the coffee table.

  “This movie was recorded Thursday night, after Charlie Ash’s party, am I right?”

  Wakefield nodded.

  Wolf stared at him for a few seconds while the big clock ticked.

  “Did you pay this girl to sleep with you?” Wolf asked.

  Wakefield looked at Wolf and frowned. “No.”