Rain (David Wolf Book 11) Read online

  Finally, he aimed at Kristen Luke and Tong. They writhed on the ground. Wolf had no clear shot.

  He got to his feet and stumbled toward the wrestling match.

  The space between Luke and Tong lit up and three muffled pops made them convulse. They went slack and silent.

  Wolf slapped both hands on Tong’s back, pulled him off, and shot him in the back of the head as he fell to the ground.

  Luke lay underneath, smothered in a lake of blood.

  The door behind him clacked and squealed.

  He twisted and shot a leather-clad man carrying a pistol before he was halfway into the room.

  The man’s lifeless body fell, blocking the doorway. Somebody else pushed against the door, and a gun-wielding hand appeared for a second.

  The man screamed something in Chinese from the hallway.

  Wolf said nothing, readying his aim at the opening.

  The man called something again.

  “Help!” Wolf said.

  A hand gripped the edge of the door and a head poked inside.

  Wolf shot it. The second man fell on the first.

  He waited as the door squealed all the way open, revealing an empty corridor next to a row of cages filled with scared faces.

  He clenched his eyes shut and turned his head toward Luke. Right then, like Schrodinger’s Cat, she was as likely alive as dead, and he wanted to stay in that moment forever. But sooner or later he had to join reality.

  He looked.

  She stared at him—a blank look reserved for the lifeless.

  “Luke!”

  Her eyes swiveled to the door, and then back to him. “That was a cheap shot.”

  Chapter 45

  Three days later …

  Tom Rachette felt like he had a spinning bowling ball in his gut.

  The SUV rumbled around a corner and he recognized the next bend as the last before Wolf’s driveway shot up from the county road. He’d been in the car with Wolf for an hour and a half and had yet to confess his sin to his boss.

  “Hey, Wolf.”

  “Yeah?” Wolf answered.

  Rachette slowed and took the turn for Wolf’s property, unable to finish his thought. The suspense of what lay ahead was killing him. He felt like he needed to stop the car now, to explain, before they both came up over the blind rise.

  But he pressed the gas.

  Wolf ignored him and kept his eyes out the windshield, unfazed by his detective’s inability to speak.

  Rachette glared forward as they crested the hill, noting the mangled flowers dangling off either side of the bull-horned headgate as they passed through. The SUV dropped onto the flat, swinging the ranch house up into view.

  The bowling ball in his stomach sank. Wolf’s unmarked maroon SBCSD-issue Ford Explorer sat out front of his barn next to his old silver Toyota Tacoma, but the carport was empty.

  A large oval of matted grass showed where the wedding/reception tent had stood, but the monstrosity had been speedily removed, revealing the eastern mountains.

  “They got rid of that thing fast,” Rachette said.

  Wolf’s gaze remained stoic.

  The silence in the car became louder. The rumbling of the tires ceased to exist. Only Rachette’s heartbeat thumping in his ears remained.

  He slowed to a stop in front and Wolf clicked open the door.

  “Hey,” Rachette said. “Listen, wait.”

  Wolf slid off the seat and turned to him. “What’s up?”

  “When you were gone some stuff happened.”

  “Okay.”

  “And the more I think about it, the more I think it’s my fault that Lauren … that she left.” His breathing became shallow but he pressed on. “It turns out Brenda Mendelsen lied about Eli coming over and trashing her place.”

  Wolf frowned. “Really?”

  “Yeah. Eli had a completely different story—that he came and only talked to her, and she pulled the bat on him. And we figured out that she wiped all the fingerprints from the bat before we took it. She was lying, just trying to … shit, we don’t know. She was crazy in love with Eli, and Eli cheated on her. She lashed out, trying to get revenge or something. And then I think she saw you come in to help, and something clicked inside her … like she wanted to be with you or something.”

  Wolf blinked.

  The front door of Wolf’s house opened and Jack stepped out, zipping his fleece to his chin.

  “Okay. Good work.” Wolf made to shut the door.

  “Wait. That’s not the point of my story.” He swallowed. “The morning of your wedding, I came over here with Patterson. We were checking in on Lauren, making sure she was okay, because you were MIA. Nobody could get hold of you.

  “When we got here, Brenda Mendelsen was talking with Lauren. And when we walked up, she left all strange, pretending like Patterson and I didn’t exist. I called Wilson right then, and that’s when I learned she’d wiped the baseball bat. And it kind of freaked me out, so I accidentally blabbed about the whole thing to Lauren.”

  Wolf nodded dismissively. “Okay.”

  “No. You don’t understand. I’m not telling this right. She was freaked out after I told her about Brenda. She wondered why Brenda was up here.”

  “Why was Brenda up here?” Wolf asked.

  Rachette shrugged. “To see you. To thank you for your help or who knows why?”

  Wolf said nothing.

  “Anyway, Lauren said she’d never even met her before. Honest, I don’t know if she was going to do anything, but Lauren saw her as a real threat, you know?”

  Wolf narrowed his eyes.

  Rachette pressed on. “Lauren said Brenda was desperate-sounding. Angry she hadn’t been invited to the wedding.”

  Wolf nodded. “Okay, I’m not sure what you’re worrying about but don’t.” He shut the door.

  Rachette climbed out and walked after him toward the front door.

  “Don’t you see? It was my fault!”

  Wolf stopped and turned around.

  Jack went back inside.

  “I spooked her. I shouldn’t have opened my dumbass mouth about the whole thing in front of her. I was hungover and not thinking straight. I should have waited two minutes and talked to Patterson about it in the car. But I freaked her out, and now she’s gone.”

  “But you were worried about Lauren. You wanted to tell her so she’d know the woman who’d just been talking to her was dangerous. And her daughter was only a few feet away. So if she’d shown up again, she’d know to be wary.”

  Rachette swallowed and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Yeah.”

  Wolf nodded. “Then I thank you for that, Tom.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Wolf walked toward him and Rachette lowered his gaze to the ground.

  Wolf’s arms wrapped around him and pulled him into a hug that pushed his breath out. He wanted to return the embrace but it was over before he could react.

  “Thank you, Tom.” Wolf turned on his heels.

  He stood on the lawn and watched Wolf disappear inside.

  He wanted to tell his boss so much—that he was disappointed that life hadn’t dealt Wolf the queen of hearts, that Wolf didn’t deserve to be sitting alone in a dark house, that he felt unworthy of the happiness Charlotte and his little TJ gave him.

  But he knew Wolf, and Wolf knew all that already.

  Chapter 46

  “How’s it going?” Jack leaned in the entrance to the kitchen.

  Wolf stood motionless and eyed the two open bedroom doors. The sheets on Wolf’s bed were tucked hard, folded just so. Ella’s polka-dot comforter was also sculpted, revealing she’d inherited her mother’s neatness gene. Lauren’s Cave Creek Sunset painting still hung on the freshly painted wall in front of him. The fruity scent of candles, mixed with Lauren’s perfume, still hung in the air.

  His heart felt like it beat up against a steel cage. “What was that?”

  “I asked … never mind. It was a stupid question.”


  Wolf pulled out his phone and, despite his better judgment, pressed the button, revealing Ella’s smiling face and the reminder that he’d still received no call or message.

  He dropped his phone, keys, and wallet on the coffee table and walked toward the kitchen.

  Jack pushed himself off the doorjamb and unfolded his arms, a barricade of wiry muscle and shaggy youth. “I’m sorry, Dad.”

  Wolf looked into his son’s emerald eyes and saw his mother’s face. And pain. “Your mom and I used to wonder how you got those green eyes.”

  Jack tucked his thumbs in his back pocket and kicked his toe against the edge of the carpet, a gesture he reserved for listening respectfully to an elder.

  “Turns out my uncle had the same shade.”

  Jack nodded. “Yeah. You’ve told me about that.”

  They stood in silence for a beat.

  “I don’t know how to help,” Jack said.

  Wolf patted his son’s shoulder and passed into the kitchen.

  He pulled open the refrigerator. Green and vital perishable foods stacked the shelves. He dug his hand past a bag of broccoli florets and pulled out a Newcastle brown ale along with a faint odor of decaying vegetables. He popped the top on a bottle opener Lauren had mounted on the edge of the counter and chugged the beer until it was gone.

  Eyes watering from the carbonation, he bent down and pulled out another.

  He opened it and held it out to Jack. “You want one?”

  “No, thanks.”

  He twisted the blinds, letting in the dull light of a cloudy autumn afternoon and the sight of Rachette’s SUV passing through the headgate.

  “How can I help?” Jack asked.

  He took a slow sip, savoring the taste and the alcohol buzz in his chest. “You could help by getting me a twelve-pack of Newcastle.”

  “I’m nineteen.”

  Wolf eyed his son. “How do you get beer in Boulder?”

  “Jeff has a fake ID.”

  Wolf had met Jack’s dorm room-turned-off-campus roommate before. “Makes sense. Guy’s hairier than the elk around here.”

  Jack nodded. “His ID picture shows a guy without a beard and the exact same eyes and face shape. It’s pretty much bulletproof.”

  Wolf smiled and sucked down half of the beer.

  “Grandma went back to Denver.”

  “I talked to her on the phone yesterday.” He looked at Jack. “Did you spend some time with her the past few days?”

  “Too much.”

  “You think she’s doing all right?”

  “What’s your definition of all right?”

  “Is she losing it? You know, dementia?”

  Jack frowned. “No. She’s sharp as ever. Sharper. That’s the problem. She’s just … angry about something. I think we need to visit her more. She made some off-hand comments about how we never go down to Denver anymore.”

  Wolf nodded.

  “I think she meant you. She’s pissed that it’s been eight months since you went.”

  Wolf finished the beer with disappointment, knowing there was only one left. “Aren’t you missing school right now?”

  “I wanted to see you. Make sure you were all right.”

  Wolf walked to the cupboard and found a half-bottle of Glenlivet and three abandoned bottles of Lauren’s favorite red. “I’m all right.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  He took down the bottle and put it on the counter. “I have eight more days of vacation ahead of me. Some R and R will do me good.”

  Jack said nothing.

  In the still silence of the kitchen, they heard the rush of wind long before it hit the house. As the dust flew and the trees thrashed outside, the heater kicked on, breathing warm air up the jeans he’d purchased in Seattle the day before.

  His neck still ached from the hours of questioning he’d endured and the lumpy pillow in the Seattle motel.

  Over that two days, he’d been contacting Lauren and received no response. That left only one truth to face.

  He looked Jack in the eye. “I’m glad you’re here. Thanks.”

  Jack nodded and looked down at his feet again. He pulled out his phone and checked the screen, then shoved it back in his pocket.

  “But you have to leave,” Wolf said. “You’re driving back. That’s why you didn’t jump on the free beer from your dad.”

  “I have class in the morning, which is no big deal but I have to finish up this paper that’s due. I mean, I was prepared to miss the class … but …”

  Wolf nodded. “You have to go.”

  Crackling tires outside pulled them both to the window, and the sight of Lauren’s Audi made Wolf’s adrenal gland fire.

  “Okay, there’s my cue,” Jack said.

  At first, Wolf was only vaguely aware of his son’s embrace. Then he peeled his eyes from the window and returned the hug with three times the tenacity he’d received.

  “Be careful on the drive home,” he said. “When’s the last time you changed the oil on that thing?”

  “Yesterday.”

  Wolf raised an eyebrow.

  “I’ve been bored.”

  “Okay.” He squeezed his son’s oversized shoulders. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “Just … thanks. I’ll talk to you soon. Say hi to Cassidy for me.”

  “I will.”

  Jack walked quickly to the front door, zipped up his fleece to his chin, and disappeared outside.

  Wolf turned to the window and watched as Lauren parked, got out—alone—and nodded somberly to Jack.

  His son raised two fingers to her and strode to the Toyota, his hands shoved in his pockets.

  Her loose pony tail twisted in the wind as she watched Jack climb inside the truck. Then she walked to the house.

  The front door slammed open and shut.

  Wolf stayed frozen at the window, staring out at the emptiness of her back seat through the windshield of her car.

  Jack’s tires spat gravel and swirling dust as he drove away and out of sight.

  The sound of Lauren’s breath came from the kitchen entrance. “David.”

  He pulled his eyes from the window and looked at her.

  Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes glistening. She looked as beautiful as the first time he’d seen her at the hospital. Once again, she was that inaccessible nurse striding into the room. Into his life.

  “You’re leaving me,” he said.

  She swallowed and a single tear slid down her cheek and hit the floor.

  The heater turned off and they were left surrounded by a creaking house.

  “I have to.” She wiped her face and sniffed, keeping her eyes locked on his. “I can’t stay with you. It’s too dangerous for Ella. And it’s too much for me.”

  “I know,” he said.

  She clenched her eyes shut, squeezing out more tears.

  He stepped forward and hugged her, and she wrapped her arms hard around his waist.

  “I can’t stay.”

  He said nothing, and they held each other a while.

  Finally they parted and looked at one another, their cheeks wet.

  “I love you,” she said.

  “I love you, too.”

  She turned to the window. “Ella has Jet. I think she should keep him. I didn’t have the heart to take him away from her.”

  “Okay. I think that’s a good idea.”

  “And I didn’t want to bring her here now.” She looked at him. “I don’t know what I’ve done to her, David. I’ve dangled a father in front of her face, then pulled him away.”

  He sucked in a breath and looked outside.

  “I don’t know what I’ve done to her,” she said again. “I’m evil.”

  “You’re a good mother. You’ll do anything to protect your daughter, no matter how painful it is. You’re not evil. You’re tough,” he said. “You do what it takes.”

  They stood in silence as the wind toppled the trash cans outside.<
br />
  “I’ll explain everything to Ella,” she said.

  “I’d like to see her. To explain.”

  “I’d rather you didn’t.” Her tone said they weren’t negotiating. “We’re leaving for Aspen this afternoon.”

  He blinked.

  Until then, the situation had felt temporary. His subconscious had already begun concocting plans to run into them around town, to hook them and reel them back into his life.

  She held out a hand and he stared at it with glossy eyes until she pulled it back.

  “Goodbye.” She turned around and walked away. The door opened, letting in a blast of light and wind, then closed.

  He shut the blinds and forced himself to listen to the thumping car door, the revving engine, and the vanishing crunch of tires.

  Chapter 47

  Wolf woke to the sound of a bird chirping outside his window.

  The angle of the light shafting through the blinds told him it was late afternoon, which meant it must have been Wednesday. Or Thursday, he supposed. He sat upright, swayed, and stood. The wall came up and hit him in the shoulder. He pushed off it, lost his balance, and put a hand on his bed to steady himself.

  Then the truth washed over him, freezing him in his tracks.

  He picked his pants off the floor and checked the pockets. His phone screen was black and pushing the button did nothing to revive it.

  He plugged it into the charger and, like a desperate idiot, stared at the screen while it told him he had no missed calls—or none that counted.

  Thursday, 4:16 p.m.

  He clothed himself like a respectable human being and went to the kitchen. An empty bottle of Scotch, two empty six-packs of Newcastle, and two drained bottles of red wine stood on the counter.

  He went to the window. Trash had been strewn as far as the eye could see.

  “Shit.”

  He put on his coat, laced up his leather boots, and stepped out into the afternoon air with a trash bag in hand. The air was cool and still, and smelled of downed leaves. Dark clouds loomed up the valley to the north.

  He zipped up his Carhartt and surveyed the scene, wondering where to begin. He decided to start with the wad of tissue at his feet. He bent over to pick it up and hesitated, remembering the two-day cold Ella had contracted from school the previous week. He straightened and stared at the way the paper had been rolled into a ball with two small hands.