A few paces away, Deputy Cain leaned up against the plank fence with her eyes closed, head turned towards the sun. She looked distressed. She looked good. Damn it, what was his problem? He was married, happily married, with two kids.
"Are you listening to me?" Lorber's voice came through the earpiece.
"Sorry, Yates was saying something…what was that, sir?"
"I asked how many people have entered the scene."
"Just Wolf. He's inside right now."
"All right. Nobody else goes in."
"Of course." Lorber clicked off and Rachette put the phone back in his pocket.
Cain was now squatting down, both palms pressed against her forehead like she was in anguish and she was trying to hold it inside of her head or something.
Yates was standing at a distance, holding guard position against the neighbors who had begun to funnel out of their houses and congregate nearby. Eyeing her again, Rachette felt bad for ribbing her earlier. He’d been insensitive, as Charlotte would have put it.
"You okay?" he asked her.
"Yeah, I'm fine." She said, keeping her hands pressed against her forehead. Her eyes were screwed shut.
He went over and laid a hand on her shoulder, squeezed it gently. “It’s okay,” he said. “Dead bodies are not something you see every day.”
She popped her hands from her forehead and looked at his hand, then up at him. For a moment he kept it there, frozen, feeling the warmth of her shirt and the bone and firm muscle of her shoulder underneath.
And then he pulled it away.
He suddenly felt like he’d done something terribly wrong. He felt his face go red and he stood up and turned his back to her. What the hell was he doing, grabbing her shoulder like that? He’d seen that reaction plenty of times. If he was in a bar right now he’d be dodging a drink flying into his face. Shit.
Yates was looking at him, his eyebrows knitted together.
Rachette flipped him the finger and turned back around. He had to put water on this fire before it flamed out of control. "Hey, listen, sorry. I didn't mean to..." He didn’t know what to say.
She stood up, looking like she was feigning confusion. "Didn't mean to what?"
"Nothing. Sorry, I just... I'm married, you know. I have two kids."
"Good for you."
He nodded, deciding she sounded genuine. No condescension detected. She was cool after all. "Yeah,” Rachette said. “Her name is Charlotte Munford. You ever met her?"
"No, I haven’t."
"Right. Yeah, you’re up here. I just wondered if you had been in headquarters down in Rocky Points. Maybe you might have met her there. She’s a deputy." Mercifully, his phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out. "Got to take this."
Seeing it was Nelson, he turned around and took the call. "What's up?"
"Hey, where the hell are we going? Where's this house?" Rachette looked down the dirt road and saw Nelson's vehicle speed past, and then go out of sight.
"I just saw you drive past, turn around, stop. Take a right on Poppy, head east, you’ll see us." He hung up.
"That was Deputy Nelson. He's heading down from the mine," he said to Cain. She ignored him and continued pacing, her arms crossed over her chest. Rachette tried to act nonchalant, like nothing awkward had happened between them. Maybe nothing had. Maybe he needed to chill out. Something about this woman got him all riled up. He crossed his own arms.
He could use a dip. Maybe that was it. That was the most repulsive thing that he could possibly do with a woman present. At least that’s what Charlotte had told him a thousand times. And that was a good way to show that he didn't really care what Deputy Cain thought. He packed the Copenhagen, popped open the lid and put one between his lip and gum.
Deputy Cain seemed not to notice, looking instead toward the front of the house as Wolf walked across the lawn.
“Lorber’s on his way,” Rachette said. “What did you find?”
"Looks like a single gunshot wound,” Wolf said. “Same injury as Chris Oakley up at the mine."
"Same guy," Rachette said.
Wolf nodded. "Looks like it." Wolf looked at Deputy Cain. "You okay?"
Deputy Cain nodded. "Yes, sir."
Nelson's vehicle rumbled down the dirt road, tires popping gravel as it came to a sliding halt behind Wolf's SUV. Deputy Nelson and a young new deputy, John Chavez, stepped out.
Chavez was wide-eyed and so was Nelson, both chock full of adrenaline by the looks of it.
"Yates!" Wolf waved him over.
Yates came over and joined the huddle. “What’s up?”
Wolf pointed at Chavez, Nelson, and Cain. “You three stay here, we’re going to see Rick Hammes.”
“I’ll go with you,” Cain said, raising her chin when he looked down at her.
Rachette smirked to himself. She had some guts, he’d give her that.
“From what I’m gathering, this Hammes guy is dangerous,” Wolf said. “He shot at a car—”
“—a truckload of teenagers. Yeah, I know. I’ve been keeping an eye on him for the last year per MacLean’s orders. Sir, I trained with SWAT up in Bozeman. I’ve seen action before. Besides, I know the roads around her like the back of my hand. You’ll probably not want to go into his place full-bore with everyone rolling up and spooking him. I know exactly where his house is. Where we can stop early and walk in from a distance.”
She stopped talking and held unflinching eye-contact with Wolf.
Her eyes were the color of the darkest rainforest wood, and just as hard, Rachette thought.
Wolf stared at her for a beat, then nodded. “Okay. You’re coming with us.”
She nodded, the tough façade cracking a bit as she noticed for the first time Rachette and the others looking at her.
“You two stay here,” Wolf said, pointing at Nelson and Chavez. “Keep those neighbors away, and I don’t have to tell you to stay
