“How late were you out that night?” Wolf asked.
“We closed down the bar over here. So, like one-thirty? Must have been.”
“And then what after that?” Wolf asked.
“We caught a ride back to the hotel, you know, with the phone app?” Wayne shrugged.
“And then what?”
“And then we went to sleep. And then we got up five hours later to come back up here. Frickin’ hung over as shit.”
“You guys work on the weekends?”
“Yeah. Work never stops here. We do Saturdays. Get Sundays off, though. Sucks. But I guess it'll be over in a couple of months and I’ll be broke again and wishing to work Saturdays. So, I guess I can’t complain."
"Did Rick work last Saturday morning, too?”
"Yeah."
"Is that right?” Wolf asked another guy looking toward them.
“What?” the guy asked back.
“Was Rick Hammes working with you guys last Saturday?”
The guy looked like he didn’t want to answer, but gave a reluctant nod. “Yeah.”
“Thanks.”
The guy put his head down, spreading concrete with a shovel.
"You say he left yesterday morning?” Rachette asked.
“Yeah.”
“Why early in the morning?” Rachette asked. “Why not the night before?”
“Because we work until dark?” Wayne shrugged. “He wanted to sleep instead of drive all the way down to Dredge, he said. Said he was beat.”
"How long has Rick Hammes been working with you guys here?” Wolf asked.
“Like, ten days or so? He said he got hooked up from a friend who knew a guy at Logiwork.”
“Has he gone home at all since he came to work here?”
Wayne shook his head. "No.”
"So he never went home?" Rachette asked.
"That’s what I said.”
“Okay, then. Thanks for your time,” Wolf said.
“Yep.” Wayne turned and joined the men smoothing the concrete sidewalk.
Wolf crossed the street, Rachette and Cain following behind him.
“I’d call that a definitive alibi for Hammes,” Rachette said.
They walked in silence over the dirt. When they came to Cain’s Jeep Wolf stopped.
“I’ll see you back at the SUV,” he said, tossing Rachette the keys.
Rachette walked away, leaving them standing at Cain’s driver’s side door.
“Look, I’m sorry about what you had to go through yesterday,” he said. “That was a tough thing.”
Her dark eyes looked up at him. The smooth skin of her forehead creased in a web of shallow folds. Her lips parted.
“But I want to know, what exactly are you doing here?”
She looked past him and her eyes glazed over. "I kept thinking about that dog. The way it yelped. Biting at its back leg as it sprayed blood. And the way Hammes just dropped.” She shook her head. “The sound of him getting shot keeps echoing in my head.” Her eyelashes brushed the tops of her cheeks.
“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he said.
Yes, sir. I like your daughter.
Look at her. She looks beautiful doesn't she?
Yes, she does look beautiful.
She looked him in the eye, catching Wolf as he was lost inside the memory. Without warning his face grew hot, probably as red as the lights on top of her roof.
“Last night I went to the bar where everybody goes to drink at in Dredge,” she continued. “The Picker. I did some asking around and learned where Hammes was working.”
Wolf blinked. “And you decided to keep that information to yourself?”
She looked away. “I…” she shook her head.
“You what?”
"I was a millisecond away from squeezing my trigger too, and they both would have been dead. That dog and Hammes. There's no way they could've survived two shots."
"But they're alive now," Wolf said. "You know that, right?"
She crossed her arms. "I heard the dog’s all right, and I called the hospital this morning to see about Hammes. I heard he got through the surgery.”
She swallowed, looking like she was fighting back tears with pure willpower. Her face turned gritty again. "I kept thinking, why would he tell the neighbor across the street that he was going to Vail to work if he wasn’t really going there? It's either an elaborate ploy where he could pretend like he was out of town while he went on a killing spree, or he really was working up here, in Vail, like he said he was.”
“And you went to the bar in Dredge, figured out where Hammes was working up here, and kept the information to yourself.”
"I was going to tell you,” she said. “Once I learned something. It could have been wrong information.”
Yes, she does look beautiful.
He thought of the way she’d touched his arm, and this time a different heat rose inside of him.
“I’m leading this investigation,” he said. “I have a team of three detectives on the case with me. That’s four people qualified to make that call.”
“I know, sir. I’m—”
“—I appreciate the help you’ve given us over the last couple days, but, officially, you’re not part of this investigation. You’re our Dredge satellite deputy. Do you understand?”
Her eyes narrowed. She unfolded her arms, raised her chin, and nodded. “Yes, sir. I understand, sir.”
He had meant the words to come out gentler. But, still, she had done wrong.
She pushed her back away from the car, standing straight. “I understand perfectly, as I did back in February. I’ll head back to where I belong.”
She quickly climbed into her Jeep and drove away, leaving Wolf in a cloud of dust. With her words still ringing in his ears, he walked back to the SUV and got in.
“How’d it go?” Rachette asked.
Wolf fired up the engine, ignoring him.
“That good, huh? Is she applying for a job in Rocky Points or something?" he asked, and Wolf realized Rachette had Piper Cain’s resume sitting on his lap.
"Where'd you get that?"
"Saw it behind the seat. Her picture was spilling out.”
“Put it back.” He snatched it from Rachette and threw it over his shoulder.
They drove in silence back to the highway. Once they got up to seventy miles per hour, Rachette said something under his breath.
“What did you say?”
Rachette put a pinch of Copenhagen in his lip. “I was just saying. It’s
