In Harm's Way Part 43

"The pickup truck?"

"Yeah. Did you ever see Little Big Man Little Big Man? The movie with Dustin Hoffman?"

"It's one of Gail's favorites," Brandon said.

No, it's one of my favorites, Walt felt like correcting. Walt felt like correcting. She just happened to have been in the room at the time She just happened to have been in the room at the time. But he let it go.

"The Indian scene," Walt said. "The one where he's dying. Or trying to?"

"What a great scene."

"'Sometimes, the magic works,' " Walt quoted.

"Yeah, I remember."

Walt blocked from his mind the second half of the couplet: "Sometimes, it doesn't."

45.

Doug Aanestead reviewed the evidence from behind the twelfth hole on the Valley Club's upper eighteen. He and his golf partner allowed three other groups to play through, each one increasing the man's impatience. A light breeze curled the edges of the papers in the open folder, causing Aanestead to wrestle with its contents. His putter was gripped between his knees, the handle sticking out somewhat phallically.

"Honestly, Walt, I don't love it."

"Is that right?" Walt understood the risk of his current, and only, plan. The plan he'd wanted to play out on his time frame, not Arian's. But here he was.

The law could be your friend or enemy, and for the past several days Walt had been working up a way to convince Aanestead he had a pretty good case against Kira. Like Walt's, Aanestead's was an elected office. Walt was counting on that.

"It'll be d.a.m.n unpopular, indicting this girl. h.e.l.l's bells, she addressed the Advocates this year. We were both there."

"We were."

"She's something of a local hero."

"We have the bat," Walt reminded.

"A bat that's carrying three sets of prints. She's already admitted to handling the thing. And taking a drive to Yellowstone? That's not in the code that I know of."

"No."

"What about Fiona?" Aanestead asked. "She see Gale around the place? She confirm any of this?"

Walt couldn't afford to lie. Aanestead had a competent staff. The man was ambitious, was said to have his eye on the state attorney general's race. He would vet this thoroughly.

"Ms. Kenshaw showed up at the emergency room early the next day. A blow to the back of the head. She's a little fuzzy about the details. Says she fell over a footstool."

Aanestead looked at him askance. "Have you questioned her? Formally questioned her?"

"I wouldn't if I could. She's not of sound mind. Anything she says, anything we get from her would be tossed out because of the existing medical condition. When the effects of that blow wear off . . . But who knows when that might happen?"

"She's saying she doesn't remember? That's certainly convenient."

"Her prints are not the ones we found on the bat. She didn't take off unannounced and return to hide in the bas.e.m.e.nt."

"The Tulivich girl's had a tough time of it, for Christ's sake, Walt. She's scared of her own shadow. We go after her, we'd better be d.a.m.ned sure we know what we're doing, and I don't see it in here."

Walt kept a straight face. "There's the forensic evidence," he reminded. "The pollen. He was on the Engleton property."

"We all know juries love this s.h.i.+t. But judges take more convincing. And I don't see anywhere in here a lab comparison of the flowers up at the Engletons' to what was found on Gale. Do I?"

"That kind of lab work can take weeks." In fact, Walt had been refused the collection of evidence by the Engletons.

"Not my problem." Aanestead handed the folder back to Walt and eyed the thirteenth tee. "You play, don't you?"

"Yes."

"We ought to knock it around together sometime."

"I'd like that."

Aanestead glanced at the thirteenth for a second time. His partner looked ready to explode as yet another party reached the twelfth green.

"What about Fancelli?" Walt asked. "I followed a pickup truck thinking it important to the Gale killing, only to have a deputy figure it differently. But I can use it. We can use this to our advantage."

"You'd be going out on a limb. I would doubt that federal law's been tested for some time."

"There was that cla.s.s-action suit against Northwest Generation in Wyoming."

"That was birds frying on high-tension lines, not some bow hunter plucking roadkill. It's federal law, not state."

"But it's on the books."

"Yes, it is. But untested."

"You see where I'm going with it."

"I do. It's creative, and I think important. A sc.u.mbag like that, you take him down however you can."

"That's the point." Translation: the voters would approve.

"I'll not only back you on this Fancelli thing," Aanestead said, "I'll hold a press conference and lay it out there and hope that helps us get a foot across the finish line."

Surprise.

"I'll want you by my side," he said.

"Not a problem," Walt said.

"You want my guys to leak it?"

If the press were notified, it might mean Fiona was sent to photograph the arrest. Walt shuddered at the thought.

"Probably better off not."

"You sure? h.e.l.l of a card to play, a front-page piece showing a guy in cuffs. Talk about prejudicing the jury pool." He punched Walt lightly in the shoulder. Things were getting too friendly for Walt.

"I'll notify your office when we have him in custody. How's that?"

"How soon are we talking about?" He didn't want to be caught on the back nine by reporters. Wouldn't look right.

"I can hold off for about an hour," Walt said.

"You're a good man, Walt," Aanestead said, grinning widely. He leaned in close. "Twenty bucks a hole, and with Tim it's like taking candy from a baby. But you didn't hear it from me."

"My guys'll call your office once we've got him," Walt repeated.

"I'll want you by my side."

"Understood."

"You're going to need a h.e.l.l of a lot more before you'll have me signing off on Tulivich. She's a dead end, Walt. Nothing but trouble."

"Okay." He tried to sound disappointed, while inside he was celebrating the man's predictability. It wouldn't be the first time the evidence came up short despite having a suspect in the sights.

"I wouldn't go there unless you have the dead guy sitting up and pointing a finger at her." He smiled. Perfect teeth standing out against the wicked tan. Walt was looking at the next attorney general, and both men knew it.

"It may go unsolved," Walt warned, again keeping the celebration out of his voice.

"h.e.l.l of a game," Aanestead said, holding his club, but looking Walt in the eye somewhat suspiciously. He'd picked up on Walt's relief.

"h.e.l.l of a game," Walt echoed.

46.

Walt focused intently on the small log cabin in front of him.

One of twelve homes in a subdivision dating from the 1980s, it was log with forest green trim and asphalt s.h.i.+ngles. Two mountain bikes sagged next to the front door, along with a pair of work boots and a dog bowl. The F-150 was parked in the driveway. Lisa's house was one to the left, a charming home with wooden flowers painted primary colors in a line across the lawn. Strung between two of the flowers was a small sailcloth banner reading Alturas Day Care. When she wasn't taking care of his kids, she was running the day care.

Walt didn't see Lisa's house. He barely saw the Fancelli place. Instead, as Brandon sat quietly in the seat beside him, his arm in a sling, Walt saw only the horror of what Lisa had witnessed; he heard the slapping of the bed frame against the wall as she had heard it; he felt sick, as she had felt.

"It's not like he's going to give us a hard time, you think?" Brandon ventured.

"We need him."

"How's that?"

"Our witness, Maggie Sharp, puts his truck there that night."

"So this is or is not a take-down?"

"Sorry to disappoint you."

"What the h.e.l.l, Sheriff?"

"We need to work it."

"And I'm here because . . . ?"

"You love this stuff."

"True."

"And I have a warrant, a search warrant to execute. But for now we have to execute it without his knowing what's going on. Keep him thinking it's about bird feathers."

"So plain sight for now."

"Exactly."

"Which is where I come in."

"Now you've got it," Walt said.

"And you sweet-talk him."

"I'll do my best."

"And if it doesn't get that far? If he bolts on us?"

"We can't afford that," Walt said. "That's why we're here. That's why it's you and me instead of anyone else. We can't scare him. We can't let him know the real reason we're here, or the card we can play. It's not an arrest. We're lucky to have found him. You're the only one I trust to understand how to play that. The other guys, knowing the crime, might allow that knowledge to get the best of them."

"I understand."

"So be cool in there."

"Despite the fact this guy's a b.a.s.t.a.r.d of the first order and I'd like nothing more than to make his arrest as uncomfortable as possible. Maybe dislocate a shoulder or two."

Walt's guys occasionally played the resisting arrest card, the same as in any other cop shop, took their frustrations with the system out on the suspect, made sure the arrest was as painful as possible, since the system tended to coddle suspects: jails with television and fresh food; an hour a day outside; gym equipment. A few of the suspects deserved the black hole and everyone knew it. Arresting deputies felt it their responsibility to punish the person right to the edge of what was tolerated, and sometimes a touch beyond.