The mountain mans badge, p.32
The Mountain Man's Badge, page 32
He recalled that besides himself, only Wadsworth, Maddox, Peters, and DuPont had been present on the scene the day that the body had been discovered. None of them wore size 8½ shoes. In fact, only one deputy in the entire department wore that size shoe—Bobby Wills—and Lehigh hadn’t even hired him by then. Strike one.
Next, he checked the analysis of the tire treads. Forensics had verified that the treads matched that of a unique imported tire matching McBride’s vehicle. He’d asked his deputies to track down where McBride had purchased the tires, and to see if they’d sold those tires to anyone else in the area. They’d discovered that the tires came from a specialty shop in Portland, who had sold only four sets of tires matching those specifications in the past ten years. McBride had purchased two of them. Another set went to a customer in southern Oregon. The other, oddly enough, went to another McBride six years before: Henry, the fire chief, who bought them for his daughter, Teresa, the woman dating Bobby Wills. The only other person driving a car big enough to support such tires.
Lehigh shook his head in disbelief. What motive would she or Bobby have had to kill Everett Downey? It didn’t make sense. Strike two.
He kept digging, focusing on his own contributions to the file. The other big clue Lehigh had discovered was George’s cuff link. George had claimed no knowledge of how it got there, and said he’d never been to the scene. In fact, he’d claimed that he’d lost one of them the evening of the fund-raiser and never recovered it. It seemed unlikely that if someone in the McBride household had found it, they’d have planted it at the scene. One of the guests might have, but whom? There were dozens—all friends of McBride, ostensibly. Outside of the guests, the only people present were the hired help and a few deputies.
He froze. Which deputies? He searched his memory. He’d noticed two of them standing guard outside the Great Room, but hadn’t been on the job long enough to know all of them on sight. The party preceded his own hires, which eliminated Bobby Wills, Ruby Mac, Martin Lightfoot, and Donnell Winthrop. He recalled both guards having buzz cuts, but that applied to 80 percent of the remaining staff. The two men were young-ish, one of them athletic, the other kind of round-bodied.
He snapped his fingers. DuPont and Peters, of course. Both of whom had since been detailed to Ferguson’s team, and their tenure dated back to Buck’s hiring days. They could have found it and planted it, or passed it on to someone who did. It was a leap, but not a crazy one.
Still, the question remained: who fired the shot? Someone who shot well, and had access to an as-yet missing 30-30. Not George’s, according to his independent forensics lab, but that didn’t mean George couldn’t have fired a different gun. But so could’ve some else.
He dove back into the files, and scanned the membership list at the Twin Falls Marksmanship Club. Lots of deputies on that list—nearly all, in fact. A few were pretty good shots with a rifle. But not, as it turned out, DuPont or Peters. And Bobby Wills’ shooting was among the worst.
But two other names on the list surprised him. The same names also appeared on the list of finalists in the annual marksmanship competitions from years past. In fact, one of the names appeared as the runner-up in the 2007 rifle competition, the year that George McBride won Best Marksman. The other appeared as the overall winner three times since.
Lehigh leaned back in his chair, pondering this discovery. Everyone made a big deal about how good a shot George McBride had once been. Why, he wondered, had no one ever mentioned that the second- and third-best shots in the county were the county chair, Elliott Jackson, and the assistant district attorney, Raymond Ferguson?
LEHIGH DROVE INTO THE sunset up Brady Mountain Road, having worked late once again. He noticed a sudden proliferation of “Latner for Sheriff” signs dotting the highway. To take his mind off of it, he tried to piece together a coherent narrative explaining the Downey murder. He knew one thing: George didn’t do it. But without a more convincing suspect, he’d never convince Ferguson to drop the charges, especially with the court date looming.
As was his own. Come Monday, he’d face obstruction charges, and if indicted, he’d be in no position to help George any further. Which meant he’d never win Stacy back. His reputation would be in a shambles, which wouldn’t help him revive his forestry business, either. He could forget about getting his house rebuilt. He wasn’t even sure if he’d get his dogs back, at this point. A shame, after all they’d been through together. The loss of his house, the whole Jared Barkley murder—
Something clicked in his brain. Pieces falling in place that hadn’t seemed to go together before. Something Buck Summers said about not taking the fall for “all of it.” Sam Pullen’s remark about “who’s really guilty of murder in Mt. Hood County.” At the time, he’d assumed she meant the murder of Everett Downey. But maybe not.
Rounding a gentle uphill curve, he spotted a large vehicle on the side of the road, on the gravel parking lot adjacent to a trail head. The trail head, that is, where he’d found George McBride’s cuff link and footprints, leading to the scene of Ev Downey’s murder. And not just any large vehicle. He recognized it from the parking lot of the Chinese restaurant where he’d spotted Bobby Wills with Elliott Jackson’s secretary. A brown Chrysler 300, at least five or six years old.
He parked behind the Chrysler and made a quick phone call. “Mt. Hood County Commission office,” said a female voice. “How can I direct your call?”
“Teresa McBride,” Lehigh said.
“Speaking.”
Lehigh hung up, made sure his sidearm was loaded, and called in to dispatch. “Ted,” he said to Roscoe on recognizing his voice, “has anyone spotted Wills yet?”
“Not yet,” Ted said. “Ruby and Martin are working overtime to track him down, but his trail keeps running cold.”
“Send them out to the trailhead on Brady,” he said. “I think I’ve found him.”
He exited his truck and felt the hood of the Chrysler. Still warm, in spite of being in the shade. Then he noticed the tracks left by the tires. Deep, V-shaped ridges flared out from a half-dozen ribs, more shallow on the side farthest from the highway. Just like the ones he’d spotted when he’d found the cuff link.
Scanning the area, he noticed some trampled grass heading to the lesser-used trail, the one where he’d found the footprint.
Could be hikers. Or not.
He checked out the inside of the Chrysler. Not much. A tube of red lipstick and a package of sugar-free gum in the dash, and some sort of prayer book in the console. Otherwise clean.
Bobby might have abandoned the car there. Might be nowhere in the vicinity. Or, he might be watching nearby.
He considered waiting for Ruby and Martin to show up, decided against it. If Bobby was on the run, he needed to get on his trail right away. If he’d been listening on the radio, he’d know that Lehigh was close, and would only move faster.
Lehigh plunged into the forest, following the path, making as little noise as he could. After a short walk, the trees thinned, allowing him to scan a wide area into the distance, but he found no evidence of anyone ahead of him.
Until he reached the stream.
On the near side of the stream, across from where he’d spotted a footprint weeks ago, he spotted another, nearly identical impression in the mud. A man’s shoe, without doubt. Size 8½, give or take.
Checking the opposite side of the stream, he spotted another print, this one deeper and a mirror image of the first, pooling with groundwater. A one-footed landing by a man who’d jumped across.
Recently, and hadn’t yet returned.
Lehigh pulled out his cell phone and snapped a photo of the footprints. He took a few steps upstream and found a narrower stretch of the stream that he could step across without getting his boots wet. He regained the path and continued into the forest until he neared the clearing. He slowed his pace and hunched low into the brush until he reached the edge.
On the far side of the meadow, a round-shaped man in a beige khaki uniform sat with his back to Lehigh. His right hand rested on the ground, gripping a service revolver.
Lehigh stood, but stayed out of the clearing. “Bobby,” he called out, just loud enough for his voice to carry across the quiet meadow.
Wills started and jerked his head around, as if searching for the source of the voice. “Sh-sheriff?” he said after a moment. “Stay away! I-I’m warning you, I’ll–I’ll–”
“You’ll what? Shoot me? Not from there, you won’t.” Lehigh took a half-step to his side to further mask himself within the brush. “I’ve seen your marksmanship tests. But don’t worry, I ain’t no better.”
Bobby scrambled up to his knees and faced in Lehigh’s general direction. “You here to arrest me? I ain’t going to jail!” Bobby’s voice quavered, as if near tears. He waved the gun around like a crazy man.
“I’m hoping we can talk a bit,” Lehigh said. “Here, downtown, don’t matter. Just got a few questions for you, is all.”
“I ain’t talking to nobody!” Bobby got to his feet, his eyes still darting from one spot to another. His shirt fell open, unbuttoned to the waist, revealing a white T-shirt underneath soaked with sweat around his protruding belly.
“You been talking to folks already, from what I can tell,” Lehigh said, facing off to his right. Sure enough, his voice echoed around the meadow, prompting Bobby to spin and point the gun to his left.
Bobby turned toward Lehigh, appearing to stare right at him. “What things?” he said. He aimed his gun at Lehigh. “You set me up!” he shouted. “You lying, rotten—”
“Easy, boy,” Lehigh said, casting his voice to the left. Wills spun in that direction, gun following. “I know you want justice done, and in a professional way,” Lehigh went on. “And things are all kattywampus lately. I get it.”
Wills spun again, this time away from Lehigh. “Who’s there?” he yelled. “How many people you got here, Sheriff? You here to hunt me down?”
“Nobody,” Lehigh said. “Just me. You probably heard a squirrel, that’s all. Now why don’t we both calm down, put our guns down, and—”
“You got your gun out?” Bobby shouted, spinning again in Lehigh’s direction. “You gonna shoot me? No, uh-uh. I ain’t going down without a fight!” He straightened his gun arm and held it steady with his left hand, aiming what appeared to be a few feet to Lehigh’s left—
And fell in a heap, tackled from behind by a short, stocky blur of beige.
Moments later, a grinning Ruby Mac had Bobby pinned to the ground, her knees on his elbows, with Bobby’s own gun pointed at his face.
Chapter Forty
The gunman ducked down in the brush, alarmed by Bobby shouting about movement in the woods. The last thing he needed was to be discovered by that fool of a sheriff back at the murder scene—or worse, shot by the damn-fool deputy.
He doubted that they knew of his presence there. He’d covered his tracks well—like he did that night. No one ever thought about pointing a finger back at him. Only one living soul knew who pulled the trigger, and soon that number would be down to zero.
Or so he’d planned. But then that hayseed with a badge stumbled onto the scene and put his plans on hold. He’d initially thought to run, but his better nature cautioned him not to panic, and he stayed put, discovering a much better plan: pin it on Lehigh Carter. Carter’s impulsive temper, reckless public tantrums, and bar fights would make him a more than believable culprit. Plus, he had motive: everybody knew of his run-ins with Wills. That good-looking moron of a reporter had made sure of that.
More shouting from the clearing. He lifted his head enough to get a better view, confident that his hunter’s camouflage hat and jacket would keep him invisible to the men in the field. Except now there were two more men—no, scratch that. A man and a woman. The big Indian fellow and that woman deputy Carter had hired. Where had they come from? That complicated things—especially his plan to pin the blame on Carter. It also made movement trickier. One of them would likely hear or see him, and then he’d be done for.
He calmed himself. Time to listen, and adapt.
“YOU TWO WERE AWFULLY quiet,” Lehigh said to Ruby Mac and Martin Lightfoot once Bobby stopped squirming under Ruby’s pin move. “And fast!”
“I grew up in these woods, hunting rabbits with slingshots.” Martin held his handcuffs at the ready to cuff Bobby. “You learn to run real quiet doing that.”
Lehigh gazed down at Wills and registered the fear in the smaller man’s eyes. “We can talk here, Bobby,” he said, “or we can bring you into the jail cells, where all of the other criminals can hear you. I’m sure Buck Summers and Dale DuPont would love to know who’s selling them out to save his own skin.”
Martin Lightfoot blinked at Lehigh in surprise. “DuPont?” he mouthed at Lehigh. Lehigh gave his head a tiny shake to keep his question muted. He’d gambled by mentioning DuPont, hoping Bobby would bite.
He did. “Has Dale already talked?” Bobby said. “Is that how you found me?” He glanced from face to face. Ruby sneered at him, but said nothing.
Lehigh kept a poker face, but inside he celebrated. Bobby had just confirmed the identity of his accomplice. But he needed more solid evidence—a confession.
Lehigh squatted down next to Ruby so he could get a better look at Bobby while they talked. “Son, I may not be a lifelong cop, but I know not to reveal my sources. And I ain’t gonna squeal on you to your buddies, either, if you cooperate. But you have to help me.” He kept his face impassive, not wanting to give any clues away, waiting for Bobby to give in.
“All right,” Bobby said. “But you’ve gotta help me. The killer, he’s going to try to pin it all on me, I know he is. Help me, Sheriff!” Tears formed at the corners of Bobby’s eyes and crawled down his temples.
Lehigh stood. He decided to believe Bobby, but wanted to take no chances. “Let him up, but cuff him,” Lehigh said.
Ruby got off him and, with Martin’s help, lifted him to a sitting position. Martin cuffed his hands while Ruby Mirandized him.
“Now, you can wait for your lawyer if you want,” Lehigh said, “and face this whole thing alone. Which seems pretty unfair to me, seeing as I can’t imagine you had a personal reason to take out Ev Downey. Or you can help us all out by telling us who else was involved, in which case you’ll probably only be charged as an accessory. Up to you, though. What’s it gonna be, Bobby?”
Bobby rubbed his eyes dry on his shoulders and sniffled. “I didn’t kill nobody,” he said.
“I believe you,” Lehigh said, ignoring Ruby’s snort of derision. “I wouldn’t have hired you as a deputy if I believed you had that in you.”
“I always wanted to be a cop,” Bobby said. “Not just any old cop. I wanted to be the best. But you made it clear I wouldn’t ever be the best in your eyes, Sheriff. Making me work for her.” He shot a glance at Ruby, who grabbed her nightstick.
“Chill, Ruby,” Lehigh said. “Go on, Bobby. Is that where it all started?”
Bobby laughed. “You’re kidding me, right? It all started with the Rev. He got me to apply to be a deputy in the first place. Told me about your recruitment, coached me on my application, what to say. It was all part of his plan.”
“To get rid of me?” Lehigh asked, confident he knew the answer. “Why?”
“Not just to get rid of you as sheriff,” Bobby said. “He really wanted to know what you were up to with the investigation. He knew you’d do everything you could to get your father-in-law off the hook. That’s why he wanted me on the inside.”
“He wanted to plant you on my team so you could leak information?” Lehigh asked.
Bobby surprised him with his response: laughter.
“You don’t think that’s all he cared about?” Wills said. “Leaks? No, sheriff. He wanted protection.”
“I’m not following,” Ruby said.
“Me either,” Martin said. “Protection from who? Us?”
“I think I’m beginning to understand,” Lehigh said. “Bobby, why did you pick this spot to hide out?”
“Hide?” Bobby shook his head. “I wasn’t hiding. I was waiting.”
“Who for?” Martin asked.
“Ev Downey’s killer, of course,” Bobby said.
“We figured that much.” Ruby pushed Bobby to the ground with her nightstick. “What’s his name?”
“Cool your jets with the nightstick, Ruby,” Lehigh said.
“We don’t need to rough Bobby up to get him to tell us,” Martin said. “We’re all friends here. Right, Bobby?”
Bobby glared at Ruby Mac, then Martin, then Lehigh. “I’ve said enough,” he said. “I ain’t helping you no more.”
“You’ll talk, or I’ll take you downtown and beat you up on the courthouse lawn again!” Ruby grabbed him by the lapels and shook him. “Is that better for you? Getting whipped in public by a girl?”
“Stand down, Mac!” Lehigh pulled her off of Bobby and shoved her into Martin’s arms. “Keep her away from him,” he said. “Besides, I already know who it is.”
Bobby sneered at him. “Baloney. You don’t know nothing.”
Martin and Ruby exchanged surprised glances. “You know?” Martin asked. “Who, then?”
“Where were you the night Ev Downey was killed?” Lehigh asked. “Let me guess: right here in the meadow. Am I right?”
Bobby shook his head. “I told you, I didn’t kill nobody!” he shouted. “You can’t pin this on me!”
“No,” Lehigh said, “and I wouldn’t try to. But the district attorney would, wouldn’t he?”
Wills turned white, his mouth dropping open. His gaze shot from Lehigh to the other deputies and back. Then his face crumpled, and the tears poured out of him.
“He says I’m going to prison if I don’t help him pin it on McBride!” he cried. “Says he’ll tell everyone I was here, that the bullets match my gun, the footprint matches my shoe, and I ain’t got no alibi. I’m a goner, that’s what he said! I’m a goner!” He broke down, sobs wracking his body, and slumped sideways onto the ground.
