Wolf (Montana Bounty Hunters Book 6) Read online

Meg nodded. She figured, since investigators suspected this was somehow tied in with Tobin’s murder, that anyone who’d been involved in the case would be excluded.

  The sheriff looked beyond them and tipped his head. “Howdy, Fetch. Why am I not surprised to see you?”

  Wolf had called Fetch while Meg had ordered another taxi.

  Meg glanced back at Fetch, who walked slowly toward them, his face gaunt and his shoulders drooping. Bennie’s death had to have hit him hard. Even more so now with the suspicions that swirled around his possible involvement in Tobin’s murder. Fetch prided himself as a man able to inspire others to push themselves and do their best. That he may have failed with Bennie had to hurt.

  Wolf shared a glance with Fetch, his expression every bit as subdued. “Not sure we can do any good here, Fetch. I told you that you didn’t have to come.”

  “He’s one of mine. No matter which way this thing plays out, I had to come.”

  The sheriff pointed toward a tent beside the forensics team’s van. “They have coffee. I’ll come find you when they get ready to move the body. I’m sure the investigators will have questions.”

  Questions. Meg had several, but she wasn’t going to get them answered anytime soon. She glanced at the two bounty hunters. “You both have to be running on empty. You haven’t had much rest…” She shook her head. “Maybe we should do as he says.” She turned toward the tent.

  A couple of long banquet tables had been set up. They took their coffees to the far corner of the tent and sat in folding chairs, deep in their thoughts, not speaking for several minutes. Meg hated to break the silence. Perhaps they were grieving, or maybe they were just bone tired. She was, but she also couldn’t let go of the mystery. Too many details niggled. “Was Bennie with your agency long, Fetch?”

  He frowned and lifted his glance. “This an interview?”

  His terse reply took her aback. “You know I’m not part of the investigative team. I’m just a patrol officer. Besides, the sheriff won’t let me anywhere near this investigation after everything that’s happened.”

  “Didn’t mean to jump all over you. I’m just…frustrated,” he said, his mouth tightening. “I don’t get it. Can’t figure out how Bennie could have been a part of this. I wish it was a mistake, but it’s not looking good.” His gaze met hers. “I hired him about a month ago. Was making him tag along behind me, to show him the ropes. I know he had money problems. Took him forever to find this job, and his car was repossessed. Maybe, he was desperate enough…”

  Again, silence fell.

  Then Wolf leaned forward and tapped the table. “That night. The warehouse. What building was it? Why might that location have been important?”

  Fetch groaned. “Don’t you two think you’re already in deep enough? They have folks who do this for a living, combing over every nook and cranny of Tobin’s life. I’m sure they’re looking at the warehouse, too.”

  Meg sighed. “The detectives I spoke to thought Tobin wasn’t quite right in the head. Their description. They thought he might have been imagining things that night, because he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, tell them what had him spooked. But that might change now. Before he was shot, they were trying to make this easy for themselves, make it all about crazy Reese Tobin. It’s bigger now.”

  The tent flap lifted. The sheriff strode in, followed by a technician wearing gloves and holding a black box.

  Meg stiffened and stood. The bounty hunters pushed up from the table because she had.

  The sheriff waved them back into their seats then remained next to their table with his hands on his hips, wearing a deep frown as he stared at Meg then Wolf. “Sid here’s gonna test you both for gunshot residue.”

  Meg’s eyebrows rose, but she remained silent.

  Wolf frowned. “I was tested at the station.”

  The sheriff’s mouth pursed, and his slate gray gaze narrowed as he studied Wolf’s expression. “Do you own a Remington Versa Max?”

  Wolf nodded slowly. “I gave it to Bennie to stow away in my truck when I left the woods with your deputy. Why, sheriff?”

  “Because, Wolf, your shotgun was the weapon that killed Bennie, wasn’t it, sheriff?” Meg whispered. Which was why she was being tested, too.

  The sheriff turned to Fetch. “Now, we don’t know for certain it was your gun. The crime lab has to run tests.” His gaze went to Fetch. “You see him give that shotgun to Bennie?”

  Fetch nodded.

  “I did, too,” Meg said.

  The sheriff’s lips tightened. “Still have to test. Can’t show any favoritism. And since you two have been together since you left Kootenai…”

  Wolf looked to the tech. “Go ahead with your test. But I haven’t fired a weapon.”

  The tech sat beside Wolf and removed a GSR kit from her black box. She opened one container and used round, sticky pads, systematically laying the adhesive side against Wolf’s skin and lifting, over and over, until the pad no longer made a crackling sound as it was pulled away. Then she sealed the disk in the container marked “Left Hand” and reached for another to test his right.

  “I haven’t fired one either,” said Meg, as she watched. “But since we have nothing to hide…do you need our clothing, too?”

  Wolf’s eyebrow rose.

  The sheriff shook his head. “Testing your hands’ll be sufficient.”

  Meg couldn’t stop herself from asking, even knowing the sheriff wouldn’t be pleased with her curiosity. He’d been adamant about her keeping her nose out of things that weren’t her concern. “Did you find residue on Bennie’s hands?”

  “You know I can’t tell you that.” But he gave her a subtle nod.

  Meg drew a sharp breath.

  The sheriff cleared his throat and looked at Wolf, again. “Wolf, you own a .22 pistol?”

  “I do not,” he said, then he locked his gaze with Fetch’s.

  Both men froze. Another question was answered. Bennie was responsible for Reese Tobin’s death.

  “Look,” the sheriff said. “I’m gonna tell you two to keep your heads down. Stay home. It might not be safe for either of you to be out and about.”

  “You think those men who chased us might come looking for us again?” she asked.

  “I haven’t a clue. But if they’re involved, they might think that one, or maybe both of you, know what had Tobin scared out of his mind. Don’t suppose either of you has anything to add to the statements you gave…?”

  Meg shook her head, as did Wolf.

  The tech closed the second container then eyed her across the table.

  Meg rolled back a sleeve and reached across, ready to finish this. The sheriff, her boss, had told her in so many words to butt out. Since she liked her job, she’d listen.

  When the tech finished, the sheriff gave her a steady stare. “Shall I have a squad car run you home?”

  Meg darted a glance at Wolf, whose gaze was locked on her face. She didn’t know why it mattered that his expression was shuttered. Was she expecting him to object? Glancing back at the sheriff, she said, “Thanks. I’d appreciate that. I’m assuming it’ll be a while before I get my car back.”

  “Later today,” he confirmed.

  “All right.” When she pushed up from the table, the hunters rose with her. She reached out a hand to Fetch. “Again, Fetch, sorry about Bennie.”

  He nodded and covered her hand with his. “Stay safe.”

  When she turned to Wolf, she felt awkward extending the same gesture but did so.

  Wolf’s hand engulfed hers and gave her a gentle squeeze. His gaze was a cloudy blue, his brow lowered. When he let go, her hand felt cold. “Thanks, Wolf,” she said softly.

  His mouth pressed together, but he nodded.

  As she walked away, she felt…vulnerable, suddenly less safe. Something she found disturbing, because she wasn’t one to lean on another person, and yet she hadn’t minded so much, leaning on him.

  Wolf watched her walk away and wished he could have thoug
ht of something to say. He didn’t like that there might be danger surrounding her. Never mind, he might not be exactly in the clear himself. When he’d been with her, he’d felt that, together, they were somehow stronger.

  Fetch clapped his hand on his shoulder. “She lives in Amity, you know,” he said, then lifted his eyebrows.

  Wolf gave him a narrow-eyed look but felt his lips twitch. “And that matters, why?”

  “Didn’t say it did. But it’s something to think about.”

  They left the tent. In the distance, Meg walked away with another deputy. He liked the way she looked, her back straight, her head held high. But then the darkness swallowed her.

  “I need to see about getting some wheels.” He glanced over at his vehicle. They’d be combing over it for days, and then who knew how long it would take for a repair shop to return it to its former condition. He didn’t imagine he’d ever feel comfortable riding in it again. No, he’d have to find himself something else.

  The sky was still dark. It would be hours before a dealership or a rental shop was open.

  “Do you ride a bike?” Fetch asked.

  “Something with a motor?” Wolf quipped, thinking about Fetch’s Harley, and hoping that was what he was about to suggest.

  Fetch laughed. “If you promise not to get the tires shot out, I’ll lend you my Harley.”

  Wolf dragged in a deep breath. “I’d appreciate that. And I promise I won’t take my time finding a new ride.”

  “It’s been a while since I had her out on the road. I’ll be glad someone’s getting use out of her.”

  Once she arrived home, Meg checked her windows and the locks on every door. Not that she was paranoid, but given what she’d been through, she wasn’t going to be careless. Plus, her house was isolated and five minutes from Amity. While most days, she liked the fact she had no neighbors close by, times like this kept her on edge. When she finished her rounds, she showered and changed, keeping her service pistol always within reach.

  She’d hoped standing under the hot spray would relax her, but when she’d dressed again, this time in jeans and a soft tee, she felt restless, so she made herself a cup of coffee and carried her laptop into the living room. With it resting on her lap, she thought maybe she should write her mom a short email, just to tell her she was okay and thinking about her. Instead, she paused, her fingers hovering over the keys.

  She opened her browser and typed in a search, inputting the address of the warehouse, and then hit enter.

  The first item in the list that appeared was a link to an article in the local newspaper about the fire and Reese Tobin’s arrest. She read the article, but there was nothing there she didn’t already know.

  She hit the back key and began searching the other items in the list. She came to one that listed the owner of the warehouse, Bear Claw Industries. She clicked on the blue, underlined company name, and that link took her to an ad in the yellow pages. Bear Claw Industries was a shipping company and a sole proprietor company owned by “Red” Barton, a state congressman.

  Not sure where this was leading, if anywhere at all, she typed in “Red Barton, Amity MT”. The list included articles, and one by one she immersed herself in the congressman’s history.

  Red Barton was a member of the Methodist church, had a pretty wife, had run for mayor and lost, but won when he ran unopposed for the state congress. He was a supporter of states’ rights and the second amendment. And he’d gotten some flack in the editorial section of the newspaper over the fact he’d spoken at a gathering for a local militia, where he’d given a speech about gun rights and the limited sovereignty of the government. Another link led her to a description of the rest of the agenda for that meeting and a list of those who’d attended. When she read the names, a sick feeling lodged in the pit of her stomach. Reese Tobin and Bennie Jacobs had both been there. They had both been members of the Free Montana Militia.

  There was the connection. She quickly scanned the other names, and thankfully, found no deputies among them, but she didn’t know the rest of the men. She sent the agenda with the list of names to her printer, and then remembered her coffee, which had cooled.

  She set aside her laptop and bent toward the coffee table to pick up her cup when the silence was disturbed by glass shattering and the dull thud of something hitting the wall behind her.

  Meg threw herself to the floor, reached onto the coffee table for her service Glock, and crawled toward the kitchen. There she slid upward to the junction box and turned off the electricity.

  Darkness fell around her, and she suddenly realized she’d left her cellphone on her dresser in her bedroom. She was on her own.

  In the distance, she heard the deep, rattling hum of a motorcycle engine, but she was more concerned about any sounds she could detect nearer, like the rattling of a doorknob or the shattering of more glass should an intruder try to get inside.

  Well, she wasn’t sitting there waiting for trouble. No matter how hard it was to keep her breaths even.

  With her weapon held in front of her, she moved out of the kitchen and back toward the living room. She had to be sure that what she’d heard had been a gunshot. Crouching low, she moved toward the window across from the sofa and nudged aside the sheer panel. In the moonlight, she could see the tear in the fabric and noted the round, splintered circle in the glass.

  She had to make the call. Alert the sheriff. Then warn Wolf that someone wasn’t leaving them alone. As she moved toward the hallway, a whoosh sounded, like the slide of a window moving upward. But she’d locked them all, hadn’t she? Swallowing hard, she moved toward the sound. It had come from her bedroom.

  With her heart pounding in her chest, she felt that rush she always had in combat, when everything around her slowed down and her mind focused on the mission, the goal—the intruder in her house. She set her back to the hallway wall and moved slowly sideways, listening for footsteps, the creak of a floorboard. But there was only silence.

  Beside the door, she drew a slow, quiet breath, drew her courage around her like a cloak, and moved inside, again, keeping her back to the wall. She crouched beside the dresser and glanced toward the window. The curtain billowed inward on a gust of wind.

  The shadows inside the room were hard to distinguish, but then she saw a movement. One large dark shape moving from beside the window. She held still, not breathing, until the large frame passed her. Then she rose, coming up behind the man who stood in the doorframe, his head cocked.

  She pressed the muzzle of her weapon against his ribs.

  “Meg.”

  At his whisper, she drew a sharper breath. “Wolf?” She held her weapon away and leaned against his back as she struggled not to shiver. “What are you doing here?” she whispered harshly.

  “Let’s not talk about it now. Two men, I think the same ones who disabled your car, are right outside your house.”

  Chapter 4

  Wolf drew a deep breath as Meg pressed her body against his back, thankful he’d gotten to her before the men had, but still worried about how he’d keep her safe.

  “What are you doing here?” she whispered.

  “I was restless. Out riding. I didn’t feel right about you being alone. Not after Tobin and Bennie were both killed. And not after those men chased us down on the road. To me, it looks like they’re getting rid of anyone who might know something.”

  “But I don’t know anything. And I’m pretty sure they have someone on the inside, if not inside the department, someone connected. They’d find a way to get access to what was in my report and know I’m clueless.”

  “But sweetheart, they’d know you, wouldn’t they? They’d have to worry you wouldn’t sit this out. You’d keep digging.” He felt her hand bunch his shirt at his side.

  Just then, he heard the shattering of glass coming from the front of the house. Flickering orange and yellow light lit the hallway.

  “Fire,” she rasped. “They’re burning down my place.”

  “We h
ave to get out of here.”

  “My phone.” She let go of his shirt and moved away. A second later, she was back, her hand on his upper back.

  He moved into the hallway and glanced toward the front of the house. The smell of gasoline filled his nostrils. “They’ll be waiting for you to try to get out of the house.”

  “Probably at the back door since the front’s impossible,” she muttered.

  “We’ll go out a window, but first we have to make sure they’re in the back. We need a distraction.” He turned and gripped her shoulders. “Go back to window I entered. You’ll know when to slip out. When you do, head west to the highway, not down your drive. My bike’s on the side of the road.”

  “I’m not going without you.”

  “I’ll be right behind you, but you have to get out first. One of us has to get far enough away to call Fetch.” He gave her a little shake. “Meg, no time to argue. Just do it.” Then he let go of her, turned her, and gave her a little push, back into the room. “Be ready.”

  Meg’s body tightened in rejection of his proposal, but she did as he said, praying that he wasn’t trying to be a hero, that he’d indeed be right behind her. She hurried into her room, went to her knees in her closet, and found her sneakers. Then she made her way to the window. As she listened for any movement outside, she slipped on her shoes then pressed her back against the wall and waited for whatever sound would signal it was time for her to escape.

  In the distance, the crackle of fire grew to a low roar. Then she heard a crash. More glass shattered. Gunfire erupted. Several sharp reports. Her signal.

  She sprung up, glanced outside to make sure the coast was clear, then slid out of the window. Dropping to the ground, she took off at a run, crouched low, and headed west through trees and brush toward the highway.

  Her heart pounded in her ears. So loudly, she ground together her jaws, trying to keep an ear tuned to what was happening behind her. She heard no footsteps crunching in the brush. No one followed. Where the hell was Wolf?

  When she broke into a clearing at the edge of the highway, she glanced up and down the road. A glint of metal in the moonlight led her right. She’d found his bike. Instantly, she crouched beside it and reached into her back pocket for her phone while keeping her weapon trained on the woods she’d just left.