Chapter 16
WALKER
Ankle deep in half-melted snow, the chill of the late morning contrasts with the burn in my chest as I remove the cigarette from my lips. My back rests against the brick exterior of the small police station.
This much-needed break couldn't come soon enough. Sleep was scarce last night. Every time I closed my eyes, I was haunted by the bruises on Blake's shoulder and hip. I don't blame Levi. He kept her safe the best he could.
The entire town of Evergreen Falls was turning into one big crime scene.
At six-thirty this morning, my phone rang.
Mayor Bridger Reynolds.
Against my better judgment, I answer.
“What the hell is going on out there, Walker?” Bridger demands before I can get out a greeting. “First a murder, then another body, and now rumors of an attempted break-in? Silver Pines opens in a few weeks. Tourists aren't going to spend money in a town they think is crawling with killers.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose.
“My deputies are working every lead we’ve got.”
“Not fast enough.”
I bite back a sigh.
Bridger always sounds like an overgrown toddler throwing a tantrum whenever things don't go his way.
“This investigation doesn't move faster because you raise your voice.”
“I’m the mayor.”
“And I'm the sheriff.”
A beat of silence.
“You work for this town,” he reminds me, his tone seething.
“I work for the people in it.”
His tone sharpens.
“If this keeps affecting tourism, I'll take it to the town council. Maybe Evergreen Falls needs a sheriff who can actually keep this place under control.”
There it was.
The weekly threat to fire me.
I've lost count of how many times Bridger has tried to use my badge as leverage over the years.
“If you think you can do better,” I return, allowing my tone to convey my annoyance, “come down to the station and take it.”
“I’ll remember you said that.”
“I doubt it.”
I ended the call before he could have the satisfaction of getting the last word.
With the cigarette burned to the filter, I drop it into the snow and put it out with my boot.
The crunching of footsteps alerts me to Santiago's approach. “We found the partner.”
“Whose partner?” Pulling out a new cigarette from the pack in my pocket, I place the filtered end between my lips and use my lighter to ignite the other end as I take a gentle puff.
“Evan’s,” Santiago states.
“I thought he didn’t have one.” I remind him.
“He denied it, but Levi decided to dig through Evan’s phone and computer,” Santiago explains.
With a sigh, I prematurely put out my cigarette. “You and I can pick him up. Tell Levi to meet us at the cabin.”
Santiago glances around. “Did you get another car already?”
“I finished fixing up the 1985 W250,” I inform him.
Santiago dangles his keys. “I’ll drive. Wouldn’t want to get into another wreck.”
It's not a far drive to Evergreen Falls High School.
The school is located just at the edge of town.
The building looms there like a giant steel warehouse.
The tan and navy metal siding is weathered by decades of snow, wind, and neglect.
Surrounded by a patch of dead grass covered in Wyoming snow, a stone monument in front bears the school's mascot.
Santiago parks his truck along the red curb, and we stroll up the short sidewalk. The heavy front doors give way to a wide commons area filled with trophy cases and announcement posters. Championship banners hang from the rafters overhead, and decades of class photos are displayed on the walls.
Having attended here myself, just like half of the people in this town, I couldn't forget the layout of the school even if I wanted to. We veer right into the front office.
It's hard to believe that after all these years, Miss Coleman still works as the receptionist. I tip my hat to her and point further into the office, indicating our destination. She waves us on by as she speaks into the corded phone.
We pass administrative offices and stop in front of the one we're looking for. The bright bronze plaque next to the door reads Garth Henderson, Counselor.
Knocking on the cracked door, I don't wait for a response as I gently swing it all the way open. “Hey, Garth.”
“Sheriff,” he returns, setting down the paper he was reading over. “What can I do for you?”
Garth Henderson is basically a carbon copy of half the men in Evergreen Falls.
Mid-forties, lean build, with dark hair threaded with grey around these temples.
Smile lines bracket his mouth, carved there by years of hard work and Wyoming weather.
He's the type of man that someone doesn't think about twice when they see him in the grocery store.
Stepping further into his office, I take a seat in one of the chairs in front of him while Santiago remains in the doorway. “I was wondering if you could help me with an investigation.”
“I’d love to. What do you need?” Garth clasps his hands together in front of him, resting his forearms on his desk.
My finger taps the edge of his desk. “Not here. Mind coming with me?”
Garth opens his hands in a subtle gesture. “Not a problem.”
We're in the car for a good 5 minutes before Garth even acknowledges Santiago—a fact that grates on my skin.
He'll pay for that.
Garth leans forward, poking his head between the driver and passenger seat. “Santiago, what’re you doing here?”
Santiago gives his reply without a care in the world. “I’m just playing chauffeur. You hear about Walk’s car accident? Totaled his truck.”
Garth nodded his head. “Oh yeah. I heard about that.” He swivels his head to me and asks, “You doing alright?”
“Right as rain,” I confirm, and Garth sits back in his seat.
It's taking everything in me to hold back. I have to keep reminding myself that justice will come soon.
A few minutes later, Garth leans forward again. “I thought we were headed to the station.”
“We are,” Santiago reassures him. “I just need to get something from Falling Sky first.”
When we get to Falling Sky, we don't go through the front entrance. We drive further down and take a fire road to our normal spot.
This is the cabin that we used to play in as boys—me, Levi, Grant, Santiago, and Landon. We would get into all kinds of trouble out here, sometimes with girls and sometimes just from being stupid young boys.
The cabin sits at the edge of Falling Sky Ranch, half swallowed by the forest. The branches of the pines crowded around the structure on all sides hang low enough to scrape the roof.
Santiago's great-grandfather built it from rough-hewn logs that are now darkened by time and weather. Most of the windows are broken. The surviving panes are cloudy with age and coated with dirt. The front porch sags beneath the weight of neglect, the railing missing several slats.
Directing his question to the back seat, Santiago puts the gear into park. “Could you come help me, Garth? It’s a little heavy for me, and Walk’s back has been bothering him.”
“I thought you said you were okay,” Garth directs at me.
“Old age,” I answer by way of excuse. This is the only time I'll admit that the years have been rough on my body.
Garth accepts my lie. “Oh, okay. Yeah, I’ll come.”
As Santiago and Garth exit the vehicle, I follow behind them. “I’ll hold the door for you two.”
Santiago ushers Garth through the front door ahead of him. Garth hesitates as he walks across the dilapidated wood floors, stirring up dust with every footstep. The dim light makes it nearly impossible to see the inside. But I know this cabin better than my own home.
I pause in the doorway.
Something feels off. I can't put my finger on it.
The place should smell like old pine, mildew, and decades of dust. Instead, beneath the musty air, the sharp scent of fresh cleaner lingers.
Faint. Almost hidden.
My gaze sweeps the room, finding that everything looks the same.
Garth juts his head forward as if he’s trying to see what’s in front of him. “What exactly are we grabbing?”
“There’s a table in the corner.” Santiago points with his finger.
Garth shakes his head. “I don’t see a—”
A shape breaks from the shadow behind Garth, wielding a wooden baseball bat.
Garth is completely unaware as the bat comes down on the back of his head.
He falls to the warped floor, a pile of dead weight.
Levi keeps a hold on the handle and rests the end on his shoulder, standing over Garth’s collapsed body.
Santiago moves to stand next to Levi and nudges Garth with his boot. “I think you hit him too hard.”
“No, I didn’t,” Levi argues.
Santiago nudges Garth again. “He’s not moving.”
“He’s not dead,” Levi corrects.
Santiago flops his arms at his sides in complaint. “But now we have to wait for him to wake up.”
Levi waves to Garth with his free hand. “Just throw some water on him.”
Santiago swings his arms wide, gesturing to the land around us outside. “Do you see a well around here?”
“Shut up, you two,” I interrupt, stepping between them. “We need to get him into position before he wakes up.”
Levi makes a face at Santiago.
“What?” Santiago raises his brows. “I’m not the one who hit him.”
Levi grumbles, dragging Garth to the center column in the room, while Santiago gets the fire going.
After Garth is tied up and the fire is crackling, Santiago steps outside and returns with a handful of snow. Santiago tosses it into Garth’s face, and he sputters awake. “Wakey, wakey.”
“Wha—What’s going on?” Garth struggles against the ropes. “Did you tie me up?” He glares up at Santiago. When he spots me, he begs,
“Sheriff, you have to help me.”
My arms cross my chest. “I don’t have to do shit.”
“Why are you doing this?” The color drains from his face as he realizes that I’m not his savior here.
I’m his consequence.
Santiago squats, getting in Garth’s face. “You’re not that stupid, are you, Garth?”
“I haven’t done anything wrong.” Garth struggles to control his quavering.
Levi stands behind Santiago’s shoulder. “Evan told us everything.”
“N—no. He wouldn’t,” Garth stammers.
Santiago drops his head to an angle, faking sympathy and pointing to the floor. “Oh, but he did. He sat in this very spot and spilled his guts.”
Garth’s breathing increases as he thrashes. “Let me go!”
“Shut up.” A loud slap echoes in the room as Santiago brings his open hand across Garth’s face. “Be a man. Own your shit.” Santiago rises to his full height.
Garth is adamant in his denial. “But I didn’t—”
Santiago bends, pulling his fist back and punching Garth in the eye. “This can be over quickly if you stop lying.”
Garth leans forward as far as he can, groaning from the pain.
Levi tilts his head and informs Garth pointedly, “We have Evan’s photos.”
“We have Evan’s photos.”
“I didn’t help him with that. I tried to get him to stop.” Garth's brows tip up. Santiago makes a show of signing and trudges over to the fire to retrieve his branding iron.
When Levi pulls a hunting knife from his belt and cuts Garth’s shirt open, Garth's eyes take on a haunted terror. “No, no, no.”
Santiago ignores Garth’s plea, pressing the red-hot end into Garth’s flesh. Garth screams, on the verge of passing out from the pain.
The stench of burning flesh used to make me sick to my stomach, but now I'm used to the unpleasant smell.
Santiago hands over the branding iron to Levi to return to the fireplace. “Try again. How many?”
Tears track down Garth’s cheeks. “I’m sorry. I’m so s—sorry.”
“How many, Garth?” Santiago asks again.
Garth continues to weep, barely able to get out the words. “I didn’t mean to do it. I didn’t mean to.”
My blood heats as I listen to him. “That’s another lie.”
“Why do you have to make me do this?” Santiago shakes his head in mock disappointment as Levi hands over the branding iron.
“Stop! Please, stop!” Garth kicks his legs, trying to keep Santiago away, but his efforts are fruitless.
The Falling Sky brand sizzles against his abdomen, and Garth's cries fill the room once more. He begs for mercy, begs for the agony to end. Even though the branding iron isn't as hot, it still mars Garth's skin. Santiago doesn't stop until Garth’s torso is littered with the letters “FS.”
Levi crouches down, yelling over the whaling to be heard. “Answer the goddamn question!”
Garth snaps, letting the truth free. “They wanted it!”
Bile rolls in my stomach. “Excuse you?”
Garth's face is blotchy from crying as snot drips from his nose. “They wanted it, I swear. They begged me.”
Reaching into my pocket, I pull out one of the photos depicting the heinous acts of Garth and Evan and shove it in Garth's face. “Do you really think this girl wanted you to coerce her into having sex? Does her face look like she’s having a good time?”
Garth has the good sense, at least, not to look aroused by the photo. “Sh—she—”
I cut him off, letting a fraction of my fury show. “She was a sixteen-year-old girl who just wanted to make it to the eleventh grade.”
“She did!” Garth says it as if the girl achieved it on her own.
But we all know the truth.
“After you told her you could help her with her failing grades,” Levi adds.
Retrieving another thing from my pocket, I continue, “Last question,” I growl as I hold up a sheet of paper with various teenage girls’ school pictures, “are there any more?”
“No. None.” Garth lets out a sigh as if he's finally relieved that all of the facts are finally out in the open, and somehow I know it’s not an act.
“No. None.”
“Don’t you dare lie.” Santiago threatens.
“I’m not, I swear on my children.”
Garth shakes his head vigorously. “I’m not, I swear on my children.”
Levi scoffs. “You don’t have any children.”
Without warning, I pull my Glock 19 from its holster. My index finger squeezes the trigger, sending a bullet through Garth's head.
Santiago mutters a curse as Levi flinches.
“No habíamos terminado,” Santiago snaps. We weren’t done.
[shoot]
“What the hell?”
Switching the safety on, I return my gun to my belt. “He was telling the truth. Besides, we have bigger cases to investigate.” Striding back for the door, I stepped out onto the unstable porch.
One case solved.
Another twenty to close.
And I'm not giving up.