Cold Lake (30 page)

“Tell her to come talk to me,” Wolf said quietly.

The agent ignored him and stepped away.

Wolf sat back and pulled up his bed sheet, feeling exposed in more ways than one. There was nothing he could do but breathe and remain calm.

He leaned back and racked his brain again, like he’d done in every waking moment between pain-pill and scotch induced sleeps the last couple of weeks.

He’d relived every memory from the night of Sarah’s and Carter’s deaths countless times, but the problem was that the memories were few. Wolf had been with a woman he thought to be Kimber Grey having drinks when Carter Willis had come into the bar with two of his cronies. It had been only a few minutes, when Carter Willis had approached Wolf, leaned close, and told him his ex-wife was an
unforgettable piece of ass
. He remembered that clear enough. And then Wolf had attacked him without hesitation. 

Wolf had gotten some good shots in, and taken a few, too. But the lights went out when he’d taken a pool cue to the head from one of the two men with Carter.

From that blackout moment onward, Wolf had been at the mercy of a woman who had murdered an unknown number of young men, mutilated their bodies, and dumped them into Cold Lake south of town. The rest of that night was a complete blackout.

Then there were the memories of the last few weeks since his plummet off a cliff. Those were chopped and jumbled, and trying to remember anything in any order was like trying to put together a thousand-piece puzzle with the pieces turned upside down.

“David.” The voice in his ear was feminine and full of concern.

Wolf opened his eyes.

“You look like shit,” Special Agent Kristen Luke said.

Luke’s brown hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail, her face chiseled, yet soft. Her wide cinnamon-bark eyes were bleary but still as stunning as ever.

“You look good,” Wolf said. “Tired, but good.”

She darted a glance to the nearest agent and waited for him to move on. “I’m sorry I haven’t gotten back to you. I can’t really …
talk
to you.”

Wolf leaned back and nodded. “Deputy Baine has proof that MacLean was behind those photographs with Rachette and Gail Olson—a video interview Baine conducted with Gail Olson. Which makes me think MacLean might be behind the disappearance of Gail Olson. Get to Baine, and get that video file he has.”

“Of course I…” she stopped talking and stepped away.

A few seconds later she came close, this time avoiding eye contact with him. “Go ahead.”

“MacLean also said he had photos of me and Hannah Kipling here at the house that night. Those photos might be my alibi.”

She walked away as if he’d said nothing.

Agent Frye appeared next to Wolf, his eyes trailing Luke. “She tells me you’re innocent.”

“She’s a smart agent.”

“So am I. That’s how I became ASAC. And I know when emotions get involved investigations go sloppy. So I’m not listening to a thing she says.”

Wolf closed his eyes. “Let me know what you find. I’m confident I’ll see you again soon, and you can apologize to me then, okay?”

When Wolf opened his eyes Agent Frye was gone, back in the bustle of agents ransacking his home.

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