might help with her future ambitions. No one was too humble for her to overlook, and do a favor for if she could. But Marlene was a loan shark when it came to collecting on favors. The interest on repaying her kindness multiplied daily.
“We’ve met a time or two.”
That was all it took; the guy owed her.
“I need an introduction.”
“Why? What does this have to do with domestic terrorism?”
“That’s what I want to find out.”
“So you’re just fishing.”
He was, but he was good at it. He waited Marlene out in silence. She’d hired Tall Wolf, but he’d tendered a signed resignation on his first day of work. It wasn’t dated. He’d left that for her to fill in. Didn’t matter. It was still his declaration of independence.
She hated it that she held no claim on him.
Right now, Marlene had to calculate whether accepting even a token repayment from Herbert Wilkins, something she was loath to do, would be worth the return of whatever Tall Wolf might produce for her.
“All right,” she snapped. “I’ll call and ask Herbert to see you.”
“Thanks, boss.”
“Don’t patronize me, and Tall Wolf?”
“Yes?”
“When you meet the man, try to remember who you are.”
“A special agent of the BIA on loan to the EPA?”
“A Native American.”
“Oh, yeah, that.”
“I’ll be coming to Goldstrike sooner rather than later. To see if the fish are biting.”
“Can’t wait.” John clicked off.
That was always Marlene’s hole card. Crowding him.
Letting him know Coyote was watching his every move.
His phone rang before he could put it back in his pocket.
Ron Ketchum. He asked, “Did you just ask a cop to help an old guy?”
“Yeah.”
“That was my father. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I got a call from the county medical examiner. Detec … Retired Detective Powell and I are going over to Community Hospital to get Dr. Dahlgren’s report. You want to join us?”
“Sure,” Tall Wolf.
After a chat with Marlene, visiting a morgue would be a real pick-me-up.
Ron and Keely had been sleeping in each other’s arms when Sergeant Stanley tracked them down at the Renaissance. He’d learned from his lady friend, Marjorie Fitzroy, that the chief had picked up the key to the VIP suite and, yes, he had an attractive woman with him. Marjorie hadn’t seen either of them leave the hotel.
She forwarded Sergeant Stanley’s call to the suite.
For her part, Keely made sure to clear her throat and sound at least mostly awake before taking the call. She put her hand over the mouthpiece and told Ron, “Sergeant Stanley.”
Ron gave his head a shake and took a sip of flat ginger ale from a glass on the nightstand. He watched a nude Keely make her way to the bathroom. For all the years they’d worked together, it had been their first time. Neither of them had been disappointed.
They were both of an age where falling asleep afterward was a perfectly acceptable alternative to a second go-round and —
“You there, Chief?” the sergeant asked.
“Yeah, Sarge. What’s going on?”
“Dr. Dahlgren has a preliminary report on Hale Tibbot, if you want to talk with her.”
“I do. She’s at Community Hospital?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Ask her to give me thirty minutes.”
“Will do.”
Ron ended the call and went into the bathroom. The shower stall was more than big enough for two people, but he asked if he might share the space. Keely rinsed the shampoo suds from her eyes so she might see what his intentions were.
“Just a scrub?” she asked.
“For now. The county ME is waiting to see … well, you and John Tall Wolf. But I want to hear what she has to say.”
Keely gestured him into the stall.
“You’re going to let us run our own investigation, right?”
He nodded.
“Good. I won’t meddle in your eco-terrorist case. Tall Wolf said he has to keep a hand in, but I don’t think he’s the usual pain in the ass you get with a fed.”
“Yeah, not your usual
C. J. Cherryh
Learning to Kill: Stories
John O'Riley
Brenda Sinclair
Christopher George
Stephen Lloyd Jones
Karl Iagnemma
Celya Bowers
Jill Gregory
Aria Cunningham