“We all know juries love this shit. But judges take more convincing. And I don’t see anywhere in here a lab comparison of the flowers up at the Engletons’ to what was found on Gale. Do I?”
“That kind of lab work can take weeks.” In fact, Walt had been refused the collection of evidence by the Engletons.
“Not my problem.” Aanestead handed the folder back to Walt and eyed the thirteenth tee. “You play, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“We ought to knock it around together sometime.”
“I’d like that.”
Aanestead glanced at the thirteenth for a second time. His partner looked ready to explode as yet another party reached the twelfth green.
“What about Fancelli?” Walt asked. “I followed a pickup truck thinking it important to the Gale killing, only to have a deputy figure it differently. But I can use it. We can use this to our advantage.”
“You’d be going out on a limb. I would doubt that federal law’s been tested for some time.”
“There was that class-action suit against Northwest Generation in Wyoming.”
“That was birds frying on high-tension lines, not some bow hunter plucking roadkill. It’s federal law, not state.”
“But it’s on the books.”
“Yes, it is. But untested.”
“You see where I’m going with it.”
“I do. It’s creative, and I think important. A scumbag like that, you take him down however you can.”
“That’s the point.” Translation: the voters would approve.
“I’ll not only back you on this Fancelli thing,” Aanestead said, “I’ll hold a press conference and lay it out there and hope that helps us get a foot across the finish line.”
Surprise.
“I’ll want you by my side,” he said.
“Not a problem,” Walt said.
“You want my guys to leak it?”
If the press were notified, it might mean Fiona was sent to photograph the arrest. Walt shuddered at the thought.
“Probably better off not.”
“You sure? Hell of a card to play, a front-page piece showing a guy in cuffs. Talk about prejudicing the jury pool.” He punched Walt lightly in the shoulder. Things were getting too friendly for Walt.
“I’ll notify your office when we have him in custody. How’s that?”
“How soon are we talking about?” He didn’t want to be caught on the back nine by reporters. Wouldn’t look right.
“I can hold off for about an hour,” Walt said.
“You’re a good man, Walt,” Aanestead said, grinning widely. He leaned in close. “Twenty bucks a hole, and with Tim it’s like taking candy from a baby. But you didn’t hear it from me.”
“My guys’ll call your office once we’ve got him,” Walt repeated.
“I’ll want you by my side.”
“Understood.”
“You’re going to need a hell of a lot more before you’ll have me signing off on Tulivich. She’s a dead end, Walt. Nothing but trouble.”
“Okay.” He tried to sound disappointed, while inside he was celebrating the man’s predictability. It wouldn’t be the first time the evidence came up short despite having a suspect in the sights.
“I wouldn’t go there unless you have the dead guy sitting up and pointing a finger at her.” He smiled. Perfect teeth standing out against the wicked tan. Walt was looking at the next attorney general, and both men knew it.
“It may go unsolved,” Walt warned, again keeping the celebration out of his voice.
“Hell of a game,” Aanestead said, holding his club, but looking Walt in the eye somewhat suspiciously. He’d picked up on Walt’s relief.
“Hell of a game,” Walt echoed.
46
Walt focused intently on the small log cabin in front of him.
One of twelve homes in a subdivision dating from the 1980s, it was log with forest green trim and asphalt shingles. Two mountain bikes sagged next to the front door, along with a pair of work boots and a dog bowl. The F-150 was parked in the driveway. Lisa’s house was one to the left, a charming home with wooden flowers painted primary colors in a line across the lawn. Strung between two of the flowers was a small sailcloth banner reading Alturas Day Care. When she wasn’t taking care of his kids, she was running the day care.
Walt didn’t see Lisa’s house. He barely saw the Fancelli place. Instead, as Brandon sat quietly in the seat beside him, his arm in a sling, Walt saw only the horror of what Lisa had witnessed; he heard the slapping of the bed frame against the wall as she had heard it; he felt sick, as she had felt.
“It’s not like he’s going to give us a hard time, you think?” Brandon ventured.
“We need him.”
“How’s that?”
“Our witness, Maggie Sharp, puts his truck there that night.”