Just before noon on the day following the break-in, a forest green truck with official gold markings and an overhead rack of dark emergency lights glided down Wa-Wilkin Road. The truck neared the Renshaws’ workshop and stopped well short of where Warner stood rubbing his crossed arms for warmth in the chilly breeze. He had left Bella inside, not wanting to risk a mishap if the dog rushed the officer in her excitement. Warner watched the deputy exit the truck, adjust his gun belt, and stroll over with a frown.
“Hi. I’m Deputy Braun.” He held out his hand.
“Yes, sir,” Warner said, shaking hands and feeling the deputy’s strong grip. “We met before. Thanks… for that.”
“Don’t mention it. Sorry about the delay. Our nearest office is down past Concrete. I hear you’re having some trouble. What happened?”
While Warner described the break-in and missing generator, the deputy jotted down a few notes on a small leather-bound pad.
“They left these,” Warner said, handing the cut padlock and cable to the officer. “Thought you might want them for evidence.”
“They used bolt cutters. See that all the time,” the deputy said, handing the pieces back.
“You don’t want them?”
“Just hold onto ‘em. We’ll check ‘em if we get a suspect and find the cutters.”
“That should be easy, because they intend to come back—since they took the screen off the downstairs window.”
“I reckon that could be. Any idea when the theft occurred?”
“Had to be sometime between Sunday night and Friday evening.”
“That’s a mighty big span. You only here on weekends?” When Warner nodded, the deputy added, “They probably figured out your routine. Any idea who that might be?”
“A work crew out of Darrington put in the foundation. The contractor, Russ Spurling, stiffed me for some work and he—“
“Doubt it was old Russ. He high-tailed it two months ago. Word is he’s working east of the Cascades, somewhere ‘round Yakima.”
“What about Mr. Tollman? He was part of the crew working out here and a heavy drinker from what I saw. Seemed like he might be desperate enough.”
“Old Abe? He’d have no part in something like this. And lemme give you a piece of friendly advice: If I was you, I wouldn’t go suggesting upstanding locals you don’t even know was criminals.”
Warner paused, caught off guard by the deputy’s reaction. “I’m not accusing anyone. You asked who I thought it might be.”
“Who else you got?”
“There’s someone squatting across the road. They’ve been there about two months, but I’ve never seen them. I’m not exactly happy having him there. Otherwise, not too many people come out here.”
“That blue trailer ‘cross the road? Let me talk to whoever’s staying there. I know the guy owns it. He’s in the county jail right now.”
Warner’s face tightened. Great. Just the kind of neighbor we need.
“If they’re on Forest Service land, I can move ‘em off,” the deputy offered.
“That would be great.”
“This part of the county’s purdy isolated. Least you don’t get through-traffic, which usually brings trouble in.”
“You think it’s someone local?” Warner asked.
“Possible, but not likely. I don’t know nobody ‘round here’d do something like this.”
“What should I do in the meantime? Obviously the thieves plan to come back, and I have to leave Monday on family business. The earliest I can return is late Thursday, but….”
“I can see about upping our patrol out here, but we’re understaffed with a lot of territory to cover. Honestly, with our limited manpower, our priority’s gotta be violent crimes.”
Warner’s eyebrows rose. Do the local thieves know that? They must.
“Know any neighbors that might keep an eye on your place?”
“I don’t know anyone I’d trust yet, and my wife’s in Seattle.”
“You might have her drive by while you’re away. If she sees anything, have her call 911. Take this,” the deputy said, handing Warner a business card with a number penciled across the bottom. “It’s got your incident number.”
Warner felt a knot build in the center of his stomach. Why does he seem so indifferent? Are break-ins that common out here? How will we ever keep anything of value in the cabin? Warner tried to control the sense of helplessness that threatened to overwhelm him.
This wasn’t part of my dream.