9:36 A.M.
The police cruiser stopped in front of the gap between the two sections of split-rail fencing. Both front doors flew open. A man and a woman strode up the sloping terrain heading straight for a man working a shovel.
The man in a cowboy hat, jeans, and a flannel shirt looked up from his work. “I thought I told you to get the hell off my—”
Faith drew her weapon and held it at a forty-five-degree angle out in front of her. “Drop the shovel.”
“Are you out of your mind?” Hammerstein eyed the officer on Faith’s eight o’clock. “What’s this all about, Officer Timmons?”
Timmons laid his right hand on the butt of his service pistol. “Until we can get this all sorted out, Mr. Hammerstein, just do what she says.”
“All of what sorted out?”
Faith raised her pistol to twenty-two degrees. “Drop the shovel and turn around...now.”
The man in the cowboy hat huffed before letting the digging implement fall to the ground.
“Turn around, put your hands on your head, and kneel down.”
“I think I’m allowed to know why I’m being arrested.”
“One way or another, sir, you will get on the ground. And I’m so amped up on adrenaline right now that you really don’t want me taking you to the ground.”
Timmons raised an eyebrow at the woman on his two o’clock.
Hammerstein complied with the orders.
Faith wrenched the man’s arms behind his back, affixed handcuffs to his wrists, and escorted him to the police cruiser’s front bumper before patting the man’s front jean pockets. “Am I going to find anything sharp inside...knives, needles?”
“Pocket knife on the left. It’s closed.”
She emptied the contents of his pockets onto the cruiser’s hood then ushered him toward the rear of the vehicle.
The patrol officer stood near an open left-rear door.
Faith put her left hand on Hammerstein’s head and applied downward pressure. “Get in.”
“Why am,” contorting his body, “I,” he grunted, “being arrested?” before sticking his right foot inside and lowering himself into the seat.
“At the moment, you’re not. You’re only being detained,” she paused, “on suspicion of conspiring to murder a federal agent.” She slammed the door in his face then went to investigate his belongings.
A few minutes later, after having gone over Hammerstein’s things, Faith opened the left-rear door and crossed her arms over her chest. “Tell me why your man in the overalls just tried to kill me.”
The cuffed man frowned. “Dexter? Dexter tried to kill you? That doesn’t sound like something he would do. Where is he? Is he okay?” He gave her a quick down-and-up. “Are you okay?”
“As you can see, I’m fine. Your man,” she paused, “not so much.”
Hammerstein’s eyes grew bigger. “What happened?”
She huffed. “As if you don’t know. He pulled a gun on me, but...”
“Oh my—”
“...I was more accurate than he was.”
“So,” a beat, “he’s dead then?”
Faith nodded once.
“That’s too bad, but again...”
She noticed something change behind his eyes.
“...how does this involve me?”
“I think you sent him to kill me.”
“Is that so?”
She noted a twinkle in his eye.
“Got any proof of that?” Seeing the muscles at the back of her jaw bulging, he shook his head. “I didn’t think so.” A moment passed. “You’ve got nothing to arrest me on Marshal Mahoney.”
“Maybe not, but I can still hold you while I dig up something.” She slammed the door then brought up the number to her sister’s burner phone.
*******
THREE MINUTES LATER...
9:53 A.M.
SPOKANE, WASHINGTON
One hand pressed to her forehead, the other holding her cell, her mouth hanging open, Devlin shook her head at Randall. “And you’re sure you’re okay, Faith? Have you been checked out by a doctor?”
“I’m fine...really. There’s no need for doctors. Look, that’s not why I called. I’m holding Hammerstein for now, but if we can’t get him on something, I’ll have to let him walk.”
Randall: “The bastard’s henchman tried to run you off the road. Actually, he did run you off the road. That has to count for something.”
“Sorry, Noah. Without proof, it’s Hammerstein’s word against a dead guy’s word. And the old man knows it, too. As soon as I told him his hired hand was dead, he got this look on his face. I’m sure I won’t be getting anything out of him anytime soon.”
Standing in Duke Hammer’s living room, an image coming to him of Faith having to bail out of her car before getting shot at, Randall made a fist and turned around, his eyes looking for something to punch.
“Have you two had any luck?”
Devlin filled her lungs and sighed. “We’ve searched this place three times over...and nothing. But without knowing what we’re actually looking for, we could be staring right at it and not know it. We were just getting ready for a fourth inspection when you called.”
*******
REDDING, CALIFORNIA
Her butt leaning against the grille of the police cruiser, Faith pushed off and made a one-eighty to stare at Hammerstein’s possessions again, her focus falling on the man’s cell phone. She picked it up, touched the screen, and frowned. Password protected. “Stay close to your phone, Jess. I’ll call you back in fifteen.”
“All right.”
Faith clicked off, set her mobile on the hood, and retrieved her eyeglasses from a jacket pocket before unfolding the temples, donning the eyewear, and trying the usual lazy-man passwords, such as 0000 and 1234, on Hammerstein’s phone. When those failed, she glanced over her shoulder at the numbers near the home’s front door then pivoted back to try them, cursing under her breath when they proved unfruitful.
Officer Timmons: “What do you want to do with,” the man in blue gestured, “him?”
She held up a forefinger, “One second,” then turned to stare at where she and the homeowner had conversed prior to the incident on the mountain road. Scratching her cheek, she went over the exchange in her mind.
A few minutes later, she chewed on her lower lip. Then he sent me packing after I tried to extend my condolen— Faith spun to spy Hammerstein in the backseat of the cruiser. Whipping her head toward the shovel on the ground, she envisioned him holding it.
Faith: “I thought she died in a car accident.”
Hammerstein: “She did. Two years ago. Got behind the wheel on a rainy night after having too many beers. Drove off the side of the mountain...” He hung his head and stared at his boots for a good twenty seconds. “As long as I live,” he faltered, “I will never forget that night. It’s a date that’s burned into my brain.”
Faith stared at Hammerstein. It’s a date that’s burned into my brain. She snatched her phone and made a call.
Three rings later, a female voice: “Deputy Director Thorn.”
“Mariss—” Faith caught herself, “Deputy Director, this is Detective Mahoney. I’m sorry to have to ask you this, but is there any way you could get something from my computer? Sorry. I mean the one I’m borrowing...in that conference room you set up for me.”
“What am I looking for exactly?”
“I’m sorry to trouble you.”
“It’s no trouble at all. I’m sort of in between phone calls, anyway. Give me a minute while I head to that room.”
Faith rubbed her forehead. “Thank you. I really appreciate this.”
“Since I’ve got you on the line, tell me something. Is your time with us going well?”
“Um, yeah. It’s been fun working with my sister. And I think I’ve been somewhat helpful, too.”
“I have no doubts about that. Listen. Jessica and I have clear lines established. She handles all things relating to her team, and I take care of logistics and any behind-the-scenes issues that may arise.”
Faith nodded. “That’s what she’s told me, too.”
“I know she’s asked you to join us on a full-time basis.”
The detective smiled. “Yes. A few times, in fact.”
“Well, if I may throw my two cents in, I think you’d make a fantastic addition to this team. I’d love having you working for me.”
“Thank you, Deputy Director. I appreciate your vote of confidence. But I’m torn. I love what I do in Seattle, solving crimes, catching bad guys, being in the action. I’m not sure I could handle being stuck behind a computer all day.”
“Stuck behind a computer all day, you say?”
“That’s right, ma’am.”
A short pause.
“Funny. I’m sitting in your chair right now, and I’m not seeing you anywhere near your computer.”
Faith chuckled at the insinuation. “Yes. I’m currently in the field, but,” she hesitated, “I’m not sure how long that would last if I were working for you and Jess on a permanent basis.”
“Well, it’s your call, but just know that I wouldn’t interfere. Whatever you and Jessica work out would be fine with me.” A tick. “Now what do you need me to do? I’m staring at your computer’s home screen.”
“I need the date that William Hammerstein’s wife was killed.” Faith relayed the necessary steps to guide Thorn to the information.
Thorn: “Looks like she died in a car accident two years ago...April 9th.”
“April ninth. April ninth. Oh-four-oh-nine. Got it. Thank you for your help, Deputy Director.”
“You’re welcome. And think about your sister’s offer. As I said, I’d love to have you on the team.”
“Thank you. And I will.” Faith ended the call, exchanged phones, hers for Hammerstein’s, and punched in 0-4-0-9.
‘Wrong Pin’ showed on the screen.
She pecked out the year the accident occurred.
‘Wrong Pin.’
Faith typed ‘4-9’ and the last two digits of the year of the tragic incident.
The phone’s home screen popped up.
Beaming, she scrolled through the text messaging app looking for a thread associated with Duke Hammer.
∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞
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