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While Hawke sat in the office talking with his sergeant, they received word that the two he’d arrested the day before were out on bail and had been given plea dates.
“You’ll need to tread lightly, if you think D.A. Lange did give that tag to Sigler,” Sergeant Spruel warned him.
“I’ll be careful. But if the D.A. did, he either sold it which means he needs money, something I can look into, or he gave it as a blackmail payment.” Hawke tapped his pen against his logbook. “Either way, I’ll find out.”
“You’re going to have to ask Judge Vickers, Lange’s previous employer, for a warrant to get his bank records. How do you plan to keep him from telling the D.A.?”
“I’m not sure yet. But I’ll work on it.” Hawke left the sergeant’s office and went over to his computer.
He opened the county site, only accessible by law enforcement, and looked for the video of Sigler’s arraignment.
Sigler came into view. His left eye was black and blue. A cut on his cheek and his body sagged as if it hurt to stand straight. It appeared Price did a pretty good number on him.
District Attorney Lange read the list of violations and asked if Price had anything to say.
Hawke studied both men’s body language and neither seemed to be avoiding one another or acting suspicious. He found it interesting that yesterday the man had been vehement that D.A. Lange gave him the tag. Today, when he could accuse the man to his face, he kept his mouth clamped shut.
He signed out of the court site and began carefully wording a warrant for Lange’s financial records. He’d take the warrant to Judge Vickers and see if he couldn’t get what he needed without the D.A. learning about it.
«»«»«»
“You want me to sign off on a warrant for you to look into my D.A.’s financial records?” Where Lange was a small, wiry man with a deep, loud voice, Vickers size and rotundness fit his bellowing presence.
Hawke was glad he’d cornered the judge in his office. “Sir, as I stated in the warrant, I want to make sure that the D.A. didn’t receive any money for the exchange of his hunting license.”
“I don’t understand. Why would you even think such a thing?” Judge Vickers threw the warrant onto his desk top.
“I apprehended a man yesterday who had D.A. Lange’s elk tag on an animal. He said the D.A. gave him the tag. Which we both know is illegal. I want to figure out how the man acquired the tag.”
“Have you asked Lange? I don’t like you cops going behind a man’s back.” The judge glared at him from behind rimless glasses.
“I did ask him. He swore he’d never even purchased a hunting tag this year. But I discovered he did and paid for it with a credit card.” Hawke placed a copy of the tag registration and credit card purchase on the desk in front of the judge.
He picked them up, studied the pages, and shook his head. “I don’t like this. But given the evidence, I’ll sign off on this request. But keep it in house.”
Hawke nodded. “I’ll keep it quiet. Thank you, Judge.”
He stood to leave.
“You do know if this backfires on you, you’ll have a hard time working in this county?”
Hawke studied the Judge. “I know.”
The man waved his hand in dismissal.
Hawke left his office and the courthouse. This could put him on early retirement if it came out the D.A. was crooked and then was vindicated.
«»«»«»
Hawke delivered the warrant to the bank manager and headed to the Shake Shack in Alder for lunch. The bank would email him the records he’d requested.
While he sat eating his burger in his vehicle, his phone buzzed. Justine.
The bite he’d just chewed stuck in his throat. He didn’t want to talk to her on the phone. He let it ring and go to voicemail. What could she be calling him about?
He choked down the rest of his burger. When he’d slurped the last of his soft drink, he hit the voicemail button and listened.
“Hey, Hawke. I’m not sure what your cold shoulder was this morning at the café. Give me a call. I think we need to talk things out. As friends.”
The phone clicked off.
As friends. That was what he’d thought they had, until recently. He’d deal with that later.
The radio crackled. “Twelve-sixteen ten miles out North Highway,” dispatch said.
“Copy. One-zero-zero-two. I’m five minutes out.” He turned on his lights and sirens and headed through town and out the North Highway.
It was easy to spot the bright blue jeep upside down about thirty feet off the highway. Two pickups and a car had stopped to assist.
“We think he’s still alive,” one man about forty-years-old said, walking up to Hawke as he stepped out of his truck.
“Anyone see what happened?” Hawke asked.
“We came around that corner in time to see the Jeep roll onto its back,” a younger man said. The woman beside him nodded her head.
“Stay here and tell the next officer who arrives. Send the ambulance attendants down.” Hawke grabbed his emergency kit and crossed the barbwire fence nearly flattened to the ground and walked through the dried grass and rocky pasture to the overturned vehicle.
There was a young man, barely driving age, suspended in air by his seatbelt. His head was bleeding and his eyes were closed.
“I’m Trooper Hawke. Can you hear me?” He placed his fingers to the young man’s neck, hoping to find a pulse.
A faint flutter under his fingertips told Hawke the driver was alive. The roll bar was all that kept him from being smashed under the vehicle.
Hawke tended to the cuts the best he could and waited. He didn’t want to cut the driver loose until he had a professional medical team here to assist.
The wailing approach of sirens started the Samaritans by the road waving their arms.
That was one of the things he liked about this rural area. When someone was in need of help, you usually had more help than you wanted, but it was better than no help at all. Everyone looked out for each other in Wallowa County. The ruralness made it necessary.
The ambulance stopped alongside the road. Two attendants went to the back and were soon carrying a litter and emergency kit toward him. Two of the bystanders followed.
“Please, stay back,” Hawke instructed the men as Roxie Paley and Bonnie Fletcher set the litter down.
“We came to help.” The older man obviously didn’t think the two emergency attendants could handle their job.
“Your help is better served up by the road.” Hawke wasn’t as nice this time. “Go back up there.”
“What do we have?” Roxie asked. She was the plumper of the two.
“Male, Caucasian. Teens. Has been unconscious since I arrived about ten minutes ago. All I found were a few cuts and bruises. But as you can see, he’s hanging.”
While he was telling Roxie all of this, Bonnie had been taking his vital signs. “We need to get him cut down and stabilized,” she said.
“You do the cutting, we’ll get him on the litter,” Roxie said, placing a brace on the young man’s neck.
The women set themselves ready to take the young man’s weight.
Hawke pulled a knife out of a pocket of his vest and cut the seatbelt.
Just as the young man landed in the attendants’ arms, the woman by the road called out. “Here! We need you here!”
Hawke made sure the EMTs were fine and headed back to the road.
The woman was on the other side of the highway, waving her arms.
Hawke crossed the highway and spotted what the woman was worried about. It appeared the Jeep had collided with a cow elk. “Go back to your vehicle,” he told the woman.
“But she needs help.” The woman continued to watch the animal.
“There is nothing anyone can do for her. Go.” He grabbed the woman by the arm and pulled her to the highway.
A car rolled by slowly. Hawke waved it on by.
Roxie and Bonnie had the injured man in the ambulance.
“Think he’ll be conscious for me to get his statement when I get through here?” he asked.
“He’s starting to come around. There’s a good chance,” Bonnie said.
Hawke nodded. “Which is your vehicle?” he asked the woman.
She pointed to the car.
“Get in it and go on about your evening.” He led her to the car and waited for her to get in and drive away.
The older man who first noticed the Jeep stood by his pickup. “You going to put the elk down?”
Hawke didn’t like doing it anymore than these people. Elk were beautiful creatures who deserved to roam this country. But the cow’s injuries were too severe for her to heal. “Unfortunately.” He pulled his rifle from the overhead rack in his vehicle, loaded a round into the chamber, and walked across the highway.
The big animal was dying. As much as he hated to kill her, he knew she was suffering. He aimed, pulled the trigger, and only looked long enough to make sure she no longer suffered. The body was far enough off the road it shouldn’t cause any problems. The trauma the animal had suffered wouldn’t make it useful to anyone but predators. They would soon have the carcass cleaned up. This time of year, carcasses didn’t last long.
He called it into dispatch and trudged back across the road to store his rifle back in his vehicle. It would be another hour before he could leave the scene. He had to take photos and assess the scene for the records and the driver’s insurance company.
«»«»«»
Hawke walked into the state police office in Winslow two hours past the end of his shift. He still had to input the information from the traffic accident. He rotated his head, popping his neck, and sat down at his computer.
“I didn’t think you were out in the field today,” Ward Dillon, another Fish and Wildlife trooper said, walking in from the breakroom with a donut and cup of coffee.
“I didn’t go out looking for game violations. I caught a traffic accident on the North Highway.” He opened his document.
“I’d rather be after illegal hunters than deal with that.” Dillon sat down at his computer and started tapping at the keys.
Hawke opened up his logbook and started entering all the information. The accident form was filled out and he was typing his follow up with the driver at the hospital when his phone buzzed.
Justine.
“Bad news?” Dillon asked.
Hawke stared at the man. Had he groaned out loud?
“No. Just someone I don’t want to talk to.” He ignored his phone and forced his mind back on the report.
He checked his emails and found one from Sergeant Spruel. His superior was a man of few words. Sullen spotted Sigler picking up his vehicle and trailer this afternoon.
Hawke clicked out of his email and turned off his computer. He’d go have a word with Sigler tomorrow morning.