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Horse brayed, waking Hawke from a deep sleep. After leaving Justine’s the night before, Hawke wrote up a list of things for Donner to either get warrants for or to check out. He’d sent the email off around eleven and fell asleep. He’d slept the hardest he had in months. It had to be from relieving the stress of his friendship with Justine. He hadn’t realized how much he’d feared losing her as a friend but wasn’t going to jump into any other kind of relationship with her just to keep her around.
He scrubbed his hands over his face, started the coffeemaker, and took a shower. Clean, dressed, and a cup of coffee in him, he walked down the steps with Dog on his heels and greeted his horses.
“You’re up early this morning for not going to work,” Darlene said, walking out of the room where the grain was stored.
“Headed to the Rusty Nail for breakfast.” He loaded hay in a wheelbarrow to take out to throw in his horses’ run.
“Then the dinner with Justine went well?” His landlord watched him intently.
“Yes. We’ve reaffirmed, we are just friends.” He saw the bit of hope fade from her eyes. “All I feel for her is a brotherly fondness. That wouldn’t be fair to her if I let her believe it was more.”
Darlene nodded. “That’s what we all admire most about you, Hawke. Your truth.” She patted his arm and strode off to her house.
Hawke’s chest swelled. If he were remembered after he left this earth for his truth, his spirit would be happy.
He rolled the hay out to the waiting horses and tossed it over the fence. A tug on the faucet handle started water flowing into the trough.
His phone buzzed. Kitree.
He smiled and answered. “What are you doing calling me so early in the morning?”
The ten-year-old giggled. “I wanted to catch you before you went to work.”
“Well you’re in luck. It’s my day off.” He’d met the child while tracking her and keeping her from the people who killed her parents. She’d bonded with him in the wake of her grief and since the Kimbals, Dani Singer’s employees at the Hunting Lodge, had adopted her, he could visit with her whenever he wanted. She was the closest thing to a daughter or niece he would ever have.
“Sage said I could have a birthday party. I wanted to make sure you could come.”
“I’m honored. When is your birthday?” His mind started flashing through what he should get her for a present.
“It was last week, but I knew you were too busy with hunting season to come to a party at the lodge.”
“I can be at the lodge for a party this Saturday night. Can you and Sage put one together that soon?” Now he’d have to come up with a present today.
“You bet! See you then!”
The connection ended. Water splashed, overflowing the trough. He hurried to turn the faucet off. Darlene didn’t like him wasting water.
He pushed the wheelbarrow back to the barn and whistled for Dog. They hopped in the pickup and headed to Winslow and the Rusty Nail.
«»«»«»
Hawke sat at the counter sipping his coffee, waiting for his meal and Ralph Bremmer to make an appearance. Justine acted like her usual self. He was pleased that after they fell into the patter of conversation as they had for the last five years, the other patrons stopped watching them.
Merrilee hobbled out of the kitchen and plopped his plate in front of him. “Now that you and Justine have things worked out, you going to be coming in here more regular?”
He stared at the old woman. Her eyes watered, her wrinkles had wrinkles from all her years of smoking, and her gray hair was ready for another dye job. Only the last two inches of the thin strands were orange.
“You know this is my busiest season. I can’t stop in for breakfast every morning. But I come as often as I can to support you.” He raised his coffee cup to her and the door jingled.
He didn’t have to turn around and look. Bremmer’s booming voice greeted the people at the table where he always sat.
Hawke dug into his meal. He’d wait until he was ready to leave before he started up a conversation with the man. Hopefully, by then his friends that had already ordered would have eaten and left.
Justine refilled his coffee as he wiped up the last of the egg with his slice of toast. “You going to talk to him?”
“When I finish and more of his friends leave,” he replied in a soft voice.
About then two of the man’s cronies came up to the cash register and paid.
Hawke picked up his coffee cup and moved over to the table where Bremmer and a man by the name of Otis Powell sat.
“What are you sitting with us for?” Bremmer asked, in his booming voice.
“I have a few questions for you about Duane Sigler.” Hawke raised his cup to his lips watching Bremmer over the rim.
“Why do you think I know anything about Duane?” The man’s gaze flit around the room as if trying to assess who had given Hawke the idea.
Powell snorted and said, “You think the cops aren’t going to find out how much money he owed you?”
Bremmer glared at his friend.
“That’s the kind of thing I’m looking for,” Hawke said, smiling at the other man. “Why did he owe you money?”
“He borrowed money to buy that camper he used to take people hunting.” Bremmer leaned forward. “You think I can take that camper? It was my money that bought it.”
Hawke shrugged. “I’m not a lawyer. Are you the only person he owed money?”
“As far as I know. The kind of money I loan, we don’t ask for financial records.” Bremmer started laughing. Powell joined him.
“How much did he charge to take people on hunting trips?” Hawke couldn’t understand why the man hadn’t made enough from his guided hunts to pay Bremmer back.
“I don’t know. Didn’t ask. But he called me Monday night and said he’d have all my money the next day. Then the dumbass goes and gets himself killed.” Bremmer slapped his palm on the table, making all the dishes and the condiment basket jump.
“He said he’d be able to pay you back the next day? How much did he owe you?” Hawke had a feeling the poacher had called Lange to blackmail him. That had to be the call the neighbor saw. But did or didn’t Lange go to pay the man? Or did he take his pistol, shoot the man, ditch the weapon, and then pretend he’d lost it?
“Three thousand. That included interest. He’d paid part of it back a month ago, I think when he booked the hunts.” Bremmer raised his cup to signal he wanted more coffee.
Justine walked over with the coffee pot. She looked at Hawke. “You want more?”
“No. I’m good.” He waited for her to fill the other cups and go back to the counter before standing. He tossed a twenty on the counter by the cash register and walked out to his vehicle. Dog had steamed up the windows in the cab.
He wasn’t supposed to be at work today and he needed to find a birthday present for Kitree. But the pull of the office had him driving over and parking in the lot in front of the building. He let Dog out to pee on some bushes before they both entered the Fish and Wildlife offices in the front of the building.
“Hey, that dog is better looking than you are,” one of the biologists called out.
Hawke just waved a hand, walked down the hall, and through the door that joined the Fish and Wildlife offices with the State Police.
“What are you doing here today? You said you were taking the day off.” Sergeant Spruel walked out of his office.
“I just had an interesting conversation with Ralph Bremmer at the Rusty Nail. Wanted to add it to the report so Donner has it.” Hawke walked over to his desk and sat down. Dog laid down beside him.
Hawke relayed to his superior about the possibility the man had blackmailed the D.A. After talking to Lange, he’d thought it was a set-up, but the only person Sigler would know to blackmail would have been the D.A. himself. And if Sigler had called him, why hadn’t Lange mentioned it, if, like he said, he didn’t kill the man.
“If Donner hasn’t added the phone records into the file, you might want to call him and tell him it could lead to the victim’s killer.” The sergeant walked back into his office.
Hawke clicked the monitor button on his computer, entered his code, and opened the Sigler file. The phone records weren’t in the file. Neither were the financial records. He pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts to find Donner. He hit dial and waited. It went to voicemail.
“This is Hawke. I learned today that Sigler may have been blackmailing whoever shot him. Need to see his phone records as soon as you can get them added to the file.” He hung up, clicked out of the file, and turned off his monitor. There was nothing to do here until he had the records. He’d go pick up Darlene and have her help him find a birthday gift for Kitree.
“Come on,” he said to Dog and headed back through the Fish and Wildlife offices.
Dog circled the pickup as Hawke held the door open, waiting for him to jump in. “What’s the hold up?” he asked.
The dog finally hopped in. Hawke slid behind the steering wheel. He turned the key in the ignition and his phone buzzed.
Donner.
“Hawke,” he answered, leaving the vehicle in park.
“Donner. I’m in Eagle if you want to come get the records and fill me in. I’m doing a follow-up on my other homicide.”
“Can you meet at Al’s Café?” Hawke asked.
“Yeah. That will work. I should be able to shake loose here in about ten.”
“Copy.” Hawke disconnected and put the pickup in reverse. The plus side to meeting Donner at Al’s—it was across the street from Bremmer’s gas station and towing business.
«»«»«»
At the café, Hawke parked so that Bremmer knew he was across the street. Even though it didn’t make sense that the man would have killed someone who owed him money, he might have known more about the blackmail plan than he let on. While Duane Sigler could keep his mouth shut about bagging more wild game than was legal, he was known to be a bragger about everything else. It was hard to believe he didn’t tell the man he was paying off, that he was getting the money from the district attorney.
Hawke walked into the small café run by Bart Ramsey and his wife, Lacie.
Lacie waved to the half a dozen tables. “Take your pick. It’s the slow part of the morning.”
He nodded and took a seat the farthest from the counter where two farmers sat. Facing the door, he flipped over the upside down coffee cup and the woman hurried over to fill his cup.
“Do you need a menu?” she asked.
“No, I’ve eaten. Just waiting for someone.”
She nodded and went back to filling the salt and pepper shakers. Bart walked out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on the white apron he wore. He waved before pouring himself a cup of coffee.
Hawke had met the couple when they’d first moved to the county and purchased the café.
The door jingled and Donner walked in. He headed straight for the table with a folder in his hands.
“Sorry. I haven’t had a chance to get these scanned and entered into evidence.” Donner turned his cup over.
Lacie appeared at the table to fill his cup.
“Can I get two eggs over easy, bacon, and toast, please.” Donner placed his hat in the chair next to him.
“Coming up,” the woman said, cheerfully.
“Missed dinner last night. This was a good idea.” Donner sipped his coffee and slid the folder across the table to Hawke.
He opened the file and started scanning the information as he filled Donner in on what he’d discovered since last talking with him. “Looks like Sigler did call someone and talk for five minutes at a quarter to seven. Then made another call that lasted five minutes and another one that lasted one minute. I’d bet the last call was to Bremmer, telling him he’d be paid the next day.” He studied the numbers. He’d never contacted the D.A. by his direct phone. The only way Sigler could have the number would be if they had been in contact before, when Lange sold the tag. He didn’t like the D.A. all that much, but he didn’t like to think someone who had been putting people in prison, could himself, need to go there.
“Do you want me to find out who these numbers belong to?” Hawke asked.
Donner’s gaze slid over him. “It appears this is your day off. I can get to them in the next day or two.”
Hawke shook his head. “I don’t work like that. Once I’m on the trail, I can’t sit back and wait for someone else to follow it. It’ll only take a few phone calls to find out who has these numbers.”
“Suit yourself. If it was my day off in the middle of a busy season, I’d be at home with my family.” Donner leaned back as Lacie placed his breakfast in front of him.
Hawke stood, taking the folders with him. “My need to find answers is why I do this job and why I don’t have a family.”
He put three dollars on the table for the coffee and walked out of the café. Sitting in his vehicle, he used the quickest method of finding out who the numbers belonged to—he started dialing.
The first number went to voicemail. It was a woman’s voice. “I’m unavailable. Leave a message.”
He shrugged. Why not. “This is Gabriel Hawke, could you give me a call back at...” he left his number.
The next call was a familiar male voice. “Price.”
“Mr. Price, this is State Trooper Hawke. I was wondering why Duane Sigler called you the night of his murder?”
The man sputtered a few seconds. “He didn’t call me.”
“I have phone records that show he did at...” Hawke rustled the papers and looked. “At six-fifty a phone call from Sigler’s phone was made to your phone. And you talked for five minutes.”
“How do you know it was my phone?”
“Because I dialed the number on the record from his phone provider, and I got you.”
A deep sigh whistled through the phone. “He called me saying not to press charges or go after him. He had a plan to make money and would pay me back every cent I gave him for my hunt, and he’d pay the hunting violations. I asked him how he planned to do that and he just said, I know people who would pay for certain information to not come out.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this when I talked to you?”
“Because it would make me look like I knew whatever got him killed. I don’t, and I don’t want whoever shot him to come after me.” The fear in Price’s voice wasn’t fake. His tone rose an octave as he spoke.
“Thank you for telling me this.” Hawke ended the conversation. That first phone call had to be to whoever he was blackmailing. And it wasn’t the district attorney.