Long Range (Joe Pickett Book 20)(15)

Kapelow, an unknown with an impressive background and the cool-eyed demeanor of a mysterious cowboy who had just ridden into town, beat the two deputies primarily because he hadn’t slung mud or taken a side. Since the election, Steck and Woods had mended fences and become friends again but found themselves working for a boss they knew very little about.

Which created a natural and obvious problem within the department, Joe noted. Since his election, Kapelow hadn’t reached out to the two deputies to smooth things over and welcome them to be a part of his team. He’d chosen to keep them isolated, and rather than speak to them during briefings or over a beer after work, he communicated in terse memos or text messages. Joe had seen a couple of the missives that Woods had showed him on his phone. One had read, Cut your overtime by forty percent. You’re costing me too much money. Another read, Iron your uniform and shine your boots. Appearances are important and every member of my staff needs to look sharp at all times. Appearance = Professionalism.

Sheriff Kapelow, as far as Joe knew, never smiled or joked. He was an imposing physical presence, tall and very fit, and when he spoke it was so softly that listeners had to lean toward him to hear.

He wore his sidearm low on his right hip like a Wild West gunslinger, and his service weapon of choice was a stainless-steel Colt .45 Peacemaker with an ivory grip. He’d made no attempt to get to know Joe, or ingratiate himself into the community. Kapelow seemed to be a blank slate. Locals projected their wants, needs, and observations on him, often unfairly, Joe thought.

The new sheriff was either “strong and silent just like Gary Cooper” or “too full of himself to talk to anyone.” He was either “a no-nonsense lawman” or a “humorless stiff.”

In the short time he’d been sheriff, there had been no major felonies, cases, or controversies for which Kapelow would have had to prove his competence.

Until now.

Joe deeply missed Sheriff Mike Reed’s presence in the room. And he missed Dulcie Schalk’s calm and reasonable approach to every situation brought before her. He felt uncomfortable and out of place in this group of law enforcement people.

Because the local sheriff could request backup or assistance from the local game warden at any time, Joe’s relationship with them was important. Wyoming game wardens could be asked to help with raids and assaults, or called in to assist with ongoing investigations. Kapelow was the fourth sheriff Joe had worked with in Twelve Sleep County. The first two, Bud Barnum and Kyle McLanahan, had been autocratic and corrupt. Mike Reed had been just the opposite: fair, honest, and straightforward.

Thus far, Kapelow was simply inscrutable.

*

PATTERSON CAME INTO the room and shut the door behind him. Because there weren’t any more open chairs, he moved to the back and leaned against the radiator with his arms folded over his chest. It was a signal that Judge Hewitt was on his way.

Joe noted Patterson’s demeanor. The acting county attorney was drained of color and Joe could see that his hands were trembling. Sue Hewitt’s injury and the judge’s reaction to it seemed to have really shaken him up. Joe thought that even though Patterson dealt with crimes and victims every day, he had likely not experienced anything this personal since the massacre on the courthouse steps.

The door burst open into the chambers and Hewitt stepped in. As always, he was in a hurry. His eyes were red and he had bags under them from lack of sleep.

Joe was used to seeing the judge in his robes, and without them Hewitt looked . . . mortal. He wore casual dark slacks and a rumpled white shirt with an obvious bloodstain on the front of it. He probably hadn’t changed his clothes since the night before.

“I just came from the hospital,” Hewitt said, standing behind his high-backed swivel chair and placing his hands on the top of it. “Sue is in critical condition and the doctors are talking about an induced coma so her body can maybe recover. It doesn’t look good, though.”

Hewitt’s eyes misted and he looked away. Joe had never seen him like that before, and he felt his own eyes well up. It was a surprising reaction and he hoped the others in the room didn’t catch it.

Judge Hewitt recovered and he looked from Tillis to Williamson to Patterson to Kapelow to Joe. He held each of their eyes for a moment.

Then he said, “Someone in this room knows who tried to kill me.”





FIVE


THE STATEMENT HUNG IN THE AIR.

In his peripheral vision, Joe noticed that Chief Williamson had blanched and reached for a bottle of water. Tillis had stiffened and his face reddened. Behind him, Joe heard Patterson gulp. Sheriff Kapelow sat stoic and ramrod-straight, as if the accusation had nothing to do with him.

Joe thought Hewitt had meant something else entirely, and it was borne out when the judge cleared his throat and went on.

“Each one of you has brought a long list of miscreants and offenders into my courtroom over the years,” he said. “You’ve taken the sacred oath and made the case against them and testified to put them away where they belong. No one knows these reprobates better than each of you, not counting their mothers. You’ve been there during the investigation, the arrest, and the trial. You were likely in the room when they were sentenced, so you know what their reactions were to my judgment of them.

“What I want each of you to do is to reflect on those cases,” he said. “Make a list. Write down the names of the pukes who reacted to their punishment by saying they wanted retribution against you, your fellow law enforcement officers, witnesses against them, and especially the judge who sentenced them.”