Long Range (Joe Pickett Book 20)(17)
“Yes, sir,” Williamson said while looking at his boots.
Trooper Tillis said, “Your Honor, I’m not sure I can help you here. I didn’t get assigned to the highways around here until a couple of months ago. I was over in Jackson before that. I’ve only testified in your court a couple of times and both of those offenders are still in jail. If you want a list of past offenders who have it out for you, you’ll need to talk to the guys who were stationed here before me.”
Tillis gathered himself up in his chair as if preparing to leave, but a twin-laser stare from Hewitt froze him to his seat.
Judge Hewitt said, “So your contribution to the homicidal targeting of a judge and the possible murder of his wife is to tell me to go talk to some troopers who were around here before? While Sue is clinging to the last thread of her life in a hospital?”
“W-well—” Tillis stammered, but Hewitt cut him off.
“You go talk to them,” Hewitt said. “Go through their arrest records for the past few years. Make a list of suspects and then go interview those suspects. Pretend you’re an officer of the law instead of a glorified traffic cop. Do you think you can do that, Tillis?”
The trooper mumbled, “Yes, Your Honor,” his entire head flushing red.
Hewitt nodded his satisfaction. Then he turned to Joe.
“Pickett,” he said. “The list you are going to make is unique in my way of thinking. The violators you bring before me are mainly hunters and other types who are well versed in high-powered rifles. They also tend to be independent and sneaky—not the typical meth head or wannabe gangbanger Duane would defend or prosecute.”
Joe nodded in agreement. He looked at the side of Kapelow’s head and asked, “Has it been determined that the bullet was fired from a rifle and not a handgun?”
“Pretty much,” the sheriff responded softly.
Hewitt said, “It was from a rifle. I’ll bet you any amount of money that it was from a high-powered rifle. A pistol shooter would have had to have been much closer to my house and I would have seen him out there. It was a rifle.”
Joe said, “Some handguns have a lot of range and accuracy. My buddy Nate Romanowski has a single-action revolver he can shoot accurately at several hundred yards.”
“Maybe it was him,” Williamson offered.
“It wasn’t Nate,” Joe scoffed. “He doesn’t operate that way.”
“And he wouldn’t have missed and hit my wife,” Hewitt said. “I would guess you’ll be able to follow up on my request in short order?”
“Yup, Your Honor,” Joe said.
Already, Joe had come up with several names of suspects. As he and Marybeth had discussed, the judge had a lot of enemies.
First on the list was Dallas Cates, or one of Cates’s associates. Although Joe had helped put Cates into prison two years ago, Dallas had an almost legitimate beef with the judge. Hewitt, Joe, Dulcie Schalk, and Sheriff Reed—they’d all bent the rules to put Dallas Cates away. Cates had vowed retribution. But as far as Joe knew, Dallas Cates was in the midst of serving five to seven years in the Wyoming State Penitentiary. Despite that, the ex–rodeo star was charismatic and convincing enough that he might try to reach beyond jail to someone who would take a shot at the judge.
Joe planned to start there.
There were others. Ron Connelly, aka the Mad Archer from Baggs, had been thrown the book by Judge Hewitt, with maximum sentences for wanton destruction of wildlife, assault, and animal cruelty. He’d targeted Joe’s half-Corgi, half-Labrador dog, Tube, with an arrow. The Mad Archer had been overcharged and oversentenced, though. Judge Hewitt clearly hadn’t liked him and said as much during sentencing.
Although his weapon of choice was his compound bow, Joe could conceive of the Mad Archer taking up a rifle and plotting his revenge.
There was also Dennis Sun, the millionaire rancher and film producer who had purchased a large ranch on the eastern slope of the Bighorns. Sun was used to having his own way, and he’d long decided that Wyoming Game and Fish Department rules and regulations hampered his style. When he wanted a new set of antlers for one of his many guest cottages, he’d kill a mule deer buck or bull elk despite the hunting season dates or hunting licenses required. Joe had caught Sun poaching on his own ranch and had arrested him.
Although Sun had hired celebrity lawyer Marcus Hand, it was assumed he would get a slap on the wrist and sent home. But it hadn’t worked out that way, for two reasons. The first was Judge Hewitt’s visceral hatred toward Hand in his courtroom. The second was because the record bull elk in velvet that Sun had poached was one Hewitt had scouted himself and had planned to harvest for his own game room, although legally.
Dennis Sun had been sentenced to multiple hunting violations; his airplane, helicopter, ATVs, and rifles all seized, and his hunting and fishing privileges revoked for life. He’d also been sentenced to six months in the county jail, although Hand had appealed and won and Sun had gotten off with time served. Even so, Sun had vocally attacked Judge Hewitt as he was led from the courtroom in handcuffs. The story had been prominent in both Variety and The Hollywood Reporter and Sun had claimed that Joe and Hewitt had combined to adversely affect his livelihood.
Sun, Joe guessed, had money and connections to hire someone to take a shot at the judge.
And that was just the start of Joe’s list.