Chapter 3

Genie Philly-Style

Okay, this story is *not* going as I commanded it…I think I need the genie from the following story to help me out here, but it at least seems like an interesting path. Please let me know what you think. I promise they will be getting back to Survival—but, is it survival in the wild, survival of their relationship, plain old survival from whoever has it out for them, or…all of the above? This chapter is set a few weeks after the S3E10 ATA shooting at Barlow Connally's ranch.

P.S. I personally have experienced a Sheridan, WY soaphole and sat on cacti. HA!

—Ten Months Ago—

The old chalkboard had appeared in the cabin's back storage room like magic. It was a bonafide mystery. One day the room had been empty and full of dust, the next morning as he carried his trash to the bear-proof can behind the back porch, the board filled it, and the room had been freshly swept. He hoped the mystery would be solved before the snow came in a couple of months, because he always wintered his tack back there. When he got home from the Pony that evening a floor lamp with a brass shade had joined the chalkboard, with a long extension cord running into the house. He idly wondered if he rubbed the lamp, the genie might appear and solve the mystery.

When he thought back, he knew he had been at the Pony for dinner and a few beers the last couple of evenings, so no one had been at the cabin when the magic had been happening. He really couldn't say anything to anyone without sounding crazy, but he had an idea who might have done it. He just had to wait until he could ask her. Unfortunately, that week he and Vic were on different shifts, so he didn't see her if he left right at the end of his shift.

Ruby's sharp eyes immediately noticed the missing board in his office when she brought in his post-its that same morning he had noticed the lamp. She had been off the day before, or he was sure he would have been informed about the absence sooner.

"I—took it home to repair. It wasn't in the best of shape."

"Uh-huh. Been taking it out on the office furniture again, Walt?"

"Uh, not recently. Maybe it was from before."

"Well, okay, then. Just remember that board is County property! We could get someone out here to fix it, you know. Elmer Dixon, maybe. He's a pretty fair carpenter."

"Well, so am I. I'll have it back soon."

"Like your cabin was going to get finished four years ago?"

"Ruby, not today. I will return it in better shape than it left. All right?"

She reluctantly nodded and let it go. He hated to deceive her about anything, and most of the time, trying to pull one over on her didn't work at all. It was just, he wasn't sure why the chalkboard had done its magic appearing act, and until he did, he didn't want to discuss it with anyone.

He worked late, hoping to catch Vic coming in for night shift. The investigation into the machinations behind Barlow's actions was going nowhere. He was dawdling in his frustration as he heard her boots taking the stairs at a rapid clip—like he used to. Now it seemed every day was just trudge, trudge, trudge. He was never in a good mood when an investigation spun its wheels, and especially this one. About a minute later, she filled his door.

"Oh, hey, Walt. I need to talk, if you've got a minute."

"Okay." He waved her in.

She shut the door behind her, came in and just stood there. That was odd, usually she would pull a chair up to his desk and put her boots up on it, or at least sit on the couch.

"I don't know if you noticed…"

He let his eyebrows rise, urging her to continue.

"Um, the chalkboard isn't in here, anymore."

"Ruby brought my attention to it, earlier. The case of the missing chalkboard."

"Well, it's not missing. I took it out to your place."

"To my place."

"Yep." She could use words he used against him so well…

"Why?"

"Well, I don't know if you've made any progress on the conspiracy, you know, how Malachi was getting court pipelines, and if anyone was above Barlow and Jacob in the loop…and you sure haven't been sharing…"

"Not much."

"…well, I thought maybe we could try it full-out Philly-style and do a murder board. And then I thought, fuck, that won't work, because we don't know who is in on the conspiracy, and people are in and out of here all day."

"Okay…"

"So I thought, where could it go where no one but a few people knew about it, to add things, adjust, try to put a case together for the state D.A….?"

"And you came up with…"

"Your back room. Okay, I know I should have asked you first, but I wanted to take it at night while I was on shift, and I used the back entrance here and at your cabin. I didn't want anyone to see me taking it."

"Vic, you sound paranoid."

"Walt—your wife was murdered, Henry imprisoned, Cady hurt—presumably all at the bidding of this group of people. How did Malachi know so soon when the court dates had changed? Why were they going to deny bail for Henry?"

He scowled. Those aspects and a dozen others had bothered him, worrying at him like splinters under his skin. They still did from time to time, he was almost just numb from it all.

"How did Barlow and Jacob dream up the idea of killing Martha? Barlow executed, pardon the pun, but Jacob had to be in on it to take the money for Ridges."

He knew his scowl had turned thunderous. It always did when Martha's name was used in any sentence involving those two men.

"Okay," he said, trying to direct back to the main issue, trying to keep the darkness from the edge of his vision.

"Walt, you are just too close to this…you probably shouldn't be on it except you see things when none of the rest of us do, so you have to be on it."

He met her eyes at that, but she continued.

"Well, we are not set up to be techie, so we plain and simple do a murder board. We base it at your place, and when we have all the evidence in hand, make the connections, we put all the documents and links on a flash drive and turn it into the D.A. We may not be able to get all the records we want ourselves, but if we give them enough to get involved, get them tempted—something which is so compelling even they can't ignore—well, they might even bring the Big Guns in, and they can get anything we don't find. We just have to establish the links and enough evidence to get them poking around."

Big Guns was the ASD code for the Feds. Big Guns could take years to complete an investigation. It wasn't what he wanted, but he knew that with a conspiracy at that level, he probably didn't have the resources to complete that extensive an investigation. Hell, who was he kidding? He didn't have a tenth of the resources needed.

She went on, "…at least it will be out of our hands and we can go back to being ASD, rescuing cows caught in soap holes and stranded hikers who sit on cacti and the like."

Those two events had occurred on shifts the week before, and he tried to suppress a quick grin. It pulled him from the blackness, as she always managed to, it was a neat hat trick but no one could ever quite explain how she did it. Maybe it also fit the genie persona.

"Okay, then. You're lead on this. What next?"

"Well, we decide who to include in making the murder board."

"Ferg?"

"I think so, he can at least be researching when we need it. I'm not sure where Branch's head is, now. I know he said some things when we found him with Barlow, but those could probably be knocked out in a court of law, and I'm just not sure how rational he is, yet. Plus, with Branch's Bad Boy stuff since his shooting, the court might not believe him. Since Barlow's still alive, we need to find concrete proof behind everything, because Branch may be protecting him for some reason. Nobody's talking, so we go paper trail and follow the money."

"Branch may be protecting family, like Lucian, or his mother, from the fall-out."

"That could be. In any event, I think we have to keep our cards close to the vest. When time comes, I'll put it on several flash drives. One should go with all the original documents in the bank box—that only one of us can open. That way, if something happens…" She tilted her head and shrugged.

He stared at her. She really had thought this out, but the implications of that chilled him.

"That's because we don't know where this will lead," she said, sounding completely reasonable, but she was also the one who had taken the chalk board at night and used back entrances.

"The lamp…"

She smiled. We'll be working nights when we are both off duty."

He sighed. His mood was still dark, but much lighter with a plan more extensive than the simple vengeance he had intended, and with the prospect of more Terror Time. Neither of them had mentioned his plans regarding Jacob Nighthorse since the day of the Barlow Connally ranch shooting, nor had they addressed him asking her to stay. It was like they were at an impasse, a limbo of their own making. If they could get this investigation into some element of motion, maybe those two topics could eventually be addressed.

"Okay, then. Monday night we begin."

She gave a sour smile. "Feel free to tack something up there beforehand if the urge hits."

He wanted to tack up Jacob's picture, but then, if the urge really hit, the board would truly require repair before construction of the murder board even began.

He also wondered what full-out 'Philly-style' would entail.