Chapter 4

Ruby's Niece and the Murder Board

—Eight Months Ago—

The weather was so lousy, Vic hoped everyone would stay home and leave them cozy and catching up on paperwork in the station. She clomped in and pulled off her gloves with her teeth so she could remove her boots, although she had initially shaken snow off before entering. She unzipped, unbuttoned, and yanked her knit cap off with relish, leaving her with the inevitable hat-hair.

The sheriff's office never took a day off, even in a blizzard. People still committed crimes or needed help, it seemed, especially in blizzards, as they apparently completely lost the ability to drive competently once the first flake of snow fell. The early call had been a traffic accident 20 miles outside town, and she was just getting back at 9 am, ready for, at the bare minimum, hot coffee and dry socks.

She and Walt had worked late into the evening on the murder board the night before, and she still wasn't fully awake, even after coffee and a brisk highway accident-scene. The night on the cot at the station hadn't helped. When the snow had kicked in, Walt had offered his place to crash, but she really wasn't in the mood…she was in a not quite mood as raw as the weather. Not quite divorced, not quite done with the investigation, not quite ready to hash out the issues between them, she had yawned her way back to the station and slept fitfully.

"Mail for you," announced Ruby, and handed her an assortment, including a manila envelope. Vic pursed her lips at that one. The only mail like that she had received recently had been from Sean, or she should say, Sean's attorney. The divorce had been delayed ad infinitum by minor financial things which could have been signed off on in a few minutes had he still been in the U.S. She figured he was just sticking it to her by putting her life on hold until the last minutiae had been signed off on in two countries.

"Thanks Ruby," dropped the mail on her desk, and filled her Eagles mug. She warmed her hands and blew on it in preparation to adding the requisite milk and sugar. "Where is everybody, anyway? I thought I was out on the only call."

"Ferg is helping his dad weatherproofing a job site, today. Branch is at a therapy appointment. Walt was in earlier, but went over to the Bee about a half hour ago."

With Branch back part-time and pinch-hitting on dispatch, Ferg still had more duties and responsibilities on his plate. She and Walt had also occasionally thrown some of research into the Big Investigation his way. He was taking his new precedence seriously, but she understood his devotion to family. She had hers, back in Philly, and maybe, if she were very lucky, another one here in Durant, someday. She understood.

"Oh, okay, then," she said, dumping and stirring until she had achieved a satisfactory mixture of coffee in her milk and sugar.

"I'm going to be leaving in a few minutes to help my granddaughter with her wedding plans."

Vic felt like she should know about this. Ruby had a granddaughter old enough to get married? Had Ruby told her about this and she somehow zoned out with all the brain static from her beating at the Gilbert compound, and then Sean's defection from the marriage? Some days she still wasn't sure she had made a complete recovery from either.

"So when's the big day, again?"

"In June, when else?—after the blizzards stop."

"Right. Which granddaughter?"

"Vic, my only granddaughter. Janine. Works at Durant Memorial? I'm sure you've met her before, you're over there so much on cases, and I know I told you she got engaged to John Hopper back at Christmas."

She winced, Ruby sounded so disappointed in her.

"I'm sorry, Ruby. My mind is not where it should be, lately. Divorce…" Vic eyed the envelope, flipping it with her finger.

"Ohhh. More hold-ups?"

"I don't know," she said honestly, and hoped the worry wasn't in her voice. "Maybe I'll be able to answer better after I read this."

"Okay," said Ruby firmly. "You read your mail and I'll head out in a few minutes to help Janine. It's the 27th, if you want to add it to your calendar, now."

"Ah. June 27th. I will. Are there invites?"

"There will be. That's what I'm going to help with, today." She added, almost slyly, her voice ending on a high, questioning note, "Plus-ones will be welcome."

She shook her head no and made a face at Ruby over that, but Ruby persisted.

"So maybe not a plus-one, but…did you find a place, yet?"

"No. Well, I'll amend that, yes, but there's not much out there on a deputy's salary. I'd need a room-mate."

Evidently she was really disappointing Ruby, now. The dispatcher's mouth pursed.

"So, should we just use your old address for the invitation, and forward it?"

She clacked her tongue. "Uh, no. There are new tenants, and it might never get to me at that rate. Just send anything here."

"Here."

"Yeah, the station."

"You want me to send you a wedding invitation to the jail."

Vic exhaled, the suspense of what was in the envelope was killing her, and just below it was another one she saw from over at the courthouse. What now? She hadn't been kidding, her mind really was not on what Ruby was saying.

"Whatever you and—Janine—think. She's always been so nice to us at the hospital." There. The young woman who had given her the manila envelope Gorski had left. At least she placed Janine, and she was pretty sure the last name was Reynolds, like Ruby's. "Please. Send Janine my congratulations. Oh, and hand-deliver it, if you want, don't worry about an address."

"Will do," said Ruby, mollified, as she grabbed a stack of what appeared to be the invitations, including a legal tablet covered with an intimidating list, and the inevitable Signature Ruby post-it notes.

"Wait," said Vic, as she felt her wet socks squishing on the wet floor. It was more than time to change to the dry socks in her desk. "Let's get a bag to protect those. It's wet out there." She found one of the waste can trash bags and helped Ruby get the invitations inside. "I'm sorry, Ruby. I will do better."

Ruby patted her arm and began to perform the button, zip, boot-tugging and insulation required for a trip back into the weather. "I know you will, Vic. Divorces are sapping. It should all be over soon and only get better from here."

The office phone rang, and Vic shooed Ruby toward the elements. Resigned, she answered the phone. She really didn't want to go back out right away. Her coffee wasn't even cold, yet.

"Absaroka County Sheriff's Department."

"Vic? Glad you made it back safe."

"Oh, hi, Walt. What's the special, today?"

"French toast, want me to bring you an order? But I need to talk to Ruby."

"Yes to toast, no to Ruby. She just left. She'll be at Janine's."

"Okay, so no French toast for her. Do you have Janine's number?"

She flipped through Ruby's Rolodex and read it off to Walt. Sometimes Branch produced good ideas, like a numbers database to store on all their phones. It was time to update the department, even little by little, but it was not in place today. "And thanks for the French toast," she added. "It's filthy out there on the 16, I don't want to go out again unless there's a body."

"And I sure don't want any bodies. I'll wait on your order, back soon."

"I know."

She plunked down the phone as so ended another completely passionless exchange. It had been absurdly possible to pretend there was nothing between them, ever since the Barlow Connally fiasco. Anything personal had been put on hold until the investigation could be completed. Sometimes she had to ask herself if it had really happened, being held in Walt's arms in the examining room, and his eyes as he had asked her to stay while she read through her divorce papers, or whether she had just imagined it all.

Then she would remember how he had been willing to sacrifice his life at Chance's compound, had protected her from Branch, from knowledge of his wife's death, and before that, from Gorski's stalking, and she thought she almost understood.

She thought how right and pride-of-place it felt, cleaning his ear after he had returned from the David Ridges ambush. Well, that day at the Pony at least Cady and Henry must have suspected something afoot, but Walt had never commented on it or given a sign. At the time, she had thought he had been on the verge of kissing her right there at the bar, with her face in his, but feathers—even one feather, if you could believe it, had been enough to distract him completely, to take his solo act down to Denver, excluding her. She sighed. She did, almost understand. It had dogged his actions ever since she met him, so no surprise that it still weighed heavy and was something he felt compelled to finish before anything else intruded.

Almost understanding also included figuring out that he would not say or do anything which might put her at risk until the larger investigation, the one over-arching the Connally shooting, was complete. That anything included starting a relationship which might be used as leverage to weaken him, by hurting her as Martha, Cady, Henry and even Branch had been in the past. Together, over several weeks, they had finally figured it out, that the interactions between Barlow and Jacob had been ordered by three judges and yet nameless higher-up, possibly from his past. What he hadn't figured out yet was who the exact higher ups, singular or plural were, yet, or if he had…he wasn't sharing with her. He was on the track, though. With Walt, that was sometimes enough.

And not a patient soul, she had to admit that the investigation was taking so fucking long…At one point, one evening a couple of weeks ago while they were both perusing the murder board at his place over Rainiers, she had snapped.

"I still don't fucking get it!" she exclaimed. "We're missing something."

"Probably several somethings," he admitted. "We need links here, here, and," he gestured, "here.

"We need the financials, at least of those judges."

"We don't have enough yet to ask for them."

"So, let's not ask." Her eyes bored into his.

"You're suggesting…"

"There's something in the financials of each of those judges that have to be the link. Three different judges, three different counties, all doing business with Jacob and/or Barlow."

"That in itself is pretty unusual, but not damning. The business transactions don't show anything unusual."

"So, it's not just business. There's something else there, something which doesn't show in the first go-round. Where else could casino money from investors be laundered?"

Walt did the Stubble Rub. That's what she had dubbed it, when he was in Deep Thinking Mode.

"Those men are all in their late 40s or early 50s." He was flipping through his notes from their biographies. "They all have children."

"Children—as in older children, young adults."

"Yep, as in—when Cady was 16, I suddenly wondered how we were going to pay for her college. I had always thought we'd sell the Powder Junction Ranch…"

"You had a ranch in Powder Junction?" That surprised her. Of course, she didn't know much about his finances or holdings, but she had assumed during the course of Henry's trial-to-be that it was not much. It was not her business, and she would not ask.

"Still do—my parents' ranch. I inherited it when they died, but I was sheriffing up here, and I couldn't work it. It was paid off, so I thought I'd refinance it, and I did. It paid for college—but not law school. I rent it out to a family down there."

She didn't say anything. There were memories in his eyes. Let him tell it his way.

"We bought this land outright, but after Cady decided to go to law school, Martha and I were already building here, so, I took a mortgage on this acreage, with the anticipated improvement of a home. It was tough for a while, paying two mortgages and building this property. Even after the first one was paid off, it's one reason this house is so modest, because it took a while to pay this one off, too…I've been taking most of my salary for payments. I just made the last payment on the loan last month. I'm not a bit sorry, because Cady's education came first, and I'm not leaving her with any bills to clean up after me."

"Oh. I didn't know…" She thought of all the times she had disparaged his modest, unfinished cabin, and suddenly felt leaden inside. There was such a thing as being too snarky.

"But…" he continued, "If these men have college-age children, there might be funds with their social security numbers that we can't see, even from a cursory financial viewpoint. Maybe that's where the laundering is, one level back. Sounds like a Malachi twist on the financials of Barlow and Jacob. Maybe we need to look at the socials of the children."

That had been two weeks ago. A recent source which Walt had not divulged, had provided plenty of ammo. All three judges had multiple education accounts for each child, and mysterious payments funneled into the accounts each month from an anonymous source. All three had the same anonymous source. Bingo! Another tidbit…Cady's lawyer friend had to be implicated, because he was evidently sending the money to the Caimans and then back to those accounts. Talk about double-laundering! Walt was about fit to be tied, but he had said he couldn't say a thing until the investigation was wrapped up and sent out, except maybe caution Cady to be careful who she dealt with. More than ever, Vic was just glad they hadn't told Ruby—who could keep a secret, but through whom an innocent comment might have destroyed the investigation—or Cady.

So they were getting close, but as of yet, neither of them had talked about themselves, or the vendetta attempt on Jacob. After Walt had broken the case, she bit her tongue and resolved to wait. It was why he had been on it, after all, to find justice for Martha. Let that at least go to the state, if not along to the Feds, and they both would be well out of it.

Yes, she could still wait and be one of the boys, but really, really—they were, the both of them, not getting any younger. If he wanted a relationship with her, or heaven forbid, even consider a family, they needed to start talking—well, more than that—pretty soon. But she shook off those thoughts; they were blizzard thoughts, something unproductive because she had too much time on her hands. The two of them needed to maintain the professional and impersonal relationship they had displayed for more than three years, even while the true nature of it had morphed into something different, simmering just beneath the surface, even if neither would or could yet acknowledge it.

Her eyes were drawn back to the two envelopes.

And suddenly, fervently,despite the weather, she wished there were a body, so they could be working together in the field as a team, taking her mind off…everything else.