“Be nice,” Truman ordered, pressing on the elbow. Wayne trembled and Truman eased up.
Hurry up, Royce.
An hour later Truman finished up the paperwork on the arrests of Wayne and Kimberly Davidson. The couple deserved each other, he decided. Their antigovernment rage was more than he could stomach. Apparently they both wanted to live in a utopia where Wayne was free to beat on his wife as much as he wanted. Nothing Truman could say would change Kimberly’s belief that it was her husband’s right.
Truman was ready to send them to utopia.
What he didn’t find out was why they were in Eagle’s Nest. Both had said for vacation.
Who vacations here?
It turned out Wayne had a bit of a record from Idaho. Speeding tickets. DUI. Assault (not on his wife). These didn’t surprise Truman, but there was a different charge that caught his attention. He’d called the arresting police department for more details and found out Wayne had been part of a group who’d decided they were done paying taxes and had taken their gripes to court. But instead of appearing in court, they’d gone to a judge’s home and delivered their protest in person.
Wayne had spent a month in jail for that stunt.
Breaking up the morning’s fight had restored a bit of the confidence Truman had been lacking last night. There was also something very satisfying about twisting the arm of a wife-beating asshole. Sandy’s gratitude had helped too.
His cell phone rang, and his heart happily sped up as he read Mercy’s phone number. He answered, and the sound of her voice washed away his thoughts of the morning.
“How’s your day going?” she asked.
“I arrested two people, and Sandy gave me a dozen fresh-baked cookies for dealing with the problem.”
“Sounds like it was worth it. Don’t eat them all.”
“Too late. Lucas, Royce, and Ben smelled them the second I stepped foot in the office. I was smart to eat one on the way back to the department. What’s new over there?” The tone of her voice had told him she had news.
“We identified the body Ben found at the fire. Joshua Pence from Nevada.”
“Nevada? What was he doing here?”
“Good question. We tried to trace his movements through his credit cards, but he doesn’t appear to have any. He owned a small property in Nevada that was foreclosed on a year ago. We can’t figure out where he’s been living since then. His vehicle registration is four years out of date, and his driver’s license was to be renewed two months ago. It didn’t happen.”
“What kind of vehicle?”
“A ninety-five Ford Ranger. Red.”
“I’ll keep an eye out for it. What about family?”
“Long divorced. There’s a daughter who lives in Oregon—but she lives in the Portland area. Not over here. I guess he could have been staying with her.”
“There has to be some recent information on him. It sounds like everything you’re finding is ancient history.”
“That’s exactly how it looks.”
“How can you drive a vehicle with plates that expired four years ago?” Truman ran a hand over his eyes. “Never mind. I answered my own question. Sometimes I forget that not everyone is a law-abiding citizen like me.”
“I’m not sure how you could ever forget that,” Mercy replied, a smile in her tone.
“Call me an optimist.”
“That’s a good thing. Don’t lose it.”
“It’s hard some days.”
“But then someone hands you a dozen cookies.”
“And all faith is restored. Did Joshua Pence have any arrests?”
“One charge from nearly ten years ago, which is how we matched the prints. He’s been clean since then.”
“Huh.” That didn’t sit right with Truman. He’d expected the dead man to have a hefty record. “That sound odd to you?”
“It did. We’re checking to see if we missed any aliases.”
“Maybe he was an innocent passerby at that fire,” he suggested, grasping at straws.
“In the middle of the night?” Mercy asked. “And he had gasoline splashed on the lower legs of his jeans and on his hands. In my book—and Bill Trek’s book—that indicates he was spreading the accelerant. The big question is, who decided they no longer needed Pence’s help and the only way to fire him was to cut his neck?”
“I’d hoped his identity would answer that question. Maybe the daughter will have some answers. Do you have a job history for him? Where did he work?”
“He hasn’t been employed in six years. He was collecting some Social Security, and the checks were being delivered to one of those private postal places in Nevada where you can rent a box. They don’t have a forwarding address for him, and this month’s check was still in the box.”
“I’m surprised. From the sound of things, he needed that check. Seems unusual he’d not pick it up immediately.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
“Anything else going on? How is Kaylie?”
“She’s still working on the school project at her friend’s. She checked in and sounds optimistic they’ll finish it today.”
“I’m going to take a closer look at Cade Pruitt,” Truman admitted. “He’s a bit old to date a high school student.”
Mercy laughed. “You sound like a protective father.”
“I feel like one. I can’t tell you how rattled I was to see her with those four guys the other night. My inner Jedi wanted to run a light saber through them and whisk her out of there.”
“Do you think they’re trouble?”
Truman thought. “I don’t know. Frankly, I identify with them quite a bit. I remember what it was like to be that age and live around here. Maybe that’s why I want to take a closer look,” he admitted sheepishly. “I know how guys that age think and act.”
Someone started talking to Mercy in the background, and she wrapped up the phone call with a promise to keep him up-to-date on any Joshua Pence information.
Truman hung up and immediately started to dig for his own facts on Joshua Pence. The man’s lifeless face was burned into his brain, and he had an overwhelming need to trace the man’s last months.
Who killed you?
TWELVE
Cade sank another nail into the board. The knot-filled wood wouldn’t have been his first choice to build the new bunkhouse, but he understood the wood was cheap, and it wasn’t his place to offer suggestions. Tom McDonald was the boss, and Cade was there to do as he was told. Tom paid well and had plenty of work for him, so Cade wasn’t about to rock the boat with something as unimportant as his opinion of lumber quality.
At least it smelled good. This was much better than tending Tom’s cattle or pigs. Cade’s familiarity with framing had earned him a recommendation from one of his neighbors and gotten his foot in the door at Tom’s ranch. His savings were slowly building, and he’d soon be able to afford a payment on a newer truck. It was a bit embarrassing to pick up Kaylie in his current POS, but she didn’t seem to mind.
A new truck should impress her.
He slammed the palm of his hand against the board, pleased at the solid feel, and grabbed the next board to place.
Chip stuck his head in the bunkhouse. “Hey! Go get some more nails out of the storage shed by the barn. We’re about out.”
Chip was a dick. He was perfectly capable of getting his own nails, but he liked to order Cade around. Especially when there was someone close by to listen. Cade had learned to bite his tongue and just do what the prick wanted. He knew the type of man Chip was: a bully. It was best not to show any emotion around bullies. That was what they fed on: emotions and reactions.
“You bet.” Cade set down his hammer and passed by Chip as he stood in the doorway. Chip and a few other guys were working on an adjacent building, where they were expanding an existing small kitchen along with a large mess hall and meeting room. The new construction lifted Cade’s spirits. Some people said Eagle’s Nest was drying up and dying, but according to Tom McDonald, he had work for lots of men and wanted the facilities to house them.