“I’m sure it was someone stopping by to help,” Yaeger said, proud he had a reasonable answer at the ready.
“Probably,” Patton said with less conviction than a few moments earlier. The overheated kitchen was starting to close in on him, and he began to sweat under his new suit. “Thank you, Yaeger. That will be all.”
Patton wanted to express his final condolences to the widow and her newly arrived son and get back outside, where he could breathe.
Ten minutes later, he was inhaling large gulps of clean, cold mountain air as he stood in the middle of a set of tire tracks that cut through the snow of the unplowed street. He considered the situation. A single set of tracks. Only one car had driven down this road since late the previous night. All the police units had been directed to park at the opposite end of the street and walk down to the Van Ders’ house. The original responding unit was still parked in front of Rucker’s house, just behind the idling ambulance. No one except Rucker’s mystery man had come this way. What are the odds of that? He thought. His brain itch was really going now.
Rucker’s garage door opened with a loud scraping sound, and Patton jumped. He watched the coroner’s GMC Power Wagon bound over the snow effortlessly. Rucker expertly spun the four-wheel-drive vehicle in the street and drove north, towards the city’s downtown, away from Patton and his solitary tire tracks. The crime scene unit, or more properly, what passed for a crime scene unit in Colorado Springs, watched Rucker drive off, and almost as if on cue, they turned as one to Patton. Their collective intent was obvious: Okay, the bizarre man is gone. Can we stop now? Patton turned away, feeling their disappointment on his back, and trudged up the street. Following the tracks was a little obvious, and in real life, they never led anywhere, but still, someone had to do it.
He walked to the corner, and the tracks turned left. Looking up the street, he saw that the parallel tracks were once again the only ones in the snow. “This is too easy,” he said to himself. He reached for his cell phone and called the detective on the scene. “Mayer? It’s Patton. I’m following this set of tire tracks, and they head east. Have someone who knows how to drive in this shit follow me, and tell them to stay away from the tracks.”
After a moment of silence on the other end, Mayer responded, “No problem, Chief.”
“I’m not the chief anymore,” he mumbled to himself. He was a cross between a baby-sitter and a tutor. The ringing of his cell phone brought him back to the moment. “Hello,” he said gruffly.
“Hey, Dad,” a voice said and Rodney’s mood immediately lifted.
“Hi sweetheart; how’s life in the big city?” His daughter Laura had from the day she was born the unique ability to make Rodney feel good about the world.
“Oh you know, exciting, glamorous, thrilling, same thing every day.”
“I realize what a heavy burden you bear just being you. How’s Glen, how’s my favorite grandchild?”
“Glen is wonderful, as always, and your favorite grandchild is right on schedule to appear May first. How’s life in the mountains?”
“Turning out to be a little more challenging than promised. Is that why you’re calling?” One of the networks had just done an investigative piece that compared the violence in Colorado Springs to Detroit.
“So what’s going on up there?”
“Is this my daughter asking or the Assistant to the Special Prosecutor?”
“Just me. Your high crimes and misdemeanors have not yet reached the ears of anyone important, yet.”
“To tell you the, Laura, I don’t have a clue as to what’s happening here. Whatever it is, it’s affecting the very fabric of society. Even in the bad old days, I never saw such an outbreak of wanton violence.” Rodney’s voice had become painfully serious.
“Drugs?” Laura asked.
“Not like any I’ve ever seen before. I suppose it could be a new designer drug, but the problem cuts across every social strata and age group. Besides, the health department says no. We’ve looked for contaminants in the air, water, food; you name it, and we’ve checked it out twice.”
“How are you holding up? You sound more tense than usual.”
“I’m all right; things here really aren’t set up to deal with a problem of this magnitude.” He always tried to stay positive with his daughter.
“You’re not in Baltimore anymore, Daddy.”
“I know that. Everyone looks to me for direction. I’m not used to that; the people I worked with back home were professionals — they had experience and instincts of their own. No one here can make a decision without first running it by me.” He was afraid that he was starting to pull her down and wanted to change the subject.
“Two comments,” Laura said in her characteristic pattern.
“Yes, counselor,” Rodney answered sarcastically.
“First, this is a grossly unfair comparison. The men and women. .”
“Woman,” he corrected her.
“You are such a sexist SOB. Now as I was saying, the people in your unit were seasoned veterans handpicked by you for those very characteristics. Secondly, and this is the most important point, are you letting people follow their instincts and make their own decisions, or are you, in true form, overwhelming everyone with your charming personality?”
“You’re asking me if I’m being an asshole?”
“I would never be so crass, but you do have an understanding of the question.” Laura liked teasing her father.
“I always told your mother we should never have encouraged you to talk. You were so much better when all we had to do to shut you up was to put a pacifier in your mouth.” Rodney loved being teased by his daughter. “It may not matter much longer because if I don’t figure out what’s happening here, and soon, I may just show up on your doorstep applying for the nanny position.”
“I’m sure it’s not that bad.”
“Actually it is. The mayor has been dropping some notso-subtle hints that he may have made a mistake hiring outside of the department.” So much for staying positive with his daughter. “Hey, you’re not going to believe what I’m doing at this very minute.”
“I’m guessing it’s not scuba diving.”
“No, but you’re surprisingly close. I am walking through the snow following a set of tire tracks left by a potential murder suspect.”
“My father the bloodhound; I am so proud,” she pretended to choke up with tears. “Daddy, I do have to go. I’ll call you this weekend.”
“All right, honey. If anything changes call me sooner.” He closed his phone and the usual wave of emptiness filled his heart. She was so far away and he missed her so much, but she had her own life now, and the days of holding her hand as he walked her to school were gone.
Yaeger and his partner came up behind Patton in a police cruiser; they drove slowly, careful not to obscure the tracks or run over their new boss. Patton glanced back and thought that they looked like a couple of teenage boys out for a joy ride in the old man’s car. “This is my backup,” he said to himself. He kept walking, choosing the cold over their obligatory nervous banter. Despite his size, he could move quickly if the need or desire arose, and this morning, he wanted to cover some ground. After thirty minutes, he had followed the tracks two and a half miles. They crossed two major streets, but as luck would have it, each time the tracks continued straight across the intersection. This is absolutely incredible, he told himself. Things like this just never happen.