Read Online Tamarack County by William Kent Krueger - Free Book Online

he’d been doing for most of his adult life, in and out of uniform. The Carters had only one vehicle, apparently, because the Buick was still in the custody of the Tamarack County Sheriff’s Department and the garage was empty. At one end, a face cord of cut wood stood stacked against the wall, probably the supply that fed the fire in the Judge’s den. There was a worktable, and above it a big square of Peg-Board from which hand tools hung. Standing upright in a large ceramic urn in one corner were gardening tools—rake, shovel, hoe, and the like. There was a big plastic garbage bin on rollers, a power mower, and a gas-powered electric generator, backup, Cork figured, in the event the Judge lost power, which was not an uncommon occurrence in rural Tamarack County. He checked the windows and also the door that opened onto the backyard and found no sign of forced entry.
    He stood a moment, looking the garage over for anything that made his eyes pause. They settled on two ten-gallon gas cans that stood next to the generator. He crossed the garage and lifted them. One was full, the other just over half. A few paces away stood a tall storage cabinet. He strolled to it and opened the doors. Inside were four shelves, filled with containers of oil and brake fluid and power-steering fluid. There were containers of pesticides, garden fertilizers, weed killer. There were terra-cotta pots and a couple of bags of potting soil. What surprised Cork, however, was that the overwhelming odor emanating from the cabinet was the smell of gasoline. The odor seemed to be coming from a few feet of rubber tubing coiled on the top shelf. He leaned close and confirmed this. Then something almost hidden behind the tubing caught his eye. He slid the coil to the left a few inches and spent a long moment staring at what was revealed.
    He returned to the den, where Dross and the priest still kept company with the Judge.
    “Anything?” Dross asked.
    “There’s something I think you should see,” he replied. “I think you should take a look at this, too, Ralph.”
    “What is it?” the Judge asked, clearly not excited about budging from his comfortable den with its comfortable fire.
    “Evidence, I’d say.”
    “Of what?” Dross asked.
    “I’ll let you draw your own conclusions.”
    They followed him to the garage. At the opened storage cabinet, he stopped and held out his hand toward the top shelf.
    “Is that your missing knife, Ralph?”
    The Judge took a quick look and said, “Yes, but what the hell is it doing out here?” He sounded truly astonished.
    “A more interesting question,” Cork said, “is whose blood is that on the blade?”
    The Judge reached toward the knife, but Dross caught his arm.
    “Don’t touch it,” she ordered. “Ted, would you mind taking the Judge back to his den? I need to make some phone calls.”
    “Hell, I’m staying right here,” the Judge insisted.
    “Ralph,” the priest said, “come with me. It’ll be all right. She’s got a job to do.”
    He took the Judge’s arm and gently tried to turn him away, but the old man shook off his hand.
    “I want to see that knife.” His words were pitched high and loud.
    Cork moved his body between the Judge and the cabinet. “Go back inside, Ralph,” he said. He wasn’t a particularly tall man, but in his days as a cop, he’d learned to speak with a voice of towering authority. The Judge stared at him, stared out of a face old and withered and suddenly empty of fight. Then the Judge turned away and went back into the house, accompanied by the priest.
    Dross reached into her coat and drew out her cell phone. “I’ll have Azevedo round up the crime scene team.”
    Before she punched in a number, Cork said, “Something else, Marsha. That coil of tubing there in front of the knife. It reeks of gas.”
    “So?”
    “Those gas cans next to the generator? One’s full, the other about half. Maybe sixteen gallons of fuel in all.”
    “What are you getting