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  “One of the CBI shipping guys is standing outside our door with a trolley full of boxes,” Ava said.

  With that, the team got to work. Twenty old, smelly, broken boxes later, the CBI shipping guy waved goodbye through the window. They stood back and looked at the mess for a moment, only to notice a sheriff standing outside the lab. Fran spoke to him briefly before he disappeared to get the evidence from Pitkin County. He reappeared with a trolley full of ripped and broken boxes.

  “The car is here!” Ava yelled as she hung up the phone.

  “On it,” Leslie said, tying up her hair as she walked out of the lab.

  “Do we expect anything else?” Fran asked, from the doorway of Ava’s office.

  “FBI,” Ava said. “But I think that’s. . .”

  She clicked through an email.

  “It’s a data dump,” Ava said. “They let ‘the locals’ — their words — keep most of the physical evidence. This is a dump of. . . Huh. . .”

  “What?” Fran asked.

  Ava didn’t respond for a long moment.

  “What is it?” Fran asked again.

  Ava looked up at her. Fran waited a moment before Ava spoke.

  “They had a suspect,” Ava said.

  “Who?” Fran asked.

  “They don’t say here,” Ava said. “They say that they had a suspect with enough evidence to bring the suspect in but that they weren’t able to.”

  “Why?” Nelson asked, looking up from his laptop.

  “It doesn’t say,” Ava said. “The lead investigator — a detective with Pitkin County Sheriff’s Department — has retired and lives in Parker. They suggest that we speak with him. No, sorry — they strongly suggest that we speak with him before we go through evidence. I guess he ran the show on the ground. Knows the case inside and out.”

  “Did they give us a phone number?” Fran asked.

  “Yes, we have a phone number,” Ava said. “And. . . oh, it says that they called him.”

  Ava looked up at Fran.

  “He’s waiting for us to call,” Ava said.

  Ava picked up the phone. Fran gave Ava a nod and closed the door. A few minutes later, Ava came out of her office.

  “He’s already on his way here,” Ava said.

  “We can go to him!” Nelson said.

  Clearly, Fran had updated Nelson on the situation. Looking at her watch, Ava nodded.

  “He should be here any minute,” Ava said. “Call Leslie. Let’s go out to lunch.”

  “You’re buying?” Nelson asked.

  “Sure,” Ava said, holding up what they knew was her credit card on Seth’s account. “Can you pick a place that we will all like?”

  “Sure,” Nelson said with a grin. “Seth’s price range?”

  “Sure. We’ll have lunch and come back here for an official interview,” Ava said. “Start in on inventorying all of this. . .”

  Ava wrinkled her nose at the volume and stench of the evidence.

  “Why don’t we wear our old clothing and go through it all tomorrow?” Fran asked. “This stuff has been sitting in someone’s warehouse for three decades. We can wait another day.”

  “Good plan,” Ava said. “But for now. . .”

  Ava nodded toward the hallway. A uniformed police officer was guiding an elderly man to their door. Fran opened the door.

  “Detective Ottel,” Fran said. “Fran DeKay. We’re getting ready for lunch. Would you like to join us?”

  Three

  The elderly man’s face flushed, and he nodded.

  “Lunch sounds wonderful,” Detective Ottel said, “but it’s Erik.”

  “Fran,” she said with her hand on her chest.

  “Seth, here?” Detective Ottel asked.

  “He’s under the weather,” Ava said, coming to the door. “You’ll have to deal with the second string.”

  “You’re Amelie Alvin,” Detective Ottel said.

  “Ava,” she corrected.

  “That’s right,” Detective Ottel said with a grin. “Very nice to finally meet you. I’ve known Seth since we were kids.”

  “East High?” Ava said.

  “Oh, no,” Detective Ottel said. “I’m at least ten years older than Seth. We went to the same Sunday school before he left for New York. I was head altar boy when he started.”

  “Really?” Ava laughed.

  “Indeed,” Detective Ottel said with a nod.

  “I made a reservation at the Italian place around the corner,” Nelson said. “It’s fancy, but very good. A lab favorite. Does that sound good?”

  “You’re paying?” Detective Ottel asked.

  They pointed at Ava. The detective grinned.

  “Sounds great to me, young man,” Detective Ottel held out his elbow to Fran. “Would you mind, young lady? I’m not real steady on my feet.”

  “My pleasure,” Fran said, slipping her hand through his elbow. “But only if you tell us embarrassing stories about Seth.”

  “First, you should know that I was a friend of Saul’s. Seth’s older brother,” Detective Ottel said. “Was in the same squad in Laos with him.”

  Not knowing what to say, they walked to the elevator in silence.

  “From what I gather, he was a great man,” Ava said as they stepped onto the elevator.

  “Saul O’Malley?” Detective Ottel said.

  Ava gave a nod.

  “The very best,” Detective Ottel said. “Saved my life more than once.”

  They rode the elevator down to the Lobby where they picked up Leslie. The heaviness of the elevator slipped away. They amicably chatted as they walked to the nearby restaurant.

  Lunch was predictably wonderful and expensive. They laughed, drank expensive wine, and wonderful food. Even Nelson, a clean-eating bodybuilder, ate dessert. They shuffled back to the lab. Leslie returned to the vehicle lab, and Fran began logging in the boxes of evidence. Nelson started going through the mountain of digital evidence from the FBI.

  Ava settled Detective Ottel in her office.

  “I hope you don’t mind if I tape our conversation,” Ava said.

  “Not at all,” Detective Ottel said. “Will the others join us?”

  Ava turned on the voice recorder on her phone.

  “I usually talk to people first,” Ava said. “I’ll share with the team what we talked about and the tapes. If they have questions, they may call you, or we’ll invite you back to speak with us. Will that work for you?”

  “Sure,” Detective Ottel said. “Of course. Happy to help. It’s just. . .”

  “Sir?” Ava asked.

  “This case, you know,” Detective Ottel cleared his throat. “Haunts me. To this day.”

  “What does, sir?” Ava asked.

  “This case,” Detective Ottel said. “Those men — they were cops like me. They burned alive. On my watch. In my county.”

  Ava squinted. Clearly, the Detective was more upset about the deaths of the three U.S. Capitol Police but not the senator. Ava didn’t say anything for a moment.

  “I’ve had nightmares about it,” Detective Ottel said.

  Ava nodded her understanding. Detective Ottel looked away to collect himself.

  “Let’s start with our names,” Ava said. “This is Ava O’Malley, head of Denver Back-up Lab. I’m speaking with Detective Erik Ottel in my office at the Denver Crime Lab. Detective Ottel? Can you state your name?”

  “Detective Erik Ottel, Pitkin County Sheriff Department, retired,” he said.

  “Thank you,” Ava said. “This is an informal interview. I’m looking for what you remember, what stood out in your mind at the time, and any place you think we should take another look.”

  Detective Ottel gave a quick nod.

  “Start at the beginning,” Ava said.

  “For me?” Detective Ottel asked.

  “Sure,” Ava said.

  “I was asleep in bed with my wife,” Detective Ottel said. “She was alive then. We were. . . You know, you never know when they are
happening that you are having your happiest days.”

  The detective sighed.

  “When I look back, that was what they were for me,” Detective Ottel said.

  Ava gave him a moment to collect himself.

  “I was in bed with my wife,” Detective Ottel said. “Our children were at home in their beds. The phone rang. Landline, of course. The receiver was right next to my head. It rang and I answered it. That’s how it started for me. The station called and said that there was a fire.”

  “In those days, the entire department went out when the forest burned,” Detective Ottel said. “I was a detective then. I got the call and got up. I kissed my wife on the cheek, said goodbye to the children, and went out to the fire. It was two days. . .”

  Detective Ottel shrugged.

  “Maybe a day and a half,” he said, “before we realized there was a car there. Another day before we realized who was in the vehicle. It was. . .heavy. A U.S. Senator had been killed in our county. The FBI swooped in.”

  Detective Ottel shook his head. Ava waited.

  “The sheriff got into a pissing match with the Special Agent in Charge,” Detective Ottel said. “I was hamstrung by the sheriff. That’s why there’s so little in the file.”

  “Do you have something else?” Ava asked.

  Detective Ottel grinned.

  “Did you bring it with you?” Ava asked.

  Detective Ottel took a USB stick from his pocket.

  “My personal journal, my thoughts, photos. . . Things that didn’t make the official file,” Detective Ottel said. “My son scanned everything. Took pictures of everything. So I could give it to you.”

  “No forensics?” Ava asked.

  “There weren’t any,” Detective Ottel said. “Not really.”

  Ava nodded.

  “What do you think happened there?” Ava asked.

  Detective Ottel sighed, and then nodded.

  “You’re asking a great question,” Detective Ottel said.

  “Paint a picture for me,” Ava said.

  “Someone stepped out of the forest and did what a lot of people thought was a very good thing.” Detective Ottel shrugged.

  Ava nodded.

  “And you?” Ava asked. “What did you think?”

  “Good riddance,” the detective said.

  “It that normal for you?” Ava asked. “To celebrate the death of. . .”

  “No,” Detective Ottel said. “Not before and certainly not since.”

  “Lay it out for me then,” Ava said. “Why was this Senator so disliked? Why did you think ‘good riddance’?”

  Detective Ottel looked at Ava for a rather long moment before nodding.

  “The truth,” Ava said. She pointed at him. “I’ll know if you lie.”

  “Fair enough,” Detective Ottel said, almost to himself.

  He looked at the wall for a moment before clearing his throat.

  “Will you indulge an old man?” Detective Ottel asked.

  “Please,” Ava said. She leaned back in her chair to give the detective space to speak. “Take your time.”

  “Aspen now. . .” Detective Ottel shook his head. “So clean. So much wealth. You’d never imagine what it was like then.”

  “Tell me,” Ava said.

  “Aspen was. . . Well, the U.S. left Vietnam in ’72, right?” Detective Ottel asked.

  Ava nodded.

  “Seth was there until late ’72,” Ava said. “He and Mitch spent most of ’73 in the Fitz.”

  “Anschutz now,” Detective Ottel nodded.

  Ava gave him a quick nod.

  “Like I said, I was in Laos with Saul,” Detective Ottel said. “I grew up in Aspen. It was just a small mountain town. Beautiful, but just a small mountain town. The hippies started coming before the war was over. Aspen. Most of the Rockies. Fort Bragg, California. They were places that a vet could crawl off into the woods and wait for the flashbacks to stop. We didn’t have words like ‘PTSD’ then or any kind of mental health. Well. . .”

  Detective Ottel snorted.

  “There was always the CIA and their bullshit,” Detective Ottel said. “Lots of guys went to get help and. . .”

  “The CIA ran mind-control studies on unsuspecting vets at Fitzsimons mental hospital,” Ava said with a nod.

  He looked at Ava and nodded.

  “But. . . My point is. . . The 1960s happened right there in Aspen,” Detective Ottel said. “I was young. As young as the guys coming back. Gals, too. They were there as nurses or. . .”

  Detective Ottel shrugged.

  “It was a wild place in a wild time,” Detective Ottel said. “I’d always wanted to be a cop. The sheriff’s department paid enough to buy a little piece of property with a house on it. Running water. I made enough to raise a family.”

  “Did you bust heads? Break up protests?” Ava asked with a smile.

  “Nah,” Detective Ottel said. “We left all that for the big cities. We just kept the peace. Made sure the drugs weren’t too heavy and people didn’t kill each other. We mostly missed the heroin scourge of the late 1960s.”

  Detective Ottel looked away from Ava for a moment. He winced. She waited for him to speak.

  “Everything changed when they finished a better road,” Detective Ottel said. “And then the highway. But the highway was finished after the senator was killed, so it’s not in this story.”

  The detective fell silent. When he looked up, he was ready to talk.

  Four

  “By the ’80s, people were starting to get sick,” Detective Ottel said. “From the war. Agent Orange. Dioxin exposure. That’s not to say that some guys weren’t sick right off. Vets knew that something was going on. There were medical studies that would come out saying Agent Orange was the cause, but the VA wouldn’t pay for the treatment of Agent Orange related illnesses. Even though they had the evidence.”

  “Just disgusting,” Detective Ottel said. “But the ’80s were like that. AIDS was there. Crack cocaine. It was like everyone was paying for all the hedonism of the 1960s. There was a guy who lived just down the street from me. He had these orgies every Friday night. Everyone knew about it. Then one day, people started to die. One Friday night, people arrived for their usual orgy to find the guy dead. AIDS. I got that call too. Nothing like dealing with your neighbor’s death.”

  Detective Ottel shook his head.

  “For every person who was pushed out of Aspen, there were ten others who fell into addictions, got sick, or. . .”

  The detective gave a slow, almost painful shrug.

  “Aspen was getting wealthier, cleaner,” the detective said. “No more protests in the street. No more orgies. Drugs, sure, but the kind of drugs you’d find in a boardroom.”

  The detective looked at Ava.

  “I just wanted you to know what it was like,” Detective Ottel said.

  “You paint a picture,” Ava said with a nod.

  “Senator William Michaud,” the detective said with a sigh in his voice. “You know, now, there’s a big deal made about corrupt politicians. And there’s no question that it seems like everyone is corrupt now. But Senator William Michaud was the original bought politician. To this day, he’s at the top of the most corrupt list for most of his career. The corporations that made Agent Orange had their hands firmly in his pockets.

  “He was one of those rich kids who got deferments,” Detective Ottel said. “He didn’t go because he was in some posh back-East college and had gotten some girl pregnant. The year he was killed, it came out that he’d faked the entire thing. He wasn’t in school and had no children. Big scandal for a guy from Maine, where nearly 20% of the population is military vets.”

  “Did he have a family?” Ava asked.

  “He was married when he died,” Detective Ottel said. “His only wife. Well, as far as we could tell and anyone knew, his only wife. She is an heiress of that chemical company, Monsanto. The ones who made Agent Orange. She’s a real treat. Still alive. If she
finds out you’re investigating, you can expect her or her lawyer to show up. Sue you over nothing. So watch out.”

  Detective Ottel sneered.

  “Anyway, I get sidetracked. Habit of an old man,” Detective Ottel said. “Everyday people were furious that the VA wasn’t treating these guys. Just furious. After the way men were treated when they returned home? This was another big fat FU from the VA. Insult to injury.

  “Everyone talked about it. Everyone watched what the VA was doing. How many people had to die before the VA started treating people for the diseases they caught while fighting their war? I mean, we were told that Agent Orange was completely safe.”

  He shook his head with disgust. His eyes sparked with fury and his breath was tight.

  “But the politicians and the VA?” Detective Ottel asked. “They didn’t want to pay. They did the same thing with that Gulf War Syndrome and now with the kids getting sick from those burn pits in Afghanistan.”

  The detective’s hand instinctively went to his heart. He tried to catch his breath. Ava saw Nelson outside her office. She waved him inside. A trained Emergency doctor, Nelson responded immediately to the elderly man’s distress. He helped Detective Ottel catch his breath while Ava went to get some water. When she returned, the color had returned to Detective Ottel’s cheeks. Nelson helped the elderly man take his nitroglycerin pill. Detective Ottel finished the cup of water. Ava went to get more. By the time she returned, the detective seemed to be feeling better. Ava invited Nelson to stay but the detective waved the young man away.

  “I’m sorry,” Detective Ottel said when Nelson left the room. “I get so angry. My grandson was in Afghanistan.”

  The detective shook his head.

  “Okay, Senator William Michaud was corrupt,” Ava said. “People were fighting for the VA to take responsibility for what they had done to their own citizens.”

  Detective Ottel nodded.

  “You should know that there were lots of guys who were sick from Agent Orange. AIDS, too, but we’re just talking about the vets,” Detective Ottel said. “At one point, I had the job of going from house to house to see if everyone was still alive. We had lots of vets living there. I was a county Deputy Sheriff.”