Angels Fall, Page 52

  When his mouth met hers, she thought she heard a car on the road outside. But she was too busy to care.

  BACK IN TOWN, Reece flew down the street. She still wore her apron, and it flapped around her legs as she ran. People stopped strolling to stare at her or to scramble back before she could plow through them. She burst through the door of On the Trail.

  "The necklace."

  Debbie turned from showing a couple of customers a selection of backpacks. "Reece." Her gaze registered surprise, followed by faintly amused annoyance. "I'll be right with you."

  "You have a necklace."

  "Excuse me," Debbie said to the customers, "just one minute."

  With her business smile in place. Debbie crossed over, took Reece's arm in a firm grip. "I'm busy here, Reece."

  "A symbol of the sun on a gold chain."

  "What the hell are you talking about?" Debbie demanded in a whisper.

  "I'm crazy, remember. Indulge me or I'll probably make a scene. I saw you wearing that necklace."

  "And so what?"

  "A sun," Reece repeated. "'It came from Delvechio's in Jackson."

  "Very good, you win today's trivia contest. Now go away."

  Instead, Reece turned into Debbie, all but nose to nose. "Who gave it to you?"

  "Rick did, of course. Last Christmas. What is wrong with you?"

  "You're his sunlight," Reece murmured. "I heard him say that. That's the opposite of the dark side of the moon."

  Debbie backed up a step. "You really are crazy. I want you out."

  "Where is he? Where's the sheriff?'"

  "Let go of my arm."

  "Where?"

  "In Moose, he has a meeting tonight. But in about two seconds I'm calling the office and having Denny come down here and haul you out."

  "Call whoever you want. Where was he the night we had the break-in at Brody's cabin'"

  "What break-in?" Debbie said with a sneer. "Or do you mean the night you imagined, again, somebody was there?"

  "Where was he, Debbie?"

  "At home."

  "I don't think so."

  "I've lost about all patience with you. I'm telling you he was home, right out in his workshop. And he'd have more time to relax out there if it wasn't for people like you dragging him away on false alarms and stupidity. I had to go out there myself and get him when Hank called."

  "Oh? No phone in the workshop?"

  "He had the music on, and the saw…" Debbie drew herself up. "I've had about enough of this nonsense. I have customers, and I want to finish my work and get home to my kids for popcorn and movie night. Some of us have normal lives."

  And some of us just believe we do, Reece thought. Sympathy welled up inside her. Debbie was going to have that belief shattered very soon. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry."

  "You will be," Debbie replied as Reece turned for the door.

  Reece pulled her cell phone out of her pocket as she hurried back toward the diner. Then cursed when Brody's answering machine picked up on the fourth ring. "Damn it. Call me back, soon as you can. I'm going to try your cell."

  But that, too, switched to voice mail.

  Frustrated as she knew he could walk ten feet in any direction from his cabin and lose his service, she jammed the phone back in her pocket.

  It was all right, she told herself. Rick was in Moose, and even if Debbie called him when she got home to complain about crazy Reece Gilmore, he couldn't be back for a couple hours. Probably more.

  It would give her time to sort it all out in her head. So when she dumped it all on Brody, it would be with organized thinking.

  That was best. It was going to be difficult enough to tell him his friend was a killer.

  BRODY SPOTTED Lo's truck when he passed Joanie's cabin. Had Reece seen it in Jackson when they were there? He hated the fact that his first thought was that he knew the location of one of the suspects. All he could hope was in the next hour, he'd know who Reece had seen by the river. And it would be over for her.

  He wanted it over for her.

  He thought about buying her some tulips. Probably something he should do. Maybe take her away for a couple days until the bulk of the dust settled. She'd have to give statements, answer questions. Be the center of attention, at least for a while.

  Rough on her, but she'd get through it.

  And once she had, they'd have to get started on some pretty serious business of their own. He was buying that damn cabin from Joanie, and building on that new office, that deck.

  And Reece Gilmore was staying put. With him.

  He could bribe her with a set of those fancy pots. The Sitram.

  These stay in my kitchen. Slim, and so do you. The idea of it made him smile. She'd appreciate that. She'd get that.

  He turned onto the quiet, secluded drive, winding among the pines, and parked in front of the cabin.

  Rick came out on the porch, his face sober, his eyes grave. He walked down the steps as Brody got out of the car. "Thanks for coming, Brody. Let's go on inside."

  * * *

  Chapter 30

  ABOUT THE TIME Reece was trying Brody's cell, he was walking into the kitchen at the Mardson cabin.

  "Got coffee fresh," Rick told him, and poured out a mug for Brody. "Thanks. State cops aren't here yet?" "On their way. Might as well go in and sit down." "You said you didn't want to get into details over the phone." "Complicated business. Touchy business." Rick stirred in the sugar and cream Brody took in his coffee, then rubbed the back of his neck. "I hardly know where to start, what to think."

  He led the way to the living room, sat in the wingback chair as Brody settled on the rusty red-and-gray checks of the sofa. "I appreciate you coming out here like this, so we can keep this quiet for now." "No problem. I should tell you that we're pretty confident we've identified the victim. Deena Black, out of Jackson."

  Leaning forward in his chair, Rick narrowed his eyes. "How'd you come by that?"

  "So." Brody murmured as he drank his coffee, "we were right. We followed a up, on the sketch, tracked her name down in Jackson."

  "Lowering to have to admit a couple of civilians got there about the same time I did." Rick shook his head, laid his hands on his knees. "First off, I'm going to say I owe Reece a big apology. I never did believe her, not really. Not in the gut where it counts. Mlaybe I didn't follow through as much as I should have because I didn't. I've got to take the weight of that."

  "But you believe her now."

  Rick sat back. "I do. I did think she might've seen something when I got that wire alert on the Jane Doe. But she wouldn't identify her, and. . ."

  "Was it Deena Black?"

  "No, turns out it was a runaway from Tucson. They got the two men who picked her up, hitching for Christ's sake. Did that to her. That's something anyway."

  "So, Reece was right about that, too."

  "I'd say she was right about a lot of things. Took me out at the knees when the state boys got in touch with me. I talked to them about what Reece said she saw, Brody. I did that. Checked with Missing Persons. But… well, I didn't push through like I should have."

  "And now?"

  "Well…" Rick looked off. "Lot I should've done, could've done, would've done. I asked you to come out here and talk about this, Brody, because I felt you should know first. You stuck by Reece through this. A lot of us didn't."

  "She knew what she saw." His vision blurred briefly.

  "Yeah, she did." Rick rose, walked to the window. "Couldn't shake her off it. Damn shame."

  "She ought to be here, too." Brody took another swallow of coffee to reach for the buzz. Fatigue was falling over him like a fog.

  "She will be."

  "Give me some details before…" Was that his voice, slurred like a drunk's? When the room spun, he tried to push to his feet. A quick spurt of knowledge had him stumbling toward Rick. "Son of a bitch."

  "Nothing else I can do." When Brody fell, Rick looked down at him with sincere regret. "Not a damn thing I can do but
this."

  REECE CALLED BRODY'S home phone and his cell half a dozen times each. It was getting dark now. She wanted to hear his voice, wanted to tell him what she knew.

  She knew.

  And knowing, she just couldn't slice more baked chicken or make another mountain of mashed potatoes.

  "I have to go, Joanie."

  "This here's what we call the dinner rush. You're what we call the cook."

  '"I can't reach Brody. It's important."

  "And I've had about enough of romance inconveniencing me."

  "This isn't about romance." This time she took off her apron. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I have to find him."

  "This place doesn't have a revolving door. You go out it, you keep going."

  "I have to." She bolted out with Joanie's curses racing behind her. The sun was already behind the peaks; the lake had gone gray with twilight.

  She cursed herself because Brody's insistence she not drive herself to and from work alone now meant she had to hike to the cabin. She did the first mile at a steady jog, searching through the gloom for the light he should switch on at dusk.

  He went out for some beer, she told herself. Or for a drive to clear his head. Or he was in the shower, or taking a walk.

  He was fine, wherever he was. Just fine.

  She was panicking over nothing.

  But who did you call when you knew the top cop in town was a killer?

  She'd call the state police, that's what she'd do. As soon as she'd talked to Brody.

  Sunshine and the dark side of the moon. Rick Mardson had bought both those necklaces, one for his wife, one for his lover. He'd been the one having an affair with Deena Black, sneaking around, taking precautions so no one would see him with her.

  And he killed her. It had to be.

  He could have slipped in and out of the apartment over Joanie's easier than anyone else. Wasn't everyone used to seeing the sheriff strolling around town? He'd know how to get keys, get duplicates. Or to hide the fact that he'd broken in.

  To cover his trail.

  She slowed, catching her breach, struggling against another spurt of panic. Something plopped in the waters of the lake, rustled in the long grass beside it. And she ran again with her heart stumbling in her chest.

  She had to get inside, lock the doors.

  Find Brody.

  Her breath snagged when she saw the shadows by the lake, then she forced back the scream when she saw the trio of elk taking their evening drink.

  She veered away from them, raced by the willows, the cotton woods and finally hit the hardpack of Brody's short drive.

  His car wasn't parked beside hers. And the cabin was dark.

  She fumbled out the key he'd given her, then had to stand with her head pressed against the door. It was harder, so much harder, to enter the dark than to leave it behind.

  "Six times one is six," she began, fighting the key into the lock. "Six times two is twelve." Stepped in, slapped her hand on the wall for the switch.

  "Six times three is eighteen." Breathe in. breathe out. "Six times four is twenty-four."

  She locked the door behind her, then leaned back against it until the worse weight of anxiety eased.

  "Not here. But he'll be back in just a minute. Maybe he left a note. Except he never leaves notes. It's not his way. But maybe this time."

  The kitchen first, she decided. She'd check the kitchen first. She turned on lights as she went, chasing the dark away. There were dregs of coffee in the pot, an open bag of pretzels on the counter.

  She checked the pot: found it cold. She looked in the refrigerator, saw he had a supply of beer, of Cokes.

  "So he went out for something else, that's all. And he's probably going to swing by and pick me up on the way back. I'm stupid. Just stupid."

  She grabbed the kitchen phone to try his cell again.

  And heard a car pull up.

  "Oh God, thank God." After slamming down the phone, she ran out of the kitchen to the front door. "Brody." She yanked the door open, and there was his big, burly SUV. "Brody?" she called again, nearly moaned in frustration. "Where the hell did you go that fast? I need to talk to you."

  At the sound behind her, she whirled in relief. She saw the blur of a fist, felt a burst of pain, then was back in the dark.

  When she came to, her jaw ached like a bad tooth. On a moan, she tried to lift a hand to it and found her arms pinned behind her.

  "Only tapped you," Rick said. "Didn't give me any pleasure to hit you. Quickest way, that's all."

  She struggled, a mad moment of wild panic and denial.

  "You're cuffed," he said calmly, and continued to look straight ahead as he drove. "'Padded your wrists good. Shouldn't hurt, and it'll keep any marks off your skin, most likely. That'd be best. You'll have a bruise on your jaw there, but, well, there'd have been a struggle so that's all right."

  "Where's Brody? Where are you taking me?"

  "You wanted to talk to Brody. I'm taking you to Brody."

  "Is he…"

  "He's all right. I kept a supply of those sleeping pills of yours. Gave him enough of them to put him out for a couple hours. Maybe three. Plenty of time. He's a friend of mine, Reece. It didn't have to be this way."

  "People think I'm crazy." Even knowing it was useless, she strained her wrists against the handcuffs. "But you have to be if you think you can just cuff me, kidnap me and drive me out of town this way."

  "In Brody's car. In the dark. Anybody saw us go by, they'd see a couple of people in Brody's car. You and Brody. That's what they'd see, 'cause that's what they'd expect to. That's the way it'll work. I'm going to make this simple as I can, quick as I can. It's the best I can do."

  "You killed Deena Black."

  "Did what I had to, not what I wanted. Same as now." He looked over, met her eyes. "I tried other ways. Tried everything I knew. She wouldn't back off. Neither would you."

  He trained his gaze straight ahead again, and made the turn toward his cabin. "I want you to be quiet, and to do what I tell you. You want to yell and scream and kick, you go ahead. It won't make any difference. But the more you do, the more I'll hurt Brody. Is that what you want?"

  "No."

  "Then you do what I say, and it'll be easier all around." He