Close to the Broken Hearted (20 page)

Leah hung up her radio wondering what her next move should be. Could someone be using the name Argo Atkinson as a pseudonym? Argo was a very uncommon name. You'd think somebody trying to disguise themselves would go for a more everyday-type name. The question she really should be asking herself was: Who would
want
the land? The obvious choice was a conclusion she didn't want to jump to, because it was too easy—and that was Preacher Eli.

Leah didn't want to automatically assume the worst of the man. Yet, Sylvie Carson thought Eli Brown was doing something sneaky and even Leah's own son thought the man was up to no good. Could Leah's gut feeling be wrong this time? Eli Brown had been in prison when Tom Carson died and the ranch was auctioned. Was it possible for the finger of someone like Eli Brown, who once had the power of an entire congregation on his side, to reach beyond the bars of his cell?

Leah Teal was starting to do something she didn't like much at all: She was starting to second guess herself and mistrust her gut.

One thing was certain: This wasn't a good sign.

L
eah had just pulled into her driveway back home when her radio went off again. Of course, it was Chris. He was the only one whoever called her on her radio, other than Police Chief Montgomery the odd time.

“Yeah, Chris? What is it? Please tell me you've uncovered Argo Atkinson.”

“Nope. But I got another call from Sylvie Carson. This one actually sounded serious.”

This got Leah's attention. Outside the car window on her way home, dark, pregnant clouds had rolled in beneath the high ones. The sunset apparently brought them along with it. Dusk looked foreboding, as though the sky was preparing for thundershowers. “What? What did she say?”

“That someone's been in her house.”

“
Inside
it?” Sylvie asked. “Are you sure she said
inside?
”

Chris chuckled, but it was a grave chuckle. “Oh, I'm sure, all right. She must've said it ten times in the two-minute phone call. Said somethin' 'bout a shotgun bein' monkeyed with or somethin'. As usual, she was too frantic for me to catch most of it.”

The shotgun
. The last thing Leah wanted to hear about was that shotgun. She pictured it in her mind, leaning up against the back door, loaded and ready to shoot.

“Okay, I'm on my way,” she said.

 

Leah considered using the siren this time, but traffic wasn't bad at all so there was really no point. Even so, she broke most of the posted speed limits and made it to Sylvie's in what was probably record time. When she pulled up in front she got out of her car and looked up at the sky. The clouds were literally roiling right above her. Black, thick clouds that looked like harbingers of evil.

She hoped they didn't portend that anything horrible was going to be found inside Sylvie's house. Leah still had no idea really what was going on. Just that it had to do with the shotgun and somebody being inside. “Oh dear God,” she said quietly. “Please don't let her have shot someone.”

The first flash of lightning lit up the western sky somewhere over the ranches on the other side of Alvin just as Leah reached the porch steps. Leah knocked on Sylvie's door. “Sylvie!” she called out. “It's me! Leah! Open up!”

She hadn't bothered with all the formalities this time. She hadn't even thought to bother with them. She was too concerned about that shotgun and what might've happened. And she was concerned about that baby. Obviously, Sylvie was okay. Or, okay enough to make the call into the station, at least.

The door swung open without Sylvie checking through the latch first. “That was quick,” she said. Her face had a forced-calm yet panicked look to it that Leah hadn't quite seen before.

“What's happened?” Leah asked. Just as she did, the low rumble of thunder swept across the sky. It sounded quite a ways off.

Lightning flashed across the sky three times.

“Gonna be a helluva storm,” Sylvie said, her voice matching her face.

“Sylvie?” Leah asked. “What happened? You told Chris someone's been inside your house.”

She nodded. “Someone has been. Come in.”

Leah came in. She went to take off her shoes but Sylvie stopped her. “Don't. I don't care 'bout a little mud. This is too important. You have to see this while it's still here.”

What did she mean by that?
While it's still here?
“Okay . . . ,” Leah said. She followed Sylvie into the kitchen where the shotgun still leaned against the door like it always did. Leah was just about to ask her what the hell she was supposed to be looking at, when she saw it: five 12-gauge shotgun shells lined up in a straight row along the top of the kitchen table.

Leah's eyes quickly went straight to Sylvie's. “Where did they come from?”

“They was in the shotgun.”

“Who took 'em out?”

“Whoever was in my house.”

Sylvie's eyes were still locked on Leah's. If the girl had blinked, Leah missed it.

“Okay, you need to tell me more. What the hell's goin' on?”

“Me and the baby were out shoppin'. We just went down to Finnegan's at Finley's.”

Finnegan's at Finley's was Finnegan's Five and Dime. It was located at Finley's Crossing about a half mile from where Sylvie lived, so it got the nickname Finnegan's at Finley's. “You walk down?” Leah asked.

“Yeah, I ain't got no car.”

“You carry the baby?”

“No, I brought the stroller.”

“Didn't know you had one.”

“I got one. Salvation Army donated it. It ain't the greatest, but it works well enough.”

“Okay, so you walked to Finnegan's. Then what? Wait, did you lock the door before you left?”

Frustration flickered in Sylvie's eyes. “Of course I locked the door 'fore I left. I always lock my door. And my windows. I checked every one an' they was all locked. An' when I got home, they was
still
all locked. Every door and every window.”

Concern fell over Leah. “Okay, so you walked to Finnegan's. Continue your story.”

“I bought some milk and some juice and some eggs. Then we walked back.”

A pocket of silence followed. “And then . . . ?” Leah asked.

“And then I came home and found the shells sittin' here just like this. I was careful not to touch nothin'. I called the police station right away.”

“You
sure
you didn't touch anything?”

“I searched the goddamn house and made sure nobody was still here. That's what I did as soon as I hung up. I'm not stayin' in no house with my baby that might have some killer in it!”

Leah held up her hand. “Good,” she said calmly. “That's good. You did the right thing. Now I want you to think back. Are you absolutely
sure
you didn't touch any of these shells or the gun or the table or nothin'?”

“Yeah,” Sylvie said. “Of course I'm sure. Why? You think I did this and I'm lyin' 'bout it?”

“No, Sylvie. Not at all. I think we might be able to get prints off the shells.”

“Oh.” Sylvie finally broke her stare and looked away. “As long as you don't think I'm lyin'.”

“Where
is
the baby?” Leah asked.

“Still in the stroller. She's in the bedroom. I checked the window. It's locked with a stick in it. Nobody is comin' in there. She was up all mornin'. Just fell asleep on the way home. She needs to nap.”

“Go check on her.”

“Why?” Sylvie asked, suddenly losing any trace of calmness from her face.

“Just to make me happy.”

While she was gone, Leah took the opportunity to look around the rest of the house, making sure that Sylvie was right, and if anyone had been inside they weren't here any longer. She checked the pantry in the kitchen and the closet in the hall. Everything looked deserted. The rooms were all empty. The back door was locked.

Sylvie came back a few minutes later. “She's still sleepin'. You had me scared outta my wits.”

“Sorry. Just my mother's instinct kickin' in. I have to go out to my car and radio Chris to come with the fingerprintin' kit. You okay here by yourself a few minutes?”

“Yeah. Don't you think I am?”

“I think you are. I just did a search of the premises. There ain't nobody here no more.”

“I know. I already told you, I checked.”

Outside, the storm had grown. Fork lightning cracked open the sky above Leah's head just as her foot hit the top step leading down the porch. It was followed quickly by the clap of thunder before she even made it to the car. Then the sky opened up and rain began washing down in one big wave. She pulled the hood of her sweatshirt up tight, but it was already too late. She could feel how wet her hair was underneath.

Inside her car, she radioed Chris back at the station and told him what she'd found at the scene.

“Are you serious?” Chris asked. “Is there any chance Sylvie did this and just doesn't remember?”

“Chris, she's never done things and not remembered before. I think we have to take this seriously. I want you to bring the printing kit. She says she hasn't touched anything. We might be able to lift somethin' from those shells.”

“All right. Have you looked outside? It's crazy.”

“I'm out in it now.”

“All hell's breaking loose.”

“Don't I know it.”

B
ack in the house, Leah did remove her shoes this time. They were completely covered in mud dredged up from all the rain splatter. Lightning spiked so brightly, Leah would catch it out of the corner of her eye, illuminating things in an iridescent glow. Thunder continued booming, at times so loud it felt like the house would shake apart.

Sylvie's hands trembled. She was pacing. Leah hoped this incident wasn't going to set her back years of development. She wondered how fragile the girl really was. Sometimes she seemed as breakable as a ceramic doll.

“You okay?” Leah asked her.

Sylvie nodded, and then said quietly, “It's just the storm. I've never liked lightning storms ever since what happened.”

“I understand,” Leah said. She could imagine that each time that thunder boomed it echoed in Sylvie's mind the way that gunshot had rung out in her kitchen right before supper that evening. Leah needed to take Sylvie's mind off the storm. Luckily, she still had some questions that needed answering.

“So, how did they get in?” Leah asked.

“Who?”

“Whoever emptied the shotgun.”

“I'm assumin' through the door.”

“You said you locked it when you left.”

“I always lock my doors. And my windows. But there were no windows busted when I got home, so I assume they somehow got in through a door.”

“Was the door still locked when you came back?”

“Yeah. I already told you that, too.”

Leah thought about this. “Get your locks changed tomorrow. If you need some money, I can lend it to you.” But her thoughts continued lingering on who could get into a locked building. Picking locks seemed like the sort of skill you might learn after seventeen-odd years in prison.

“How's that gonna help if they didn't need keys this time?”

“I dunno,” Leah said honestly, “but it certainly won't hurt.”

“I don't feel safe,” Sylvie said. Her eyes had widened. Leah could now see that fear had replaced most of the panic.

Leah gave Sylvie a hug. “Listen. So far, it's all been harassment. If they can get into the house, then they could've already hurt you if they wanted to, so obviously they don't want to. Someone's just out to scare you.”

“Well, they're doin' a fine job o' it.”

Sylvie began to quietly sob into Leah's shoulder. Leah considered what she had just told her and wondered how true it was. The harassment (if it all
had
been harassment) was ramping up. Was she
really
not in any danger? Leah didn't honestly know. “Is there . . . do you have anywhere you and the baby could go? A friend's place, maybe? The home of a relative? Just until things simmer down a bit for you?”

Panic rose in Sylvie's eyes. “You really think I'm in danger.”

“No, I'm just tryin' to err on the side of caution, is all,” Leah lied.

Sylvie scanned the floor. “I ain't got no place to go. All my relatives are dead, and I ain't got no friends.”

Once again, Sylvie had managed to break Leah's heart. It seemed to happen more often than not lately. And as much as Leah hated to admit it, her gut feeling was starting to shift. Things were beginning to feel more and more like Eli Brown might be behind something after all.

Chris showed up at the door carrying the fingerprinting kit and looking like a drowned rat. His eyes were glued skyward when Sylvie opened the door. Thunder rattled the house as he came inside. Leah showed him the shells lined up on the kitchen table.

“That's so weird,” he said.

“Wanna hear somethin' weirder?” Leah asked. “No sign of forcible entry. No broken windows. Doors were locked when Miss Sylvie left and they was still locked when she returned.”

He looked at her. “So the lock was picked?”

“That's what I'm thinkin'.”

“Who would go to all the trouble of pickin' her lock just to empty her shotgun and leave the shells all tidy like this on the table?”

Leah let out a big sigh. “When we get back to the station I want you to get as much information on Preacher Eli Brown as you can. If that man so much as took an unscheduled crap in the woods while he was in prison, I want to know 'bout it.”

Lightning lit up the backyard as, right behind it, another thunderous roar shook the world.

“Shouldn't we try to lift any prints before jumpin' to conclusions like that?” Chris asked.

“You're right. Get the prints. But I have serious doubts anything's gonna show up.”

 

Turned out Officer Chris Jackson was able to lift a set of prints from the shells on Sylvie Carson's table. Each shell had one and only one set of prints on it and the same ones were on each shell—and they all belonged to Miss Sylvie.

“Figured as much,” Leah said. Her and Chris were back at the station. “Anyone knowin' enough to get in and out of that house without showin' any sign of physical entry ain't 'bout to leave behind stupid evidence like fingerprints.”

“Guess you were right,” Chris said. “I suppose it's time for plan B?”

“If plan B involves seeing how Eli Brown fits into all this, then you're absolutely right in tune with my way of thinking,” Leah said.