Darker Than Midnight (24 page)

He nodded slowly. Then he turned back to the box of personal belongings she'd been going through. “You find anything in there?”

“Hell, with Arty, I damn near forgot.” She moved to the box, dropped to her knees and took something out—a book, its cover made of purple crushed velvet. A little lock held it closed. “Is this yours?”

He frowned. “No. I've never seen it before.”

“Must be hers, then. Stephanie's. Looks like a journal or a diary.”

He heard a car on the highway, could have sworn it slowed as it passed. “We'd better get out of here. The police will find anything else, if there's anything else to be found.”

“Okay.” She dropped the velvet book into her coat pocket. “They'll know that freezer was broken into.”

He shrugged. “I'll call in an anonymous tip from a pay phone. Claim I was going to burglarize the place, found the body and got scared off.”

“See that?” she asked. “Your cop sense is coming back already. That's a good plan.”

“Not really, but it's the best I can think of. It'll blow up in our faces if anyone saw your car here and describes it later.”

“That's a chance we'll have to take.”

He wished to hell he could match her optimistic attitude, but he was damned if he could. Everything they found just served to make him look more guilty.

For a moment as they locked the storage unit and got back into her car, he stopped to think about how far he would have got on any of this without Cassandra's help. Not very damn far, he thought. He'd have probably frozen to death in a snowdrift somewhere.

He caught her looking at her watch as she drove, and it hit him why. “You're still planning to keep that date with Ethan, aren't you?”

“Yeah, I am,” she said. “And you're still planning to break into his house and search for his old date books.”

He nodded. “I don't have much choice, the way I see it.”

“Well, you picked a good night for it. I phoned his house today.”

River frowned at her. “Why did you do that?”

“My friend Beth—she owns the inn where he's staying while he's in town—told me he had to go back to Burlington. Probably because of the break-in at his office. So I phoned his house. My excuse was going to be that I wanted to check whether we were still on for dinner, that I lost the cell phone number he gave me, and looked up his home number in the book. My real reason was that I was hoping to get a word or two with his wife.”

“Victoria? Why?”

“Because he never mentioned he was married. I don't know, I thought I could strike up a conversation, maybe something would slip.”

“So did you talk to her?”

She shook her head. “No. The message on the machine
says she's unavailable until Monday, and gives another number where she can be reached. I think it's a cell number and I'm betting money she's out of town for the weekend.”

He closed his eyes, racked his brain. “What's the date?”

“November fifteenth. Why?”

“Mid-November—hell, it's the annual hospital fund-raiser. She practically runs it. Usually spends the weekend at her parents'.”

“For what hospital?”

He frowned. “The same one where I lived, until recently. Her father is its largest benefactor. She's on the board of directors—I told you that, didn't I?”

Cassandra nodded.

“Victoria does a lot of work for the cause, even heads up the volunteer program there.”

“So she's out. If he's with me, you'll have a clear shot at the house.”

“Jesus, so now you're an accomplice.”

“I'm already harboring a fugitive, River. It's not like this is going to make it worse. Besides, once we prove you didn't do any of this, I'll be vindicated.”

“The law's the law, Cassandra. Cops aren't allowed to break it, even if they have a damn good reason.”

“Your life is in danger. In this case, I'm within the law. Sort of. Just as long as I can prove it in the end.”

He nodded. “There's a pay phone up ahead,” he said. “Pull in and I'll place a call to Frankie.”

“Okay.”

She steered the car into the small parking lot of a gas station, which had closed an hour ago. River got out and she did, too. They went to the phone, and he picked up the receiver.

Sirens howled in the distance, getting closer. Frowning, a little bubble of panic rising up in his chest, he froze with the phone in his hand.

Cassandra gripped his arm. “Get out of sight. Go on!”

River slammed the telephone down and ran around the small station, to the back of it. He found a scrubby shrub back there and crouched beneath it, peering out to keep an eye on Cassandra. He'd be damned if he was going to hightail it to safety and leave her to clean up his mess.

A fire truck went screaming past. Two more close behind it. Then a state police cruiser came speeding toward them. Cassandra watched the fire trucks pass, but then flipped open her wallet, flashing her shield. Holding it high and face-out, she stepped onto the shoulder of the road as the cruiser approached.

It slowed, pulled over. The window came down. She said, “I'm off duty, but if you need any help…”

The cop inside shook his head. “We've got it covered.”

“So what's up?”

He pointed ahead. “Structure fire, some rental storage place a half hour from here.”

Cassandra nodded, patted the side of the cruiser. “Better let you go to it, then. Be safe.”

“Thanks.”

The car pulled away. She waited until it was out of sight to turn toward where he was lurking and wave a hand. River returned to her there by her car. “Did you hear?” she asked.

“Yeah. And I don't think it was coincidence. Someone knows we were there, and they probably know what we found.”

“Think the firefighters will find Arty still there? Or burned to cinders?”

“There hasn't been time for him to burn to cinders. So I think him and his freezer are probably long gone.”

She nodded. “If an exam of his body would have implicated you, River, they'd have left it. Which means maybe an exam of his body would have cleared you.”

He nodded. “I was thinking the same thing.”

“Really? Wow, a positive thought. I can hardly believe it.” He smirked at her, but she rushed right on. “We've got to find that body, River.”

“That's what you're getting from this, huh?”

“That's what I'm getting.”

“So much for your top-of-the-line-cop sense, then.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

He met her eyes. “Someone knows we saw that body. Someone who doesn't want anyone else to know it exists.”

“Oh, come on, you don't know that. Maybe they intended to burn the place to the ground before anyone ever found the body. Maybe they didn't get there until after we left.”

“That would be one hell of a coincidence, wouldn't it?”

“So? It could have happened.”

He shook his head firmly. “We're probably lucky they didn't firebomb the place while we were still inside.”

“The fact that they didn't must be a good sign, though,” she said. “If they'd wanted to kill us, why wait until we leave?”

“The only thing it's a sign of is that we got out of there before they had the chance or the time or a freakin' lighter. Arty is proof enough they're willing to kill. We're in danger, Cassandra.
You
are in danger, because of me.”

“I
don't like it,” River said.

Jax stood in front of the bedroom mirror, smoothed the dressy brown pants and straightened their narrow gold belt. She wore a silk blouse, off white, tucked in, top two buttons undone.

“I think it looks good,” she argued, making her voice defensive. Then she met his eyes in the mirror and saw that he was in no mood to joke with her.

“You know damn well that's not what I meant.”

“I know. I also know we're out of time. I told Ethan I'd meet him at the restaurant at seven. It's ten of.” She turned from the mirror to face River, but he stayed where he was, looking at her.

“What?” she asked.

“I was curious how different dating-Cassandra would look from everyday-Cassandra.”

“Not different at all. Hair's down and the clothes are slightly dressier. Disappointed?”

“Yeah. That it's for Ethan instead of me.” River reached out and buttoned one of the buttons she'd left undone.

“You just do what you have to do. And be quick. If we finish dinner and he wants to leave, I'm going to have to explain why my car's not in the parking lot.”

“I'll need three hours at the outside.”

“I can keep him three hours,” she promised.

River nodded, looking as if he had more to say but holding back whatever it might have been. “I just hope I can find a diary, a date book—better yet, Stephanie's files there.” He looked at the journal they'd taken from the storage unit. “We've got to find out who—”

“I flipped through it, River. I didn't see anything obvious. I wish we had more time—”

“I have to get into Ethan's house while I have the chance,” River said. “I can read the journal more thoroughly afterward.”

“That's what I thought, too.”

“So let's do this thing then.”

She nodded and handed him the car keys. He wore black jeans, a jacket and a knit cap. Looked for all the world like a burglar about to ply his trade. “You might as well drive,” she said. “Drop me near the Sugar Tree. When you get back, park in the lot and just wait for me. Okay?”

He took the keys from her with a nod, and they walked to the car.

* * *

Ethan rose when Jax walked in, smiled a greeting, though the smile looked plastic. She returned it, knowing her own was no more genuine. Beyond the fake smile, she thought as she crossed the restaurant, he looked tired. Worn. His eyes had dark circles under them and she thought the crow's-feet had deepened overnight. Funny, how she could be convinced he was the bad guy one minute, and doubting it the next. It was impossible to look at the man and not believe his worry was genuine.

He pulled out her chair when she reached the table. Every bit the gentleman. “You look great, Jax.”

“Thanks, Ethan. It's good to see you.” She sat down and he returned to his own seat.

“Good to see you, too. I wasn't sure I was going to be able to make it.”

“I know. I heard about the break-in at your office.”

He pursed his lips, lowered his head. “It had to be River,” he said.

The waiter came by to take her drink order. Ethan was already sipping wine. Jax decided a beer would be okay now, since she would have three hours to process it into porcelain before she'd be behind the wheel. As the waiter went off to get her longneck, she noticed the menu on the table, but didn't bother looking at it. They had all night. She had other things on her to-do list that were more important here. And making the evening last was right on top.

“Ethan, why do you think River would want to break into your office? What could he be looking for?”

He shook his head. “Jesus, I don't know. Especially when he's already had his lawyer demand copies of all his medical records from the hospital.”

She frowned hard. “Why do you think he would do that?” she asked, even while trying to remember if this was information she should or shouldn't have.

“I think…I think what you said earlier might be right on target. He might suspect me of some kind of…malpractice. Or worse.”

He honest to God looked frazzled, like a man on the edge. Well, hell, of course he was freaking out. He didn't want his reputation ruined. “Do you really think River is in any state to come up with something like that?” she asked. “A theory like that? I mean, I thought he was pretty much…well, you know.”

“Insane?” he asked. He pursed his lips, shaking his head slowly. “He's not. Or at least, he wasn't. He's been getting worse and worse, and it's killing me to see it. I can only assume it's the guilt of what he did, eating away at him. There's
not much to do in a mental hospital, besides think. Remember. And now he's out there, somewhere…”

Jax frowned even harder, because the man had moisture gathering in his eyes. What in the hell was this?

He closed them, gave his head a quick shake. “Sorry.”

The waiter returned with her beer, set it on the table while she was still trying to puzzle the man out. He said, “Are you ready to order, or do you need more time?”

She blinked at the waiter, then down at the menu. “Uh…yeah. More time.”

Nodding, the man hurried away. Jax tipped her head to one side, studying Ethan. “You really are worried about him, aren't you?”

“Yeah. Worried. Guilt racked. I'm the one who put him in that hospital. I'm the one caring for him. You must know by now that orderly he killed was a felon working under a false name.”

She nodded and her mind raced. Ethan had nothing to lose by admitting that to her—he must know she would have heard about the orderly's true identity. He could be covering. One big act. If it was, he was good.

“So how does a guy like that get hired at a state hospital? And why?” Ethan asked.

Right,
she thought.
I won't ask you the same question, if you manage to convince me you don't know by asking it first. Good move, Doc.
“I don't know.”

“River told me someone had tried to kill him. I thought it was just…just another delusion.”

“And now?” she asked, watching his face.

He looked her straight in the eye. “Now I'm not so sure.”

She nodded slowly. “He'll be all right.”

Ethan shook his head. “How? For God's sake, how can he be?”

Jax saw the waiter heading their way, held up a hand to fend him off. “Ethan, I wasn't just repeating a tired cliché. I
think he'll be all right because he's been all right so far. Apparently, that is. He must be managing on his own, and he must be thinking pretty clearly if he's contacted his lawyer and gone looking for clues in your office. Right?”

He narrowed his eyes on her. “He wasn't capable of doing any of those things in the hospital. Someone must be helping him.”

She lowered her head, flipped the menu open at last and ran a forefinger along the list of entrées, barely reading them as her eyes skimmed past. “I suppose it's possible.”

“Is it you, Jax?”

“Me?” She looked up fast, feigning surprise. “I'm a
cop,
Ethan.”

“Yeah. A cop who's living in River's house, taking care of his dog and taking one hell of an interest in his case.”

She wondered how he was so sure of her overblown interest in the case. Was he basing it on their conversations, on local gossip? Or was it, perhaps, because the bastard had broken into her house and stolen her copies of the police file?

She rolled her eyes. “Of course I'm taking an interest in the case. Hadn't you heard? I'm Blackberry's next chief of police. And this is the biggest thing to hit town since—well, hell, since Mordecai Young. For a shrink, you have a big imagination, Doc. Me, helping a killer.” She shook her head as if the very idea were ludicrous.

The waiter came again, and this time she welcomed the interruption. She didn't even care that she'd barely looked at the menu. She could wing it. “I'll have a steak. T-bone. Rare. Baked potato. Sour cream
and
butter.”

He jotted it down and nodded. “Coleslaw, baby carrots or mixed veggies?”

“The slaw.”

“And what kind of dressing for your salad?”

She almost told him to skip the salad, but bit her tongue.
Salad meant more courses, and more courses meant more time. She needed to make this meal last as long as possible. Though with Ethan's questions it wasn't going to be a fun-filled evening.

“Ranch,” she said.

The waiter turned to Ethan, who rattled off his order just as carelessly as Jax had. “Poached salmon, brown rice, mixed vegetables.” He watched the waiter go and then turned to her again, his eyes intense. “I never thought River had it in him to hurt his wife, Jax. But he did. I don't want to see the same thing happen to you.”

“Me?”
She lifted her brows, released a single bark of laughter and leaned back in her chair, shaking her head. “Hell, Ethan, have you ever got your wires crossed. If I knew where River was, I'd be hauling his ass in and claiming all the credit. Not sitting here having dinner with his head doctor.”

He probed her eyes for a long moment, then finally nodded. “All right. Just…be careful.”

“I'm always careful.”

* * *

River drove slowly past the site of the storage units where everything he'd owned had been. God, when he'd got over the shock of seeing his past life all packed in neatly labeled boxes, he'd thought things had been about to get a hell of a lot easier. He would have clothes, shoes, personal things, a coat, for God's sake. He'd even been doing mental acrobatics trying to figure a way he could take the Blazer.

Gone again. All of it. The unit was gutted. And he supposed he was no worse off than he'd been before. But he felt worse off. He'd have been happier never getting close—close enough to feel his old life, to taste it. Freedom. From confinement, from guilt, from constant doubt and unending pursuit and mind-bending questions. Sweet freedom.

So close.

He thought about turning the car around and pulling into the rental place, maybe taking a look around in the debris. But he knew better. The cops probably had it under surveillance, or would at least be going by to check it out periodically. They would expect him to go there. They probably thought he was the one who'd burned it.

He ought to let his lawyer know he hadn't. Not to mention the little fact that there had been a body there. Brown wouldn't like it. He wouldn't like it a bit, as he'd been the one with the key. It would implicate him, wouldn't it?

If Arty's body had been found in the burned-out unit, River thought Cassandra would have heard about it by now. So it must not have been. And there was no point in his going back there to look for it now and getting caught. It was either long gone before the fire started, or in police custody. It wouldn't still be there at the site either way.

So he forced himself to keep on driving, and resisted the almost irresistible urge to go back. He drove until he came to Burlington, and then he parked Cassandra's car a half mile from Ethan's house, in a small pull-off along the edge of a side road.

He didn't leave it running. That would only draw attention. He pocketed the keys and got out. Tugging his collar up over his ears, he trudged through the snow. He had a few tools in his pockets—things he'd scavenged from the house and from Cassandra's car. A tiny screwdriver, needle-nose pliers, long pieces of wire. But he didn't think he'd need them.

He knew his way around Ethan's house as well as he did his own. It rested at the end of a pretty, winding lane. Its driveways were always perfectly plowed, its walkways perfectly shoveled. Out back there was a manmade pond with geese who'd become so fat and lazy they didn't even fly south anymore, but wintered right there, living on handouts from the Melroses.

Victoria would have the place decked out for the holidays
before too long, he thought, as he stood outside the sprawling white Georgian. It was aglow now, its specially placed outdoor lights beaming from the ground level up onto the house to show it off. But for the holidays, oh man, it would just glitter. She had to hire extra men to get her Christmas display ready to go. She used to hire Arty every year, and would drive all the way down to Blackberry to give him a ride in to do the job.

Poor Arty…he wouldn't be helping out this year.

Work on the holiday display would begin soon—the gala light show had to be ready to be turned on after Thanksgiving dinner. As soon as the table was cleared. It was Victoria's tradition.

River sighed, imagining the way the house would look in a couple of weeks when those lights came on, and remembering the last Thanksgiving before Steph had died. They'd had dinner here, with Ethan and Victoria. God, how he missed them.

Sighing, he walked up the driveway, right to the house, staying in the clear, paved driveway and the perfectly spotless sidewalk to avoid leaving any prints. He went to the garage, rather than the house door, wondering if Ethan had fixed the problem he'd discovered summer before last. River tugged on the automatic garage door. It shouldn't have moved at all. But it rose almost a foot before it stopped and refused to go further.