Death on Heels (35 page)

Cherise pulled up behind it and parked. Lacey opened her side door and jumped out. Vonda was right behind her. Soon the entire red-Beetle focus group was staring at it in the wagon’s headlights.

“It’s kind of a wreck,” Cherise ventured.

“It’s a beater,” Vonda acknowledged, “but it always runs. Emily loves it.” Vonda opened the driver’s door. “Lock’s broken.”

“Don’t touch anything else.” Lacey peered through the window. It looked as if Emily’s purse had spilled on the driver’s side floor. There were coins, makeup, and what looked like an ID card for the power plant.
Was she yanked right out of her car? When she got home from work?

Vonda nodded and slammed the door, which made the others flinch. “You have to slam it, or it won’t shut,” she said. “I told you it was a beater.”

The shabby Beetle may have been a bright red badge of independence for Emily, but Lacey found the car’s barely-getting-by vibe depressing. She didn’t miss the
poverty of her first after-college job. Lacey’s first apartment in Sagebrush was the uninsulated top floor of an old bungalow on the verge of falling down. It should have been red-tagged by the building inspector, but at the time Sagebrush was booming and there was a serious housing crunch. Emily’s apartment building was slightly more upscale, a squat and sturdy-looking two-story brick block not far from the Red Rose, with six apartments, three up and three down.

There was no answer at Emily’s door, so they knocked on the manager’s door. A thin bleary-eyed man of about fifty answered. He eyed them suspiciously. He’d been knocking back brews and watching the basketball game, still playing in the background. He smelled of beer and cigarettes. Lacey stepped back to avoid the reek.

“What’s the crisis?” he belched.

“We need to get into Emily’s apartment,” Vonda said. “I’m her friend Vonda. Remember me? I’m over here all the time.”

He stood there like a stump and looked at the four women. “Yeah? So what? I can’t just go letting anybody into people’s apartments.”

“Have you seen Emily Ogden in the last couple of days?” Lacey asked.

“Can’t say I have.” He leaned against the dirty doorjamb. “Been real quiet here. But she’s always nice and quiet. That’s why I like her,” he said, as if to imply the four women at his door were not so nice and quiet. He turned to close the door.

Rose was faster. She put her foot in the door so he couldn’t shut it. “Listen, you. I am a personal friend of her mother’s, and I promised I would check on Emily and make sure she’s all right, living here on her own in this dump of yours. Her car is here, but she’s not answering her phone. Now, if Emily is sick, or God forbid,
very
sick, I will hold you personally responsible.”

Nice work, Mom!
Lacey exchanged a look with her sister, who winked. Even Vonda looked impressed.

“Okay, okay, lady. Jeez, give a guy a break. Lemme get the passkey.” He reached back into the gloom of his
apartment, filled with the blue light of his giant TV screen. He handed Rose a key strung on a filthy white shoelace. “Go check it out yourself. Slip the key under my door when you leave.”

“What if there’s a problem?” Lacey asked.

He thought for a moment. “If it’s a plumbing leak, lady, you call me. Anything else, you call nine-one-one.” He slammed the door.

“He’s always like that,” Vonda said, leading the way.

Emily’s apartment was eerily quiet. It was clean and well maintained, considering the location. There was a living room, kitchen, bedroom, and bath, all in a row, one after the other. The living room’s ancient threadbare carpet was a grimy gold. The kitchen linoleum was gray with age, and the few battered pieces of furniture screamed
low-rent
furnished apartment
.

Nevertheless, it was apparent Emily Ogden had taken pains to make it cozy. There was a handmade quilt on the wall, another one on the sofa. Fashion magazines were placed carefully on the scarred wooden coffee table.

“Vonda’s prints are already here,” Lacey announced. “So, Mom, if you and Cherise want to check out the fridge and the cupboards, use a towel or something.”

“We have gloves, darling,” Rose pointed out, pulling on her red kid leather gloves. She smoothed the fingers and marched toward the kitchen with Cherise.

Lacey waited for Vonda to flick on the bedroom lights. The bed was made up with a feminine light blue bedspread and matching dust ruffle. Perfume bottles stood on the dresser in front of a spotted mirror. There were some photographs tucked into the edges of the dresser mirror, including one of Emily and Vonda at a rodeo, with Emily grinning, wearing her fancy boots and a bright green Western shirt. She was just as pretty as Vonda had said.

“She’s not sick and she’s not here,” Vonda said. “I knew it.”

“We should take this picture with us. They’ll need it to search for her.”

Vonda sighed deeply. “Right.” She slipped it gently into her bag.

“Someone recently bought groceries,” Rose announced, walking into the bedroom. “Looks like Emily’s coming right back.”

“What does it feel like to you, Vonda?” Lacey gestured at the whole apartment.

“Like normal. Emily’s really neat. Not like me.”

Lacey stepped around the bed and peered into the small closet. The door was open, and Emily’s clothes were hung neatly, simple tops and pants, a few dresses and hooded sweatshirts. Emily had a hard-core hoodie habit. There was one in every color. But Lacey didn’t see what she was looking for. She got down on her hands and knees and looked under the bed and the dresser.

“What are you doing, Lacey?” her mother asked.

“Cowboy boots.”

“They wouldn’t be here,” Vonda said. “Em leaves them by the front door in case they’re muddy, and so she can see them. And she has this thing for only wearing socks or slippers in the apartment. Like her mom was a clean freak or something.”

Rose pursed her lips. Lacey took a deep breath. She had to find out how the story would end. It was her curse.

“No sign of Emily,” Lacey said.

“Oh, my God! He’s got her. She’s going to die,” Vonda sobbed, starting to hyperventilate. “And I’m next. He’s going to kill me!”

“Well, Lacey? What now?” Rose waited for an answer.

Cherise told Vonda, “Deep breaths! No one’s going to hurt you. Not while we’re here.” Vonda abruptly sat down on the floor and started tugging at her boots. “What are you doing?”

“I got to get these cowboy boots off.” She threw the right boot on the floor and started on her left.

“I’m making the call.” Lacey strode into the living room with her cell phone. “Vic, honey, I need your help— Yes, I’m fine. But I need you this very minute—
No, they’re with me. Listen, there’s another missing woman. Yes, it’s life or death— I
am
taking a breath. The missing woman’s name is Emily Ogden—”

“There is no way Emily is at the same cabin that Tucker took me to, you know.” Lacey tapped Vic on the shoulder. He seemed deep in thought.

“Not after the sheriff and the CBI were there today.” He gazed at her; his green eyes seemed darker.

It was almost last call at the Lazy Day Motel bar, and Lacey was alternately typing on her laptop and sipping hot chocolate.

“Okay, Mr. Skeptical. Emily went missing the day Cole and I were out riding the range. If Emily is indeed another victim, I’m Cole’s alibi, Vic.
His alibi.
Do you think T-Rex and Firestone and Owens and the rest of them really understand that?”

“I don’t know, Lacey. Maybe if you’d told them another dozen times, or carved it in T-Rex’s cowboy boots with a coyote jawbone, the way you said you were going to.” Vic scowled, but he ruined the scowl by laughing. “Maybe then they’d get it.”

She grinned. They were both sipping hot chocolate. Lacey didn’t care if they were the only two people in the bar not getting drunk; she had a story to write. Her laptop was set up in the bar because she didn’t trust herself to stay awake in the motel room. She knew she’d be out cold as soon as she saw the bed.

She and Vic and Cherise and Rose had spent nearly an hour and a half at Emily’s apartment while every law enforcement agency in Sagebrush took Vonda’s report, in exhaustive detail. Vonda had found her courage, with the Smithsonians and Vic backing her up. Vic refereed the various agencies and managed to make them play nicely together. Firestone’s CBI team was still there, collecting prints and DNA.

Lacey’s e-mail to Mac and Tony would bring them up to speed on Emily Ogden. She attached a rough draft of her story: A
NOTHER
M
ISSING
W
OMAN IN
S
AGEBRUSH
,
C
OLORADO
. Mac would change the headline anyway. Finally, she dashed off a quick e-mail to Benjamin Barton, backed up all of her notes to a flash drive, and closed her laptop. She stretched her shoulders and back, trying to work the kinks out. It felt like weeks since Monday and her visit to the courthouse to see Tucker.

“What about the other two cabins?” Lacey asked. “What did Owens say about Tucker’s map? Did he tell you anything more on the phone just now?”

Vic kissed her lightly. “You are so not his favorite reporter. You heard him: He passed the map on to Firestone and T-Rex. They’ll try to find those cabins tomorrow, with CBI in the lead. But the fact that you provided the map—even through me—really galls him.”

“Glad to be of service.”

“Vonda McKay’s description of Grady Rush? That made an impression, I can tell you. Coming from that tiny little thing. Sounds like Grady has been one busy and very bad boy. Not too smooth with the ladies either.”

“But is he working alone or does he have friends? I’m worried someone will tip him off to the search of the cabins. He must have buddies in the department.” Lacey tapped her fingers on the table.

“Which is only a problem if he’s involved with the dead women, or with Emily’s disappearance,” Vic added.

“You think Grady’s not smart enough to be the guy behind all this? But he can still be in the loop. That’s why he wants to stay close to the investigation. Do you think the cops and the sheriff and the CBI can find Emily Ogden in time?” Lacey closed her eyes and sipped her hot chocolate, trying to chase away the chill around her heart. The endorphins percolated through her bloodstream and right up to her brain. She didn’t know what kind of
real
drinks the bartender at the Lazy Day could whip up, but his hot chocolate was stellar.

“Something must be good,” Vic said. “You’re making those
um
and
yum
sounds again.”

“Good chocolate. Wish everything in this town were just as good.”

“Sweetheart, Grady Rush is under a microscope right now. T-Rex would be happy to string him up by the gonads. He is not in the loop.”

“But Vic, if Grady has even one friend in the department, he’ll know about Tucker’s map. And Grady will tell his buddies about the map. And something else bothers me.”

“Just one thing?”

“Just one right now. Both Virgil Avery and Dodd Muldoon said that Rae was killed in that cabin. While that may be true, we don’t know for sure. Neither one suggested that the others were killed there. Did they just jump to a conclusion? Or does one of them have Emily?”

“Where do you want to start, Lacey? Conduct a house-to-house and cabin-to-cabin and barn-to-barn search of the whole county? There’s not enough manpower in all of Colorado.” Vic put his hands on her shoulders and started to massage the knots in her muscles.

“Don’t stop! There.” Lacey sighed with satisfaction. “A little to the left. At any rate, the cabin where I stayed is too hot now. The killer couldn’t take her there.”

“Not only that, you’ve ruined it as a lover’s lane motel. Teenagers in this town are going to hate you.”

“The whole town hates me. They can take a number.”

“I know your gut is telling you these are some seriously bad guys here, and I don’t discount your gut feelings for a minute, sweetheart. But that’s not proof, and it doesn’t give us a starting point. Maybe Tucker’s map does. We’ll find out tomorrow.” He stopped rubbing. She turned her neck and stretched.

“Vic, do you always have to talk like a cop? ‘Move along, folks, nothing to see here, let the authorities do their jobs.’”

“Do you always have to talk like a reporter? You make this whole town sound like the devil’s triangle.”

“I like that. I’ll be sure to use ‘devil’s triangle’ in my next story. But now tell me: What did they find during the cabin search today? Besides the dead coyote on the fence.”

Vic looked beat. “Hair and fiber. Lots of prints, lots of DNA, probably much of it from horny teenagers. Probably your prints. Tucker’s too.”

“Anything else?”

“I’m not supposed to tell you this, but what the hell: Firestone was impressed with you finding that bootheel. They don’t know yet if Rae was killed there, but she
was
there, so it’s their first break in tracking the killer’s movements. It was crucial that Rae’s mother ID’d the heel and had a picture of her daughter’s boots.”

“In other words, without Kitty Fowler and Rae’s silver heel, the cops would think I was just a drama queen from another planet. Some planet back East.”

“Not just a drama queen. A drama
empress
. With her own planet.” Vic drained his chocolate, stood up, and offered her his hand. “Come on, Empress, let’s get some sleep. We’ll solve the rest of the world’s problems in the morning.”

Lacey took Vic’s hand, and they didn’t speak until they were back in the motel room. Then there was no need for words. Vic swept Lacey up into his arms. Coats, sweaters, and jeans went flying. Arms, hands, and legs entwined. Passions connected, flared, and caught fire. Kissing, holding, and touching, they forgot about everything but each other.

An ice chip that had lodged in Lacey’s heart the first day she returned to Sagebrush was finally melting.

My dear Chantilly Lace,

I hope Buttercup treated you right on the way home. There’s one more line camp I want to tell you about. I didn’t think of it before, but somebody’s put new glass in the windows of an old cabin nobody owns…