Dying to Know (28 page)

he smelled like gas.”

“No,” Angel said, snapping her hands to her hips. “I think

someone trapped him in there and tried to kill him.”

“Why him?” Spence shriveled up his face and looked more

like a rodent smelling a trap than a homicide detective asking

questions. “Why murder Cartier? There’s no proof.”

I said, “Even he has to know André was already out on the

floor when the explosion happened.”

“Spence, think about it.” Bear looked sheepish and I could tell

that buzzing was back in his ears. “André was unconscious when

the fire started.”

“And how would you know that?”

Bear took it from there. “Because the clothes on his back were

scorched and his hair blackened with soot—the front of his body

wasn’t. He was face down on the floor when the fire started. His

head also has a nice knot on it.”

“Sure, right.” Spence made a note. “But, there are other rea-

sons Cartier could look like that.”

Angel said, “Wel , when André recovers, he’ll tell us.”

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“Yeah, right.” Spence shook his head as Clemens joined us.

“Medics aren’t sure if his lungs are burnt. The hospital’s waiting on them to arrive. We won’t know for a while.”

Angel started to cry and Bear threw an arm around her. “Easy,

now. He’ll be okay.”

“By the way, Braddock, the Captain is looking for you.”

Spence aimed his pen at Bear’s face. “You missed your meeting

this morning.”

“Screw you.” Bear slapped the pen out of Spence’s hand and

closed the distance between them to a few uncomfortable inches.

“What are you and Clemens doing out here?”

“The Captain sent us.”

“Bul shit.”

Clemens stepped between them. “Listen, Bear, you weren’t

answering your cell or radio. The Captain got worried—every-

where you go someone gets killed. She sent us looking for you.”

“Bullshit.” Bear turned around, climbed into his car, and

threw a wave out his window for everyone to move. When we

did, he sped off in a hail of gravel and dirt.

I leaned over to Angel. “Angel, I want to show you something.

Go to the dig with me.”

She excused herself and walked off toward the pit, leaving

Spence and Clemens scoffing and muttering about Bear. Ernie

followed us but waited until we were out of earshot from the oth-

ers before speaking.

“Angela, I’m curious about Detective Braddock.” Ernie

glanced over her shoulder. “Detective Spence said he missed his

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meeting this morning with Captain Sutter. You told me that’s

why he was late earlier.”

“Ernie, I don’t like what you’re insinuating.”

I was about to suggest how stupid Ernie’s questions were

when I realized they weren’t stupid at al . Was this another ques-

tion spilling goo all over Bear? I swallowed my answer hard.

Ernie continued, “You told me that he wasn’t right there with

you last night when someone shot at you.”

“Wel , not right with me.” Angel tried to hide the conflict in

her eyes by looking away. “Bear would never hurt me. And why

would he hurt André? I trust him.”

Did she, but did I?

“My dear …”

“Bear would never do such a thing.” Angel pointed a scolding

finger at him. “I won’t hear that from you again—ever.”

“I, I … I’m sorry, Angela. Forgive me.” Ernie’s face reddened

and he turned back toward Spence and Clemens. They were

watching now. “I should go. Be careful.” He headed for his car.

“Damn him.” Angel wiped a few tears away. When she turned

back away from the watching eyes, she said, “What do you want,

Tuck? I’m not sure how much more I can take.”

I stood above the pit and told her about the two wraiths visit-

ing me again. I connected the dots for her between Kel y’s Dig

and their murders I saw in my vision. It didn’t take a lot of dots.

“Angel, it al starts and ends here. We just have to figure out

who and why.”

“Tuck, I cannot do this. I just can’t. Not now …”

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“Just look at this.” I showed her the emerald stone I’d found

and she dug it out of the clay and rock. Her face softened and she turned toward the orchard. She glanced off into the trees, perhaps expecting the girls to appear to her.

“An emerald? How did this get here?” Angel wiped it clean

and held it up to the light. Her demeanor changed with every

dim sparkle of green light.

I reached out and touched the stone. No sparks. No lightning.

No eerie fog bringing pretty girls imploring my help. There was

nothing.

Then it hit me.

“Angel,” I said, looking at the emerald in her hand. “I under-

stand now. The girls—they’re dead like me but they know who

killed them. They just can’t do anything about it. They hope to

stop their killer so they can move on.”

“Is this all about you? Your murder?”

I thought about that. “They said it wasn’t about me. But, I

think it’s that I’ve made contact with you. I’ve done what they

couldn’t. They tried to warn me about André, too.”

“André?” she whispered. “They knew someone was trying to

kill him?”

“I think so. They can’t reach out for help and they know I

can.”

“What are you saying?” Angel’s brow furrowed. “They want

you to help them because you’re dead?”

“No, because you’re not.”

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fift y

The ominous bank of monitors and life-support apparatus en-

circling André’s bed made it difficult to see him. Tubes and a

spaghetti-like array of wires protruded everywhere and covered

him with an aura of desperation. His face was pale but his breath-

ing regular. The machine’s constant beeping explained every-

thing of importance—André Cartier was alive.

A uniformed deputy sat beside André’s room door. Bear

wasn’t taking any chances with the only potential witness in

Winchester’s crime wave. Someone tried to kill André once. Per-

haps they would try again.

Angel was crying and I said, “Hey, he’ll be okay.”

“He has to be. I cannot believe someone would hurt him. We

have to stop them.”

“We wil , Angel. We wil .”

She folded her arms. “How do you know that? You can’t know

that. Tuck, you just don’t understand.”

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Oh real y? “Actual y, Angel, I think I do. I’m a little worse off, don’t you think?”

She started to debate me when André’s doctor, Dr. Pandreas,

walked up behind us. The nurse came out of the room, handed

him André’s chart, and walked down the hal . The doctor studied

it before coming to Angel’s side.

“Dr. Tucker,” he said in a heavy Greek accent, “he’s going to be

fine. It’s a miracle considering what happened. His lungs were

not affected as we feared and I’m amazed he didn’t sustain more

serious burns. You got to him in time. You should go now—we’ll

call should anything change.”

“I’ll wait a while longer.” She looked through the observation

window again. “Just a little while.”

He reached out and took her arm, guiding her toward a couch

in the nearby waiting area. “Dr. Tucker, you have to trust me. He

has a concussion and we’ll run more tests when he wakes up. But

he
will
wake up and he’ll be fine.”

Angel thanked him and he excused himself.

Instead of sitting in the sparse waiting room, we went to visit

Carmen Delgado two floors up. We arrived as she was leaving

her room. She was checked out and heading to stay with family

in Pennsylvania. After some happy conversation and hugs, Car-

men was wheeled away under escort by another Sheriff’s Deputy.

As she left, Angel wondered aloud if Carmen would ever return

to town.

Neither of us would blame her if she didn’t.

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We took the elevator to the basement cafeteria where Angel

purchased a large black coffee. “Tuck, I don’t know what to do

next.”

“Let’s wait for André to wake up,” I said. “Maybe he’ll have

some answers. Oh, shit …”

She nodded, “What?”

Tyler Byrd was heading straight for us. He was smiling,

though it looked like an effort. He stopped behind the chair I was sitting in and without asking, dropped down into it facing Angel.

I barely made it clear before the behemoth smothered me.

“I’m glad I found you, Angela. I’m very sorry about Professor

Cartier.” If I didn’t know better, I’d swear the bastard was being honest. “As soon as I heard, I came here to check on him.”

“Real y?” Angel’s eyes flared. “How nice of you, Tyler. What

happened out there?”

“Excuse me?” He sat back in his chair. “You think I had some-

thing to do with this?”

“Shouldn’t I?”

“Why should you? I’ve got more to lose than anyone. Every

incident around that site costs me money and more of my repu-

tation. Cartier’s accident is gonna make things worse.”

“Accident? It wasn’t an accident.”

“Listen, Angela.” Both Tyler’s hands landed on the table and

nearly spilled Angel’s coffee. “Do you think I’m stupid enough to

try to kill Professor Cartier the day after you call me a mobster?

On my own site with my own equipment?”

Damn if he didn’t have a point. “Angel, ask him about the

package at McCorkle’s.”

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She did. “I’m curious what business you have with him—con-

sidering he’s dead, too.”

“For Christ’s sake.” Tyler thrust himself back in his chair. “I

don’t recall doing business with any antique dealer in Staunton. If I needed one, I’d find someone right here—hel , there are hundreds of them.”

Another good point.

“Then explain it,” Angel demanded.

“I can’t.”

“How convenient.”

“Now, you listen. That envelope could have come from one of

my clients. Anyone working for me could have taken one home.

Jesus, we don’t lock them up.”

Angel said, “Maybe they’ll find your fingerprints on it.”

“Fingerprints?” He laughed. “You think it odd my finger-

prints
might
be on my own business stationary? You can do better than that.”

Okay, so Tyler Byrd was batting a thousand. I asked, “Why

did he pull his security guard from Kel y’s Dig after talking with you and André yesterday?”

She asked him and he dismissed her with a wave of his hand.

“Nicholas did that.”

“Nicholas? Why?”

“I told you yesterday he handles security. We use some from

his warehouse. When I told him you needed more time at Kel y’s

Dig, he raised a big issue.”

“What issue—that a witness would get in the way of killing

André?” I asked.

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“What issue?” Angel asked.

“Money.” His voice was flat, void of any apology. “Why should

we foot the bill for security there? The county stopped the work

on us—it’s their contract and their land. The state historical people have writs and court orders out the … Why should I pay for

security?”

Angel shrugged. “Yes, I suppose.”

“I pulled my equipment out around dinnertime yesterday. All

that’s left are a couple big Cats and our trailer. If the State wants to guard a hole in the ground, let them.”

Angel took a long sip of her coffee, watching Tyler over the

cup. He had all the right answers. Maybe he was being straight or

maybe he was a damn good liar. Right then, I couldn’t decide.

She said, “All right, Tyler. It’s all very convenient. But, it’s reasonable.”

“The truth sometimes is, Angela.”

For a history professor, she was tough, and wasn’t taking his

guff. “Tyler, I’m sorry, but a lot of people have been hurt. All of them are somehow connected to Kel y’s Dig and …”

“And what—me?” His mouth tightened as veins emerged on

his forehead. “This is bul shit. The Historic Society is screaming.

The county is screaming. The cops are breathing down on me. It

ain’t my fault. Do you think I wanted to find skeletons buried

there?”

Angel shook her head. “No, I guess not.”

“Do you think killing people helps me? I got judges slapping

me with court orders, history-nuts picketing my office, and now

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you’re accusing me of attempted murder. I build things, Angela,

and it’s costing me millions to sit on my ass.”

Angel stayed cool. “We’re talking about murder, not money.”

“I know that. I had nothing to do with any of them. How stu-

pid do you think I am? Every murder is connected to Kel y’s Dig

and me.”

Wow, when he put it that way, he was either very, very stu-

pid—or very, very innocent.

“Okay, Tyler. I’m sorry. Truly, I’m sorry.”

“Angela, forgive me, too.” His tone softened. “Of all the people

who don’t deserve any of this, it’s you. You’ve been very helpful to me and I appreciate it. I’m feeling like a deer wearing a bright-red vest on the opening day of hunting season.”

They sat silent for several minutes, letting the anger cool.

Tyler took a call from his office and Angel looked on.

When he hung up, she asked, “Do you know anything about

two missing girls over the years?”

“What are you suggesting now?” Tyler’s temporary calm van-

ished. “That I …”

“No, no, don’t take it that way.” She held her hand up. “I was

doing research about the site and came across references to two

missing girls from the area—several years ago.”

“Who were they?”

Oops, she was caught. “I don’t know—I don’t have any details