Eyeshot (23 page)

What a world it was, Sonora thought, when knocking your wife and child around could be called normal abuse. But she knew what Dorrie Ainsley meant.

“But when people aren't watching, he's something else. I don't know what, but it's bad.”

“You said you needed to keep your granddaughter safe.”

“I've been keeping her safe since before she was born. I honestly think—and even Grey thinks I'm crazy—but I honestly think that if I didn't have Micah stay with me those last couple months, Mia would never have been born.”

“Why did she stay with you?”

“We told Gage that the doctor said Micah had to be flat on her back those last weeks, but it was a lie. That was what we told him to get her down here, where I could take care of her.”

“Was Micah afraid?”

“Oh yes. I'm her mother, I could tell. It's not like she'd say so, everything was under the surface and unspoken. It was a wonderful time, those two months. I'd say, Micah, if you feel well enough, you best get up and not lay in bed all day. We rented tons of movies. Watched TV. Read a million books. And she and Grey would take long walks, and go down to the lake, and I'd have their supper waiting. I fixed all their favorite stuff and we were a family again.” Dorrie placed her hands in her lap. “I think of those two months as a gift.”

“How did Gage take it? The two months she was here?”

“I expected him to be difficult and he wasn't. It was almost like he was relieved. I couldn't believe he was just going to let her come down here, but he was nice as you please. He was so nice it gave me bad dreams.” She stared at the floor. “Doesn't make sense, does it?”

It made sense to Sonora.

“But I know he found out we lied to him after Mia was born, because the doctor talked to Micah later, when it was just her and me, and he made a point to tell her that she could have more kids if she wanted. And that if she got pregnant again, she didn't need to stay in bed all that time unless something unforeseen came up. So he
had
to have talked to Gage about it. Gage must have told him what we said and the doctor set him straight. But Gage never said word one to us about it.”

“Odd,” Sonora said.

“Everything with Gage is under the surface.”

Sonora thought of Caplan's desk the first time she'd seen his office. Clean pristine desk and bookshelves, drawers stuffed with such a jumble they barely closed.

“Did the police talk to you when Micah died?”

“I called
them.
I knew he did it, and so did that Detective Byer. But the DA's office never took it on. Gage was a lawyer himself, and he knew people. I mean, they investigated him. It's just, Gage is … he's a charmer. People like him. And then he goes to work for those people! I talked to a lawyer about getting custody of Mia, but I didn't have a chance. All I would do is cause a big mess.

“Then Gage called me, after things died down. We'd had a lot of words, I have to tell you. And he said that he knew that the trouble between us—that's how he put it—was just my grief taking over. And he hoped I would
settle down.
That's what he said, settle down. Because he said Mia loved me and was asking for me and it would be better for her if we got along.” She swallowed hard. “You don't know how hard it was for me to back down. But I did. Because it was the best thing for Mia. So I apologized and I ate crow,
then
he tells me he thinks there should be a cooling off period.” She took a breath. “He didn't let me see my granddaughter for a year. She was only three years old, then, same age as Micah when Grey brought her home to me. And if you don't think that was a happy day. If I could go back to that day, I'd take my little girl and just hide.”

Dorrie Ainsley looked Sonora straight in the eye and if she'd expected to see sorrow and grief, she was mistaken. Sonora knew stone-cold hatred when she saw it.

“If it wasn't for Collie I don't know what would have happened. But thanks to her I see a lot of Mia and I love Collie like she was mine. I can't imagine why a high-rolling son of a bitch like Gage married her. She's too good for him. But it was a godsend for Mia, and for me and Grey.”

But Sonora knew exactly why Gage had married her. Vulnerable, unattractive—but intelligent, playful, fun. Strength of purpose just when you expected her to fold. A quality woman with a clown face.

This was one he could break, and control, and play with for a while.

44

In the best of all possible worlds, which this was not, the men would not have come back in until Sonora was ready to be interrupted. They did not head back into the living room, for which she was grateful, but settled in the kitchen. Sonora heard the refrigerator door open and close. The clink of ice in a glass.

“Can I get you something?” Dorrie Ainsley slid forward on the chaise lounge, but Sonora shook her head. “This little Jenny girl that came to see me. You say her name is Julia? Who was she, then? Was she one of Gage's girlfriends?”

“No ma'am. She wasn't one of Gage's girlfriends.”

The refrigerator door slammed again, and Grey came in, followed by Sam, holding two glasses of lemonade.

“How about that?” Grey handed a glass to Sonora, and one to Dorrie. “You girls are doing an awful lot of talking. Probably need something to—” He looked at Sonora, face darkening to a dusky red. “Not supposed to call you girls, am I?”

Sonora smiled. “Ten points toward being politically incorrect.”

He gave Dorrie a second look, then turned to Sonora. “She's been crying, so I guess you're all filled in on the Gage and Micah situation.” He sat down on the edge of Dorrie's chaise lounge. “We got no choice but to get along with the boy. No matter what we think happened. It isn't an easy thing.”

“No,” Sam said.

“But it's been a whole lot better since he married Collie.”

Not for Collie, Sonora thought.

Grey was nodding. “Over a hundred and ten percent. She makes it easy on us. She was scared to death to meet us, bless her heart. She and Gage come down to use the cabin, and no telling what he told her, but—”

“What cabin?” Sonora asked.

“We have a cabin down on Laurel Lake. It's got a little dock, and we have a boat we take down there, to fish and swim. It's real pretty out there. It was one of Micah's favorite places. I think Gage and Collie get down there more than he and Micah did—Collie likes to bring Mia down. I pretty much give them free rein of the place. Dorrie and I just don't get out there, and I get to see my granddaughter when Gage and Collie bring her down.”

“They're supposed to come in the next couple of days,” Dorrie said. “They're going to leave Mia with us and take the boat out, though dragging Collie out in this heat with her so pregnant seems the height of stupidity. But maybe that's just me. I don't like the heat.”

Sonora considered the cabin, thinking that if Caplan killed Julia Winchell in the rental car, like she thought, he'd have to have somewhere private to butcher the body.

“What time did Julia Winchell leave? That day she came down?”

Dorrie looked at Grey. “A little before one, wasn't it?”

“Yeah. She had a drive back, and she was anxious to hit the road.”

“And how far is it from here to Clinton?” Sam asked.

“No more than an hour, hour and a half.”

“You stay on I-75 to get there?” Sonora asked.

“Up until you get to the exit,” Dorrie said.

Sonora exchanged looks with Sam. He stood up.

“You folks mind if we take a look at that cabin?”

“Hell, no,” Grey said. “Take you out in the boat, too, if you want to go.”

45

The cabin was a good sixty feet from the lake, one of those vacation home packages, with a roof that slanted in a
V
and a wood deck wrapped all the way around. Sonora heard the waspy buzz of a boat engine, somewhere close on the water. There were other houses, close by and in sight, scattered at random in the trees, all with boat docks and trails to the lake.

Would Caplan have brought Julia Winchell here? Lots of people around, in the summer, lots of people to see.

But at night, with the body wrapped in plastic, he could have lugged her in under the trees. People were camping, fishing—who was to say he wasn't lugging a sleeping bag or something for the boat?

Grey led them up onto the porch, engine running on the blue Chrysler LeBaron in an attempt to keep the interior cool for Dorrie, who had insisted on coming along. He seemed shy suddenly, shoulders stiff, wiping his feet on the deck for no particular reason.

He unlocked the front door and pushed it open, but did not go inside. “I best let you do your job. I'll go keep Dorrie company in the car. Holler if you need something.”

Sonora smiled at him, relieved. It was inhibiting to search a house under the homeowner's worried eye, and she was grateful Ainsley had the grace to go back to the car.

Sam nodded thanks and Sonora led the way.

It took a minute for their eyes to adjust, even with the lights switched on. All the windows had blinds and they were down and shut tight, like eyes that would not see. Sonora sniffed. Some odor here, familiar, but she could not place it.

“What's that smell?”

“I don't notice anything,” Sam said.

Sonora headed to the kitchen, sniffing again. Just a trace. She could not place it. A sort of clean chemical odor, and she knew it was common as eggs. What was it?

The cabin was immaculate. Living room carpet newly vacuumed, tread marks showing. None of the furniture was new, everything had the secondhand air of things that were pre-owned and serviceable. There were prints on the wall of farms in winter—the kind of thing that provided color for under twenty dollars.

Sonora checked the kitchen sink. Dry as a bone and gleaming. She opened the cabinet underneath. It was the usual lair, dark and scummy. A green cleaning bucket, an open canister of Comet—yellow top, so it had a lemon scent. Sonora sniffed it, frowned. Not the smell she'd noticed—too lemony. A sprinkle of the blue/yellow powder had spilled onto the bottom of the cabinet. Sonora opened the door wide. The cleaning supplies had been crammed in so tightly that a plastic squirt bottle of Windex had fallen sideways on top of the Endust and the Four Paws Pet Stain Remover. The can of Raid (Kills Bugs Dead) was laid sideways across a black box of ant traps.

But on the right-hand side was an empty spot, a blue dusting of Comet trailing across the circle of empty space. Sonora picked a yellow tab of cardboard off the pile of blue dust.

It had come from a box of garbage bags, Dairy Co-op House Brand, the large lawn and leaf size.

Julia Winchell's head, hands, and feet had been tied in brown plastic bags, lawn and leaf size. Sonora wondered if they could match the roll.

“Find anything?” Sam said, sticking his head in the door.

Sonora rocked backward on her heels and lost her balance.

“Sorry, girl, didn't mean to scare you.”

“I meant to do that. No, really, my knees were tired.” She looked up. “Got your little penlight?”

“Yeah.”

“Shine it in here.”

“Sonora, if it's something horrible will you just tell me first?”

“You never did get over the time they sent you into that dark room when you were a uniform and you screamed.”

“Damn right I screamed. Place was dark as an oven, and when I turn on the light there's a body hanging from the ceiling fan? What would you do?”

“No body parts, Sam, come on, shine it in.”

He squatted down beside her, groaned when his knees cracked.

“Getting too old for this, Sam.”

“All ex-football players have bad knees. Even the young ones.”

“So you must have had yours for years.”

The, light made bright circles in the dark recesses of the cabinet.

“Did you know that when you say ‘must've' is sounds like ‘mustard'?”

“You know, Sam, you are the only person who tells me things like that. Thanks for being a friend.”

Sam squinted, looking inside the cabinet. “Is this doing anything for you? Because it's not doing anything for me.”

“Okay, see that?”

“See what?”

He was close enough to kiss and he had that little smile that Sonora didn't see very often, and the tone of voice he'd used to say “see what” was without a doubt flirty.

Her voice, worldly wise and jaded, came back to haunt her, and she had a mental image of herself, preaching to young Sanders, about how she had taken the cure and was henceforth no longer interested in married men.

She wondered if there was some universal force that got set in motion to make people eat crow when they made noble pronouncements.

“There, Sam. In the scum, by the Comet.”

“I … Sonora, I think it's a clue.”

“Pull me the hell up off of this floor and I'll explain it to you.” She held up her hands.

Sam stood up, bent over her. He still had that smile. “What will you give me, if I do?”

“Anything you want.”

“Yeah, I heard that about you.”

She shoved him out of her way. Wondered if he knew he'd just missed being kissed by an expert. “Okay, here's the deal. See, under the sink, the clear spot? Something's missing.”

“For one thing, there aren't any sponges.”

“What?”

“No sponges, no cleaning rags. See, look in that bucket. Plastic gloves and a toilet brush. No sponges. Where are they? Because somebody's gone over this place, and they had to use something.”

“Used the sponges to clean up something nasty, like blood and guts and bits of bone?”

“Eye of newt.” Sam lowered his voice. “So that's the big clue, Sonora? Empty spot under the sink?”

“The big clue is a tab from a box of garbage bags that were bought in Cincinnati.”