The Drake House (21 page)

His cell went off again. He ignored it again. Wayne was on call tonight; he could deal with whatever menial crap came up.

Brad returned with a blanket from upstairs and draped it over her on the couch. Straightening, he looked between the two of them and asked the obvious. “So what the hell happened out there and what does this mean?”

His cell vibrated again. “Damn it, hold on,” he said, pulling the phone out of his pocket. Steve’s name displayed on the caller ID. “I’ll be right back,” he told them and went into the kitchen.

“This better be good, Steve.”

“I need you out here at exit 181,” he said, his voice hurried. “I got a call about a disabled vehicle. Instead, I found Chuck Harrison dead in his car.”

Every muscle in his body restricted to the point of pain. “Tell me it’s an auto accident.”

“Uh…no.” Steve muttered a few choice curses. “Just get here.”

“Did you call Lafferty in Madison?”
Wait. Wayne was supposed to be on call.
“Why are you fielding calls?”

“Wayne said he was sick, so I took on-call. And no, I called you first.”

“I’m on my way,” Nick said. “Call Lafferty and don’t touch anything.”

Nick disconnected and stood in the kitchen, gripping the cell so hard his knuckles popped. If murdering Chuck was another warning, they were getting close. Someone was getting nervous and killed again. He had to get out there before anything got contaminated.

He looked at the doorway to the living room and swallowed. Trisha couldn’t handle this right now. Not after what happened at the Drake house. He couldn’t leave her alone either. Alarm and locks or not, this was getting too dangerous now. Taking a deep breath, he went into the living room. Standing in the door frame, Nick looked at Brad and gestured for him to follow him out of the room.

Once they were out of earshot in the kitchen, Nick said, “Steve just found Chuck Harrison dead in his car on an exit ramp.”

Brad backed up into the counter, his mouth trembling open. “How?”

“I don’t know. I’m going out there now.” When Brad’s mouth firmed and he straightened, Nick held up his hand. “Listen to me. It could be an accident, but Steve didn’t think so. I need you to do some things for me.”

Brad nodded, the shock receding to anger. Giving him something to focus on would help him stay calm. Nick knew the feeling all too well.

“Call Trisha’s parents and get them on the first flight out here. Then call Nancy and Eduardo and get them home.” Nick ran a hand over his face and sighed. “I’ll call Wayne. When everyone’s here, we’ll meet.”

“What are you thinking, Nick?”

Either he was about to finally get some answers, or about to let all hell loose. “I’m questioning them all as suspects.”

“It’s impossible. The only one in town is Wayne.”

And Wayne asked Steve to take on call.
There were other ways to get the job done too. Hiring someone was the ultimate alibi. “Doesn’t matter. They know something, and I’m calling them out.”

Brad crossed his arms and glanced at the doorway. “She tried to warn us. We shouldn’t have gone out there tonight.”

“Well, we did. Keep this quiet until I get back and know more. Try to get her to eat.”

After Brad acknowledged he understood, Nick returned to the living room and crouched in front of Trisha.

“Are you feeling better?”

When she shrugged, he said, “I have to go. There’s a traffic accident Steve needs help with. Brad will stay with you.”

Standing, he told Brad, “Lock the doors and set the alarm.”

****

Steve was pacing the deserted pavement in front of Chuck’s Civic when Nick pulled up and parked, blocking street entrance to the scene. He got out and glanced at the sky.

“I called Lafferty. He’s assembling a team and will need about an hour. That was thirty minutes ago. I haven’t touched anything…”

Nick blew out a breath. “Okay. You did good. Any idea who called in the report?”

“No. It was a male. He just said there was a disabled car and gave the location, then hung up.”

Interesting the anonymous male called Small Rapids Police directly. They were literally a hundred feet inside jurisdiction. “You didn’t recognize the voice?”

“No.”

He looked at Chuck’s car and then the sky again, his gut churning. The Civic was stopped at the end of the exit ramp by the light. Two hills encased both sides of the ramp, making it difficult for anyone on 94 to see the car from the highway. It was a blessing no one crashed into it.

“It’s going to be sun up soon,” Nick said. “Get your squad car up at the top of the hill and block off this exit so no one comes down here. Keep your lights on and set the cones out half a mile back. We don’t need further accidents.”

“Right. Okay.” Steve climbed in Small Rapids only squad and U-turned, heading toward the next on ramp to get his car in position.

Nick eyed Chuck’s car. Walking over, he didn’t touch anything, but by peering inside the passenger’s side window he could see Chuck slumped over the steering wheel. The locks weren’t engaged. The engine was still running. Someone had scribbled,
last warning
, on the inside windshield—in what looked like blood.

Straightening, he forced air out his nose. If there was doubt before, this abated any. Chuck was murdered.

Surveying the exterior of the beige car, he didn’t see any blood. Headlights on. No mud. No visible fingerprint smudging. When he rounded the back of the car, he noticed a lengthy mark along the bumper. He frowned. It could have been there long before now. Or not.

How did this guy get to Chuck inside his car at a street light? Someone already in the car? Or following him? But would Chuck have parked and opened the door?

He eyed the bumper and rolled theories around in his head until Steve waddled down the ramp, huffing like he’d run a charity marathon. Sweating like one too.

“Madison’s here,” he puffed. “They’re getting off at the next exit and sweeping around.”

Five minutes later, a forensics van and Lafferty’s unmarked car pulled in front of his. Nick looked at Steve. “Do me a favor. Head up to your squad and keep an eye on traffic. We’ll get you if needed.”

Lafferty emerged from his car and directed the team to Chuck’s. “This is getting to be a habit, Mackey.”

“Yep.”

“What have we got?” he asked, pulling sunglasses out of his breast pocket and donning them.

“Steve got an anonymous tip from a male, unrecognized voice, about a disabled vehicle. He found this.” Nick looked over at the team snapping photos. “Chuck Harrison. Thirty-two. Single. Car is his. He was supposed to be up north fishing. He works for Trisha Eaton on the orchard.”

“Well, well. A coincidence?”

“There’s a bloody warning on the windshield.”

“A connection.” Lafferty rubbed his chin. “Anything new since we talked?”

Nick told him what they learned via Trisha’s sleepwalking, minus the ghost story.

“And within hours the guy is dead?” Lafferty asked, not expecting an answer. “I hate small towns,” he mumbled and moved closer to the scene. “You find anything?”

“He’s slumped over the wheel, but I’m willing to bet he was strangled. Nothing’s been touched.” Nick cleared his throat. “There’s a mark on the bumper. Could be the guy rear-ended him and got to him that way.”

“Or the mark was already there and the suspect was in the car with him.”

Nick shoved his hands in his pocket. “Yep.”

Lafferty clucked his tongue in thought. “What are you thinking, Mackey?”

Nick didn’t like any of the possibilities. “Trisha’s parents are being called to fly in. She doesn’t know this yet. The workers are off this week, but the Hernandez’s are being ordered to return as well.” Nick paused, debating and second-guessing if this next part was the right move. “I think we should check all their financials for a large withdrawal for an ordered hit. Request a DNA sample. Wayne Radcliff included.”

Lafferty whipped his head back. “Your Sheriff?” He shook his head. “Ordered hits are rare, and typically involve a gunshot.”

“Nothing about this whole case is typical. I think we should corner them and spill what we know. Maybe it’ll force them to reveal something.”

“Why not just kill her? I mean, if this is about her or the house, why not kill the source?”

That’s exactly what he was worried about. “Thus, enhancing my suspicion it’s someone close to her.”

Lafferty stared at him a long time. Nick’s gaze didn’t waver. Finally, he nodded. “It can’t hurt. Head over to the orchard and call when they’re all together. I’ll finish here.”

****

Nick stared at Trisha’s house from his car in the driveway and swallowed. He’d never been a coward, but something about her got to him, compelling him to feel her misery and fear, scratching at raw nerve-endings until they bled. And this case forced back the pain and dread he’d shoved down after Milwaukee. The shrink warned him this day would come. He didn’t believe it. He’d been numb so long he’d been more robot than man. He’d rather be a coward here in the car than face her with this. Again.

Exiting the car, her front door opened and Brad filled the doorway. Nick closed his eyes and struggled for composure. Brad groaned, forcing Nick to open his eyes.

“I was hoping for a mangled car wreck.”

“So was I,” Nick said, understanding fully the morbid humor. “Did you get her to eat?”

“A couple pieces of toast and a cup of tea.” He held open the screen door for Nick to enter. Once in the hallway, he lowered his voice. “Her parents are on a six o’clock flight. Eduardo and Nancy left at seven. It should take them about four hours.”

Nick sighed. “Where is she?”

“In the kitchen.”

“Come with me. She’s going to need you.”

I wish she needed me
. Halting, he braced his hand against the wall and leaned his weight into it.

“You okay?” Brad asked.

Sucking in a breath, he gritted his teeth when he noticed his hands shaking. “No. Let’s do this.”

Entering the kitchen, he found her seated at the kitchenette table, huddled over a cup of tea, looking like she’d just gone a round or two with a heavyweight. Brad crossed his arms and leaned against the sink. Nick took the seat across from her. She looked up at him as if she just noticed him there.

Nick gathered all his police training and rallied what little resolve was left inside him. “Do you know where Chuck goes fishing?”

Massaging one hand, she shrugged. “At his uncle’s cabin a couple hours north. I’m not sure exactly where.”

“Do you think he’d stay there the whole week?”

A look that might have passed for a smile gently spread across her face. “Not if he doesn’t catch anything the first day. He has this thing about that.” If she’d been healthier or more mentally alert, he wouldn’t have been able to pry an answer from her. Trisha would’ve seen right through him.

Feeling like a complete shit, he nodded. “Do you ever remember seeing a scratch on the bumper of his car?”

She bit her lip in thought and shook her head. “No.” Then her eyes narrowed and her shoulders trembled, speculation dawning. “Why?”

When he didn’t answer, a quivering breath expelled from her mouth. She bolted from the chair, sending it across the room and crashing into the wall. Shaking her head repeatedly, she uttered the word
no
so many times he lost track.

She looked at Brad as if to confirm her worst fear. The tears in his eyes and wretched expression sent her flying in a rage. Nick stood and watched her pound a fist into the table, making her teacup pummel to the floor. He could feel her violent, ravaged wail inside his ribcage, quaking him with the force. Brad jerked away from the sink and left the room as she crumpled to the floor.

“I told you! I told you! Not Chuck, Nick. Not Chuck.”

Something inside him finally cracked. A lump formed in his airway, ever-increasing and spreading throughout his body, filling the dejected hollow void once there. Fighting it, he looked away from her, but couldn’t stand the pain.
Her
pain. Instinct told him what to do, to go to her and comfort her, but his body seemed to forget how. Seemed to find the answer unnatural.

When he looked back at her, she lay quietly on the floor, her hand bloodied from the broken teacup shards. It snapped him out of his dissociative haze and into action. Grabbing a towel from the counter, he soaked it in cold water and knelt next to her on the floor. He applied pressure over the cut, but quickly ascertained it wasn’t deep enough for stitches. “Can you not do that again, please?”

Weary, she looked up at him. “Are you going to tell me Chuck’s murder wasn’t my fault either?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I did.”

****

Nick rose from a chair on Trisha’s front porch when Lafferty pulled in the long drive. There was no place for Nick among the chaos inside, he quickly learned. He was still the outsider, not family. They were going to hate him royally after he was through with them. Between Nancy and Eduardo, the Eatons, and Wayne, the living room resembled an unleashed storm. He’d only had two hours alone with Trisha before everyone arrived and the yelling began. Nick was pretty certain no one noticed he’d stepped out.

“What have you got?” he asked.

Lafferty removed his sunglasses and stepped onto the porch. “Coroner will look at him this afternoon, but it appears strangulation is cause of death. The message on the windshield is blood, but we won’t know if it’s the same source until tomorrow. No fibers, maybe a hair, but plenty of prints. The lab will sort it out.”

“If we could match the rope or find it, they could test for epithelial cells.” With the advancements in science, the fact they could get DNA from skin cells astounded him.

“Assuming he didn’t wear gloves, and we could find the weapon. I’ll get an order to search Wayne’s house and Eaton’s shed.”

“You won’t need one for the shed. She’ll cooperate.” The forensics van pulled in and parked behind Lafferty’s. “They need to see Chuck’s room?”