The Second Lie (31 page)

"Yes. Of course. I'm not going to end up like my mom."

Sad thing was, the child was making choices exactly like her mother had made. And probably for the same reasons.

But there was one major difference. Maggie had me.

28

R
ecognizing the number on her cell phone display Monday afternoon, Sam picked up on the first ring. She was out in a cruiser, on speed-gun duty, where she'd found herself every shift since Friday's disclosure from the coroner.

She understood. The sheriff. Chuck Sewell and Todd Williams. They were all worried about her. Thanks to her dad and Pierce. And the Holmes suicide. They had no idea what she'd do now that a child had been murdered due to the meth lab that didn't exist in their county.

"Deputy Jones?"

"Yes."

"This is MaryLee Hatch."

A car passed. Doing fifty-six in a forty-five.

"Is everything okay?"

"Daniel just called. A girl approached him at school today. She asked him if he needed help with homework and gave him a flyer like the one Nicole had."

"He didn't call the number, did he?"

"Not yet, but he said he was going to. I'm afraid he'll do it, ma'am. He's just so mad at what those guys tried to do to Nicole, and now that that Glenna girl's dead--he heard about it at school--and with my husband dead, Daniel thinks that as the man of the house he has to protect us...."

Sam's mind raced. The flyer had been given to Daniel. Specifically him? Had he been sought out?

"Tell him not to call," Sam said, her voice as firm as it had ever been. "Better yet, let me talk to him." Was Daniel being targeted? Because of Nicole?

"He's home, if you want to just stop by."

She put the car in gear. And then stopped. Someone, maybe Hank Long, had killed Glenna Reynolds because the police had her. Hank was in jail, but he obviously had others helping him. This organization--killing Fort County citizens one person at a time--was not small.

Did they know Nicole was working with Sam? A cop?

"No, no, I can't really do that right now," she said, her mind working furiously. Suddenly the emphasis was not on the meth. It was on keeping Nicole and Daniel safe. And Maggie.

Thank God Sam hadn't had any personal contact with Maggie. No one but Kelly--and Kyle--knew that Sam had been watching the girl. Not even Maggie's mom knew which deputy had been watching her daughter.

"Listen, Mrs. Hatch. I don't mean to frighten you, but I'm not taking any chances with your children."

"What?"

"I need you to phone Daniel back. Tell him that if he calls that number I will have him arrested and shipped out of town immediately. We're dealing with very dangerous people here. People with money. And they mean business. If they'll kill a girl in jail, they won't hesitate to go after someone on the street if they think that person is talking to the police."

She was getting worked up, but she knew she wasn't exaggerating. It had come down to life and death.

As she'd known it would.

"Do you have any relatives in another state?" she asked. "Someone who wouldn't mind some company?"

"Wait. I can't leave. I have to work and--"

But now that the idea had taken root, she couldn't let it go.

"Mrs. Hatch, listen to me. I'm afraid your kids could be in danger. Nicole talked to me. I've been to your home. Please...I think we're going to find these guys. Soon. But until then, get those kids out of town. Just to be safe." If Daniel had been singled out to get that flyer... If they knew he was Nicole's brother and that Nicole had identified Glenna...

"I have a sister in Kentucky. She's been asking us to come there to live. She says there's a job in her office. Maybe we could go down for a couple of weeks. Check it out. Fall break's coming up, anyway."

"I think that's an excellent idea. Just let me know where you are so I can keep you posted. And, Mrs. Hatch?"

"Yeah?"

"Get me that phone number, okay?"

"I'll call you right back."

Within five minutes she had the number. And an assurance that MaryLee Hatch's children were already packing.

Viola gave Kyle access to all of Bob Branson's financial and personal records but asked that, for now, he keep the information to himself. She wasn't sure what her husband had gotten into and didn't want the police all over the farm without first being able to make plans. She had to think of her kids, who depended on the farm for their livelihood.

"He wrote a lot of checks to the city," he told Viola Monday evening as he ate the meat loaf and mashed potatoes she'd brought over. Grandpa had already eaten and was in the living room, watching football.

Or at least staring at the television screen.

"Bob's been donating to the city for as long as I can remember. He didn't believe in supporting a political party. He said the money spent on campaigns was a waste and would be better used for worthwhile services rather than popularity contests."

"Here's one from last month to David Abrams."

"I'm guessing he hired him to represent him in the divorce." The woman teared up and Kyle put down the notes he'd taken throughout the long afternoon.

"You know what I couldn't find...?"

"What's that?"

"Any missing money." She took a deep breath. "My husband wasn't a thief. Nor would he have had to steal from himself. We always had what we needed."

"I understand. But with no missing money, how did he pay for the drugs? It's not like you can write a check for that particular purchase. And it doesn't look like Bob carried enough cash to support a drug habit."

"No, ever since the advent of credit cards, Bob's been a firm believer in carrying one card to pay for everything and paying it off at the end of the month. He's always insisted that I do the same. He said that if a wallet or purse gets stolen, we can just call and cancel the card. We wouldn't lose any cash."

"He's right about that. But it still doesn't explain how he paid for the drugs. I wonder if he was selling things...."

"Not that I'm aware of. One of the girls or I would've noticed if he'd been selling anything of value from the house. And if any of the farm machinery was sold, there would be a record in one of the farm books."

"And you keep those books."

"That's right. If money was missing from there, I'd know about it."

It felt like a dead end to Kyle.

But he had a feeling that what he'd found would mean something to Sam. He called her as soon as Viola was in her truck, heading down his drive. He hoped he could talk her into driving out to the farm for the evening. He hadn't seen her since Thursday night.

And knew that was intentional on her part.

For thirteen years he'd been pretending to be Sam's ship in the night, when, in fact, he'd been little more than a rotting piece of driftwood.

Chandler, Ohio
Monday, October 4, 2010

When Maggie Winston had sex with Mac, she took away my ability to protect her from investigation.

By law, because she was a minor, I had to report the incident to the authorities. Her mother would have to be told, as well, but I had to call Sam first. When and how to inform Maggie's mother would be Sam's call.

So, yeah, I was buying Maggie some time, maybe, by not telling Lori Winston right away. Buying Sam and me more time was more like it.

I tried her cell while I was still sitting at my desk. She didn't pick up. And I didn't leave a message.

I tried again on my way home. And then, instead of pulling into the garage, I pushed the automatic button to lower the door again and headed back out--much to Camy's chagrin. I could hear her high-pitched welcome since she thought Mama had come home to feed her.

Thank God for Camy. She kept life in perspective.

Sam wasn't at her place, either, so I went by the county building and from a block away saw her Mustang parked in the side lot.

My phone rang and Sam's number popped up.

"Don't pull in," the deputy said, just as I was about to signal my turn.

"Okay, but I need to speak with you. Urgently."

"Fine, but I don't want anyone to know. I don't want them to associate you or Maggie Winston with me."

With my Bluetooth on for talking, I grabbed a pen from my console and tapped it against the steering wheel, worried that my friend had pushed herself too far. The woman had been teetering on the edge of a breakdown for weeks.

Sleep deprivation could do that to you.

"What do you suggest?" I asked, considering a phone call to Chuck Sewell. I knew him in passing. Trusted him.

I'd just hoped that Sam, being a woman, could speak with Maggie.

"Just keep driving. We can talk this way. I'm on my way out to Kyle's. You head somewhere in the opposite direction."

"How about if I just go home?" Why hadn't Sam thought of the obvious?

"Fine. Yeah, that's good. You didn't tell anyone that it was me watching Maggie, did you?"

"I didn't tell anyone except her mother that she was being watched, and I didn't give her a name."

"Okay, good. I was going to call you, just in case."

"You sure we can't meet? Talk in person?" I wished Sam would give me the chance to assess her face-to-face. She was scaring me. I'd been to her house. She'd been to my office. It was a little late to pretend we weren't in touch.

"No, I have to get out to Kyle's. I-- Listen, Kelly, stuff is happening, worse than you know. Maggie's friend Glenna didn't commit suicide. She was murdered."

"What!" I swerved, barely missing the car in front of me. I hadn't even seen it.

"The coroner came in on Friday with the news. We're looking at one of the inmates but until tests come back we can't be sure it's him. And even if it is, it's certain that he has others working with him. More fliers turned up at the school today. There's a different number for kids to call if they need help. It's confirmation that someone besides the inmate is involved. In spite of the deaths, in spite of the fact that the sheriff's office is pursuing things, these folks aren't the least bit intimidated. They're continuing to peddle their wares right under our noses. They're that bold. Which means that, at this point, no one involved is safe. These guys have an elaborate scheme going here. And they're willing to kill to protect their business. They aren't going to let some small-town kids, or cops, get in their way."

She sounded completely rational.

"I've got some other leads and I'm following up on kids in the tennis club. None of them have priors that I could see. I just have to figure out how to keep them all safe until I figure out if they're involved in any way. But the quickest and most sure way I'm going to protect anyone is to find this damn superlab. My time's running out."

"We've got another problem."

"I didn't figure you were calling me to check on the weather."

"Maggie had sex with Mac."

I'd never heard the expletives that followed come out of a woman's mouth before.

"Tell me everything she told you," Sam demanded through what sounded like gritted teeth.

"While you're driving? Don't you need to write something down?"

I'd seen Sam's lists.

"I never take notes when I'm getting information. Only when I'm compiling it."

Seemed completely backward to me.

"If I'm focusing on what I'm writing, I'm taking my attention away from what's being said," she added.

I tapped my pen and related everything Maggie had told me.

"Wait just a goddamned minute."

"What?" Feeling rattled by Sam's nervous energy, I turned onto my street. I wanted to be home with Camy.

"The guy knew that Maggie needed him? Then he knew about Glenna."

"That's what I figured, too."

"Oh, God, Kel, this is bad. This is so bad. We had grief counselors at school on Friday, just in case someone heard something, but we didn't make any announcements until today. We kept things out of the media, too. There's no way for Mac to have known by Saturday...unless he's involved."

I was in my garage, waiting for the door to close behind me, before I opened the car door.

"Maggie's Mac is the dealer," I guessed, barely above a whisper.

Camy's bark had turned into a high-pitched yelp, signaling her growing distress. She was hungry. And tired of hearing garage doors.

"He might be the cook." Sam sounded as worried as I was. "Makes sense, too," she continued. "I'm pretty sure the tennis kids are his distributors. And I think at least some of the drugs are delivered as part of regular newspaper routes. I just haven't figured out how the kids pick up their packages. Or where the lab is."

"So this cook, or dealer, somehow targets potential users from people who take the paper?"

"No, he has his customers sign up for the paper. I've got the
Journal
's distribution list, just no subscription dates." Sam named the Chandler weekly that had been in business since before I was born. "I can't ask for a warrant yet. People already think I'm crazy, but I'm going back into the
Journal
tomorrow, hoping they'll give me a breakdown of longtime customers versus new customers. I'm guessing that if we keep a watch on the new ones, we'll find drug deals."

Which meant that Maggie was dealing, after all? With her newspapers?

I just couldn't accept that. Maggie could never be that duplicitous.

"Which still doesn't help us find Mac," I said. Locating the pedophile before he did something even worse to Maggie--like sell her to his friends or to strangers, kidnap her, kill her--was my first concern.

"No, and if he's having sex with Maggie, he's probably already done so with some of the other kids. Or will be."

"How many girls are there in the tennis club?"

"Three."

"What can I do to help?"

"Find a way to keep Maggie away from tennis, from the paper route, from Mac, until I can get this figured out."

If life were that easy. "Someone has to inform her mother."

"You're right. Someone does. But do you want to tip the woman off, when she's a suspect in all of this? Or at least exhibiting suspicious behavior for which neither of us have found an explanation?"