You Can't Escape (41 page)

Headlights approached the house. Boo looked at Buddy, who stood in the driveway, making sure the approaching car stopped and didn’t get any closer to the barn. Boo shuddered. Abel Fread lay under a tarp, but Boo still could see the old man’s face staring up at him, mouth open as if he had something to say that he just couldn’t get out. Buddy had covered him up almost immediately, angry that he had another body to get rid of.

“That bitch ruined the homestead cemetery for me,” he muttered. “She did it on purpose.”

Boo wished she hadn’t done that. She was just making it harder. All Buddy wanted to do was save her.

The headlights were cut and they were plunged into darkness once more. No moon was visible, but though he couldn’t see it from where he stood in the driveway, Boo knew the brazier was lit. Buddy had closed the barn door, but he could see it in his mind, glowing hot.

The driver’s door opened, throwing on a dim interior light. It was
her
, he thought, his chin dropping to his chest. He never liked it when she came.

She stepped out of the car, still in her clothes from church. In her hand was a small white bag. He knew what that was.

“What’s Abel’s truck doing here?” she asked sharply.

Boo’s eyes automatically went to the black truck. Buddy had parked it around the back of the house, so only its rear end was visible. He was surprised she could see it in the dark. She was like an animal, the way she could sense things.

“Abel’s truck?” Buddy repeated, trying to play it off. Boo coulda told him that wouldn’t work with her.

“Yes, Abel’s truck, you idiot. Where is he? Why did he come here? Oh, no. He was looking for Chase?”

“He wanted to see Jericho,” Buddy denied. “Use him for stud, maybe.”

“Jericho,” she sneered. “That horse isn’t worth dog meat. If you believe that’s why he’s here, you’re dumber than I thought. Where is he?”

“I dunno,” Buddy said.

She sniffed and Boo blinked with fear. “Something’s dead,” she said.

Boo couldn’t smell it from here. That’s why Buddy decided to stand in the driveway, to keep whoever was coming by from smelling the bad smell.

“What is that?” she demanded.

“I dunno,” Buddy muttered again.

“Should I ask Boo?” she queried, smiling, but it was a really mean smile. “He’ll tell me the truth.”

“You bringing me that?” Buddy pointed to the bag.

“I’m bringing you this, but I want to know where Abel is, and I want to know where Chase is!” A wisp of a breeze flipped at her tightly curled hair. “What’s that
smell
?”

Boo looked fearfully at Buddy, whose face had gotten all tight and mean. “Come with me,” he said, reaching for the bag. Reluctantly, she handed it over, but then she marched right alongside Buddy as they headed toward the barn.

Inside, the brazier turned the area orangey-brown. Buddy pulled down the chain for the overhead light, then walked up to Abel and threw back the tarp with the toe of his boot. “There he is,” he said.

She was coughing, her hand over her nose and mouth. “Whad’you do?” Her words were garbled, her eyes bugging.

“He wanted to see Chase,” Buddy said, turning to the door with the wooden bar. He slapped it open, and pulled on the handle.

Nooooooo. . . .
Boo swallowed back the scream in his throat, as he, too, stared into the murky corners.

She walked forward gingerly and shot a quick look inside. Immediately, she rocked backward, staggering a bit. “You killed him? You . . . shot Chase?”

“Him and Abel,” Buddy said.

“Oh, my Lord. Oh, Lord . . .” She stumbled toward the barn door, then stopped and stared at Buddy. “What’s wrong with you?” she practically screamed. “You have to get these bodies out of here, and forget about that Benchley graveyard. Do you know how soon they’re going to be here to take this farm from you? Do you know the bank is taking this land? Do you understand? You lost this place. You don’t know a thing about
anything.
You don’t have the sense God gave a worm!”

“Stop it.” Boo slammed his hands over his ears, but he couldn’t hold her out.

“Your mama would be ashamed,” she said.

“My mama beat the living snot out of me,” Buddy growled.

Boo’s eyes felt they were going to pop right out of his head.
No, she didn’t! Mama was good.

“Your mama tried to knock some sense into you,” she argued. “Your dad was a drunk, but even he did a better job of running this farm. Where are Abel’s keys? We gotta move that fine new truck before someone sees it.”

“No one ever comes here,” Buddy said. He reached in his pocket for Abel’s keys, looking down at them.

“Liam Benchley did,” she reminded him, snatching the keys from his grasp.

“He’s dead now, too.”

“I’m moving the truck,” she said. “I’ll take it into town. Leave it on a side street. You come get me, and then we’ll all go to our homes. When the cops come looking for him, we don’t know anything. You’d better get rid of both of those bodies tonight. I don’t care how. But get them off this property.”

And then she stomped over to Abel’s truck

Chapter Twenty-Five

Monday morning, Auggie sat in Lieutenant Cawthorne’s office, one eye on the clock that sat on his boss’s desk. He’d been called in early, but he was bound and determined to meet Danziger at ten at his local Bank of America. He’d planned on picking him up, but Danziger had called and said he had his own vehicle and would rather meet him there. Auggie had to agree, but he wanted Danziger and the audiotape wrapped up before he spilled what he knew to the lieutenant.

Cawthorne strode into the room. “Good, you’re here,” he said. He was the youngest lieutenant on the force, and there was something rough-and-tumble about him that had remained from his days as a detective. On the whole, he and Auggie got on well. They shared some of the same sensibilities, and political pressure from above, like what was coming down on the Saldano case, pissed them both off.

“The feds think they’ve found the man who made the bomb,” Cawthorne said without preamble. He stood behind his desk and threw a glance out his office window, not being the kind to sit down and have a long tete-a-tete.

“Good,” Auggie said. “Maybe we’ll get some traction on the case.”

“This guy’s known to them. No ideological issues here, he’s strictly for hire.”

“So, who hired him?” Since Auggie was ostensibly no longer on the case, he had to tread carefully.

“That is the next question to be answered.” He glanced Auggie’s way. “I have another job for you. Undercover. Looks like insurance fraud. Arson.”

Auggie nodded slowly. “Can you give me today on the Saldano case?”

“And have you piss them off some more? Get another call from the captain?”

He decided to lay his cards on the table after all. “I met with Jay Danziger over the weekend. He has an audiotape that he’s getting me today. A conversation between two or three people in the warehouse, discussing some kind of smuggling operation apparently.”

Cawthorne turned from the window and crossed his arms over his chest. “Have you heard this tape?”

“Not yet.”

“Nobody’s going to be happy you got this on your own.”

“Danziger was apparently doing some . . . soft . . . investigation into the Saldanos before the bombing. That’s how he got this tape. He gave a copy of it to Maxwell Saldano a couple weeks before the bomb went off.”

“He should have given it directly to us.”

“He’s not convinced it’s the reason for the bombing.”

Cawthorne harrumphed. “When are you getting a copy?”

“I’m meeting Danziger at his bank. It’s in the safe deposit box.”

The lieutenant made a face. Auggie waited on tenterhooks. He knew how unpopular Cawthorne was going to be if he allowed him back on the case.

“Okay, one day,” he said. “As soon as you get the tape, bring it back here. And bring Danziger, too.”

“I’ll ask,” Auggie said dubiously.

“Bethwick and Donley will want to talk to him.”

“I know.”

“Where’s the man been the past few days?” Cawthorne asked.

Though the question sounded rhetorical, Auggie freely answered. “Rock Springs. And it sounds like he’s heading right back there.”

“What’s in Rock Springs?” he asked curiously.

“A woman.”

“Ah. Well, I’ll take the heat for you today, but that’s all we got.”

Auggie was already out of his chair, cell in hand. Head down, he strode out of the office, scrolling through his stored numbers. As he pulled up Danziger’s, he damn near ran into someone in the hall. “Sorry,” he muttered as he punched in the number.

“Rafferty?”

Auggie glanced around and saw it was Geoffrey Stevens, the tech who’d shown him the videotape collected from the cameras on the buildings opposite Saldano Industries. “Oh, hey, Geoff.”

“You’re off the Saldano case, right?”

“Got reprieved for a few more hours.”

“Really?”

His tone of interest caught up Auggie, who was walking away. He shot a look back at the tech and asked, “What?”

“I’d rather give this to you than the feds.”

Auggie slowed to a stop. “What have you got?”

“Camera footage from that building that’s for lease on the opposite end of the block from where the Winters woman was. I don’t have to tell you how hard it’s been to find who was in charge of those cameras. Leasing agent wouldn’t help us. Corporate kept passing the ball from exec to exec.”

“What did you get?” Auggie interrupted.

“The tapes came through this morning, so I did a preliminary check. About three hours before detonation, someone in a trench coat, hat, wig, the works, walked into the lobby. The front of the building’s open during the day, per the leasing agent. The only cameras they’ve got are set up in the lobby and outside the building. Well, the elevators have cameras, too, but the elevators aren’t operational right now. She had to take the stairs.”

“She?” Auggie asked carefully.

“I can’t say for certain, but it’s the way she walks,” he said. “Even with men’s shoes. Kind of a hip sway. When I take a closer look, I think we’ll find it’s a woman.”

A woman.
“Son of a bitch.”

“Come on and take a look,” Geoffrey invited, but Auggie had already fallen in step beside him. He had just enough time before he was due to meet Danziger.

Jordanna was writing down notes as fast as her fingers could fly across the keyboard. Her thoughts were in no chronological order, but it didn’t matter. All she needed to do was put something down to remind herself later.

She thought she might be getting used to instant coffee. Some of the stuff on the market wasn’t half bad.

Dance had phoned her this morning on his way to the bank. “Rafferty called and wants me to stop by the station afterward. I said no, but he was insistent. Said that I’d want to be there. For all the times I’ve tried to get law enforcement to talk to me and hit a brick wall, I think I’d better go.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll be there soon,” he promised. “Be safe.”

“You, too.”

She settled back to her computer, but had barely dragged her mind off Dance and back to her notes, when her cell rang again. She picked up the phone, looked at the screen, and said, “Rusty.” This time she answered. “Hey, there, Rusty. I’m sorry I didn’t call back. I did get your text. I haven’t seen Todd.”

“Todd’s dead,” he stated flatly.

“
What?
” She nearly knocked over her coffee cup.

“Found his truck at Fool’s Falls lookout this morning, but he wasn’t in it. There was blood on the ground, just on the other side of the curve. Right about where Emily went over, y’know?” He choked, sounding like he was breaking down for a moment, then pulled himself together. “I looked over the edge and there was a car down there. A gray sedan. I called the cops and they found out it’s a rental. Rented to Kara Winters.”

“What?” she repeated herself, more faintly. “What do you mean? Where’s Kara?”

“Don’t know. Todd was in the driver’s seat. He’s dead, Jordanna.” Rusty sounded dazed.

“What cops found the car? Where’s Kara?”

“Drummond and a couple others . . . they took Todd by ambulance, but he’s dead. He’s gone. There’s no doubt about it.” He was chattering. “They’re pulling the car out now. I think Drummond called your father, but I knew you’d want to know.”

“Yes, yes . . . I’ll be right there.” She was already in motion, checking for her purse, turning back to switch off her laptop.

“I’ll see you here.”

She moved so fast that the phone slipped out of her hand and crashed to the floor. “Shit, oh, shit.” She swept it up, relieved to see it was still working. As she grabbed her jacket, she belatedly listened to the message Rusty had left on her voice mail, which said he’d just found the truck, he was going to look around for his friend and that he hoped Todd had called Jordanna.

She ran down the wooden walkway to the back door, her feet clattering loudly. She was sick with renewed fear. How could Todd be dead? Where was Kara? And why was Todd in her rental car? How had she gotten to Portland?
Had
she gotten to Portland? Jesus. Had she really even called Jennie . . . ?

Jordanna punched in Jennie’s cell number as she jumped in her RAV. She counted her heartbeats, waiting for her stepmother to answer. “Come on, come on.”

Finally Jennie picked up. “Jordanna,” she said. And in that one word Jordanna knew she was already thinking along the same lines as she was. “You know about the car over the cliff? That they think it’s Kara’s car?”

“Yes. What about the text, Jennie? When did that actually come in? And what did it say? I mean, exactly. What did it say?”

“I—can’t look at it when I’m on the phone,” she said tearfully. “I don’t know how.”

“I’ll hang up. Look at it, and call me,” she ordered. “Do you hear me? Call me back. Where’s Dad?”

“He’s at the clinic, maybe on his way home now.”

“Okay . . . okay. Call me back,” she said again. She wasn’t quite sure Jennie was really hearing her.

“I will,” Jennie promised.

Jordanna clicked off and drove with studied concentration. She counted in her head until Jennie called back. Though it was mere minutes, it felt like forever before Jennie rang through again to say that Kara’s message had come in directly before Jennie had phoned Jordanna with the information. She repeated the message, then spelled it out just as it was written.