Crimson Lake Road (Desert Plains)

by Victor Methos

  “Ted told me you had a good relationship with Harmony,” he said.

  “I tried to,” she said with a sigh, taking her glasses off. “She was an amazingly sweet girl considering everything she went through. Sometimes when children go through as much as she has, they turn angry and bitter. She was very loving. And smart. If she just had the proper home environment, I know she could accomplish a lot.”

  “She ever mention anybody to you who might’ve been following her around or calling her? Anyone she was nervous about?”

  She shook her head. “No, not recently.”

  “Recently?”

  “There was a boyfriend of her mother’s—this was before her father got out of prison, of course—but he would show up to school sometimes and try to pick her up, and she would refuse to get into his car. I saw him grab her once very hard around the arm and try to drag her into the car. By the time I ran out there, he had already left.”

  Baldwin took out his phone and opened his note-taking app. “Do you happen to remember his name?”

  “I don’t, I’m sorry. I brought it up to Harmony once, and she refused to talk about him. But he was kicked out by her mother when her father got released.”

  “What about her father? She ever mention anything about him?”

  “I think she was scared of him. She didn’t come right out and say it, probably because she thought it would get back to him, but I could tell.” She took out some Tic Tacs and popped them into her mouth. “You have to understand, Agent Baldwin, she hated her parents. She broke down in my office once and said she wished they were dead. That they were the worst people in the world. It would not surprise me one bit if her father had something to do with her disappearance, but it also would not surprise me if she ran away. She tried it twice but didn’t get very far. I told her that living on the street would be worse than living at home, and”—Margaret looked down at the table, her eyes suddenly filled with a deep sadness—“and she said nothing could be worse than living at her house.” She wiped away a tear and put her glasses back on. “I should have done more. Maybe tried to adopt her myself, I don’t know, something.”

  Baldwin glanced at his phone: a text from Yardley. Probably to say that the warrant for Michael Zachary’s property had been signed by a judge and was ready to go. “There’s nothing you could’ve done. You weren’t family and had no standing. Calling Child Services and trying to get her out of the home was the best you could do.”

  She slowly shook her head. “I just made sure I was here for her when she needed me and didn’t pry too much. I would probably check with that boyfriend, though. One thing I do remember Harmony saying was that the boyfriend was really upset that her mother was kicking him out because her father was coming home. Maybe if he hurt her mother, he would hurt her, too.”

  29

  The warrant was going to be executed first thing in the morning. Yardley finished up at the office late and went home. Tomorrow was also the official day of her retirement. She’d received paperwork converting her to a 1099 contract employee until the end of the case. Lieu had informed her they didn’t have a spare office for her to use but that she could use the conference room when it wasn’t occupied.

  Instead of going home, Yardley went straight to the gym. She hit a heavy bag for half an hour, then jogged another half hour around the track. An older man who wore his Rolex while lifting weights hit on her and asked her if she had ever been on a Voss yacht.

  Tara was sleeping when she got home. Yardley sat on the end of the bed and just watched her. No matter how old Tara got, whenever she slept, she always looked like a little girl. Yardley lightly touched her calf, then rose to shower.

  She stayed in the shower until the water went cold, dressed in a robe, took a glass of wine to her bedroom, and turned on the television. She was flipping through streaming channels when her phone buzzed. It was River. Yardley considered not answering but knew she had to.

  “Hi, Angie.”

  She chuckled. “That’s a much better greeting.”

  “What’s up?”

  “Thelma and Louise just came on, and it made me think of you.”

  Yardley grinned. “I’m nothing like either of them.”

  “No, you’re a mystery wrapped in an enigma.”

  “No, I’m just a tired middle-aged woman who’s going to be officially unemployed tomorrow.”

  “Seriously?”

  “I gave my notice more than six weeks ago, and it still snuck up on me. I’m finishing with this Crimson Lake Road case, and then I’m done prosecuting.”

  “Well, do you want to retire?”

  “Want has nothing to do with it. It’s time.” Yardley hesitated. “Angie, I want to have breakfast with you tomorrow. There’s something really important we need to discuss.”

  “Huh,” she said. It sounded like she’d put some food in her mouth and was chewing. She didn’t speak again until Yardley said, “So is that a yes?”

  “Oh, sorry, didn’t know you were waiting for me. Yes. Yeah, I’ll definitely have breakfast with you. Where at?”

  “Meet me at Egg and the Bagel at seven.”

  “Kinda early, ain’t it? How about nine?”

  “It has to be seven.”

  “Okay, if you say so. I’ll have an extra coffee on the drive over or something.” She chewed a bit more. “So what are you gonna do when you retire? And I know all about the ‘I’ll just relax and pursue what I love’ route. The cruel joke is if you can do it all the time, the thing you love turns into the thing you hate.”

  “No, I won’t be doing anything like that. I might just open a small practice taking whatever comes through the door. Like how lawyers in small towns used to work sixty years ago.”

  “Sounds boring. You get to handle crazy cases right now. See the dark side of people. Why would you want to trade that for, like, taking care of angry people during a divorce?”

  “Boring sounds really good right about now.”

  Yardley heard a crunch and more chewing.

  “What are you eating?”

  “Jalapeño pork rinds. Don’t judge me.” More chewing. “Where would you move if you could move anywhere in the world?”

  Yardley turned the television low and rested her head against the wall behind her. “I don’t know. I haven’t been many places. I went to Martha’s Vineyard once; I really enjoyed that.”

  “That is pretty. Really calm during the off-season.”

  “What about you? Where would you go?”

  “Oh, that’s easy. There’s a place in Belize called San Pedro. It’s this little town where nothing happens. The hotel’s right on the beach, and there’s a bar owned by this guy that serves the best mixed drinks in the world. Pork sandwiches, too, where the pig is roasted right in front of you. And the water’s so blue you can’t believe it’s from this world, and the shore has these, like, emerald rocks that just shine in the sunlight. They’re almost blinding . . .” A pause. “You know, I’ve never told anyone that. Not even Zachary. He has this big retirement plan where we’re going to get a condo in Florida or some other hellhole and just fish all day.”

  “How’s everything between you two?”

  “Pretty good. Some days I think he’s the love of my life and I could never leave him, and then other days I think about him cheating on me and I want nothing to do with him. I don’t know, I guess we’ll see what happens. I’m thinking of finding out for sure. Maybe hiring a private investigator . . . I don’t really wanna talk about it, if that’s okay.”

  “Of course.”

  “So you got me curious—what’s so important you gotta tell me in person?”

  “It’s not something you tell someone over the phone.”

  “Oh shit, that sounds intriguing. Now I’m gonna be up all night thinking about what it could be.”

  Yardley turned her television off, then her lamp, and lay on top of the covers. The moonlight cascaded through the windows and the open doors of a small balcony.<
br />
  “Do you know I’ve never been out of the country?” Yardley said. “You talked about travel and how it changes you and the wonders of seeing the world . . . I’ve never felt wonder at the world. I feel shackled. Maybe it’s the city. It feels like it just won’t let me go.”

  “Yeah, Vegas can do that. It feels like a city that brings out the worst in us, doesn’t it? Hard to center yourself here. That’s why I keep bugging you to come to yoga. You gotta learn to let shit go and not hang on so tightly. I’d love to see you there.”

  Yardley thought, You may never want to see me again after tomorrow.

  “I better get some sleep. I’ll see you at breakfast,” Yardley said.

  “Yup. Love ya. Oh, oops, sorry, didn’t mean to make it weird. It’s just something I throw out there. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Yardley hung up and stared at the ceiling until she finally drifted into a dreamless sleep.

  30

  Yardley woke Tara, who rubbed her eyes and said, “What time is it?”

  “Little past six. You’ve got class.”

  She closed her eyes again. “It’s grad school, Mom, not elementary school. I can be late.”

  Yardley lightly brushed her daughter’s bangs away from her face and kissed her forehead. “I guess that’s true. You have to cut your mother some slack. This growing-up thing doesn’t come with a manual.”

  She dressed in a black skirt with a white blouse and turned on the alarm as she left.

  Egg and the Bagel was a hip café known for their specialty, the beer omelet. A monstrosity that consisted of an omelet fried in beer. Yardley could smell the burning alcohol as she walked in.

  River sat at a small table looking out onto the street, her chin resting on the back of her hand. She stared at the passing traffic and the pedestrians with an air of ambivalence, as though it didn’t matter what was going on in the world around her. One scene as good as another.

  “Been here before?” Yardley asked as she sat down.

  “No. I like it. Feels like someone’s kitchen.”

  “It’s owned by three grandmothers.”

  “Well, they’ve done a good job. There’s been a line since I came in.” She took a sip of coffee. “What’d you want to talk to me about that was so important?”

  “Angie . . . there’s something that’s going to happen today that’s going to come as a shock to you. It’s something that happened to me once, and I didn’t have anyone there to help me through it. I was pregnant and alone, without any money or relatives to pitch in. It was the most difficult time of my life. I just want to make sure you don’t have the same experience.”

  River’s brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?” she said in a more serious tone than Yardley had ever heard from her.

  “In just a few minutes, there’s going—”

  River’s phone rang. Yardley was silent. River stared at the phone a moment before picking it up from the table.

  “Zachary?”

  Yardley heard Zachary’s voice on the other end, frantic and nearly shouting. River’s eyes rested on Yardley, and they filled with confusion and then anger.

  “I’ll be right there,” she said, hanging up.

  The two of them sat silently a moment, the noise of the café filling the space between them.

  “The FBI and Sheriff’s Office are searching my house right now. Zachary said he might be arrested. Is that what you brought me here to talk about, Jessica?”

  Yardley looked down because she couldn’t meet her eyes and nodded.

  “You brought me here to occupy me while they arrest my boyfriend?”

  “No, that’s not why I—”

  “Holy shit,” she said, slamming her palm down on the table. “This whole thing, the coming over, talking to me, spending time with me . . . were you gathering evidence against him this whole time?”

  Yardley shook her head but still couldn’t look at her. “That is absolutely not what I was doing.”

  She thrust her finger in Yardley’s face. “Then why am I here while the police are at my house? Why didn’t you tell me about it last night instead of making sure I was away?”

  Yardley reached out to touch her hand, and she pulled away. “Angie, I wanted to spare you. I was just thinking about you.”

  “Bullshit!” She rose. “I told you things I’ve never told anyone, and you were just waiting to use them against me, weren’t you? What kind of person are you?”

  “You’re misinterpreting—”

  “Go to hell. I never wanna see you again.”

  31

  Yardley had no office anymore, so she went home. She sat on the balcony in a deck chair and nervously checked her phone every few minutes. The scene with River kept playing through her mind. A heavy grayness tightened her throat.

  The update came around eleven. Baldwin and Detective Garrett had executed the warrant along with six deputies from the Clark County Sheriff’s Office. They found the Sarpong paintings and a roll of white bandages in the garage, along with several vials of pure ricin. Baldwin was having the evidence response team run a match against the bandages found on Kathy Pharr and River.

  The Department of Homeland Security had become involved now because of the ricin—another layer of bureaucracy Yardley would have to navigate. The US Attorney’s Office had an uneasy relationship with the DHS since the investigations that followed September 11. Many US attorneys had quit over the use of torture by the CIA, DHS, and other agencies, but there had been an uneasy truce since the Obama era.

  Baldwin texted her and said, Zachary’s been arrested. He’s at the station now. Meet me.

  Yardley rose and hurried out the door.

  Dr. Michael Zachary was being held at a Sheriff’s Office community field station. It was a quarter the size of the stations within Las Vegas itself and mostly used when deputies needed to put someone in the drunk tank but didn’t want to make a long drive with them in the cruiser. Baldwin had chosen the location carefully, and Yardley was glad for it. Somewhere smaller and quieter, somewhere not so intimidating, where Baldwin could just chat with Zachary as though it were lunch with an old friend.

  Somewhere the Department of Homeland Security wouldn’t know about for a couple of hours.

  The field station was an ugly gray brick building with broad steps leading up to the glass double doors. The Sheriff’s Office emblem decorated both doors, the words INTEGRITY, FIDELITY, COMPASSION emblazoned below it.

  She identified herself at the front desk and was directed to room two.

  Baldwin was standing outside the interview room with a detective Yardley recognized: Lucas Garrett. The lead sheriff’s detective assigned the Executioner case. He motioned to Yardley with his head, and Baldwin turned to her.

  “Did you already speak with him?” she said.

  “No,” Baldwin said as he glanced at Zachary through the one-way glass. “I’ve been letting him sweat. Did you talk to Angela?”

  “I did. She was less than pleased. She thinks I befriended her to gather evidence against Zachary.”

  “Did you?”

  The question surprised and angered her. She folded her arms and turned toward the glass. Zachary sat at a gray table. He appeared nervous and fidgety, his foot tapping in a manic routine against the linoleum floor.

  “Sorry,” Baldwin said. “I know you wouldn’t do that.”

  “I’ll be watching from out here,” she said, ignoring his apology.

  Baldwin and Garrett went in. Yardley took a few steps back and leaned against the wall as she watched them.

  “What the hell is going on?” Zachary said. “I want to know what’s going on this instant. No one has told me anything.”

  “Sorry about that,” Baldwin said. “You like going by Zachary, right? Not Michael?”

  Garrett paced the room while Baldwin sat down. He took out a manila folder he’d brought with him and removed some large color photos. They were snapshots of the Sarpong paintings.

 
“You recognize these?”

  “Yeah,” Zachary said, glancing at them. “You know damn well I do. You were the one who explained them to me when you told me about Angie.”

  “Do you know where we found them?”

  “How would I know that?”

  “Really? You don’t recognize your own handiwork, huh?”

  “My handiwork? What are you talking about?”

  “They’re good reproductions. I’m just curious if you did them yourself.”

  Zachary looked between Baldwin and Garrett. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. And why have I been arrested? What is going on?”

  “We found these paintings in your garage, Zachary.”

  “What?” He looked down at the photos. “Are you crazy? I didn’t have these in my garage. Why would I keep these paintings? Do you know what it would do to Angie if she saw them?”

  Baldwin watched him. “Zachary, listen to me, I’m trying to help you. I don’t want this to go past us. I want us to take care of it, just me and you. You tell me everything and be honest, and I’ll be honest, too. What I say carries a lot of weight with the US Attorney’s Office and the DA. I’ve seen this a million times, and I’m telling you, the more you work with us now, the more we can work with you down the line.”

  Garrett chimed in. “One thing Agent Baldwin and I were discussing was keeping this out of federal court and having it stay local. You would much rather stay in state court than federal court. Trust me. Work it right and you could maybe be looking at parole in twenty.”

  Zachary looked between them again, his eyes suddenly going wide. “Oh shit,” he gasped. “You think . . . you think I killed that woman?”

  Baldwin leaned forward. “You telling us you didn’t?”

  “Hell no, I didn’t.”

  Baldwin sighed. “Zachary, the roll of bandages we found in your garage came back as a match to the ones found on Angie and the ones found on Kathy Pharr. They all came from the same roll. You hid it well, I’ll give you that, but you really should’ve burned it. And why would you save the vials of ricin? It’s easy enough to get more.”