by R. L. Syme
“You don’t understand, Aidan. There are things in there… they’re completely not relevant to the case, but they are horrible things. They cast Jane is such a bad light.”
Aidan stumbled over his words. “How do you… I mean what is the… we don’t know yet what’s relevant and what’s not.”
Tears cascaded down her cheeks and she grabbed for the book. But he had such a hold on it, she couldn’t get it away from him.
“Please, Aidan. I’m asking for Jane’s sake. Please don’t take that diary.” Claire lunged for the book again, but Aidan dodged. Claire pulled the car over and threw it into park. Just as Aidan was taking off his seatbelt, Claire got her hands on the diary. She jumped out her driver’s side door and ran with the diary in her hand.
Aidan finally untangled from the seat belt, slipped his phone out of Claire’s purse, and chased after her. Meanwhile, he was texting Will not to go anywhere. They’d be right there.
He wasn’t about to lose this opportunity to find out what had really happened to Jane. Or to gain his freedom.
***
The last thing Claire thought she’d be doing that night was running from Aidan. And even as he chased her, she couldn’t believe that he wouldn’t just trust her. She tried to keep running until the irrigation ditch at Foster’s Farms, so she could throw the diary into the ditch and destroy it.
She should have destroyed it when she first found it.
But Aidan’s footsteps were so loud behind her, she wound up to throw the diary as far as she could into the dark. Aidan’s hand closed over her wrist and the book was gone from her grasp.
She turned back to run after him, but he was nearly back to the car. Claire’s cheeks were wet, and she continued to cry as she followed Aidan.
“Please, don’t.”
“Claire, I have a right to know.” Aidan held out one hand to stop her as she approached, and he flipped through the pages in the diary with the other hand, holding the book against his chest.
He stood in the glare of the headlights, a black figure against a bright cascade of light. Claire knew, now, that she’d failed Jane. And her parents.
“She was a minor when they started having sex.” Claire’s voice cracked as she said the words aloud. “And it was rough. Dangerous. And she liked it. Ok, Aidan? My sister was a dirty whore.” She collapsed onto the road and her knees stung when they hit the pavement.
Aidan came toward her, his shoulders slumping. He knelt beside her and took her in his arms. “She wasn’t a dirty whore, Claire. She was just young. She and I had been dating since we were in fifth grade and she hadn’t ever been with anyone else. She was just stretching her wings.”
He smoothed Claire’s hair and hoisted her onto his lap as he sat on the ground. She held onto him and sobbed into his chest. “If she hadn’t been killed, she would have divorced me and found a man who would make her happy.”
Aidan kissed the top of her head. “She was only seventeen when she wrote these things, Claire. She was young and naïve and the attention of an older man made her feel good about herself.”
“That doesn’t make it any easier to read.” Claire’s insides ached like she’d been punched. She still couldn’t believe her sister was such a different person from the one she thought she knew. But Aidan’s words began to hit home.
She was young. They had all been young. It was so long ago. Who knew what Jane might have told her, had she lived. Even though they didn’t get along at times, they had loved each other.
“Did you read the end of this?” Aidan asked, holding the book open where Claire could see the very last page.
She shook her head. “I stopped reading after I found out about the… rough stuff.”
“There’s another list of passwords here. Only without login names this time. Just a list. There’s the Crater Lake one, and the firehouse, and your old house. But there are two more here that weren’t on the other list.”
Claire held the book up to the light. He was right. And they were in Jane’s handwriting. There were five, altogether.
“This one. I recognize this.” Claire pointed at the second-to-last password. “It’s the All-Nighter.”
Aidan shook his head. “Nope, it’s across the street from the All-Nighter.”
They exchanged a look that made Claire’s heart bottom out. “The Sheriff’s department.”
“Yep. The All-Nighter is an even one. This is 1451. That’s the Sheriff’s office.”
Claire’s finger shook as it moved down to the next password. She read it aloud. “5669 Carbon.”
Aidan pointed back the way they’d just been driving. “That’s down Carbon Road, past the Lexington place.”
“Do you know who lives there?” Claire’s voice was as wobbly as her hands.
“I don’t. But we’re going to find out.” He snapped the diary shut and pulled Claire up with him. “You can drive. I need to call Will.”
“Are you sure you should call anyone? I mean, we’re basically about to go chase down a suspect, and you know we’re not supposed to do that.”
Aidan opened the door for her and kissed her forehead, placing the diary in her hands. “I promise, we’re not going to confront anyone. We’re just going to talk.”
Claire got in and waited for Aidan to buckle up. She turned the car around on the near-empty road and drove back the way they had come. This time, instead of taking the right onto the gravel-covered Sweet Mountain Road, they stayed on Highway 287, which remained Carbon Road for another mile until Carbon also dipped off to the right while 287 kept going toward Spicewood.
She drove more carefully once they took the gravel section of Carbon, trying to keep her eye on the road numbers. They drove almost another full mile before they saw 5669, off to the right.
“Just pull into the driveway. Maybe I’ll recognize one of the vehicles,” Aidan said.
But the closer they got to the house, the quieter they got. Neither of them recognized anything. The garage door on the house was up and on the left side, a big white BMW was parked. Claire pulled up behind it and shut off the car.
When she made a move to unbuckle her seatbelt, Aidan put his hand on hers. “You should stay in the car.”
“But I need to be there to hear what happens.”
“I’m not going to say anything. I just want to find out who lives here, and then I promise we’ll go into town to meet Will.”
He kissed her forehead again and something melted inside.
“Look, Claire. I get why you hid the diary from me, and I’m sorry you felt like I wouldn’t protect your sister’s name when it came down to it, but I will. She was a kid. And she deserves to have someone stick up for her.”
“But not right now.”
“How about this?” Aidan pulled out his phone. “I will call Allan VonBrandt and tell him where I am. That way, I have to be civil, because the Sheriff’s department knows where I am.”
Claire’s insides twisted. “I don’t like this. But it’s better than you running up to that door on your own.”
Aidan hit a button and she heard the words “Sheriff’s Office” over his microphone in the quiet car.
“Allan?”
“This is Deputy VonBrandt.”
“This is Aidan Conley.”
“What do you want, Conley?”
“I want you to know, just for accountability, that I am following up on a lead we found in my wife’s diary. Claire is with me and she would feel better if someone at the Sheriff’s Office knew where we were.”
“You shouldn’t be pulling this Nancy Drew crap, Conley. I’m sure your lawyer already advised you about how stupid this idea is. Just hire a PI and stay out of it.”
“I can’t do that, Allan. But I appreciate the advice.”
When he hung up, Claire’s stomach still hadn’t settled. But she could see the determined set to Aidan’s jaw. He wasn’t going to be talked out of this. Not by Allan VonBrandt. Not by Claire. Not by God Himself.
S
he clutched at his hand. “Please, just be safe. Find out who lives here, then we’re leaving.”
Aidan opened the car door and got out. Claire rolled her window down and watched him walk up the long, winding pathway to the massive front door. He stood in front of it and knocked. The hollow sound carried all around the dark yard.
Something moved back by the road and Claire turned to look out at the black nothing. She heard the door open and recognized the voice that rang out after Aidan said hello.
“Well, Aidan Conley. How are you? Why don’t you come in, honey?”
Claire would have known that voice anywhere. It was the strong, affected cadence of their family physician, Sonja MacLeod.
Chapter Twelve
Aidan stood in stunned silence for a long moment. Dr. Sonja MacLeod was a tall, tanned, blonde beauty who’d come to medical school in Texas from her childhood home in Moscow, married Bret MacLeod, and moved to Somewhere to raise her children and open her medical practice.
She had been Jane’s doctor. And Claire’s, no doubt.
A tight fist closed in his chest.
“Dr. MacLeod, it’s great to see you.” He leaned against the door frame, more to support himself than to act nonchalant. He felt like his knees might give out at any minute.
“Why don’t you come in, Aidan? I can make you a cup of tea or something.”
He glanced back at Claire, but she’d put the window up, so he couldn’t call her in. He let Sonja escort him inside the house, even though his skin was crawling.
The MacLeods had several children. Their oldest had been in high school with Aidan. His name was Rob. But he was just a year older, and he’d been away at school during Aidan’s senior year. Not working in the emergency services.
Not like his father, who had been on the fire squad in Somewhere, Texas since before Aidan could remember. He would have been on the squad for certain when Jane had her little accident.
Could he have been the one who saved Jane?
Sonja turned on the electric teapot that sat on the counter, then leaned back to study her visitor. Aidan felt self-conscious under her scrutiny.
“So, what business are you planning to discuss with my husband? All this nastiness with that fire?”
Aidan dipped his head. “Not really. I just have a couple of questions for him about some paperwork and I figured he could help me.”
The lie tasted bad on his tongue, but it couldn’t be helped. I’m here to accuse your husband of murder didn’t really have the right ring to it.
“Actually, now that I think about it, you could answer a question for me.”
The electric teapot clicked and Sonja turned around to pour hot water into a mug. “Ask away.”
“If you read a tox screen that contained the drugs Alzopram and Trazodone, would that raise your suspicions?”
Sonja scrunched up her face. “You mean Alprazolam?”
Aidan tried to remember the exact words on the piece of paper he’d seen. If only he could text Will, who had the incident report.
“It would be strange. The person would need to be exceptionally in need of sleep medication. And then, I would probably give them one drug instead that would be more effective, instead of tracking two sets of side effects.”
“So it is strange to see those two together?”
“Not unprecedented. But just not necessary. Trazodone is something often prescribed in anxiety patients. I’m just not sure I would also prescribe Alprazolam. But that’s fine. Why do you ask?”
“What would they do to a person? These drugs?” Aidan asked, ignoring his own mounting anxiety.
“Put them to sleep.” She handed the coffee mug to Aidan and it was so hot, he almost had to put it down. “Depending on the dose of the Alprazolam, they might go right out. I should have you ask Bret about his experience, if you’re considering going on it. He’s taken it on and off for years.”
Aidan’s pulse jackhammered. He’d thought he was wired before, after talking to Jeff. Good thing he hadn’t had coffee today. Too much was happening for him to be able to relax at all.
“When do you think Bret will be back?” Aidan asked, placing his mug on the counter.
“Oh, not tonight. He’s at work until midnight at least.”
“But Will said he was off-shift at six.”
Sonja raised one eyebrow and shook her head. “No, I’m quite certain he said midnight, because he typically picks up Chelsea from ballet, but called me around six and said I would need to do it tonight.”
Aidan began to pace. Why would Will tell him the Chief was gone, and the Chief tell his wife he was at work?
“Thank you so much for the tea, Dr. MacLeod.” Aidan backed through the foyer door. “Tell your husband I stopped by.”
“Are you sure you won’t finish your tea?”
Aidan gave her a polite nod. “I appreciate it, but I should get back to the firehouse.”
Sonja clicked after him in her high heels. “Well, tell my husband I send my best. I feel like I hardly see him since he became the Fire Chief. He works too hard.”
“Yes, he does. Goodbye, Dr. MacLeod. And thanks for answering my questions about those drugs.”
“You’re quite welcome.”
She stood in the doorway for a moment, but then a teenaged voice yelled down the stairs and Sonja closed the front door, waving to Aidan. He scurried down the path to the car and climbed in the passenger door.
He sat down hard on one of Claire’s heels and sucked in a breath at the pain. They weren’t quite as tall as Sonja’s, but nonetheless, dangerous to sit on. A few inches to the left and he might have…
Wait.
Where the hell was Claire?
Her purse and its contents were scattered across the floor. He stood quickly, looking in every seat and every window. She wasn’t there. Her wallet, purse, shoes… why would she leave them?
Aidan turned back up the driveway and called her name. He ran a few steps, but couldn’t see anything in the dark.
The keys were still in the ignition and the car pinged at him over and over when he opened the driver’s door. Aidan moved her things to the other seat and decided to drive after her. If she’d taken the diary and run off, he would find her.
He thought they were past that. She’d accepted the fact that people would only judge Jane as being young and naïve. They would judge Bret MacLeod for being the dirty pervert he apparently was. But not Jane.
Then why would she take it and run? And why would she leave her shoes? Or her car, for that matter? She could have just driven off and left him with Sonja MacLeod if she was that angry.
He opened the window and called her name as he slowly drove up the driveway, and then turned onto Carbon Road after shining his lights in the other direction. She couldn’t have gotten this far. He was only inside for maybe fifteen minutes.
Aidan texted her. Where are you?
No text back. Where in the world would she have gone? She didn’t know anybody in town anymore except Joe Walker and her aunt’s family. Her aunt and uncle were gone, and Joe would be at work. Claire said Joe’s sister was in Austin until next week. So who in the hell would pick her up at Bret MacLeod’s house? And where in the hell would she go when she left?
He tried texting her again, and nothing came back.
Aidan had driven all the way up Carbon Road, back onto the highway, and to the bus depot before he decided she had to be back at the MacLeod house. He’d left in too much of a hurry. She must have gotten out to pee, or maybe she’d seen something in the garage and gone to investigate.
But then why wouldn’t she have come out when he called her name? And why didn’t she hear him drive off?
Good God. Something was wrong.
He turned around and made his way back to the fork. He’d have to go back and admit to Sonja that Claire had been sitting in the car and now she was gone.
The night was completely dark by this time and he couldn’t see anything along the roads. She mig
ht have wandered out onto the road and gotten hit by someone. Maybe they had taken her to the hospital.
But when he was almost at the fork, he noticed something strange. There were lights on at his house. And not his yard lights or anything, which he would have expected to be on and weren’t. These were lights inside the house. Then, all of a sudden, they all went out.
Aidan punched the gas and tore down Sweet Mountain Road toward his house. A flashlight beam bobbed around out by his truck. Had Claire somehow gotten back to his house? It was several miles’ walk. How would she have gotten there?
Something wasn’t right.
He turned down the Polanski’s driveway and turned off the car. The headlights went out and he could again see the flashlight near his truck, by his house. The Polanskis were notoriously early sleepers, so he hoped they would stay asleep. Nice old couple. But some of the worst waggle-tongues in the county.
Their lights stayed off, and Aidan got out of Claire’s car. He walked through the brush toward his house, staying next to the creek as much as he could, where the grass was wetter and his footfalls could be quieter.
As he approached his driveway, he recognized the big red Fire Chief suburban parked behind his truck. Holy hot damn. Bret MacLeod had Claire at his house.
There weren’t many trees out here between the two homes, and he would have to somehow get all the way around the back of his house to get any cover that darkness couldn’t provide. But maybe darkness was enough.
He could see the outline of a man in the dim torch light. He had put the flashlight on the ground and was doing something to what looked like a small bundle in front of Aidan’s truck, near the stairs up to the house.
Then, he took the flashlight off the ground and walked up onto the porch. In the moving beam, Aidan got a quick glimpse of Claire. She was passed out, or unconscious or asleep, and laying sprawled out on the porch, just to the left of the door.
The man upended something over her, and Aidan’s stomach back-drafted and sank. It was a gas can. He was drenching Claire in gas. Chills crept up Aidan’s body.
An odd smell stung his nostrils and Aidan looked around. There was a fire somewhere, he could smell it. But he couldn’t see it. He kept following the creek across the property until he reached his truck.