by Karen Rose
Daniel swallowed. That his sister had. She’d had good reason. “She’ll hold up.”
“Of course she will. Your parents raised good stock.” Grant winced when he realized what he’d said. “Hell. You know what I meant.”
To his surprise, Daniel found his lips curving. “I know what you meant, sir.”
“That Simon was always bad news.” Grant leaned forward and dropped his voice, although Daniel knew every eye in town was watching them. “I read what you did, Daniel. It took courage. Good for you, son. I was proud of you.”
Daniel’s smile faded and he swallowed again, this time as his eyes stung. “Thank you.” He cleared his voice. “You got a seat on the barbershop bench, I see.”
Grant nodded. “Only had to wait for old Jeff Orwell to pass.” He scowled. “Old man held on for two long years, just because he knew I was waiting.”
Daniel shook his head. “The nerve of some people.”
Grant smiled. “It’s good to see you, Daniel. You were one of my best students.”
“You were always one of my favorite teachers. You and Miss Agreen.” He lifted his brows. “You two still an item?”
Grant coughed until Daniel thought he’d have to do CPR. “You knew about that?”
“Everybody did, Mr. Grant. I always thought you knew we knew and didn’t care.”
Grant drew a deep breath. “People think their secrets are so damn safe,” he murmured, so quietly Daniel almost didn’t hear. “People are fools.” Then he whispered under his breath, “Don’t be a fool, son.” Then he looked up, his smile reappearing, and he rocked back on his cane. “Good to see you. Don’t be a stranger, Daniel Vartanian.”
Daniel studied his old teacher’s eyes, but there was no hint of what had seemed a dire warning just a few seconds before. “I’ll try. Take care, Mr. Grant. Give the next guy on the waiting list for the barbershop bench a very long wait.”
“That I will.”
Daniel walked on to the office of the Dutton Review, the real reason for his visit. The Review sat across the street from the police station, which would be Daniel’s next stop. The inside of the newspaper office was stuffy and packed floor to ceiling with boxes. A small space had been carved out for a desk, a computer, and a phone. At the desk sat a plump man with a pair of glasses resting on his balding head.
Four large bandages covered his left forearm, looking like sergeant’s stripes, and an angry red welt peeked from his shirt collar. It looked as if the man had tangled with something and lost. Perhaps a tree. Hello, Daniel thought.
The man looked up and Daniel recognized the boy who’d sat behind him from kindergarten through high school. Jim Woolf’s mouth curved in something just shy of a sneer. “Well. If it isn’t the man himself. Special Agent Daniel Vartanian. In the flesh.”
“Jim. How are you?”
“Better today than you are, I suspect, although I have to say I’m flattered. I thought you’d send a flunkie to do your dirty work, but here you are, back in little old Dutton.”
Daniel sat on the edge of Woolf’s desk. “You didn’t return my phone calls, Jim.”
Jim’s fingers resting lightly on his rounded stomach. “I didn’t have anything to say.”
“A newspaperman with nothing to say. That has to be a first.”
“I’m not telling you what you want to know, Daniel.”
Daniel abandoned the polite path. “Then I’ll arrest you for impeding an investigation.”
Jim flinched. “Wow. You pulled off the gloves there, real fast.”
“I spent the morning in the morgue watching that woman autopsied. Tends to suck the joy right out of a man’s day. Ever seen an autopsy, Jim?”
Jim’s jaw squared. “No. But I’m still not telling you what you want to know.”
“Okay. Get your coat.”
Jim sat up straight. “You’re bluffing.”
“No, I’m not. Someone clued you in to that crime scene before the cops arrived. No telling how long you had to poke around that body. No telling what you touched. What you took.” Daniel met Jim’s eyes. “Maybe you even put her there.”
Jim turned red. “I had nothing to do with that and you know it.”
“I know nothing. I wasn’t there. You, on the other hand, were.”
“You don’t know that I was. Maybe I got the pictures from somebody else.”
Daniel leaned across the desk and pointed to the Band-Aids on the man’s forearm. “You left part of yourself behind, Jim. Crime scene guys found your skin in the bark of that tree.” Jim paled a little. “Now I can take you in and get a warrant for a DNA sample or you can tell me how you knew to be up that tree yesterday afternoon.”
“I can’t. Beyond the constitutional aspects, if I tell you, I’ll never get another tip.”
“So you got a tip.”
Jim sighed. “Daniel . . . If I knew I wouldn’t tell you, but I don’t know who it was.”
“An anonymous tip. Convenient.”
“It’s the truth. The call came through on my home phone, but the number was blocked. I didn’t know what I’d see when I got there.”
“Was the caller male or female?”
Jim shook his head. “No. Not gonna tell you that.”
Daniel considered. He’d already gotten more than he thought he would. “Then tell me when you arrived and what you did see.”
Jim tilted his head. “What’s in it for me?”
“An interview, exclusive. You might even sell to one of the big guys in Atlanta.”
Jim’s eyes lit up and Daniel knew he’d plucked the right chord. “All right. It’s not complicated. I got the call yesterday at noon. I got there at about one, climbed the tree, and waited. About two the bikers came through. A half hour later Officer Larkin showed up. He took one look at the body, climbed back up the bank to the road, and threw up. Pretty soon you state boys showed up. After everybody left I climbed down and went home.”
“Once you climbed down, how exactly did you get home?”
Jim’s lips thinned. “My wife. Marianne.”
Daniel blinked. “Marianne? Marianne Murphy? You married Marianne Murphy?”
Jim looked smug. “Yes.”
Marianne Murphy had been the girl voted most likely to do . . . everybody. “Well.” Daniel cleared his throat, not wanting to visualize Jim Woolf with the buxom and very generous Marianne Murphy. “How did you get there?”
“She dropped me off, too.”
“I’ll want to talk to her. To confirm the times. And I want the pictures you took while you were sitting there. All of them.”
Glaring, Jim popped his memory card from his camera and tossed it. Daniel caught it with one hand and slipped it into his pocket as he stood up. “I’ll be in touch.”
Jim followed him to the door. “When?”
“When I know something.” Daniel opened the door, then stopped, his hand still on the doorknob. And stared.
Behind him he heard Jim’s soft gasp. “Oh my God. That’s . . .”
Alex Fallon. She stood at the bottom of the police station stairs, a satchel over one shoulder. She still wore her black suit. Her shoulders abruptly stiffened and she turned slowly until she met his eyes. For a long moment they stared at each other across Main Street. She didn’t smile. In fact, even from this distance Daniel could see her full lips go thin. She was angry.
Daniel crossed the street, his eyes never breaking away from hers. When he stood before her she lifted her chin, as she’d done that morning. “Agent Vartanian.”
His mouth went dry. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I’m here to see the sheriff about filing a missing person report on Bailey.” She looked over his shoulder. “Who are you?”
Jim Woolf stepped around him. “Jim Woolf, Dutton Review. Did I hear you say you were filing a missing person report? Perhaps I can be of assistance. We can print a photograph of Bailey, did you say? Bailey Crighton is missing?”
Daniel looked down at Jim an
d frowned. “Go away.”
But Alex tilted her head. “Give me your card. I may wish to talk with you.”
Again smug, Jim gave her a card. “Any time, Miss Tremaine.”
Alex flinched as if he’d struck her. “Fallon. My name is Alex Fallon.”
“Any time, Miss Fallon.” Jim gave Daniel a salute and was gone.
Something had changed and Daniel didn’t like it. “I’m going to the station, too. Can I carry your bag?”
The way she searched his face made Daniel uncomfortable. “No thank you.” She started up the stairs, leaving him to follow.
He could see her hunch one shoulder from the weight of her bag, but it didn’t seem to affect the sway of her slim hips as she hurried. Daniel thought her bag was a far safer thing on which to focus. He caught up to her easily. “You’re about to topple over. What are you carrying in here? Bricks?”
“A gun and lots of bullets. If you must know.”
She started up the stairs again, but Daniel grabbed her arm and pulled her around to face him. “Excuse me?”
Her whiskey eyes were cool. “You said I might be in danger. I took you seriously. I have a child to protect.”
Her stepsister’s daughter. Hope. “How did you buy a gun? You’re not a resident.”
“I am now. You want to see my new driver’s license?”
“You got a driver’s license? How did you do that? You don’t live here.”
“I do now. You want to see my rental contract?”
Bowled over, he blinked. “You rented an apartment?”
“A house.” She really was staying a while.
“In Dutton?”
She nodded. “I’m not leaving until Bailey’s found, and Hope can’t live in a hotel.”
“I see. Are we still meeting at seven?”
“That was my plan. Now if you don’t mind, I still have a lot to do before then.” She’d run up a few more stairs before he called her name.
“Alex.” He waited until she stopped and turned again.
“Yes, Agent Vartanian? What is it?”
He ignored the ice in her voice. “Alex. You can’t take a gun into the police station. Even in Dutton. It’s a government building.”
Her shoulders sagged and her frosty expression melted away, leaving exhaustion and vulnerability in its place. She was afraid and doing her damndest to hide it. “I forgot. I should have come here first. I wanted to get my driver’s license before the DMV closed. But I can’t leave a gun in the car. Somebody might steal it.” A ghost of a smile flitted across her unpainted lips, tugging at his heart. “Even in Dutton.”
“You look tired. I’m going to see the sheriff. I’ll ask him about Bailey. Go back to your house and get some sleep. I’ll meet you at seven in front of the GBI building.” He eyed her satchel. “And for God’s sake, make sure the safety is on on that thing and you put it in a lockbox so Hope can’t get to it.”
“I bought a lockbox.” She lifted her chin, a gesture he was coming to anticipate. “I’ve coded enough children in the ER who’ve played with guns. I won’t put my niece in any more danger. Please call me if Loomis refuses to file Bailey as a missing person.”
“He won’t refuse,” Daniel said grimly, “but give me your cell phone number anyway.” She did, and he committed it to memory as she started back down the stairs, her steps weary. When she got to the street she looked back up at him.
“Seven o’clock, Agent Vartanian.”
Somehow the way she said it made it seem more like a threat than the confirmation of a meeting. “Seven o’clock. And don’t forget to change your suit.”
Dutton, Monday, January 29, 4:55 p.m.
Mack pulled the earpiece from his ear. How the plot thickened, he thought as he watched Daniel Vartanian watch Alexandra Tremaine drive away. Oh, wait. Alex Fallon. She’d changed her name.
It had been a surprise to hear she’d come back. That was one of the good things about a small town. No sooner had she stepped into Delia Anderson’s real estate office than the word began to spread. Alexandra Tremaine is back. The sister who lived.
Her stepsister Bailey Crighton was missing. He had a good idea where Bailey might have been taken. And why. But that was not his business at the moment. Should it become important, he’d act. Until then, he’d watch and listen.
Alex Tremaine was back. And Daniel Vartanian was interested. This, too, he’d watch. It could be useful later. He smiled. What a kick-off that would have been, to kill the identical twin and leave her in the same exact place. I wish I’d thought of it. But he’d kicked it off with a target of his own choosing. She’d deserved everything she got, but Alex Tremaine would have been a most excellent first victim. Now it was too late.
For a first victim. His brows lifted as he considered it. But what about his last? It would make quite the grand finale. It would complete the circle. He’d consider it.
For now, he had work to do. Another lovely with whom to deal. He already had her picked out. Very soon the cops would find another body in a ditch and the pillars of the community would find another skeleton dumped on their doorstep. He had it on good authority that they’d all been practically pissing themselves all day. Who would break? Who would tell? Who would tear their idyllic little world asunder?
He chuckled, just picturing it. Pretty soon the first two he’d targeted would get their letters. He was starting to enjoy himself.
Chapter Five
Dutton, Monday, January 29, 5:35 p.m.
This is really nice!” Meredith explored the bungalow with a delighted smile.
Hope sat at the table. Alex took the red Play-Doh under her nails as a good sign.
“It is nice,” Alex agreed. “And there’s a park not even a block away with a carousel.”
Meredith looked impressed. “A real carousel? With horses?”
“With horses. It’s been there since I was a kid.” Alex sat on the arm of the sofa. “This place was here then, too. I’d pass by when I was walking home from school.”
Meredith sat next to Hope, but her eyes stayed on Alex’s face. “You sound wistful.”
“I was, then. I always thought this was like a dollhouse and the people that lived here were so lucky. They could go on the carousel any time they chose.”
“And you couldn’t?”
“No. We didn’t have money for things like that after my dad died. Mama had trouble scraping enough together for us to eat.”
“Until she moved in with Craig.”
Alex winced and slammed the door in her mind before the first scream took hold. “I’m going to change and run out for some groceries. Then I’m going out again.”
Meredith frowned. “Why?”
“I’m going to search. I’ve got to try, Mer, because nobody else cares enough to.”
Not entirely true. Daniel Vartanian had offered to help. We’ll see how helpful he is.
“I’ve got to go back to Cincinnati tomorrow night, Alex.”
“I know. That’s why I’m trying to get all this done now. I’ll be back later and you can show me all the wonderful games you and Hope play so I can take over tomorrow.”
Alex went into the bedroom, closed the door, and took the gun from the satchel. It was still in its box, and willing her hands to steady, Alex took it out and looked it over again. She loaded the magazine like the store owner had shown her and set the safety with care. She’d need a bigger purse, because she intended to keep the gun with her. It would do her no good locked in its lockbox when she was elsewhere. For now, the satchel would have to do.
“My God, Alex.” Alex whipped around in time to see a furious Meredith close the bedroom door with a hard snap. “What the fucking hell is that?” Meredith hissed.
Alex pressed her free hand against her racing heart. “Don’t do that.”
“Don’t do that?” Meredith’s hiss was shrill. “You’re telling me not to do that when you’re standing there holding a goddamn gun? What the hell are you thinking?”
“Dammit, girl, you don’t know anything about guns.”
“I don’t know anything about searching for missing people, either. Or caring for traumatized little girls. I’m kind of learning as I go here, Mer. And don’t scream at me.”
“I’m not screaming.” Meredith sucked in a breath. “I’m whispering loudly, which is different.” She sagged against the closed door. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have reacted that way, but seeing you with that thing was a shock. Tell me why you bought the gun.”
“I went to see the dead woman today in the morgue.”
“I know that. Agent Vartanian was with you.”
He hadn’t told her the whole truth, of that Alex was certain. But there was a kindness in his eyes and a comfort in his touch that she couldn’t ignore. “He doesn’t think Bailey’s disappearance is a coincidence. If whoever killed that woman is copying Alicia’s murder, I’m the other original player who’s returned to the stage.”
Meredith paled. “Where are you going tonight, Alex?”
“The Dutton sheriff told me to check out the homeless shelter in Atlanta if I wanted to find Bailey. Vartanian said it wasn’t safe to go alone, that he’d go with me.”
Meredith narrowed her eyes. “Why? What’s in it for Vartanian to go with you?”
“That’s what I’m going to find out.”
“Will you tell him about what Wade said to the army chaplain?”
I’ll see you in hell, Simon. “I haven’t decided yet. I’m playing it by ear.”
“You call me while you’re out,” Meredith said fiercely. “Every half hour.”
Alex slid the gun into the satchel. “I saw the Play-Doh under Hope’s fingernails.”
Meredith’s brows winged up and down again in a facial shrug. “I stuck her fingers in a ball of it, hoping to engage her, but no deal. You might want to pick up some more red crayons when you go to the grocery store.”
Alex sighed. “What happened to that baby, Meredith?”
“I don’t know. But somebody needs to check out Bailey’s house. If you can’t make the local cops do it, maybe Vartanian can.”