Silence in West Fork: A small town police procedural set in the American Southwest (The Pegasus Quincy Mystery Series Book 5)

by Lakota Grace

  “I must have left it there. I think I dropped it when I saw Jill.”

  “You don’t remember pulling the knife out of Miss Rustaine and putting it in your pack so no one would find it?”

  “She said she didn’t remember,” Malone growled.

  “In your own words, Miss Malone,” Cooper said, ignoring the man’s comment.

  “I could have done that, I suppose…”

  Beside him, Peg pursed her lips and shook her head for the girl’s benefit.

  Damn! Now his own officers were taking the defendant’s side. Cooper considered asking Peg to leave the room but figured it was too late. He’d have a talk with her when the father and daughter departed.

  “Let’s back up,” Cooper said. “You said Jill Rustaine was your boss.”

  Thorn nodded.

  “Speak up so the recorder can get your words.”

  “Yes,” came the soft reply.

  “And yet you had argued with her. How did that happen?”

  “It wasn’t my fault. There was money missing in the lunchroom kitty and she said I stole it, only I didn’t. I didn’t!”

  For a moment there was silence in the room broken only by the racking sobs of the girl. Peg shoved a box of tissues closer.

  Time for a change of pace. Cooper assumed a gentler tone.

  “This internship was important to you, right?”

  “A good recommendation could go a long way to furthering my career,” Thorn said.

  “In what?”

  “Forensic investigation. Jill said she’d help me get into a training school, after.”

  “So her assertion you were a common thief had to be a tremendous blow to you. Anyone would be upset.” Cooper made sure his tone was sympathetic.

  Thorn nodded in agreement, and he leaned forward.

  “And that’s why you went into the woods after her. The two of you had a fight and one thing led to another. You grabbed a knife, maybe it was even hers, and suddenly there it was in her chest. Isn’t that the way it happened?”

  “No. No!” Thorn screamed.

  “Back off,” Malone warned.

  Cooper threw up his hands in a placating gesture.

  “Sorry,” he said. “Just doing my job. You know how it goes.”

  He waited a few moments for the girl to settle herself.

  “Let’s go back to the knife,” he said. “How did it happen to get in your pack?”

  “Did you ask permission to search her possessions?” her father asked.

  “No, he didn’t,” Thorn said.

  She looked at Cooper triumphantly. It was Good Cop, Bad Cop, with her dad being the one wearing the halo.

  Cooper hated to interview kids of a divorce. They excelled at pitting one side against the other. Right now, Thorn knew exactly which side of the law favored her. As if sensing his thoughts, the girl turned and gave her father a tremulous smile.

  “I didn’t do anything,” she said.

  “Then why did you run from me?” Cooper asked.

  “She was scared. She told you that.” Malone half rose. “And she turned herself in voluntarily later that evening.”

  “Only after Officer Quincy caught her,” Cooper said. “And she was jailed, I understand, after she’d had a fight with you, Mr. Malone.”

  “That was a misunderstanding,” Malone said.

  His daughter squeezed his hand.

  Cooper decided to let it ride. For now. He didn’t know how well connected Malone was in the Arizona law enforcement field. No sense making an enemy of the guy unless it came to that. Cooper would play the game so long as it suited him, not a moment longer.

  “And why did you go into hiding?” Cooper asked the girl.

  “I wasn’t in hiding. I was on a Vision Quest.”

  “A Vision Quest. Is that some Indian thing? Are you sure you didn’t run because you were feeling guilty? You’d just killed the person who had taken you in, given you an internship, that you then stole from, and murdered when she called you on it.”

  Cooper’s loud accusation rang against the close walls of the room.

  Malone slammed his palm on the table.

  “We’re done here.”

  “No, Dad, let me show him this.”

  She dragged out the worn notebook that she’d cradled in her lap and opened it.

  “I saw another person in West Fork Canyon.”

  “Other than the woman and the kid.”

  Thorn nodded, her fingers riffling through the pages.

  “Silas Wooster.”

  Peg’s coaching comment made Cooper jump. He’d forgotten she was sitting there beside him.

  “That old bum.” Thorn’s contempt was obvious. “No, someone else. A younger guy. I remembered when I was at the hogan. Wait, let me show you. Here.”

  Thorn shoved the notebook across the table, pointing with her finger.

  Cooper looked at the picture with disdain.

  “It’s a skunk.”

  “Well, sure it’s a skunk. But look at the stripe.”

  “You mean the man you saw had something like this?” Peg interjected.

  “Yes, he has this light stripe in his hair. I just caught a glance at it before he disappeared behind a tree and by that time I was totally spooked and running for Peg.”

  Skunks? Next, she’d be showing him a picture of a mountain lion with purple spots and claiming she saw that up in the canyon, too.

  “Come on, Thorn,” her father said, gently closing the notebook and sliding it out of her fingers. “You told him. Now let’s go home.”

  “Not so fast,” Cooper said.

  Malone stared at him with the coldest eyes Cooper had ever seen.

  “You charging her with this murder?” Malone asked.

  Cooper knew the answer to that one. The prime piece of evidence was a charred knife missing a handle. The DA would throw this case out in a heartbeat. Cooper needed to gather more evidence before he charged Thorn. Both he and Malone knew that.

  He shrugged, and Malone made a formal statement.

  “I give you my word as a law enforcement officer: Thorn will remain in the Verde Valley, under my supervision, should you need to question her further.” His tone left no doubt that’s exactly what would happen.

  Cooper did not envy the young woman under house arrest at the Malone residence.

  Conceding defeat for the moment, he officially ended the interview and clicked off the recorder. Shepherd Malone and his daughter exited the conference room, and Peg Quincy rose to go after them.

  “Not so fast,” Cooper said. “You and me?” He pointed at himself and then at Peg. “We’ve got some talking to do.”

  “Bathroom break,” Peg declared.

  Cooper let her leave, reluctantly. In the hall, he could hear her say a few words to the Malones. A few moments later, she returned.

  “For a time there I wondered whose side you were on,” Cooper said.

  “You know that Thorn is innocent.”

  “I don’t see any other likely suspects raising their hands.”

  “What about that person in the woods?” she asked.

  “Thorn probably just made it up to get out from under this.”

  “I’m not so sure. I’ve seen a guy like that, recently. Let me think.”

  An idea flashed over her face, to be replaced by an expression of, was that confusion? What was this woman up to? That was the problem of trying to solve a murder in a community where everyone was connected by relationship or by shared experiences. There were no strangers. Except himself, Cooper thought. He was the odd man out here.

  “Spill it,” he said. “You’ve remembered something.”

  Peg looked awkwardly at her hands for a moment and then began the tale of searching Jill Rustaine’s house at night.

  “You’re an officer of the law for God’s sake," Cooper said. “All you had to do was ask, and I’d tell you what we found there—nothing.”

  “It was different when I was there.” Pe
g spoke rapidly. “Stuff like X-rated home videos, handcuffs, sex toys.”

  “How come my guys didn’t find any of that?”

  “Maybe they didn’t know where to look, or when to search?”

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “I surprised Gary Marks there. I think he brought some of the stuff over.”

  “Claire Marks’ husband, brother-in-law of the deceased,” Cooper said. “Why was he there?”

  “He was Jill Rustaine’s lover.”

  “And you were going to tell me this, when?”

  “Sorry. I was distracted by Thorn’s disappearance. And this isn’t my case, remember? Anyway, I left you a message to call me.”

  Now it was Cooper’s turn to feel uncomfortable.

  “I tried your cell. You didn’t answer,” he lied.

  He held up a hand to stop her protests.

  “Okay, we pull this Gary Marks in for questioning and add him to the list of suspects. But Thorn’s still at the top.”

  “She shouldn’t be,” Peg argued.

  Cooper felt a mixture of irritation at Peg for withholding evidence, and hope, that finally they had a possible second lead in the case. Maybe his transfer to Phoenix could be salvaged after all.

  “A thin lead. But all right, I’ll investigate the Marks connection,” he said. “That’s it. Next time, check with me before you do anything.”

  “Fine, whatever you say,” she agreed. “But I need to leave now. They’re waiting for me.”

  With that, she scooted out the conference room door.

  When Cooper returned to his office, the kid who’d been there with Thorn Malone sat at his desk, fiddling with his computer.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Cooper roared.

  The kid swiped the screen back to the blue-planet screen saver that Cooper favored with one easy motion.

  “Checking my email,” he explained.

  “Scram. Go check your mail someplace else.”

  The kid jumped up and gestured to Cooper.

  “All yours.”

  He stopped by the printer and snagged a batch of pages.

  “What?” Cooper exclaimed.

  “Sorry. My mother just sent me her shopping list.” The kid waved the papers in the air and then disappeared out the door.

  Cooper looked under the desk mat. Sure enough, the computer password scribbled on a sticky was still there. Hard to come up with one that fit all their criteria, “at least 8 numbers and symbols, but don’t use the & * and %.” He had better things to do than commit one of those boogers to memory. He’d change the password when he had time. He put the sticky inside his bottom desk drawer. Nobody would find it there.

  Then he picked up the phone and requested a pull-in for Gary Marks. With a family and business in the area, at least the man wasn’t a flight risk like the rebellious Malone kid had been.

  White skunk stripe. Now he’d heard everything.

  CHAPTER 29

  HARRIET WEAVER dialed Peg Quincy’s number again, but it went immediately to voice mail, and she didn’t bother to leave another message. All afternoon long, she’d tried to reach Peg with no success.

  Lenny didn’t answer his cellphone, either. Lenny was an idiot, but she still loved him. Maybe she shouldn’t have changed the locks to keep him out. He really didn’t mean—yes he did! He was a louse, just like Mother had always said. She’d married a louse.

  It was then that she felt truly alone, with Jill’s death weighing on her like an immense boulder that she couldn’t lift. However, there was one last thing she could do, one final thing to cross off her to-do list.

  Harriet pulled Jill Rustaine’s journal out of her purse. She and Lenny had an old, cast-iron tub in the bathroom that would be perfect. She opened a kitchen drawer and pulled out a box of safety matches. There were only a few left. In her careful script, she added “Matches, safety” to the magnetic grocery list pad on the refrigerator.

  She set a stepladder in the hallway and disconnected the fire alarm. Then she walked into the bathroom and cracked the window for a draft. She sat on the closed toilet seat and tore pages out of the journal. One at a time, she crumpled them into balls and piled them in the bathtub. Then she lit a match and tossed it into the pile of journal entries. They burned with a fierce and hungry flame.

  As the fire burned, she steadily fed it with the scraps of paper, one at a time. At last she was at the end of the written pages, with only clean, unmarked ones left. She shoved the rest of the leather-covered book on the flames. This journal would wreck no more lives. Her eyes burned, and she told herself it was because of the smoke.

  There was a commotion at the front door.

  “Harry? Harry, let me in. My key’s not working.”

  Harriet grabbed the charred journal from the fire and placed it to the side. She’d never leave a fire unattended. Then she went to deal with Lenny.

  When she opened the door he rushed in, a satchel in his hand. He dropped it and hugged her hard.

  “You’ll never guess what happened, baby. We won!”

  He whirled her around in an excited circle.

  Harriet broke free. “Won? How much?”

  Lenny reached into the satchel, grabbed a bunch of green and threw it into the air. “We’re rich! We’ve got it made, Harry.”

  “No, count it first,” Harriet demanded. They sat at the kitchen table and stacked the bills into piles.

  “Nine thousand, nine hundred, eighty,” she said.

  “See, I told you we won a lot!”

  “You left with ten thousand. Where’s the rest of it?” she demanded.

  Lenny’s expression turned sulky. “Well, I don’t know. I gave George a bunch. He steered me to the right roulette wheel and stayed with me through the whole play.”

  Harriet started stuffing the bills back into the satchel. “These have to go back.”

  “Go back where? What am I going to tell the guys at coffee tomorrow morning? They’ll never believe me.”

  Harriet grabbed his cellphone out of his shirt pocket. She snapped a picture of Lenny and the pile of cash and dropped the phone on the table. “That will have to do. If you’re hungry, there’s pizza in the refrigerator.”

  “Pizza! I love pizza. You’re the best.” He turned to the refrigerator.

  Harriet picked up a piece of tinfoil and the refilled satchel. She returned to the bathroom. Carefully she wrapped the remainder of the journal in foil and placed it among the green contents of the bag.

  She grabbed her purse and keys off the hall table. “I’m going out for a while.”

  “Mmmm, what’s cooking? Are we having roast for supper?”

  “No. Be good. I’ll be back soon,” Harriet said. She kissed the top of his balding head and left.

  Harriet stopped at the bank and deposited the foil-wrapped package in her safe deposit box. Then she headed to Jil-Clair Industries.

  Malcolm’s car was still in Jill’s spot of honor. Harriet made an expression of disgust as she parked her vehicle. She reached into her wallet for one twenty-dollar bill that she placed in the satchel with the others. Then she walked to the entrance.

  “I’m sorry, Harriet. Malcolm gave strict orders not to be disturbed,” the receptionist said.

  Harriet gave her a stern look. “Betty, who organized your engagement party?”

  “You, Harriet.”

  “And who took your place out here when you got sick and had to go home last week?”

  “You did.”

  “Then here is what we’re going to do. Get out a piece of company letterhead and type exactly what I tell you.”

  When they were finished, Harriet grabbed the letter out of the printer and marched down the hall toward the executive suite.

  “Malcolm, I know you’re in there.”

  She entered the office and dropped the satchel on his desk.

  “What the—” Malcolm began.

  “Count it. It’s all there,” she stated flatly.
r />   “I don’t need to do that. I trust you.” Malcolm leaned back with an expression of relief.

  “Well, it’s not mutual. That’s why the journal is secure in my safe deposit box.”

  “Jill’s journal,” Malcolm said slowly.

  “That’s right. The journal that details exactly how you embezzled those funds.”

  “What do you want? Your job back?”

  “No, I couldn’t work with a beast like you.” Harriet thrust the letter under his nose. “Sign this. It’s my letter of recommendation, saying I’m a superb employee. I expect you to confirm it if anyone calls you to check.”

  “Yes, I can do that,” Malcolm said. He quickly signed the letter and shoved it back across the desk.

  Harriet folded the letter and tucked it into her purse.

  “That’s not all,” she said. “I expect that money, every cent of it, returned to the company. I’m a shareholder now, according to Jill’s attorney. I can read a profit-and-loss statement as well as you can, so don’t make any mistakes. I’ll be watching your every move, Malcolm.”

  She smiled at him. “Have a nice day, now.”

  Her step was confident as she walked out the building and into the fresh fall air.

  CHAPTER 30

  After the conference and the meeting with Cooper, I caught up with Ben. It was still bitter cold, and I puffed a steam-engine breath as we made our way across the slippery parking lot. There we met with Rory and Ben’s uncle Armor.

  “Where are Shepherd and Thorn?” I asked.

  “On the way back to Cottonwood,” Armor said. “From the look on Shepherd’s face, that young lady has a serious talking-to coming.”

  “Oh, I’m not so sure,” Rory said. “I think he’s glad to have Thorn safe and alive.”

  “She’s gone through a lot,” I agreed. “But she’s still on the hook for the murder, and she’s got to justify that wacko Vision Quest thing. Ben, did she talk to you about those?”

  “She didn’t do it, I know that. A Shaman can sense such things.” His face assumed a solemn expression. “Vision Quest is for the person experiencing, not for snoopy others.”

  Ben crossed his arms and turned away from me with an unhappy look. The past several days had been hard on all of us, and he was in deep disgrace at this point. Anyone who put Shepherd’s daughter in harm’s way would take a long time to get back into the man’s good graces. It had been a long day to all of us.