by Brenda Novak
“Doesn’t look like it.” She rubbed her eyes as if she was merely tired, but Isaac knew she was fighting back tears. “Just my mother’s case files.”
Myles turned to him. “The ones you mentioned in my office. I’ve been checking into those.”
“And?”
“Leland Faust told me what happened. He and David showed up at the station to visit Rusty late one night when we had only a skeleton crew. While Leland distracted Rusty, David got what he wanted.”
But visitors had to be buzzed in. With the jail on the other side of the building, there were video cameras in the lobby, and the dispatch operator sat right inside the front door behind bulletproof glass. “How?”
“Easy. No one had opened those files since Claire called off the investigation last time. They’d been gathering dust in Jared’s cubicle. David simply stuck them under his winter coat and walked out.”
“How’d he get the originals back in?” Claire wanted to know.
“Same way. Except Leland did it for him.”
That explained why Leland had acted so funny on the phone with Isaac. He knew David had been investigating Alana’s murder and probably wondered if there was any connection between that and his death.
“Claire, if I didn’t tell you some detail about your mother’s case, it was because I had no proof and no answers,” Myles was explaining. “Investigations are works in progress. We can’t reveal every question, every inconsistency, or it’s that much easier for whoever we’re chasing to stay one step ahead of us. You understand that, don’t you?”
“I do. But you have to see the situation from my side, too, Myles. I want to know. It’s been fifteen years. I’m tired of waiting for answers.”
He nodded. “I understand. And there’s some good news in all of this.”
“There is?” she said wryly.
“Maybe whoever did this left something of himself behind, a latent print or other forensic evidence we can use to track him down. Although this is painful, maybe it’ll end up being what cracks the case. You have home-owner’s insurance, right?”
“I do, but…it won’t replace the stuff that really mattered.”
“I know. And I don’t think you’re going to find any prints,” Isaac said. “This guy spent some time here, which tells me he was experienced enough to wear gloves.”
Myles didn’t like that comment, and his expression showed it, but Isaac saw no point in giving Claire false hope. False hope would only serve up more disappointment later.
“We’re going to check, just in case. We’re going to do all we can,” he promised. His radio crackled again, and he started to leave the room but Claire stopped him. “Myles?”
Letting the radio summons wait, he shifted his attention to her.
“Have you ever come across anything concerning April Cox while pursuing this investigation?”
His eyebrows came together. “Like what?”
“She claims she found some emails on Roni’s computer that prove Roni was having an affair with Tug before my mother went missing.”
“I’ve never seen or heard anything like that.”
“So her interview or testimony or whatever wasn’t in your copy of the case files, either.”
“No. But I can call Sheriff Meade to see if he remembers her being involved. Far as I know, he’s still alive and enjoying his retirement in Big Fork.”
“But if he purposely dropped that information from the file as a favor to my parents, he probably wouldn’t admit it,” she said.
Myles ran a hand through his hair. “You think Tug or Roni might be behind this?”
“Can you rule them out?”
“No,” he said. “I can’t.”
19
Claire had never dreamed she’d be moving in with Isaac. They’d gone from not speaking to renewing their torrid affair to living together in only a week’s time. She was bowled over by this sudden reversal and wondered if he felt the same. If so, he didn’t show it. He was the one who’d insisted she pack some of the clothes that hadn’t been destroyed and stay with him. He didn’t think she’d be safe anywhere else.
Myles had overheard them discussing her temporary relocation and interrupted to say that his home was available to her, too. Claire knew he wasn’t pleased about her relationship with a known heartbreaker. No doubt he thought Laurel would be upset about it. But Myles and Laurel had each other and a family to care for. She couldn’t see herself crowding in with them, interrupting their lives. She’d tried to argue that she could stay right where she was, or with Leanne, but Isaac wouldn’t hear of it. Leanne hadn’t returned, which hardly made her seem sympathetic.
After putting her bags in the back of his truck, they’d spent several hours cleaning up the mess, which included wiping away the fingerprint dust the police had used in hopes of figuring out who might’ve broken in. They’d lifted so many prints, most of which probably belonged to her or Leanne or maybe even Isaac, it was going to take a couple of weeks to sort through them all.
“You okay?”
Claire glanced up to see Isaac watching her from across the table at Hank’s Burger Joint. They’d spent so much time trying to put her house back together and make a list for the insurance company that it was now late afternoon.
“You haven’t said a word since we got here.”
She stared at her plate as she sighed. “It wasn’t easy seeing things I’ve worked hard to accumulate swept into a dustpan and thrown in the trash, but…I’m okay.” For the most part. Her life with David was slowly being dismantled and carted off; even the memories were beginning to feel distant. Coping with that, and the disloyalty she felt, complicated an already complicated situation. So did how much she cared about Isaac, because she worried that allowing herself to depend on him would turn out to be her biggest mistake yet.
On the other hand, she had things to be grateful for. She had insurance, which would cover some of it. And she could’ve been home, and hurt, when whoever it was broke in and trashed her place.
“You’re not eating much. Again,” he said. “You’re just picking at that burger.”
His pointed frown encouraged her to take another big bite. “I’m making progress.”
Rocking back, he rested his elbows on top of the booth. “Hard to believe Leanne didn’t see or hear anything last night, don’t you think? She lives so close.”
Two teenage girls came in, spotted Isaac and began to whisper and giggle. As a local celebrity, he drew stares wherever he went. She wondered if he hated that as much as she thought he would but she was too dejected to bring it up. He seemed to ignore the attention.
“It probably happened while she was asleep,” she said. “And once she’s asleep…I don’t think anything disturbs her. There’s a strong possibility that she was drunk.”
“Your sister drinks that much?”
She squirted ketchup on her fries. “I don’t know if she passes out. I’m just saying she’s been drinking more than I want to admit.”
“Why is she so opposed to reopening your mother’s case?”
Claire knew where he was going with this. He didn’t care for Leanne. That had become apparent at the house. He guessed she had a secret to hide, and he was right. Loyalty made it impossible for Claire to reveal exactly what that fifteen-year-old secret was. She wasn’t willing to talk about a pornographic video starring her baby sister. But she had to give him some reason his instincts were on alert, so he’d know that she understood why Leanne was acting so strange about the past.
“She did something she regrets, but it’s got nothing to do with my mother’s disappearance.” Here she was, echoing her father’s opinion—ironic, since she’d blasted him for saying the same thing.
But she didn’t know how else to approach this and still be loyal to her sister.
“Something she regrets…” he repeated.
“Yes.”
“You’re not going to tell me what?”
She couldn’t get any more
food down. Pushing her plate away, she reached for her water instead. “I can’t. It’s…very personal and embarrassing. Nothing I’d ever want to become public.”
“I wouldn’t tell anyone. I hope you realize that.”
“I do.” She knew he could be discreet. It was more than that. “She wouldn’t want you to hear about this. But you’re right in believing she’s withholding some information, because she is.”
“What’s the nature of this information?”
“I can’t even tell you that much. Really. I’d be mortified if I’d done what she did.”
“It doesn’t have to do with your mother?”
“Not…directly,” she hedged.
“Is it something you wouldn’t want a private investigator digging up?”
“Excuse me?”
Leaning forward again, he helped himself to her fries. “I’ve hired someone, Claire.”
She blinked at him. “For what?”
“To pursue your mother’s case.”
“But… When did you do that? I’ve been with you all day.”
“I made the decision yesterday.”
Before her house was trashed? “But…I can’t let you do that. Private investigators are expensive. And we tried that route.”
“Some are better than others. And you don’t have to pay.”
“I don’t even know when I’d be able to reimburse you.”
“That’s not a problem. I’m only telling you because she’s going to be digging to find everything she can. If your sister has a deep dark secret, it might not be a secret much longer. Will that be a problem?”
Claire squirmed at the thought of Leanne’s indiscretion going public, which would happen if the P.I. found something, or there’d be no point in having her search in the first place. She’d have to report any evidence to the police. Could she allow such a no-holds-barred investigation? If she did, Leanne might not be the only casualty. What if it came out that her mother was on birth control without Tug’s knowledge? Or that Tug and Roni were indeed having an affair?
What if Isaac’s P.I. learned just enough to make everyone look terrible but came up with nothing more?
She’d drag her whole family through the mud for nothing…?.
“How good is she?” she asked.
“The best. She found my mother. And she had almost nothing to go on.”
This was a revelation Claire had never expected Isaac to share with her. His background was pretty much off-limits and always had been. He certainly never spoke of the woman who’d abandoned him.
Distracted from her own misery, she watched him carefully. “Where is she?”
“Dead.”
He showed no emotion, but he had to feel something. She wanted to know what had happened, why his mother had done what she’d done. But asking just to appease her curiosity would be far too intrusive. “I’m sorry.”
A muscle flexed in his cheek. “Your mother’s dead, too. I’m convinced of it. But she deserves justice. And you deserve answers.”
“I want answers, but…I have to ask myself—at what price?”
“That’s for you to decide. I’ll pay for the P.I. as long as you can live with what she finds. Could you tolerate seeing your sister or your stepfather or someone else you love going to prison?”
“You think the person who killed her is that close to me?”
“After what April told you? In my mind, there’s no question.”
Jeremy Salter cleared his throat. He was standing at their table. Claire had been so engrossed in the conversation she hadn’t paid any attention to his approach, but she shouldn’t have been surprised. Jeremy had had a crush on her since they were children. He always gravitated toward her, no matter where they were. “Can I get you any more ketchup or…or a refill of your soda, Claire?” he asked.
She managed a smile. “No, thanks.”
He put some extra napkins at her elbow. “I—I’m sorry to hear about the, um, fall you took at the studio. I’m really sorry. Very sorry.”
Claire fingered the stitches above her ear. She needed to see Dr. Hunt to have them removed. “Thanks, Jeremy. I appreciate that.”
Isaac had been hurt, too, but Jeremy hadn’t heard about that, or he didn’t care. Unlike the teenage girls now sitting at a booth across the restaurant, who kept glancing over at Isaac, Jeremy hardly seemed to notice that he was there. But he didn’t think like other people, had always been “different.” Although, as far as Claire knew, his parents had never sought an official diagnosis, he had some undeniable mental and emotional problems, but he meant well. She thought he was sweet.
“Will you have time to give me a haircut this week?” he asked.
She cleared her throat. She’d endured his obsession for years, but every once in a while his devotion made her uneasy. “Isn’t your appointment already scheduled?”
“I don’t remember.”
He should have a card on which she’d written his next appointment. She always sent him home with one. He wasn’t a client she was dying to keep—she cut his hair for whatever change he had in his pocket—but she figured it was the least she could do for someone who’d been as teased, shunned and mistreated as he had. It was no secret that his father would never win any parenting awards; he had too many problems of his own. Don Salter had managed Walt’s gun shop for years after Tug quit, until Walt accused him of stealing. Don’s complicity in the theft was never proven, but the suspicion was enough to cost him his job.
After that, he worked in various capacities, eventually becoming a roofer. Then he fell off a house and hurt his back and hadn’t held a job since. She bumped into him every now and then. If he wasn’t inebriated he was hungover, but that wasn’t why she didn’t like him. Some people claimed he was merely neglectful to Jeremy; she feared he was borderline abusive. She or someone else in town might’ve tried to get some government agency to intercede, except that Jeremy would probably be institutionalized if he was taken from his father. It wasn’t as if he had a loving mother. His mother moved to Oregon when he was just a kid, and refused to take him with her.
“I’m sure it’s on the books,” she said. “I don’t have my schedule with me, but I’ll check and give you a call.”
“That’d be nice, Claire. That’d be real nice.”
She stirred the ice in her drink. “If it’s this week, we might need to reschedule, though,” she added. “I’m taking some time off.”
“You are? Why? Are you going out of town?”
He seemed almost panic-stricken, but Claire had known him long enough to understand that anything beyond his normal routines upset him. “I’ve got some…problems to take care of. But we’ll get you in soon. Don’t worry.”
“I am worried,” he said. “I’m really worried.”
He looked it. She reached out to squeeze his arm. “It’s going to be okay. I promise.”
“You’re a nice person, Claire. You—you don’t deserve what’s happening.”
She supposed he meant the bump on her head. She doubted he’d heard about her house yet, but in this town she could never be sure. At any rate, Jeremy frequently said odd things. “Thanks again. Tell Hank the burger was delicious.”
“Can I get you a shake?” he asked. “I can make it really thick. For free. To make up for your fall.”
“I appreciate the offer, but I’m stuffed.”
“Okay.”
“Maybe you could get me a shake,” Isaac said.
Jeremy looked startled, as if he’d forgotten Isaac was sitting there. “Um, yeah, sure. I guess I could. What kind would you like?”
Isaac’s lips curved into a smile. “Actually, I’m stuffed, too. But thanks.”
“If you say so.” Jeremy’s eyes darted back to Claire. “I’m glad you came in. It’s always good to see you, Claire.”
After several more rounds of thanks and compliments, Jeremy finally went back to work. Claire wanted to return to the conversation they’d been having before he’d in
terrupted, but Isaac’s wry smile stopped her.
“Looks like I have some competition.”
“Jeremy’s harmless. You remember him from high school, don’t you? He was—” And then it hit her where Isaac had gotten at least some of his reputation as a fighter. “Wait! Of course you remember him. You beat up every kid who looked at him crosswise.”
“I can tell he’s grateful,” he said with a chuckle as he gathered up his wrappers. “Apparently, my paltry friendship can’t compare to your pretty face. But I’m not surprised. He’s had a thing for you since I can remember.”
She was sliding out of the booth when the bell jingled over the door and her stepmother walked in. Roni didn’t usually eat red meat, so Claire was surprised to see her here—until she made it clear she hadn’t come to order dinner. When she hurried over, Claire realized she’d only stopped because she’d spotted Isaac’s truck.
“Is it true?” she demanded.
Claire hesitated. “Is what true?”
“Did you go to April’s house?”
Word was getting out. She’d feared as much. “We—we had a short chat, but—”
“But I’m not supposed to be offended, is that it? It’s not as if you were there discussing me.”
Claire didn’t respond.
“Of course you were discussing me. What else would you have to say to each other? What’s wrong with you? What have we done to make you turn on us?”
“You’ve done nothing. It’s just that…I have to look everywhere, hear it all.”
Her lip quivered. “I can’t believe you suspect us. After everything we’ve done for you.”
“I don’t know who to suspect, Mom. I’m merely searching for answers.”
“And meanwhile, you’re moving in with a man who’ll dump you as soon as the mood strikes him. Just like before.”
Isaac tensed. Claire could sense it. “Mom, please. Leave my personal life out of this.”
“How am I supposed to do that?” she retorted. “I raised you!”
Not really. But Claire let that slide. “And I’m grateful—”
“You have a funny way of showing it.” She paused. “Leanne says you two are moving in together.”