*****
When Jake picked up Lani at noon, his expression stifled any objections she had to being yanked away two hours earlier than planned. Harsh and resolute, like the first day he’d showed up at the farm. Her stomach knotting with nerves, she would make herself wait. A few minutes anyway. She’d phoned her father earlier but telling Jake about that could wait too.
She eyed his profile. Eyes more intense than usual. Planes of his cheeks flat with suppressed emotion. And the muscle twitching in his cheek. What had happened?
No more than a mile away from the small development where the younger Meaghers lived, Jake stopped on the roadside. Before she could ask what was wrong, he reached for her and slanted his mouth across hers for a demanding kiss loaded with fierce emotion.
Something had happened to shake him up but she wasn’t going to deny his need, no matter the reason. She leaned into the kiss, savoring and tasting him, chocolate and heat. When her rib cage hit the gearshift, the jolt reminded her they were parked beside a public road.
“Jake, we have to stop.”
Breathing in deep gasps, he leaned his forehead against hers. “You’re right. I wasn’t thinking.”
She straightened her clothing and smoothed her hair. “What was that about?”
He laid his palm against her cheek. His dear, crooked grin melted her. “Your suggestion of sharing photos with Ma worked.”
“Oh, I’m so glad. Tell me about it.”
He shifted to first and steered back onto the road. “I took an old photo album from when Hank and I were in grade school. And I found a framed portrait of her and Dad. Her eyes lit up and she even talked about the pictures.” As he spoke, his voice roughened and his eyes glistened.
Jake always tried to be so tough, but he cared deeply for his family, especially Grace. Tears burned her eyes and she turned to look out the window but barely registered the fields and houses barely visible through the fog.
When he finished describing the rest of the visit, she realized he wasn’t headed toward the harbor but up the peninsula. “Where are you taking me?”
The softer expression when he spoke of his mother reverted to grim. “Rangeley. To see Frank Tyson’s ex-wife. How about lunch before we go any farther?”
He pulled into a gravel parking lot. The sign on the barn-red wooden shack read Fred’s Eat’s, the extra apostrophe for emphasis. Or possibly local color.
She tingled with the possibility of what he’d said as the delicious aroma of fried clams filtered into the SUV. “Your contact came through with a lead. Did you talk to her?”
He shook his head. “Her number’s unlisted. I didn’t want to waste time trying to get it. Or risk her telling me to shove it. They separated before the case but she still might have some insights. I want to know why a man with an exemplary record suddenly slacked off.”
They went to the window to place their orders. To reach Rangeley in Maine’s western mountains meant a drive the width of the state via a series of two-lane highways through villages and farmland, proving the Maine saying that “you can’t get theah from heah.” A three-hour drive. On speculation the woman would talk to them. Lani couldn’t get there fast enough.
When they returned to the vehicle to wait for their food order, she said, “Is there more?”
He slanted an unreadable look her way. His hands gripped the wheel tightly enough to bend it.
When he didn’t speak, a sliver of anxiety lodged in her. Already he was shutting her out. The sliver ignited like a matchstick. “What? I’m good enough to help investigate or for a good lay, but you’re the Great Stone Face now you have leads? Crap! Forget lunch and Rangeley. I’m outta here. East Road goes two ways.”
Jake’s eyes widened and he clamped a hand on her shoulder. She tried and failed to ignore the buzz his warm palm sent through her. “Whoa, Lani. We’re still partners. I was just figuring how to tell you. What to tell you first.”
“Yeah?” She waited, still doubtful, fighting to hang onto her ire.
He caressed her shoulder as if in apology, then gripped the steering wheel with both hands again. He blew out a breath. “I followed the guy tailing you, David Brandon. A guy at the party the other night told me his first name.”
“I’m waiting.” She tried not to grind her molars. As his story unfolded, a chill rippled through her. When he finished, she heaved a sigh of relief he hadn’t been caught. “Dammit, Jake, if that was a drug deal...” She couldn’t finish.
“Yeah, I know.” Left unsaid was what they both knew. “The pickup didn’t look like it’d had bodywork done, but it’s worth checking. Maybe DHPD looked into him. And I need to find out who owns the house. Public information but I’d rather my checking on it wasn’t public.”
Before he could speculate further, the loudspeaker bellowed his name.
“Hold on.” He bounded from the driver’s seat. When he returned with the steaming paper baskets of food—burger and coleslaw for her, burger and onion rings for him—he reached behind his seat, then deposited his portfolio in her lap. “Notes from more background reports.”
She nibbled on her food as she read. She barely noticed when he turned toward Bayport at Route One. “Nothing interesting on Mike Spear or Steve Quimby.”
“No surprise on those two upstanding citizens. Keep reading.” His brow furrowed as he ate an onion ring.
Soon they left Bayport’s strip malls and housing developments behind. In Augusta, they would pick up a smaller state route west.
Her stomach lurched when she read the next report. “Five years ago Kevin spent eight months in a private New Hampshire clinic. Kevin in drug rehab? Addiction to pain medication and tranquilizers? I can’t believe it.”
“I can. He may still be on something. In addition to alcohol. He was hitting the sauce pretty hard Saturday night.”
“Like we agreed, he’s under constant pressure from J.T. to succeed in the company, to win this election, and who knows what else.”
“Having a father like J.T. could drive anyone to abuse legal and illegal substances.”
She ran her finger down the page. “David Brandon has a couple drug convictions, small time, and an OUI. Sort of a red flag. He could be involved in selling drugs, I guess. Maybe to the harbormaster. To Kevin, if he’s still using. But why’s he following me? And how can he be involved in the arsons? I can’t see the connection between those two and Gail’s death unless he’s Hector Vargas, which doesn’t seem likely.” She hung her head. This was so frustrating.
“Connection to Kevin, maybe. Otherwise, nothing obvious. Maybe the ex Mrs. Tyson will enlighten us and it’ll all come together.”
Lani stared at him. “Stop the Cherokee and let me out now. Aliens have replaced the Jake I know with Little Mr. Sunshine.”
He barked a laugh. “I have to think something’ll break soon or I’ll have to beat my head with a hammer to feel better.”
“Then maybe I shouldn’t tell you what I learned while we were building the float.”
“I can still take you up on your offer to walk back.”
When he was teasing and charming, he made her heart and her body flutter. She threw up her hands in a gesture more flippant than she felt.
“Okay, I’ll fess up.” Her smile faded as the implications of what she’d heard hit her. “Word is that Ava has disappeared. No one seems worried, since she has pulled a vanishing act before. Ran off with some guy for a few days last year without telling anyone. But this time seems to me too much of a coincidence.”
“I’m no fan of coincidence.” He tapped both index fingers on the steering wheel. “Could be our killer sent her a warning not to tell what she knows. She panicked and beat it.”
“A warning? Maybe.” Like the massive truck slamming her off the road and the carbon monoxide. Her stomach rebelled again and she set aside her lunch. “Or worse.”
Chapter 21
The former Mrs. Tyson was weeding a flower garden beside her cedar-shingled cottage when they a
rrived. Despite white hair, her sun-tanned cheeks and brisk manner gave her an air younger than the seventy plus Jake’s report had indicated.
When he explained why they’d come, she said, “I’m sorry I can’t be of help. By the time you’re talking about, Frank and I were divorced.” After a beat she added, “Rest his soul.” She appeared self-contained, her expression giving away little.
“Yes, ma’am, I know. But if you’ll answer a few questions, you might help us head in the right direction.”
Carolyn Tyson remembered the barn fire case, Frank’s last before he retired, because the death of that “poor girl affected him so.” When Lani informed her it was her twin who’d died, Carolyn, as she insisted they call her, became instantly sympathetic and offered drinks in the backyard.
When they sere settled a wooden picnic table, she brought a tray from inside the house and deposited it beside her orange gardening gloves. From a cut-glass pitcher, she poured lemonade into glasses.
Perspiring in the sun pouring down on her deck, Jake thanked her for the cool drink.
“You have a lovely place here, Carolyn.” Lani smiled, gesturing at the bay window that looked out over the lake’s expanse.
Primo property. The lawn sloped to a short dock and a swim float that rocked on the wake kicked up by boats, one towing a water skier. The view was postcard quality. Directly across the lake rose the low hump of Bald Mountain and in the distance higher peaks that could be Sugarloaf and Bigelow.
“Thank you. This is my family’s camp and has been for generations. My sons own it now. They let me play hostess in the summer. They live nearby, so it seemed natural to come here after I left Frank.”
Some news at last. “You left him? Not a mutual split?” Jake felt Lani’s hand on his thigh urging restraint.
A tiny frown creased the older woman’s forehead. “Those are personal questions. Why should that matter to you?”
Lani flattened a palm on the rough tabletop as if reaching out to the woman on the other side. “That case may have been Frank’s last because his investigation was sloppy. He missed important facts and didn’t pursue clues. He reported the fire was accidental, but now that’s in doubt. We’re wondering what might’ve preoccupied him.”
Lani sugar-coating questions into delicate diplomacy? Something she’d learned working with difficult kids. The woman constantly impressed him.
“Anything you can tell us could help.” He crossed mental fingers.
The corners of Carolyn’s mouth crimped as she seemed to reconsider. “I see. Well, I don’t really, but I’ll tell you anyway. I left Frank because he was losing our money, our savings.”
“Losing it how?” Lani asked.
“At that big casino down in Connecticut and in risky investments, get-rich-quick schemes on the Internet. He kept telling me he was going to make up for the losses. When Global Paper Mill shut down, so did my office job. I still had my company retirement plan and I didn’t want to lose everything if he owed big money. He became angry and secretive and wouldn’t listen to me. So I left and filed for divorce. He sold the house in Augusta and I got half the proceeds.”
Jake hadn’t seen Frank Tyson’s other house before the fire but the Oak Mills property seemed substantial, not that of a man who’d lost everything. “Sounds like a tough time. Did he pull out of his hole after the divorce?”
She nodded, her mouth drawing into a tight line that creased her lips and made her look every day of her age. “Bill—that’s my oldest—said his dad hit it big and didn’t need to work any more. That’s when he bought the property that burned around him.”
A new possibility vibrated every nerve in Jake’s body. “Do you remember when his fortunes turned around?”
Carolyn studied the garden loam embedded beneath her short fingernails for a long moment. When she looked up, a glint hardened her eyes. “I know exactly when it was.”
*****
No wonder she remembered the damn date—the day after her divorce was final.
Lani cracked her knuckles until her fingers ached as they drove away from Carolyn Tyson’s bungalow. “Frank Tyson came into money when his shallow investigation left the case at the conclusion he chose. Other fires needed investigating, so no one followed up later. He wasn’t sloppy because he was freaking distracted. He took money to bungle that case.”
Beside her, Jake said nothing but she saw tension in his shoulders and the grip on the steering wheel. The same anger that boiled up from her stomach to her chest.
Narrow driveways led through the dense foliage to lakeside camps and houses. The gravel access road was private, so little traffic passed them. When they came to a hiking trail turnout, he pulled over and cut the engine.
She couldn’t sit still a second longer. Storming out of the truck, she cursed and stomped around in the packed dirt. The knot whirled inside her until bile stung her throat. Before she knew it, she was puking up her burger in the roadside weeds. Damn, not again.
He ran to her side and laid his hand on her back. He offered the clean paper towel he kept in his pocket as a handkerchief. “Hey, you okay?”
She snatched the towel from him and mopped her mouth. Breathing hard as she straightened, she said, “Can’t you tell, genius?” As soon as the words left her mouth, she waved a hand to erase them and shook her head. “Sorry. Kneejerk snark.”
“An apology. Call the media.” His arms enfolded her. “And don’t think I missed what you said earlier.”
“What?”
“A good lay? That’s an insult. To us both. I care for you. A lot.” He paused, then rushed on as if afraid she might want to dive into feelings. “So, seriously, you okay now?”
An SUV passed them but the passengers paid them no mind. Probably figured they were two lovers making up after an argument. Not too far off base.
She nodded against his thudding heart. “The implications of what she said hit me like that stun gun. Because Tyson didn’t pursue leads and push people, my twin sister’s murderer is still out there. Free. He’s trying to kill me. You must be angry too.”
“Honey, I’m way beyond anger. A whole lot in this mess makes sense if someone paid off Tyson. Like why Tyson didn’t search my house for condoms to match the unique lubricant or why he didn’t keep asking questions. Not just sloppy investigating, but deliberate and criminal. I want this arsonist, this killer. I want him to pay.”
“This information has to be enough cause for the fire marshal’s office to re-open the case.” She rubbed her chest, trying to massage the tightness inside.
“Maybe they can get a warrant to trace the sudden influx of funds into Tyson’s bank account. I’ll call Robichaud.”
She leaned back, studying him. “Starting that investigation will take time. We still have a lot more questions unanswered.”
“And you’re still in danger.”
“The Dragon Harbor Days parade and fair is this weekend. I promised Nora to help at the church booth making fried dough. She must know about Kevin’s drug abuse.”
He kissed her forehead. “Then make more than dough.”
*****
At the police station the next afternoon, the dispatcher waved Jake back to Chief Galt’s office. No time to waste, not after what he’d just heard from Otis and his pals over pie and coffee. He figured he’d get more out of Galt without Lani. He’d left her checking email on the boat. She’d be safe enough alone because it was only for a short time. He’d hurry.
“If you want to know about progress on finding Ms. Cameron’s alleged assailant, I can’t comment on an ongoing investigation,” Galt said. He waved Jake to the battered wooden chair in front of his desk.
“Glad to hear it’s ongoing.” Jake settled in. “Not why I’m here.”
“Got a case we’re wrapping up, so get to it.” The police chief smoothed his salt-and-pepper hair and leaned back in his chair.
“You said the other day you didn’t remember ever speaking to Gail Cameron. Gail, Lani, Kevin, and
I all worked on J.T. Meagher’s congressional campaign that summer. So did you, moonlighting as his security.” When Galt started to speak, Jake held up a hand. “I’ve also learned that after your wife—your first wife—left you, you ate regularly at the Eastward Inn, where Gail waited tables.”
His gaze held steady but a cheek muscle twitched. “Doesn’t mean I remember the girl.”
“Come on, Galt,” Jake said, a guy-to-guy grin on his face. “She was hot and a flirt. I should know. From what I’ve heard, you notice all the pretty girls. When you were in your prime, lots of them noticed right back. More than noticed. The reason both your wives split.”
The big man leaned forward. His elbows hit the desk. “What’s your point, Wescott?”
“I’m convinced Gail’s death was no accident, but murder. That summer she was moody and depressed. Had sex with a long list of guys, some her age, some older. One of them killed her, maybe during an argument, and used the fire to cover up his crime.”
Galt studied his desk blotter, appearing to consider his options. Jake’s chair creaked as he leaned back to wait.
The mustache moved with the other man’s grimace. “Okay, I do remember Gail. And yeah, she came on to me at the inn. Wagged her fanny at me, bent over so I couldn’t miss her tits. I kidded around with her but didn’t take the bait. Not because she was too young, but because I didn’t want to give my soon-to-be ex ammunition for alimony. I walked a straight line until the divorce was done in September. You can believe me or not, but that’s it.”
He rolled his swivel chair away from his desk and stood, reaching for his chief’s cap. “Have to cut this short. Like I said, I have a meeting and a case to wind up.”
Jake pushed to his feet, gratified his leg didn’t make the motion that of an old man. He needed a show of strength here. He held Galt’s gaze, studying him. “Why’d you deny you remembered her?”
Once Burned (Task Force Eagle) Page 18