Mountain Investigation

by Cindi Myers

  “I’ll go to dinner with you.”

  When he grinned, he was even more handsome. “When?”

  “Why not tonight? Then you can take me home and see for yourself that everything is just fine.”

  “It’s a date.”

  “Good.” And if someone happened to be lurking around, it wouldn’t hurt for them to see that she had a capable cop in her corner.

  CHERYL ARNOTTE HAD hair the red-brown of pine bark and intense gray eyes. She also had a little girl and a little boy who attended Canyon Critters, and a reputation as a good civil attorney. From time to time, she handled legal matters for the day care center and had agreed to meet with Audra Wednesday afternoon. “While I’ll want more time to review this completely, I can see two motives for this suit,” Arnotte said after the two women had visited briefly. “One, they’re hoping word gets back to your father that they’ve involved you and he’ll come out of hiding in order to protect you. Or two, they think you have money or information or something that this suit will bring into the open.”

  “The Ranger Brigade think TDC is digging for information they believe my father shared with me,” Audra said. “He didn’t tell me anything, but maybe someone thinks he did. In any case, whatever sent my father into hiding, I doubt he’ll come out just to protect me from an annoying and baseless lawsuit.”

  “Even baseless suits can be time-consuming and expensive,” Arnotte said. “If we’re unlucky and can’t find a judge to dismiss this, this could drag on for a very long time.”

  “I have to fight them,” Audra said. “I don’t have a choice.”

  “All right. Then I’ll proceed. Have you spoken to anyone at TDC about this?”

  “No.”

  “Don’t. If anyone tries to contact you, refer them to me.”

  Audra signed papers, wrote out a check and left the office, feeling drained. She debated calling and canceling her date with Hud, but that would leave her home alone all evening to brood, and that thought was even more depressing.

  At home, she was changing clothes when she heard a car door slam. She checked the clock: six forty-five. She and Hud had agreed to meet at seven. She gave him credit for being eager, but they’d have to have a talk about why it wasn’t a good idea to show up before your date had time to get ready. She cinched on her robe and went to the front window and peered out.

  The sun had just dipped behind the roofs of the houses across the street, casting her side into deep shadow, but it was still light enough to see there was no one parked at the curb. Angling her head, she spotted a dark shape behind her car, blending into the shadow cast by a tall pine. Maybe Hud had realized he was too early and was sitting out there now. She started to open the door and call out to him, but remembering her earlier mistake with the reporter, pulled out her phone instead.

  Are you sitting in my driveway? she texted.

  No answer. She watched the car in her driveway. The shape didn’t look like a Ranger Brigade cruiser, but then, Hud would probably bring his personal vehicle, wouldn’t he?

  The crunch of gravel made her jump. Was that footsteps? Every hair on the back of her neck stood on end, and she shrank from the window.

  Her phone pinged. I’m on my way there. About ten minutes out.

  Hurry! she answered.

  The phone vibrated in her hand. She scrambled to silence it and retreated into the kitchen, searching for the same knife she’d used to defend herself against Roy Holliday. “Audra, what’s going on?” Hud asked when she answered.

  “There’s a car parked behind mine in the driveway.” She spoke softly, just above a whisper. “At least, I think it’s a car. It’s really dark over there, so I can’t tell much. But I was in the bedroom getting dressed and I thought I heard a car door. I thought you were here early.”

  “Call 911,” he said. “Now. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  Chapter Five

  Audra dialed 911, gave her name and address to the dispatcher, and explained what was going on. “We’ll send a car right over,” the man on the other end of the phone said.

  He offered to stay on the line with her, but she declined, instead pocketing the phone, then tiptoeing through the house, double-checking the locks on all the doors and windows. That took two minutes. Another seven before Hud would be here. She didn’t want to look out the window, but she couldn’t stop herself. The vehicle was still there, a bulky shadow crouched behind her RAV4, menacing in its indistinctness.

  She carried a kitchen chair into the hall and sat where she had a view of both doors, but she doubted anyone could see her. She leaned forward, straining to catch any sound, and thought she heard a scraping like a shoe on concrete.

  Then lights lit up the front of the house. Heart pounding, she jumped up, almost knocking over the chair. Men shouted and feet pounded against pavement. Car doors slammed, followed by a racing engine and the squeal of tires. She reached the front window in time to see a Montrose Police Department cruiser speeding away.

  A second patrol car pulled to the curb, followed by a dark pickup. The vehicles parked, and Hud emerged from the truck, a familiar, comforting figure. She opened the door as Hud and two Montrose police officers approached her. “Are you all right?” Hud called when he was halfway up the walk.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Ma’am, would you put the knife away, please?” one of the officers said.

  She stared down at the knife in her hand. She’d forgotten she had it. “Sorry,” she mumbled, and laid the knife on the hall table.

  Hud walked up and embraced her. She hadn’t realized how much she needed that embrace until his strong arms encircled her. She wanted to bury her face against his shoulder and stay there until her heartbeat slowed and this panicked feeling subsided.

  But she was acutely aware of the two police officers standing in front of her, so she remained standing straight and faced them. “Thank you for getting here so quickly,” she said.

  “We have a unit in pursuit of your trespasser,” said the older of the two officers, gray at the temples of his curly black hair and lines etched deeply in his mahogany skin. “Can you give us a description of the vehicle or the person driving it?”

  She shook her head. “I’m sorry, I can’t. It was parked over there, in the shadow of that tree.” She indicated the spot. “I had the impression it was dark and fairly large, like a larger SUV. Bigger than my RAV4. And I never saw the driver. I only heard footsteps outside.”

  The officer’s radio crackled and a voice announced they had lost the vehicle they were pursuing. “We’ll search the area for shoe impressions and other evidence,” the younger officer, red-haired and freckled, said.

  Only after they left did Audra remember she was wearing just her bathrobe and underwear, her feet bare and her hair uncombed. “I should get dressed,” she said, pulling the robe more tightly around her.

  “All right,” Hud said. “I’ll wait in the living room.”

  Instead of the dress she had planned to wear for their date, she pulled on leggings and a long T-shirt. Clothes that were comfortable and comforting. When she walked into the living room, she found Hud standing before her bookshelf, studying the titles there. “Do you like to read?” she asked.

  “I do.” He tapped the spine of a J. D. Robb novel. “I love this series,” he said.

  “Yeah. Me, too.”

  They talked about books for a while, and she began to feel calmer. Then the two Montrose officers returned, and Hud sat beside Audra on the sofa while she gave her statement to the officers. After they left, he gathered her close and held her for a long moment, not saying anything. “I’m all right,” she said after a while, and sat up straight. “Really. But I don’t know if I’m up to going out for dinner.”

  “How about we order a pizza?” he suggested.

  “That sounds perfect.”

 
“Do you want to get a bottle of wine to go with it?” he asked.

  “No, thanks. I’m not much of a drinker. I have some sparkling water and some sodas.”

  “A soda sounds great.”

  She appreciated that he didn’t question her decision not to drink. It had been a problem with other men she dated. It had become a kind of test for her—if he objected too much, she knew he wasn’t the man for her.

  When the pizza arrived, they sat on the floor in front of the coffee table and ate. Audra began to relax. Hud wasn’t in uniform tonight. He wore gray cargo pants and a blue T-shirt and light casual jacket. She could almost forget he was a cop. It helped that he didn’t ask her more about what happened tonight. She had gone over everything with the Montrose police and didn’t want to relive those frightening moments anymore.

  “How did it go today with the lawyer?” he asked instead.

  “It went okay. She thinks we have a good chance of getting the suit dismissed.” She licked pizza sauce from her fingers. “She thinks TDC may have filed the suit to try to draw out Dad. They think he’ll come out of hiding in order to protect me.”

  “Do you think that will work?”

  “No. If he hears about it he’ll be angry. And maybe even a little worried. But he taught me to stand on my own two feet.” She wiped her hands and tossed the paper napkin beside the remains of the pizza. “And he knows I don’t need protection against a nuisance lawsuit.”

  Hud moved closer. He wasn’t much older than her, she guessed, but he had fine lines at the corners of his eyes and the weathered skin of a man who spent a lot of time outdoors. If you didn’t know what he did for a living, you might mistake him for a surfer or a snowboarder. “There are other things you might need protection against,” he said.

  “Oh? Like cops with big guns?” She shifted her gaze to his biceps, which stretched the fabric of his shirt.

  “I was thinking of whoever was sneaking around out there tonight.”

  She looked away. She should have known they couldn’t stay away from this topic for long. “Maybe it was that reporter.”

  “Maybe. But he walked right up to you before. Why not do that again?”

  “Because I know him now. He knows I wouldn’t let him in.”

  “I’ve been watching the news. I haven’t seen any more reports from him.”

  “He said he was working on a story about my dad. That could be a pretty complex story at this point. Dad has been away weeks now, and there are all kinds of wild rumors flying around about him.”

  He rubbed her back, gently, the heat of his palm penetrating the thin fabric of the T-shirt. “I’m worried about you here alone.”

  She resisted the urge to lean into his touch and straightened her spine. “I have good locks and a cell phone. And I know not to open the door to strangers, even friendly looking strangers. That’s why I called you tonight, instead of stepping outside to see who was there. At this point, I wouldn’t open the door for a Girl Scout selling cookies.”

  He took his hand away. “Are you sure you’re only twenty-three? Because you sure have it more together than I did when I was twenty-three.”

  “How do you know I’m only twenty-three?” He made her sound impossibly young.

  “I know everything about you.” He shrugged. “Well, everything that’s part of the public record.”

  “Most people just google their dates,” she said.

  His smile took some of the sting out of his words. “Cops go the extra mile.”

  “Hmm.” She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. He probably knew about the traffic ticket she got for speeding in a school zone when she was sixteen, but he clearly didn’t know everything.

  “Did you google me?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “Only because I haven’t had time.” She tilted her head, considering him. “How old are you?”

  “I’m twenty-eight.”

  “Oh, an old man. Wise in the ways of the world.”

  “A law enforcement career has a way of maturing a person in a hurry.”

  “Is that another way of saying you’re jaded?”

  “We weren’t talking about me, we were talking about you.” He leaned toward her, not touching, but close enough she could sense the heat from his body and distinguish individual golden eyelashes. “Are you just naturally precocious? I’ll bet there aren’t many twenty-three-year-olds with their own successful businesses.”

  “And I think that’s a bet you’d lose. Let’s just say my parents encouraged independence.” She had lived a lot in her twenty-three years, not all of it good, but all of it part of who she was today. She stifled a yawn.

  “Is that a not-so-subtle way of telling me it’s time for me to go home?” Not waiting for an answer, he heaved himself to his feet and began clearing the remains of the pizza.

  “It’s been a long couple of days,” she said. “But thanks for coming over. And thanks for the pizza.”

  “I’ll leave, but don’t be alarmed if you see my car circle the block a couple of times. I just want to make sure the coast is clear.”

  “I feel safer already.”

  She kissed him goodbye at the door, a deep, languid kiss that set every nerve tingling and could have led to more, if she had let it. But she pulled away, smiling, savoring the delicious tension and tantalizing anticipation, like an enthralling novel whose last page read “to be continued...”

  IN THE FOLLOWING DAYS, Hud knew he was falling for Audra. All the signs were there—the intense focus on her when they were together, the desire to know everything about her and most of all the difficulty of keeping her out of his thoughts. He’d be compiling a spreadsheet of evidence in a case and find his mind wandering to an image of her slim figure, clad only in her bathrobe. Or he’d be studying footage of a crime scene and find himself thinking about something amusing she had said, or a joke he wanted to share with her later. The distractions were maddening, yet he didn’t want them to stop. He wondered if she thought about him even half as much.

  She probably didn’t. She seemed to enjoy their time together, but he sensed she was holding back. She had secrets—some pain in her past she wasn’t yet ready to reveal. She didn’t know yet how patient he could be. When she was ready to open up to him, he’d be there, willing to hear what she had to say and to give whatever she needed.

  Friday, two days after Montrose police responded to the call at Audra’s house, Detective Marty Burns contacted Hud. “We caught the man who was snooping around your girlfriend’s house,” Burns said. “You want to observe while we question him?”

  Hud didn’t correct Burns’s assumption that Audra was his girlfriend. “Thanks. I’d like that.”

  So it was that an hour later, Hud stood behind a one-way mirror, looking in on a gray-walled interrogation room at the Montrose Police Department at a slight man with close-cropped white hair and a soul patch, who fidgeted restlessly as he sat alone at a metal table that was bolted to the floor. “The officer who pursued him got a partial license plate and the make and model of the vehicle, and we were able to track him down that way,” explained Detective Burns, who had the heavy jowls and thick body of a man who worked too many hours and ate too much fast food. “His name is Richard Salazar, and he’s a private detective.”

  He left Hud alone behind the mirror and went to question Salazar. After the preliminaries for the recording, Burns got down to business. “What were you doing parked in the driveway of 122 Zane Court on the evening of June 3?” he asked.

  “I wanted to talk to the woman who lives in the house.” Salazar’s tone was dismissive, annoyed that the police were wasting his time this way. “I knocked, but she didn’t answer my knock. I was on my way back to my car when the police showed up, hit me with a spotlight and started yelling like I was an ax murderer or something.”

  “Do you know the woman who lives
in that house?” Burns asked.

  “Audra Trask. I’ve never met her before. I wanted to talk to her on behalf of a client.”

  “Who’s your client?”

  Salazar smirked. “That information is confidential.”

  Burns remained impassive. “Ms. Trask says you never knocked on her door, and you didn’t ring the bell.”

  “She must not have heard me.”

  “She telephoned the dispatcher at 6:47 to report a strange car parked in her driveway. The first officer arrived on the scene at 6:56 and spotted you at the corner of the house, some fifteen feet from the front door. What were you doing for the nine minutes between the time Ms. Trask saw your vehicle and the time police arrived?”

  “I was looking around.”

  “Were you looking for a way into the house? An unlocked window or a door you could force?”

  Salazar frowned. “I’m a private detective, not a thief.”

  “You were trespassing,” Burns said. “I could have your license revoked for that.”

  “I was doing my job.”

  “You were a stranger to Ms. Trask, prowling around her yard in the dark when you weren’t authorized to be there. Ms. Trask is prepared to press charges for trespassing.”

  “I was doing my job,” Salazar said, louder this time.

  “Why did you run when the patrol car showed up?” Burns asked.

  “I was afraid. The way they were shouting and carrying on, I figured they were going to shoot me. That happens all the time these days.”

  Burns looked wearier than ever. “Try again. Why did you run?”

  “I told you, I was scared.”

  “You were scared we’d find the baggie of heroin stuffed under the front seat of your vehicle,” Burns said.

  Salazar drew back as if slapped. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

  Burns stood and leaned over the table, his face close to Salazar’s. “Who hired you to ‘investigate’ Ms. Trask?”

  Salazar remained mute.

  “I’ll be contacting the state licensing board as soon as I leave this room,” Burns said. “And recommending no bail on the drug charges.”