“Sweeney,” Chief Lomax barked as he stuck his head in her door. “Meeting now in the conference room. Rafferty’s here, along with two other detectives they could spare from Woodbury.”
“On my way, Chief.” She left her gun and badge in her desk drawer and locked the door, following him to a room filled with men and one woman. Collier and Williams sat at a conference table, and Corey Rafferty stood with two other men she didn’t know. The only other woman was the district attorney. Lomax did the introductions and all sat down with papers and reports in front of them. Ten minutes into the discussion of evidence to pin Wakeley to both the murders, TJ’s phone vibrated. Pulling the cell phone out of her pocket, she glanced at the text message as she held the phone under the table. It was from Jill Cunningham. “Grace not home for dress fitting. Know where she is?”
She probably just forgot, thought TJ. She quietly texted Jill back with “No, in a meeting.” Then she double-checked to make sure she had turned off all sound. The discussion continued, Corey Rafferty concluding that they had ample evidence to hold Wakeley and the district attorney, Sharon Sorensen, mentioning a bond hearing the following day. “Unlikely the judge will let him out when his gun was found at the scene of Ronda’s murder,” said DA Sorensen.
“Does anyone find it unusual that Wakeley is too good a candidate for these murders?” TJ spoke up in the silence.
Rafferty’s head yanked up from the table in TJ’s direction, disapproval on his features. “What do you mean?”
“Well, I mean his gun is found near the scene, he gets a blackmail note from the first victim, he has no alibi that is rock solid, he knows about fires, and he just happened to report his gun missing a week or so earlier,” TJ said.
The chief looked at her in amazement. “I thought you told me you had him nailed to the wall yesterday. Why, now, have you changed your mind? He’s the perfect suspect.”
“I know Dan Wakeley and I’ve watched him in action at fires. He isn’t stupid. Sure, he knows how to start fires since he’s had a lot of training. And sure, he and his wife went through a tough stretch, which Brenda Norris took advantage of, but somehow he doesn’t appear to be your typical sociopath or pathological liar or just plain killer. And if he killed either or both of them in a fit of passion, he doesn’t appear to be sweating from a guilty conscience. My gut tells me this could possibly be a setup.”
Corey Rafferty dropped his pen and said, “That’s crazy, TJ. We’ve got this guy dead to rights. Of course, he turned in a stolen gun report because he planned to use the gun on Ronda Burke. And he had every reason to kill Brenda Norris because she planned to take away everything he had: his wife, kids, reputation, job, you name it. I think I’m a bit more objective since I don’t actually know these people. This is an open and shut case.”
“You may be right about objectivity, Corey, but to know these people and their personalities and history isn’t always a disadvantage. We have to explore what ties the two victims together. Ronda met someone she planned to blackmail.” She paused and said very distinctly, “We don’t know—nor have we proof—it was Wakeley who planned to meet Ronda. We have to ask if Ronda’s murder was separate from Brenda’s murder—something Ronda knew that had nothing to do with Brenda—or did Ronda find out about Brenda’s murderer and decide to blackmail that person? I think that gets to the heart of the issue and we don’t have that piece of the puzzle. We still have a line of people who were angry with Brenda. If it isn’t Wakeley, if he’s being set up, we still have a murderer on the loose in Endurance. Or possibly two murderers.”
Chief Lomax broke in to their debate. “At this point our best evidence points to Wakeley. But if you want to pursue other lines of thought, you’re free to do that, TJ. Corey and Sharon can continue to build the case against Wakeley. I’ll have Corey interview Wakeley, with his attorney, this afternoon.”
“Works for me,” TJ said as she eyed Corey Rafferty across the table.
The meeting broke up and TJ looked at her watch. She had about thirty minutes before another roundtable the purpose of which was to lay out everyone’s responsibilities for the centennial celebration this weekend. She went to her office and put in a call to Jill.
“Jill, what’s up with Grace? Are you sure she didn’t have somewhere to go this morning and she forgot?”
“You may be right, TJ, but she seemed so excited about these costumes. Her house is locked up and her car is gone.”
“I’ll give Jeff Maitlin a call. Maybe she’s at the newspaper office.”
“I already did. He hasn’t seen her since yesterday. She told Rick Enslow she was going to have some coffee at Tully’s yesterday afternoon to celebrate the finish of her stories. You might check with Bill.”
“Right. I can do that. I’ll check with him after I’m done here. Thanks, Jill.”
At the department meeting, TJ discovered she would be on duty for the parade the next day and the shootout reenactment at the bank Saturday afternoon. In a small-town police department she wasn’t just a detective. Sometimes she pulled patrol duty, too. But Collier and McGuire had the fireworks tonight. Satisfied, she drove over to Tully’s.
She walked in, sat down at the bar, and ordered lunch from Eva Sandoval.
“Tully around?”
“No, TJ, he’s gone for the day. His truck had a major repair problem and he had to have it towed to Woodbury. Rod Simpson did the towing and Bill said he was going with him. Probably get back tonight or tomorrow morning. He was so mad—we expect a lot of business because of the centennial.”
“You haven’t seen Grace Kimball in this morning, have you?”
“Grace? No. She was here yesterday afternoon, but I haven’t seen her today.”
TJ finished her pulled pork sandwich and drank the last of her diet soda.
After paying her bill she walked out of the bar and glanced at the photos of the town’s history on the wall. Her eyes stopped at one in particular—the fire photo at the Kesslers’ house back in the late sixties. She turned and walked back to the fire photo and studied the details. The faces were impossible to make out, although she recognized the deputy fire chief, Richard White. The entire two-story house was in flames and the firemen with their high-powered hoses fought voraciously, but they grappled with a losing battle. The ample crowd that watched must have heard of it by word-of-mouth. TJ was impressed by the number of spectators in the middle of the night. But the quality of the picture was too poor to make out individuals. Grace was sure that Kessler kid was still alive.
TJ glanced silently at the photo one more time and then strolled out the front door.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
* * *
“I’m telling you, TJ, Grace is missing. You need to get over here right away.” Lettie’s frantic voice pounded through the phone.
“I’m on my way,” TJ responded. She put on her badge, holstered her gun, and was out her office door in three minutes. Where in the world could Grace be? She thought. This makes no sense.
It took her five minutes to drive to Grace’s house, and as she went in the front door, Lettie was immediately on her.
“Oh, TJ, thank God you’re here. I can’t find her anywhere. Car’s not in the garage. Clothes from yesterday are in a heap on her bed. Obviously, she didn’t sleep in her bed and that’s not like Grace. Not like her at all,” Lettie sputtered. She marched from the living room to the kitchen, talking nonstop.
TJ followed her. “Take a breath, Lettie, a deep breath. Now, sit down a minute and go back to wherever this starts.”
Lettie moved toward the kitchen counter, poured two cups of coffee, and sat down in a chair. TJ followed her lead, glancing at the clock on the wall. It was almost six o’clock. The fireworks would start in a few hours.
“I got here mid-morning, as always, picked up dishes and odds and ends in the kitchen. I put some chicken out to defrost and noticed I didn’t have any carrots to—”
“Whoa,” TJ put up a hand. “Cut to the Grace par
t.”
“Well, I was getting to that. Just hold your horses.” She stood up from the chair, started walking around the kitchen, and continued. “The problem is, I didn’t go upstairs. Didn’t even think about it. Or look in the garage. Why would I? Figured she was down at the newspaper office. So by the time I got the stuff for the chicken and made some dishes for dinner I realized it was awful quiet around here.”
“Grace would usually be home during that time?”
“Well, of course. She’s been spending lunch out and staying at the newspaper until late afternoon, almost supper time. You know, her stories had to be finished. And today she was supposed to be done with those stories, so I figured she’d be home early. Where could she be, TJ?”
“Good question. You went upstairs?”
“Yes, and, like I said, her clothes from yesterday are in a heap on the bed. That’s not like her at all. She must have left in a hurry. What can I do, TJ? She’s never done this before. This isn’t good. I just know this isn’t good.”
“Is anything else missing? Was anything out of place when you came in this morning?”
“Nothing was out of place. Her purse is gone and her cell phone.” She glanced around the kitchen and immediately her eyes locked on the counter behind TJ. “And a big flashlight. She always kept it there on the counter near the back door. It’s gone.”
“Anything else?”
“Not that I can think of. Suppose she’s been kidnapped?”
“Highly unlikely.”
“What explanation is there?”
TJ thought a moment. “Someone might have come along and invited her out somewhere.”
“And she took a flashlight with her in case she needed to bash them over the head?”
“Hardly.”
“So what are you gonna do about it?”
“I can put an APB out on her car and see if anyone has seen it.”
“A what?”
“An All Points Bulletin,” TJ answered. “I’ll have Myers pull up her license plate and get that on the scanner.”
“What else?”
“Are you sure her cell phone is gone?”
“I haven’t seen it anywhere.”
“Let me try to call her.” TJ pushed the speed button for Grace’s cell phone and waited. Lettie watched her, hoping that Grace would pick up. “Nope, it went right to voice mail.”
“What do you want me to do?” Lettie asked.
“You might go upstairs and see if you can figure out what clothes she’s wearing. I don’t know if you can, but if you know what she wears, you might notice something missing. It would help if I had a description.”
“Sure.” Lettie marched up the back staircase, headed to Grace’s bedroom.
TJ walked around the downstairs. Nothing was out of place. That was a good sign, she thought. She strolled through the dining room to the office and saw Grace’s briefcase. Opening it, TJ found several papers with research about the centennial stories. Again, nothing seemed out of place or torn or unusual. She walked over to an end table and looked at the photographs. Several were of Grace’s three children—Roger, Katherine, and James—and a few were of Jill and the rest of their group. Grace’s favorite photo of Roger was always in the same place. Behind a couple of the frames sat a photo of TJ when she graduated from high school in her cap and gown, and Grace was next to her with an arm around her. She picked it up and studied it.
I owe you my life, Grace Kimball, and if you’re missing—which means you’re also in trouble—I will find you. Please let it be in time.
Lettie came into the room. “Looks to me like a pair of denim capris, canvas shoes, a brown T-shirt, and—let me check the coat closet—ah, yes, a light jacket that’s beige. I call it beige and she calls it tan.” She sniffed. “Of course, I’m right.”
“Okay, Lettie. Thanks. I’ll find her. You might stick around in case she comes back on her own. Call me if that happens. Meanwhile, I’ll get on it.”
Before the detective could get out the front door, Lettie grabbed her arm and forcibly turned her around. “TJ, she’s gonna be okay, isn’t she? You’ll find her, won’t you?”
“Absolutely, Lettie,” and she was out the door and into her car.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX:
GRACE
* * *
Grace stopped digging and assessed her progress. She could probably get her head, arms, and legs through that hole, but she definitely needed it deeper if she was going to get her middle through without getting stuck. Winnie the Pooh and the Honey Pot, she thought, remembering the story she used to read to Elizabeth. Time to take a break for a few minutes and then go at it again. Of course, the hole wouldn’t do her any good if she couldn’t get this chain off her ankle. She’d have to think about that problem, too.
It was still light out and she decided it must be Friday. She hadn’t heard any fireworks during the darkness last night so it must have been Thursday. If tonight were the centennial fireworks, everyone would be there, but Deb and Jill would have found her gone this morning when they were supposed to be trying on dresses. Who else would figure it out? Does TJ even know where the Kessler barn is? They have to be looking for me by now. Her mind raced, searching for answers.
She was thirsty, tired, and her ankle was bleeding a little where the handcuff chaffed. Her stomach had stopped rumbling hours ago. She thought about Lettie at her house. I didn’t leave her a note telling her where I was going. She’s probably angry. I’ll have to tell her she’s right about that one when I get out of here. If I get out of here. She looked around at her little world and decided it was time to start digging again. Swallowing hard, she tried to loosen tense muscles.
Grace crawled over to the wood pile and found her “shovel.” All the while she thought about how she could get the cuff off her ankle. She worked steadily, making the hole deeper and pushing the soil through to the outside. It was getting more difficult because the dirt was harder and rockier the deeper she went.
She heard a sound and stopped digging to make sure she wasn’t hearing things. Cocking her head to the side, she listened, her senses heightened. No, it was a noise like the doors opening at the other end of the barn. She actively strained to hear any other sounds and turned cautiously, searching for potential weapons. Her wood—she’d need to move it quickly. She quietly stacked all the wood pieces in front of the hole as fast as she could. Then she pulled herself over to the far corner, waiting to see what happened. The piece of wood holding the door closed made a sliding noise as if someone were pulling it out of the brackets. Grace bit her lip and her pulse raced. Then the door slowly opened and Bill Tully stepped in, carrying a couple of plastic sacks.
“Grace. Hope you slept okay last night. Sorry I had to hit your head but it seemed like the simplest way to get you where I wanted you. Brought you a bottle of water and a sandwich. I would have come sooner only the bar was pretty busy what with the celebration going on and all.”
Grace relaxed her tense muscles and her eyes narrowed. She looked at him and said, “Tully? Why are you doing this? Why are you bringing me food?”
“I tried to warn you to let that fire story go. You’re too persistent. And when you talked about that good-luck charm, I realized you’d have to be disposed of. You’re just too smart for your own good, Grace.”
Speechless, Grace shuddered and heard her heartbeat pounding in her ears. How could he talk in such a matter-of-fact voice about disposing of me?
Sensing her confusion, he said, “Oh, don’t worry. It’s all right. You’re going to go down in history. That should make you feel really special.” He looked at his watch. “It’s about seven-thirty and the sun will be down soon since it’s July and it stays light. But not long from now it will be dark and the fireworks will start. Everyone will be there and won’t really be thinking about anything else. Endurance will get another glorious fire, far better than the one at Brenda’s. I’m sorry you won’t be here long to see it but think of your immortality. You�
�ll become part of the town’s history just like the Kesslers.”
Tully sat down on the crate and handed her the bottled water and sandwich wrapped in waxed paper. I should keep him talking as long as I can, she thought. Don’t make him angry. I’ll need as much strength as I can muster so eating isn’t a bad idea.
She reached for the sandwich and then stopped. “How do I know you haven’t drugged this or something?”
“You shouldn’t do drugs. As a teacher you should know that. I consider you a friend. We’ve known each other for a long time. Here, take it. You need to keep your strength up.”
Grace tried not to look at him strangely. What world was he living in? Keep my strength up? She used careful words, hesitating and clearing her throat. “I thought you considered Brenda your friend, too. That didn’t seem to keep you from killing her.” Get him talking—keep him talking, she thought. She took the sandwich and bottle of water.
He chuckled. “Brenda.” He shook his head. “She was too smart for her own good, too. Just like you. She had to snoop and try to figure out that fire story. Fortunately, like so many other folks, she drank too much, and that meant she talked too much. You’d be surprised how many people do that with bartenders. I knew when she didn’t recognize me that I’d done a perfect job. Dyed my hair black and my contacts changed my eyes from blue to brown. Of course, it had been about forty years since she’d seen me. I’ve become broader and a lot older. But I knew her immediately. What a job I did of hiding my old mannerisms and acting like someone named Bill Tully. I’d had years to perfect that. Even hid the scars from the Kessler fire. My beard covers most of them and a little shoe dye helps the spots where a scar kept my beard from growing.”
Grace balled up the piece of waxed paper and put it on the dirt floor. Then she drank deeply from the bottle of water. The cap was still tight so she assumed he hadn’t doctored it either.
Three May Keep a Secret (An Endurance Mystery) Page 19