The others’ expressions varied, from stony indifference to pasted-on smiles. Of the five, Casey Rhodes, whose father had seemed the strictest, appeared the most frightened. If they were looking for the one who acted guiltiest, he’d be it.
Mattie went to her office to get Robo. After sleeping through the night, he wasn’t the least bit tired, so he’d been concerned when she told him to stay on his bed. He was waiting and watching for her to return.
He jumped to his feet when she entered the room, but stayed where she’d put him. She crossed over to reinforce the “stay” rather than calling him to her. After a treat and a pat, she told him they were going to go find someone. Familiar with the drill, he pranced beside her back to the briefing room, his eyes on her face.
Edgy with nerves, Mattie paused and took a breath before entering the room, letting it out slowly to center herself. Stella, Sheriff McCoy, and Brody watched from the near wall, while the lineup stood against the back.
Mattie picked up the cap, still in its plastic evidence bag, and offered it to Robo to sniff. “Search. Show me.”
Robo trotted toward the lineup, tail waving, working right to left as he sniffed the air around each person. Brooks Waverly’s eyes narrowed as her dog worked the line, but he continued to cooperate, standing in place without moving. Robo went up to him, sniffed his feet, and then sat and stared at Mattie.
Though the room remained silent, Mattie felt as if a bomb had exploded. As she patted and praised Robo for doing his job, she looked to see her colleagues’ reactions. Their faces and body language were unreadable, but she would guess they felt as excited as she.
“Thank you for coming in today, gentlemen,” McCoy said. “Brooks, I want to visit with you and your father, so come with me. The rest of you are free to go. We’ll contact you if we want to interview you again.”
Stella gave Mattie a slight smile and quirked one brow in recognition of Robo’s prowess before following Brooks and the sheriff out of the room. Brody ushered the other boys out to the lobby, while Mattie took Robo to her office. Once within the privacy of the four walls, she grabbed Robo and hugged his neck, telling him what a good boy he was while he nibbled at her arm.
While she waited for Stella and the sheriff to interrogate Brooks, Mattie logged onto her computer and opened the detailed record from Merton Heath’s conviction that Brody had retrieved. Despite the successful ID during the scent lineup, the information she found in the record made her uneasy. Convicted of molesting a twelve-year-old girl, he’d served five years before being released on parole. No other priors.
Even though things were pointing toward Brooks Waverly at the moment, she couldn’t disregard the coincidence that she’d seen this pedophile in Timber Creek the day after Candace had been killed.
Soon after, Stella came into the room and leaned against the edge of Mattie’s desk, arms crossed. “He confessed that the cap is his. Says he lost it sometime last week while running on the hill for cross country training.”
“And he lied about it belonging to him because . . .”
“Says he was afraid we’d do exactly what we’re doing—pin the blame for Candace’s death on him. His words, not mine.”
Mattie fiddled with a pen while she thought. “He could be our guy, but we haven’t got a case against him yet. Did you take a look at Merton Heath’s record?”
“I did. He’s a strong person of interest, but so is our victim’s father. I called Juanita Banks, and she says her husband is at home this morning, so we could interview the two of them together. Can you come along with me now?”
“Sure.”
Mattie drove Stella to the Banks house. When they knocked on the door, Burt answered, a scowl on his face. “What do you want with me?”
“We want to talk to you about your daughter’s case, Mr. Banks,” Stella said, her voice mellow. “May we come in?”
“Fine.” He held the door long enough for Stella to catch it and then stepped back into the kitchen, where he circled the table and sat, reaching for a mug of steaming coffee that sat in front of him.
Mattie followed Stella, and they stood for a moment until Stella spoke. “Is it all right if we sit here with you, Mr. Banks?”
“Suit yourself.”
Juanita entered the kitchen through the door from the living room. “Please, sit.”
They settled into chairs, Mattie purposely taking a chair across from Stella so they wouldn’t be aligned on the same side.
After Juanita sat at the end of the table, Stella took the lead. “We’re following up on every bit of information we get about Candace so that we can find out what happened. We want to keep you informed as we go. Some of it won’t be pleasant to hear, but it’s important we get your opinions about it.”
“The wife already told me about Candace and the boys,” Burt said with a growl. “I’d like to get my hands on the little bastards.”
“Were you aware of her activity?” Stella asked.
He looked at her with disgust. “Hell, no! I would’ve put a stop to that in a New York minute.”
Juanita sighed, raising her eyes to the kitchen window and staring at it.
“To your knowledge, had Candace engaged in this sort of behavior with anyone else in the past?” Stella asked.
“No way. Candace just hit thirteen this year. She must have been experimenting. You know, hormones pop up about then and all that stuff.”
“Have you ever had any interactions of that nature with Candace, Mr. Banks?”
Burt stared at Stella for a beat before he unleashed a string of expletives. “What kind of a pervert would do a thing like that with his daughter?” he asked at the end of his rant. Mattie thought that Juanita was staring at her husband every bit as hard as Stella was.
“We’re looking at every angle, Mr. Banks,” Stella said. “I had to ask, and I have to talk to you about something else. We discovered that you weren’t at the Hornet’s Nest in Hightower on Tuesday afternoon . . . like you said you were.”
Burt narrowed his eyes. “What’s going on here? Am I a suspect? Trying to protect those little high school boys, are you?”
“We’re looking at everything that comes to our attention. It seems strange that you gave us misinformation about your whereabouts during the time when Candace was killed. So where were you Tuesday afternoon?”
“I was in Hightower.”
“But not at the Hornet’s Nest?”
“I was there.”
“We have a reliable witness who says you weren’t.”
Burt looked around the room as if looking for an escape route. “I can’t say where I was.”
“It’s important that you do. We’re investigating your daughter’s homicide, Mr. Banks. I would be disappointed if I had to arrest you, her father, for obstruction of justice.”
“Now you’re threatening me?” he asked.
Stella gave a small shrug and turned her hands palms up. They all waited, the room silent enough to hear the clock on the wall tick.
“Oh, for God’s sake, Burt. Tell us where you were,” Juanita said through tight lips.
He glared at his wife and then turned his spite toward Stella. “I was in a poker game. Okay?”
Juanita’s jaw dropped. “A poker game? Where?”
He looked at his wife. “In Hightower.”
“At the Hornet’s Nest?”
“No, you idiot. Poker’s not allowed at the Hornet’s Nest.”
Now the grilling of the suspect seemed to have been picked up by his wife, and Stella and Mattie sat back, allowing her to take over.
“Of course not,” Juanita said. “Gambling’s illegal there. Where were you?”
“At a friend’s house. It was just a friendly private game.”
“What friend?”
He narrowed his eyes. “I can’t say.”
“Have you played poker there before?” she asked, her voice rising.
“Yes, if you must know.”
“How long has th
is been going on?”
Burt cast a glance at Mattie and Stella and squirmed in his chair. “For a while.”
Juanita’s eyes sparked. “How long, Burt? How long have you been gambling away our money?”
“It’s my money. I earned it.”
“You’re taking it away from our family.”
Stella evidently decided it was time to step back in. “Mr. Banks, you need to talk to us. Tell us where you’ve been playing poker. There’s nothing wrong with hosting a game among friends in the privacy of your own home, so there’s no need for you to shield anyone.”
“It’s at Hank Wolford’s house, all right?” He glared at his wife. “Are you happy now?”
“Oh, you want to protect your friend when you should have been home taking care of your kids.” Juanita spat out the words. “You make me sick, Burt.”
While Stella tried to calm the two, Mattie made a note of the name Hank Wolford. She’d never heard of him before. If Hank ran a friendly game with a buy-in, he’d have nothing to worry about. On the other hand, if this was a high-stakes game, and the house was taking a share of the proceeds, that was different, especially if drugs or prostitution were involved.
She and Robo would be headed for Hightower next, doing more than checking out Burt’s alibi.
Chapter 14
It seemed like Cole had been playing catch up all day. After spending a long session with Gus Tilley, training him to dose Lucy’s injured eye, he’d finally succeeded in getting the job done. Gus had left the clinic with Lucy in the trailer, looking satisfied to be taking her home, while Cole had loaded into his pickup almost an hour late to run his stable calls. Now he was still twenty minutes from Timber Creek and would be at least a half hour late to meet the bus.
He pulled out his cell phone and dialed home. When his call went to voice mail, he remembered that Mrs. Gibbs was in Willow Springs getting her hair done. And Angie had stayed at school for a yearbook meeting. He disconnected the call without leaving a message and put the phone back in his pocket.
Sophie would be all right; there was no reason to worry. It was a beautiful spring day, and she had come home alone several times before. She knew the drill and could let herself into the house. Still, Cole pressed down the gas pedal and edged up his speed.
He breathed a sigh of relief when he turned into the lane and headed toward his house. Sophie wasn’t outside, but he didn’t expect her to be. He parked out front under the cottonwood tree and strode up the sidewalk to the porch. Gripping the doorknob to open the front door, he found it locked.
Belle and Bruno kicked up a fuss on the other side of the door, their deep barks sounding a warning.
“It’s okay you two, it’s only me,” Cole shouted to them as he pulled his key ring out of his pocket and sorted through to isolate his house key. When he opened the door and stepped inside, the two big dogs rushed at him in greeting, Belle wagging her tail and Bruno wagging his whole body. “Sophie,” he called. “You here?”
No answer.
Bruno scratched at the door, his signal to be let outside. Cole opened it for him, and both dogs rushed through to the yard. It seemed odd that they were in such a hurry, because Sophie would have let them out when she came home.
He scanned the coat rack at the entryway. No jacket hanging on the peg. No backpack. Had she gone to the clinic first to see her chickens?
Cole took the stairs two at a time, calling her name. Still no answer, but he checked her bedroom to make sure she hadn’t come home and gone to sleep. Empty. Going back downstairs, he checked the kitchen. No sign of her making a snack.
Heading out the front door, he noticed that both dogs had left the yard and were nowhere to be seen. Thinking the dogs must have run to the clinic to find Sophie, he went to his truck and drove the hundred yards farther up the lane. As he parked, he saw neither dogs nor child outside the building. With growing concern, he unlocked the door and went through the horse treatment area to the clinic kennel room.
The baby chicks cheeped, scurrying around inside the cardboard box. But Sophie wasn’t there watching them.
“Sophie!” he called, hurrying through to the rest of the clinic. The place felt undisturbed, and he had a strong feeling that Sophie hadn’t come in here after school. Where was she? Where were the dogs?
Going back outside, he hurried down the length of the shed row, checking box stalls, horse runs, and finally the corral where he kept Mountaineer. The sturdy roan gelding nickered and trotted up to the fence, expecting to be fed. Calling for Sophie, Cole paused long enough to throw Mountaineer some hay and glance at the automatic water tank to make sure it was full. Everything was as it should be, but no Sophie to be found.
He jogged back to his truck and climbed in. Driving past the house and back down the lane, he caught sight of Bruno and Belle, their large black shapes roaming the property at the edge of the road, noses to the ground. He wondered if the dogs were searching for his daughter too.
When he stopped the truck and got out, both dogs came running, Belle limping slightly—her hind leg still bothered her after the gunshot wound she’d suffered last summer. He moved to the front of the truck, and Belle came to him to press against his legs. Bruno ran back toward the highway with Cole calling to him to come back. A car zipped by, narrowly missing the Doberman as he jumped away from the asphalt. He started to head west, apparently following the car.
“Bruno, komm!” Cole shouted. Bruno turned and stared for a second, but then came to him. Cole opened the passenger side door, moved the seat forward, and gestured toward the back seat. “Belle, Bruno, load up.”
The dogs jumped into the back. A feeling of urgency made Cole hurry around the vehicle, climb into the driver’s seat, and take off for the school. He hoped Sophie had missed the bus, and he would find her there waiting for him.
*
With his jutting lower jaw, Hank Wolford reminded Mattie of a pug with a beard. He wore navy sweat pants and a gray sweat shirt dotted with stains, and he had a bushy head of graying brown hair and a full beard streaked with strands of silver. He’d opened his door when Brody knocked and stepped out onto the porch to speak with him.
Mattie and Robo waited in the yard, which was covered with closely cropped weeds that had barely started their spring growth. She stood below the porch and off to Brody’s right where she could observe.
“And why are you here?” Wolford asked after Brody introduced himself.
Brody consulted a notebook he’d withdrawn from his pocket. “I’d like to talk to you about Tuesday afternoon, day before yesterday.”
Wolford’s dark eyes, deep in the sockets of his jowly face, moved slightly as he appeared to be thinking. Evidently he locked into the date and time, because he nodded as he crossed his arms over his chest. “All right.”
“Burt Banks says that he was here at your house on Tuesday afternoon. Can you confirm that?”
Wolford raised his hand to his chin and stroked his beard. “I can. Burt Banks was here.”
“And were there others who could also confirm this?”
“Yes, I had a few friends over for a game of cards.”
“A game of cards?”
“Yes. A poker game. Just a game among friends. Small buy-in, and we play with chips. Top three split the pot.”
His description sounded like a perfectly legal game. Now, Mattie wondered, is he telling the truth?
“Could we come inside and speak with you for a moment?” Brody asked.
“We’re fine out here.”
“I need the names of the people at the poker game.” Brody removed a pen from his pocket.
Wolford gave him a list of four names, none of which Mattie recognized. She wondered how Burt Banks could’ve spent large sums of money on a small buy-in for a game. It didn’t feel right. She moved closer to the porch, and Robo went with her at heel. Wolford eyed her dog and edged back a step.
Brody was still digging. “Can we get phone numbers from you?”
/> “They’re in my cell phone . . . inside. I’ll get it.” Wolford opened the door wide enough to slip inside and then closed it right behind him.
Robo had sniffed the air when Wolford opened the door, his nose bobbing. As soon as the door closed, he ignored the steps and jumped onto the porch, sniffed the door jam, and then sat. He stared at Mattie, giving her a signal that she knew well.
“There’s dope inside,” Mattie muttered.
Brody glanced at Robo before looking at Mattie. “Probably weed.”
“Might be, but we don’t know that.”
The door opened, and Robo stood. Wolford was looking at his cell phone as he started across the threshold but stopped dead when he noticed Robo looming on the porch. Wolford glanced at Brody in confusion.
Mattie peered beyond him, into the living room. There, a guy lay on the floor, his arms flung outward, and he looked unconscious. Or dead.
“Hey!” Stepping up beside Wolford, Mattie shouted to the guy inside. “Are you okay?”
Wolford tried to push her back. Robo growled, baring his teeth, and Wolford stepped away, his hands raised. The guy inside didn’t move.
“Robo, guard! Keep your hands raised and stay away from me or this dog will attack,” she said to Wolford. To Brody: “There’s a guy inside there. Not moving. Medical emergency.”
“He’s just passed out on the floor,” Wolford said. “Drunk.”
After Robo had told her he smelled drugs, Mattie really wanted to get inside that house, and this guy was her ticket, drunk or not. “We don’t know that. He looks unconscious.”
“Mr. Wolford, step outside,” Brody ordered. He tipped his head toward the doorway, throwing a glance at Mattie. “Go ahead and check on him.”
Wolford moved out to the porch. Mattie brushed past him to enter the house, leaving him under Brody’s watchful eye and taking Robo with her.
The guy on the floor looked to be twenty-something, thin to the point of emaciation, his long brown hair stringy and unclean. Sores festered on his face, more dense around his mouth. Even as she assessed him visually, she was pulling on latex gloves extracted from her utility belt. Robo started toward the guy, but Mattie stopped him and put him in a down-stay a few yards away.
Hunting Hour Page 13