Made to Be Broken

by Kelley Armstrong

  "Generous folks," he said, stepping up beside me.

  "Oh, they are. Janie told them where they could stuff their offer."

  "Don't blame her."

  "Then from what I heard, she blackmailed the mayor for twice that much by threatening to tell his wife about the special services she paid His Honor to avoid property citations."

  "That the same mayor I saw in the diner?"

  "Looks like he got hit in the face with a brick?"

  A twitch of a smile. "Yeah. Doesn't seem much of a Romeo."

  "You haven't seen Janie. My guess, she takes what she can get and, if she can turn a profit, calls it a bonus. She's none too bright, but she's got a keen sense of self-preservation and not an ethical boundary in sight." My gaze traveled over the house. "If your daughter disappeared, would you decide that's a good time to pack up and move?"

  He shrugged. "Don't have kids. Suppose you might. Memories and all that."

  "I can't see Janie moving to avoid reminders of her daughter. But even if there is some hidden wellspring of maternal love there, would she take off so soon? After a few months maybe. But days? When Sammi could still call? Show up on her doorstep?"

  I looked at the house again. Jack said nothing, just waited.

  "You'd almost get the impression she knew Sammi wasn't coming back." I glanced over at him. He stared straight ahead.

  I scanned the businesses along the street. "Benny should be in the office today. That's the realtor. I'll go see what he can tell me about this. You can wait - "

  "I'll come."

  "You wanted to keep a low profile - "

  "I'm coming."

  He meant he wanted to keep an eye on me, make sure I kept my emotions and my imagination in check. That smarted, but not as much as knowingI needed that check.

  I headed for the sidewalk, leaving him to follow.

  Benny Durant sat at his big oak desk in the window, an extra-large take-out coffee at his elbow, a copy of Macleans in his hand - probably with a less salubrious magazine tucked inside it.

  Durant was a good ol' boy who'd lived here all his life and chased away competition with the ferocity of a junkyard dog. Friendly and affable, he had a smile for everyone and a "special deal" for all his "friends." Though he was canny enough to take advantage of a client's real estate naivete, he always stopped short of an outright swindle.

  I'd bought the lodge from Durant, and was happy enough with the deal to send him a steady stream of people looking to make the area a permanent vacation destination with a new cottage. Few of those leads translated into sales. That, too, was typical for a town like White Rock. People spend a week, and are seduced by wilderness life: the clean air, the endless lakes, the peace and quiet, the friendly people. They start thinking they'd like to purchase a piece of this paradise.

  Then reality rears its ugly head. The nearest Wal-Mart is how far? Ethnic restaurant? Movie theater? Hospital? No high-speed Internet? No cable? Party lines? Not to mention black flies, power outages, and winter storms. Many a new resident has left after the first winter, upon discovering that our gorgeous country roads rarely see a snowplow and their urban SUV just isn't going to make it through that three-foot drift. But Durant still gets enough sales from my referrals to put me on his good side.

  I didn't even get as far as the door before his head popped up, like a hound on a scent. When I opened it, his gaze shot to Jack, fairly salivating at the prospect of fresh meat.

  "Nadia Stafford," he boomed, sliding the magazine into a drawer, then standing and offering his hand. "Did I hear you're booked solid this weekend?"

  "I am."

  "That's amazing. So early in the season, too. Seems people are finally discovering our little hidden gem." A wink at Jack. "That reminds me, I'm running low on your brochures. Got them right out here, front and center." He pounded a meaty fist on the stack. "They're a hot ticket. If you could bring more by..."

  "I'll do that Monday."

  "Wonderful. I love promoting great local businesses, and it's easy these days. Our economy is booming. Yes, it is." His gaze was fixed on Jack, the spiel clearly for his benefit. "So, Nadia, what can I do for you today?"

  "It's about the Ernst place. I saw it's for sale."

  He straightened, fairly quivering now. "It is indeed. A rare and lovely property." A small laugh. "Well, the property, that is. The land. The existing structure could be removed. I already have a quote from Ed Baines for plowing it down."

  I imagined Baines's bulldozer ripping through Sammi's home, reducing it to rubble, her treasures buried at the bottom, to be hauled to the dump. Every trace of her obliterated.

  I opened my mouth, but my next question wouldn't come. Fortunately, Durant picked that moment to wave at Jack's crutch.

  "Had a little accident, did you?"

  I expected Jack to respond with an abrupt "Yeah." But he launched into a story about tripping off the deck chasing a runaway barbecue. By the time he finished, Durant was howling with laughter.

  "Did you rescue the steak?"

  "Sure. I took it to the emergency room and had my meal there."

  "You probably needed it, considering how long they expect people to wait these days. Criminal. Just criminal."

  "So, is Janie really leaving?" I cut in. "This isn't one of her games?"

  "Oh, no. I wouldn't do that to a client." He glanced at Jack. "So you're interested...?"

  "One of my guests is," I said.

  Durant nodded. "I know how Janie can be, so when she said she'd sell, I handed her a check and had her sign the preliminary paperwork on the spot. I own that property now. She'll be cleared out by Tuesday."

  "How did you finally convince her?"

  He laughed. "I'd love to take credit, but it was all Janie. She came to me Wednesday wanting to know how fast she could get the money and leave town. I guess with Sammi disappearing and all..."

  "Is that what she said?"

  "Well, no, but the timing can't be a coincidence."

  No, it cant.

  "Still, it seems a little hasty," I said. "With Sammi gone barely a couple of days."

  "You know Janie. She gets her mind made up. If Sammi does come home, her mom's still around, just over in Bancroft."

  "Bancroft?"

  "She's got a boyfriend there, I heard. And that's the forwarding address she gave."

  "In case Sammi came back?"

  "Well, no, she didn't say that. For legal work, though I'm sure she meant I could pass it on to Sammi. I didn't put up the sign until I was sure she'd cashed the check." He winked at Jack. "Gotta put my client's interests first. As of now, that place is free and clear."

  We walked back to the truck in a comfortable silence, Jack letting me puzzle it through, knowing I'd share when I was ready.

  If Janie knew Sammi wasn't coming back, then the obvious answer was that she'd killed her. But I'd seen the way Janie's hands shook. She'd barely be able to aim a gun, much less execute such a perfect shot. Her criminal background - running with a biker gang - was all in the distant past. Would she still have connections? Be able to buy a hit?

  But to what purpose? Why kill -?

  A figure stepped from the pharmacy, bag clutched to her chest. I blinked, certain I was seeing wrong. I wasn't.

  I veered onto the road and broke into a jog. Janie's gaze skittered my way. She hugged the bag tight and walked faster. Jack must have figured out who she was. He called my name in a tone that warned me to get my ass back there before I did something I'd regret.

  I kept going, bearing down on my target.

  "Doing a little shopping with your windfall?" I grabbed the bag from Janie.

  "You crazy bitch!" she shrieked, clawing at me.

  I looked inside and pulled out one of two rye bottles. "Doesn't look like medicine."

  "Doug and I have an arrangement," she said, naming the drugstore clerk. "He gets them for me. There's no law against that."

  "Crown Royal? Little rich for your budget. You must have got
a pretty penny for your shack."

  She snatched the bag back. "None of your business, cop."

  "What about Sammi? What's she going to do when she comes home and finds her house gone?" I stepped closer. "Unless you know she isn't coming home."

  "Wha -?"

  "You sold your house a day after she disappeared. What do you know? Where's Sammi?"

  Fingers clamped around my arm. "Nadia..."

  I tried to pull away, but Jack held fast and leaned down to my ear. "You're drawing a crowd."

  A quick glance around showed he was right. Every Saturday shopper within earshot had stopped to gawk.

  I turned back to Janie. She was eyeing Jack, her lip curling.

  "A cripple?" she said. "Little old for you, isn't he? Guess that's the best a psycho cop can do, huh?"

  Jack tugged my arm.

  I resisted, but lowered my voice. "If you know where Sammi is..."

  "You'll what? Shoot me?"

  Jack yanked hard enough to pull me off balance. One final glare at Janie, and I let him lead me away.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Jack drove back to the lodge. I was so furious, I wouldn't be able to see the road clearly.

  As soon as we'd walked away from Janie, I'd realized the question wasn't "Why kill Sammi?" but "Why take Destiny?" It had taken every ounce of restraint not to tear back there and throttle a confession from her.

  I'd seen those two bottles of premium rye whiskey. I'd seen the satisfied look on her face. And I'd remembered my Internet search last night, thinking about all the people who'd killed their babies when so many others wanted them desperately. Would do anything to have a child. Would pay any price.

  Janie had sold Destiny.

  She and her new boyfriend had hatched the scheme using her old contacts, or maybe his - it was a sure bet any boyfriend of Janie's had paid more than a few visits to the wrong side of the law. They'd had Sammi killed and sold the baby.

  Janie couldn't flaunt her new wealth in White Rock, especially right after her daughter and granddaughter vanished. The smart move would be to sit tight until everyone forgot Sammi, then move. But Janie wasn't smart. She had money and by God, she was going to spend it. So she'd raced over to Benny Durant, eager to sell.

  I could barely sit still, fidgeting with my seat belt, waiting until we were beyond the town limits.

  "I think Janie killed Sammi and sold Destiny."

  I waited for Jack to wince. To tell me that was ridiculous and I was overreacting.

  He drove for a couple of minutes in silence, then said, "Yeah. I was thinking that."

  "So you agree it's plausible."

  "Plausible. As in possible. Not a sure thing. Need - "

  "Evidence. I know that. I may not have any detective work in my past, but I've already learned my lesson about jumping to conclusions. So if it did happen like that, what would be your theory?"

  Silence for another kilometer. "Hate to think anyone'd do that. Daughter. Granddaughter. But obviously she doesn't give a shit. Meets a new guy. He plants the idea. All she sees? Open bar. Lets him set it up. Takes her share."

  "So now we need - "

  "You need to do your job. Take care of your guests."

  I released my death grip on the seat belt. "Right."

  "Let me work on this. Plan something. Gonna need to move before she does. Monday, right?"

  "If she stays that long. We can guarantee she'll be home tonight, enjoying those bottles, but she may decide, come morning, to clear out early and start enjoying the windfall."

  "Yeah." He turned to watch a stray dog at the roadside, saying nothing until we'd passed it. "Gonna have to be careful. Half the town saw you yelling at her."

  "Sorry."

  He shrugged. "We'll work it out. Get your answer. Then? She's guilty? Do what you gotta do."

  I spent the afternoon rappelling. Being busy helped keep my mind off Janie Ernst, and I was almost thankful for the Previl party's constant barrage of demands. Almost.

  After the rappelling came cave exploration. Then dinner. Then a sunset canoe ride, cut short when Ben wouldn't believe me when I said canoes, unlike rowboats, could tip. Fortunately, I was in the third canoe with the Previls' associate and his wife - the "nice couple," as I'd come to think of them. Unfortunately, when Ben plunged into the icy water, he grabbed the first thing he could reach, which happened to be the side of Ken's canoe.

  So we had two wet and sheepish brothers, and two wet and furious wives, one of whom demanded to know why the water wasn't warmer, as if heating it was my responsibility.

  Owen helped me bundle the four into warm towels. Then we discovered a handy new use for the hot tub. I even broke out the hard liquor, though I warned them against drinking too much while in the tub.

  Once they were reasonably happy, I fled into the house on the pretext of making coffee. I found Jack in the kitchen, filling a thermos with that same beverage. Mugs were tucked into a basket resting beside it.

  "Ah, you heard the commotion, did you?" I said. "I was just coming in to make some for them. I'll grab the real cream or the wives will complain."

  "Fuck 'em. This is for you. Missed dessert."

  I had - I'd been too busy warming, then cooling, the wives' pies. Jack had once again taken his meal in his room, but Emma must have told him.

  "Come on." He hefted the basket. "Get away while you can."

  I took the basket, restarted the coffeemaker for Emma, and followed Jack down to the lakeside gazebo. As I laid out the dessert he'd packed, and poured the coffee, he checked out the structure, commenting on the heater, the sliding screens, and the cushioned wicker table set.

  "Nice," he said.

  "Thank you."

  A muscle in his cheek twitched. He knew I wasn't thanking him for his kind words about the gazebo. I was thanking him because his money bought the gazebo. He'd argue it was my money, earned on the job last fall, but the point still hung there, a subject that made us both uncomfortable - me for taking his money, and him because he didn't like me knowing who'd financed the job.

  He braced for more, but I let it slide. I had more important things on my mind.

  "Are we going to Janie's tonight?" I asked when we were halfway through our pie slices.

  "Been thinking..."

  His tone made my hand tighten around my fork.

  "Interrogating an old drunk?" he went on. "One-man job."

  "Sure. If you'd rather stay here, get some sleep, go ahead."

  "You know what I mean."

  I took a mouthful of pie, chewed, and swallowed before answering. "Do you really think I'm that out of control, Jack?"

  "Think this case is hitting where it hurts. You feel bad for the girl. Pissed off because no one cares. Reminds you of Amy."

  "The only people I'm thinking of are Sammi and Destiny, and getting justice - "

  "All right. But still? Tearing you up. Too close to home. If Janie did this?" He shook his head. "Never pulled a hit for free. But I'd do it for this. And I didn't even know the girl. You did. All I'm saying? You need to step back. Before you do something you'll regret."

  We finished our pie in silence.

  "So what's the plan?" I said finally.

  He studied me before moving his plate aside. "Go alone. Make sure she doesn't see me. Change my accent. Tell her I was sent by the boy's parents."

  "The Draytons."

  "Yeah. Get details before I go. Say they heard Destiny's gone. Want her back. Play it out a bit. Threats don't work? Draytons are offering to buy the baby."

  "Skip the threats and head straight for the cash. Greed is the way to Janie's heart. Offer more than she would have gotten, then promise to stage it as a kidnapping, so her partner won't suspect anything and she'll get the whole wad."

  He sipped his coffee. "You're good with that?"

  I set my plate on his, then fiddled with a stray piece of broken wicker, sticking it back into the weave. "Re mem ber how we played it with Cooper in Kentucky? We didn't w
ant him seeing you, so you stayed offside, giving me backup while I took him down and interrogated him."

  "You want to do that? You stay offside?"

  I nodded.

  "All right." Another sip. "She confesses? You want her gone? Have to go prepared."

  I stared out at the lake, watching a loon bob on the waves. If Janie had Sammi killed, did I want her dead? No. That was too easy. I'd rather see her rot in jail and burn up in headlines as a woman who killed her own daughter for profit. That might not hurt right away - her hide was too thick - but maybe after she dried out, she'd feel something.

  "If we get a confession, I'll figure out a way to set the cops on her," I said. "Knowing Janie, she's left a trail so wide even the local idiots shouldn't be able to screw up a conviction."

  "If you change your mind..."

  "I won't." I looked at him. "But let's not take any body-disposal supplies, in case I'm tempted."

  I continued going through the motions, hosting the bonfire, closing the house for the night, staying up another half hour in case guests needed anything. Normally the extra wait is just a precaution in case of emergencies. Most guests respect my need to get to bed if I'm going to be up at six for the jog. Not so with the Previls, who needed towels, fresh pillows, glasses of water... I was just waiting for them to request a tuck-in and bedtime story.

  Jack had moved the truck earlier. So at two, we snuck off in silence. Everything went fine until we reached Janie's house and found the windows dark and her truck gone.

  We stood in the shadows, watching the house.

  "Guess those bottles were a victory celebration for two," I said. "She must have gone into Bancroft to see her boyfriend."

  "We shouldn't follow."

  "I wasn't going to suggest it. But as long as the place is vacant, let's take a look."

  Jack hesitated.

  "We can check for evidence that she killed Sammi or sold Destiny. And, while we're at it, I'll see whether Sammi left anything about that photographer. Maybe a business card."

  The last part tipped the balance. Proof that I wasn't single-mindedly focused on my Janie theory. Proof that I was still in control.