In Harm's Way

by Ridley Pearson

  The effect was as he’d hoped. First, he’d distracted the suspect into believing their arrival at his front door had nothing to do with his own actions; second, they’d instilled in him a sense of their dependence on him, lending him a false self-confidence.

  “What’s this about?”

  “We believe your Ford F-one-fifty may have swerved off the highway on the night of the twelfth, or early morning of the thirteenth.”

  Fancelli managed a convincing deadpan, though his eyes darted nervously between Walt and Brandon. “Yeah, that’s right,” he said.

  Walt concealed his calming exhale, having worried he might have to fight the man on this part of the story. “We had a witness,” he said, just to place one nail firmly in place.

  “Is that so?”

  “ID’d your truck,” Brandon said in his deep baritone.

  “A fox was into some roadkill. Swerved to miss it and lost control.”

  “It happens,” Walt said, secretly impressed the man could seem so nonchalant. He was learning more about Fancelli than Fancelli would have wanted him to know. This was the testing phase: the chance to probe the suspect in an effort to decode him. Find the right code and you could unlock all the walls erected in front of the truth.

  “So you were driving,” Walt said, continuing. “You were behind the wheel?”

  “It’s my truck.”

  “You came to a stop and you left the vehicle,” Walt said, watching as that piece of information caught Fancelli off guard. “Now, most guys I know would move to the front of the vehicle to see if there was any damage done.”

  “I didn’t hit anything,” Fancelli volunteered. “I said there was a fox in the road and that I swerved to avoid him.”

  “Yes, you did,” Walt said. “My point was that most guys would get out of the vehicle to check for damage. I mean, why get out at all? Why not just drive back to the highway?”

  “I still don’t get what this is about.”

  “Did you leave the vehicle running?”

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Your headlights. It has to do with your headlights.”

  “My headlights are fine. Both headlights are working.”

  “That model, F-one-fifty, even if the engine’s turned off, the headlights remain illuminated for sixty seconds. It’s a safety feature to let you reach your door.”

  “What’s with the headlights, Sheriff?”

  “You got out of the vehicle and walked back behind it.”

  “This,” said Brandon, “according to our witness.”

  “Yeah? So what? Scared the shit out of me, running off the road like that. I had to take a leak. You think I was going to take a leak in the headlights? So I got away from the truck. Big deal.”

  “Makes sense to me,” Walt said to Brandon, who nodded. “It’s of no never mind to us.”

  “Could have fooled me,” Fancelli said.

  “The point being you were behind the truck-”

  “And the headlights were on,” Brandon said, chiming in.

  “Yeah? So?”

  “So,” Walt said, “you approach the truck from the rear as you return to the cab. Can you see that?”

  “I suppose.”

  “We’re interested in what you saw as you returned to your truck.”

  “You lost me.”

  “If you saw anything, anyone, in the general vicinity of your truck as you returned to the cab.”

  “Such as?”

  “Anything at all unusual?”

  “Not that I recall.”

  “We need you to think about this. Need you to tell us anything you might have seen that might have struck you as out of the ordinary.”

  “I didn’t see anything. I took a leak, got back in the truck, and drove back to the road.”

  Walt kept his shoulders from slumping with disappointment. He retained his impassive, slightly bored expression-a public servant doing his job.

  “Are you a bow hunter, Mr. Fancelli?”

  “What of it?”

  “Would you have applied for bear tags for the past three years?”

  “No law against that, is there?”

  “Not to my knowledge,” Walt said.

  “Okay then.”

  “Did you take the Ford into Wood River Glass for a windshield replacement on the afternoon of the thirteenth?”

  Fancelli’s veneer cracked. His brow tightened, his eyes narrowed, and he dismissed Brandon as if he wasn’t there. His full attention was now fixed on Walt. He’d identified the enemy and he tracked it with a hunter’s eye.

  “What’s going on here?”

  “Do you remember what you told the mechanic? The worker at Wood River Glass? What you told him had caused the damage to your windshield?”

  “I ate a rock.”

  “Are you aware that shops like Wood River Glass take pictures of damage for insurance purposes?”

  “No.”

  “Some do,” Walt said. “The ones that want to get paid.”

  “So?”

  “Have you ever heard the expression, ‘Why do it the hard way when there’s an easy way’?”

  “What’s your point, Sheriff? I gotta get back inside.”

  “You sure it was a fox, Mr. Fancelli?”

  “Maybe I’m mixing it up with another time I was run off the road. I think that’s right. Did I say fox? It was a bird. A bird hit my windshield.”

  “What kind of bird?”

  “How would I know?”

  “Maybe it landed somewhere behind your truck?”

  “Maybe you saw it,” Brandon said, “when you were taking that piss.”

  “There was a dead hawk there,” Fancelli said. “You think it was the same bird? What does any of this matter anyway?”

  “We’d like to see your arrows, Don,” Walt said. “You hand-make them, don’t you?”

  “How the-? What do you care about my arrows? Someone shoot someone or something? It wasn’t me.”

  Walt withdrew the search warrant and handed it to Fancelli. “We have a warrant to search the premises.” He nodded to Brandon, who pushed past Fancelli and entered the home.

  Walt caught a glimpse of Dionne. She’d been standing right by the door, listening to everything said.

  “There was a body!” Fancelli blurted out.

  Walt tensed. “Excuse me?”

  “There was a body in the bushes. A guy. Big son of a bitch.”

  Brandon stopped and turned, now inside the house.

  “Where are we talking about?” Walt asked.

  “In front of my pickup. That night.”

  “You saw a body?”

  “I did.”

  “And did you call it in?”

  “I didn’t. No.”

  “Because?”

  He looked confused. “We could cut a little deal, right?” Fancelli proposed. “I saw the body. I’ve got what you want, so maybe you cut me some slack.”

  “Regarding?”

  “You know damn well.”

  “I need to hear it from you.”

  “The feathers. I took some hawk feathers. Okay? Thing was dead. It’s a stupid law anyway, you ask me. I took a couple flight feathers. Your warrant. That’s what you’re looking for, right? My arrows. You won’t find them in there. I’ve got a workshop in the garage. My gear’s in the garage. I tell you about the body, you cut me some slack on the feathers. Deal?”

  “We’d have to see the feathers first,” Walt said.

  “Sure, no problem.”

  Fancelli led Walt and Tommy Brandon to the small garage in back, and inside to a corner workbench where an array of material was collected. The air was stale. Some moths worked frantically against the glass, trying to escape.

  “So let me get this straight,” Walt said, inspecting a piece of one of the hawk feathers not yet used, “you didn’t call in the body because you’d taken the hawk’s feathers and didn’t want to get involved.”

  “Listen, I thou
ght about calling it in to nine-one-one or something. But you guys trace all those calls, right? Am I right? I just didn’t want to be involved.”

  “The hawk feathers were more important to you than the dead man.” Walt made it a statement.

  “I know that sounds stupid.”

  Walt waited for Brandon to be in position behind Fancelli with his one good hand.

  “Dominique Fancelli,” Walt said formally. “You’re under arrest for violation of the Fish and Wildlife Act.”

  Before Fancelli could think, Brandon had a strong hold of one arm. He turned the man effortlessly toward Walt, who cuffed him.

  “What the hell is going on here? I thought we had a deal!”

  Walt spoke over the noise. “Call in the team. I want them to take this house apart, nail by nail.”

  Fancelli suddenly looked terrified.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  “My job,” Walt said, catching sight through the garage door’s rain-gray windows of the forlorn face of Dionne Fancelli, who looked as if she wanted to disappear.

  47

  The two women faced each other in sumptuous opulence in the first of three living rooms in the Engleton house. Peter Arian sat to the side in a padded needlepoint chair that creaked when he moved. He’d called Fiona over to the house, requesting her help in “reaching” his new client, who had so far refused to answer any of his questions. It was late afternoon, the hottest part of the day, and the shades were drawn against the sun, denying them the glorious views of Bald Mountain to the west.

  “Hey, K,” Fiona said.

  Kira pursed her lips.

  “It’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not. I think I got you in trouble.”

  Arian seemed to know better than to interrupt, or to take notes, or to react in any way that might cause his client to clam up. He was a human mannequin. But his eyes found Fiona and attempted to deliver something that she found difficult to interpret.

  “You remember that I was having problems remembering what happened?”

  Kira lifted her eyes to look across at Fiona, but said nothing.

  “I’ve made some headway in that department.”

  Kira appeared concerned.

  “In a good way,” Fiona said. “The way I look at it, the truth can’t get us into trouble. You know? It is what it is. What happened, happened. That’s all we’re after here: the truth. What happened. It’s no big deal.”

  “It is if it gets you in trouble.”

  “Do you think that’s going to happen?”

  Kira looked over at her attorney, then at Fiona. “Yes, I do.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about it.”

  “You would if you were me,” Kira said.

  “Why is that?”

  “Because… you know.”

  “Tell me.”

  “I left the bat there.”

  “Where?”

  “Outside the door. That night the sheriff came, and I sneaked up on him and all.”

  “Which door.”

  “The front door. Here.” She pointed.

  “Okay. And what about the bat?”

  Kira’s eyes darted to Arian, then to Fiona. “Well, it isn’t there anymore.”

  “The thing is,” Fiona said, “he’s on your side. Our side. Whatever he hears, it doesn’t matter, because he represents you.”

  “What about you? Who represents you?”

  “I’m not the one who needs a lawyer,” Fiona said.

  Kira lowered her head.

  “K?”

  “What if you do?”

  “Need a lawyer?”

  She nodded.

  Fiona checked with Arian, who nodded ever so slightly, encouraging her to pursue this line.

  “The night of the Advocates dinner, you recognized him, didn’t you?”

  She nodded.

  “Marty was there. You saw him. You told me that later, and I didn’t believe you, and now I know I should have. I apologize for that.”

  Kira shrugged her shoulders.

  “I just… It just didn’t seem possible.”

  “I froze.”

  “I must have walked right by him. You realize that? I got that e-mail and I left right away, and if I didn’t walk right by him, I came incredibly close. None of this would have happened. None of this would have been the same if he’d found me there. He was looking for me.”

  “That’s what I was afraid of. That’s why I froze.”

  “All these years. Well, you know how afraid I was of him. You’re the only one here I’ve talked to about any of this. Your thing with Roy Coats… We shared stuff, you and me. I know you want to protect me, but you can let go of that because I remember now. Something Walt-the sheriff-said. I don’t know. It was like it all came back to me. Like something unlocked. Katherine says it happens. She told me it would happen, and I didn’t believe her. But it happened. I don’t have it all back. She says it takes time. But what I remember, I remember clearly. He was there… he came here to apologize to me, Kira. Not hurt me. But to apologize. He freaked me out. I was terrified of him. And him apologizing like that. I think I freaked out and stepped back and probably went over the stool and hit my head.”

  “But I saw you with the bat,” Kira blurted out, as if forgetting about Arian. “I saw you hit him.”

  “Me?”

  “On the head. From the back.”

  “Me?” Fiona gasped dryly for a second time.

  “In front of your place. The two of you.”

  “But… you saw me?”

  “What was I supposed to do? I didn’t want you to know I’d seen. I didn’t want anyone to know. The car took off. The guy’s car. It wasn’t him driving, that was for sure. Not after that. I got in the truck and left. I didn’t know what else to do.”

  “Me?” Fiona repeated. “You saw me?”

  Kira was crying. She lowered her head.

  Fiona came around the coffee table and sat down next to her and held her. Kira sobbed. “I didn’t want to get you in trouble.”

  Fiona fought back her own tears. “But I thought you’d done it.”

  “Me?!” Kira leaned back and explored Fiona’s face. “Seriously?”

  “And Walt… He thinks we did it together. That we’re covering for each other.”

  Kira burst out laughing, tears still falling. “He what?”

  “I know.”

  “Seriously?”

  Fiona nodded.

  “What do we do?” Kira asked. Then she looked to her attorney.

  “There’s evidence,” Peter Arian said. “From what I’m hearing from you, I’m assuming it’s the baseball bat. That could be damaging. The sheriff wouldn’t give me that, so we’re better off now that I know. And they haven’t charged you. Either of you. I’m assuming the prosecuting attorney called off the sheriff, and for good reason: he didn’t like the evidence. Or, it could be that they’re awaiting more lab results, or witnesses. Or it could be your standing in the community. You’re something of a celebrity,” he said to Kira. “They may simply be waiting for it all to come together. That’s important for us to consider. What’s equally important is that both of you lay out exactly what you remember. That you write it down exactly as you remember it. I will be the only one in possession of those documents. If charges are filed, I can apply for access to the evidence. If the sheriff is building a case against the two of you, that’s more complicated and will take more time. At some point he’ll attempt to get one of you to turn on the other. It’s a pretty straightforward approach. I will need to be there for those interviews.”

  “It wasn’t me outside the cottage,” Fiona said. “I’m willing to bet I was inside, lying on the floor unconscious, although I don’t know that for sure.”

  “That’s a big bet,” Arian said. “I’m not sure that’s a bet you want to make.”

  “Well, it wasn’t me,” Kira said. “I saw it. I didn’t do it.”

  “No other cars?” Arian asked Kira.
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  “Not that I saw. And I didn’t hear the gate beep.”

  “They can make a case that it was one or the other of you, or that, as you say the sheriff is thinking, that it was both of you, and you’re covering for each other.”

  “But it’s not true,” Kira said.

  Arian’s face sagged. “This is the law we’re talking about. Truth is only one small part of the equation.” He waited a moment for this to sink in. “Your parents have asked you to stay with them?”

  Kira nodded. They’d discussed this earlier on the drive up. “But I don’t want to.”

  Fiona spoke up. “Kira, you should do it. Maybe this is the chance you’ve been waiting for.”

  “I don’t want to see him.”

  “What if your father’s changed?”

  “He doesn’t change.”

  “We all change,” Fiona said, “if others give us the chance to.”

  Kira nodded faintly. “But only for tonight.”

  “Don’t be too quick to judge,” Fiona advised.

  “I don’t want to leave you.”

  “I’ve got stuff to work out,” Fiona said. “Stuff to write down. I’ll be all right.”

  “I can drop you off,” Arian proposed.

  “I’ll get my things,” Kira said, standing and reluctantly letting go of Fiona’s hand.

  “What do you make of all this?” Fiona asked Arian when they were alone.

  “Do you believe her?” he asked.

  “Absolutely.”

  “And how do you know you went over a stool? What if your injury occurred outside your cottage?”

  “You think that didn’t occur to me?”

  “Do you think it’s possible?”

  “Did I hate him that much? Yes, I did. Could I do something like that? Never.”

  “Never’s a big word.”

  “Never,” Fiona repeated.

  Arian dug out his wallet, and from it, a business card. “In case you need me.”

  “I don’t.”

  “But in case you do,” he said.