Mortal Crimes 1

by Various Authors

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Steve Lawson wore another one of his long-sleeved shirts, this one dark green. Laura thought the sleeves had been rolled up and that he had unrolled them hastily, because the cuffs were unbuttoned. Maybe he was self-conscious about his scar. She thought about the ten-year-old boy who had risked his life to protect his mother. You couldn’t always tell heroes by looking at them. Steve Lawson seemed ordinary, but there was something about him that inspired confidence—despite or maybe because of the wire-rimmed glasses and the slightly-long brown hair, the eyes that seemed self-contained, but held humor in them. Not her type at all, but he lured her.

  He seemed so normal. And yet his childhood had been anything but normal.

  Steve’s eyes had widened briefly when he saw her on his doorstep. “I didn’t expect you,” he said, opening the door wider for her to come in.

  “I should have called first,” Laura said. It was a lie. She never called first.

  “I heard about your partner on the radio. Jaime Molina, right? A car fire?”

  Laura nodded.

  “But he’s going to be all right?”

  Laura thought he might never be all right. “They’re doing everything they can.”

  Steve Lawson cocked his head. “I guess it’s a very dangerous job.”

  Laura nodded. She glanced around the room, noticed the place was a lot tidier. “Looking better,” she said.

  “It’s coming along.”

  “Are you planning on living here?”

  An expression she could not read flickered across his face. “To tell you the truth, I’ve been thinking about it.” He motioned to a chair and sat down himself. Jake sat at his feet. “Is this about Jenny Carmichael?”

  There was tension here she hadn’t felt before. She decided it was time to push harder. “Julie DeSabato came to see me.”

  That shocked him, she could tell. But he covered up for it quickly.

  Laura said, “Julie has an interesting perspective on what’s been happening up here. She told me you saw Jenny.”

  He smiled, uncertain. His eyes, though, stayed on hers. “Jenny?”

  “She said you saw a ‘manifestation.’ Of her. Jenny. She told me about the Ouija board, all of it.”

  Silence. His hand tightened slightly on the armrest of the chair he sat in, but he held her eyes. They were dark teal blue with gray in them, like the ocean when the sun slants just right. His hand fell down from the armrest, and he scratched Jake’s neck. Jake’s tags jingled. Steve continued to look at her. Laura thought he was trying to figure her out. Trying to divine what she was thinking. She decided to help him. “That’s why you dug up that place out there,” she said, nodding her head in the direction of the kitchen window. “Isn’t that right?”

  His lips were a line. His eyes were still. She knew he was working it out in his mind whether or not to admit to what he’d seen.

  At last he said, “Yes.”

  “Do you want to tell me about it?”

  “You won’t believe me.”

  “What makes you think I won’t?” She leaned forward, until her knees were almost touching his. She was thinking about the best way to get him to tell her what she needed to hear. “I talked to Jenny’s best friend today, from camp. She told me Jenny never left Camp Aratauk. Instead, she came down here looking for a lost puppy.”

  That got to him. His fingers rubbing Jake’s neck again. Jake shifting underneath Steve’s fingers and looking up at him, an injured expression in his eyes. Laura had seen how tightly Steve had gripped Jake’s fur—and probably some skin—and now Steve realized it as well. He lifted his hand and put it back on the armrest.

  Laura said, “Julie said you told her about a puppy. She said you found a collar. She said that you heard Jenny—”

  “Okay.”

  “She said Jenny was yelling at the puppy—”

  “Okay.” He stood up. “You want to go for a walk?”

  “A walk?”

  “If I’m going to tell you this story, I want to be outside, walking. I don’t feel comfortable in here.”

  ________

  “It’s hard for me because I don’t believe in things like this,” Steve said.

  They walked through the forest, Jake running ahead of them. Steve’s hands shoved into his pockets.

  “Just describe to me what you saw. Pretend you’re telling a story.”

  He paused. “It started on July Fourth.”

  Laura prodded. “What happened?”

  “Jake and I went for a walk. We headed up along the stream bed … ”

  All the time he talked, Laura was thinking of Frank Entwistle. How she knew in her soul it was Frank who had awakened her the night of the explosion. What would have happened if she’d answered the door when Jaime knocked? Would she be in St. Mary’s Burn Unit fighting for her life, too?

  But Laura heard Steve’s story, too. What he described was close enough to Julie’s version, but much more detailed. Once he admitted to seeing Jenny’s ghost, he must have decided to be as clear and accurate as possible.

  When he got to the part about the newspaper in the porch ceiling, Laura said, “Why did your grandfather put that particular newspaper up into the porch rafters?” she asked.

  He halted and looked at her. They’d stopped near the crime scene tape, the excavation. Jake running ahead of them, coming back, circling around, sniffing the ground, coming back again. The sun caught Steve Lawson’s hair, touched off a golden light in his dark eyes. “The newspaper?” His voice puzzled. “I guess it was handy.”

  “That’s quite a coincidence, don’t you think?”

  His mouth turned grim. “My grandfather didn’t kill that girl.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  He looked at her. “I do know that. I have faith.”

  Back at the cabin, he opened a kitchen drawer and produced the collar he’d found in the shed. “Evidence,” he said.

  She didn’t take the collar. “If I put that into evidence, they’d laugh me out of the squad room.”

  “You’re not telling anyone about this?”

  “I have my reputation to think of.”

  “Then why did you ask me?”

  That was a hard one. She didn’t know what had pushed her to come up here. Maybe she’d hoped to fill in the gaps, now that she had the new information about Jenny and the puppy. Maybe because she, herself, talked to a ghost.

  But hearing his story, it seemed plausible, real.

  Laura couldn’t figure out if she’d only wanted corroboration of what Julie had told her or if she’d just wanted to come up here again.

  He was looking at her. “Do you believe me?” he asked.

  Laura thought about Frank Entwistle.

  “I think you’re believable.”

  ________

  As they walked side by side out onto the porch, their arms brushed. Laura felt a jolt, just as she had the first time on this very same porch.

  They looked at each other. She took a step backward, but their eyes held. There it was: the tacit recognition of the attraction between them. Laura suddenly felt the overwhelming desire to be with someone. Someone she could talk to, care about, do things with, make love to, love.

  Steve cleared his throat. “Laura—”

  She stopped him with a look. He was smart enough not to push it.

  She could see herself with this man. But she also knew it wouldn’t work out. Not right now. This time she couldn’t say anything because it was her job not to. She had to clear him first. She fished around for something to say. “Thank you for being so forthcoming.”

  “I want to find out who killed Jenny as much as you do.”

  As Laura walked out to the Yukon, she was aware of him watching her. She sincerely hoped she didn’t trip over a stump and go sprawling. As the investigator on the Jenny Carmichael case, she needed to maintain the upper hand.

  The funny thing was, she felt as if she’d already lost it.

&n
bsp; CHAPTER FORTY

  Laura met with Victor at the Wendy’s near DPS the next day to compare notes. Laura told Victor about Dawn Sayles’s assertion that Jenny Carmichael had never left Camp Aratauk, and Victor filled her in on Jaime’s last few hours before he showed up at Laura’s place.

  “We know he went to the Circle K some time that night. Probably after he talked to the Pinal County detective about Purvis’s death. Detective Franklin was home with his wife, and she was watching a show that came on at eight thirty.”

  “How do you know he went to a Circle K?” Laura asked.

  “It’s a tradition, according to the guy he worked with. He won five-hundred dollars on a Lotto ticket a couple of years ago. So every Friday night, he goes to a different Circle K and plays the scratchers. He buys the same games: Crazy 8’s and Diamond Bucks. Buys fifty at a time.”

  “Different Circle K’s?”

  “That’s what his wife says. Guess that’s part of his ‘system.’”

  Just their luck. “Did he tell her which one he went to this time?”

  “He doesn’t remember anything about that night. There are a couple of ‘em near his house. I want to look at all the Circle K’s between his place and the sheriff’s office.”

  “Or on South 12th,” Laura said. “We had dinner at Prieta Linda.”

  “It’s like finding a needle in a haystack,” Victor said morosely.

  “If we split up, we can do it twice as fast.”

  “Wait a minute. You’re just working Jenny Carmichael.”

  Laura shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  “What are you looking at?” Victor said, following Laura’s gaze across the street.

  “I guess you can start with that one.”

  ________

  Just as they were finishing up, Ana Molina called. “Jaime wants to see you.”

  Laura broke all speed records getting to St. Mary’s. Afraid that if she didn’t show up quickly, the invitation would be rescinded.

  Ana met her by the elevators on the fourth floor. She wore a lavender flowered dress today, nylons, and pumps.

  “He gets tired,” Ana said. “He likes to overdo it, so please don’t stay too long.”

  She led Laura around the corner and up the hallway to the Burn Unit. On the left side were plate glass windows looking down onto a little outdoor area surrounded by the tall building. No saints in this courtyard, just gravel, chairs, and walkways.

  They were admitted into the Burn Unit and given protective booties and gowns as a precaution, since burn victims are susceptible to infection. Laura wore a similar gown and booties whenever she witnessed an autopsy. She hoped this would be as close to an autopsy as she’d get with Jaime.

  As she suited up, Laura thought about Ana Molina dressing up every day, only to be covered up by a gown.

  She was allowed to go in alone. The room looked like any other hospital room, the bed cranked up, a lonely light above, casting thin light on the man under the sheet.

  The big man Laura remembered was gone. Jaime seemed shrunken. He was swathed in bandages, although she could see part of his face, and one hand was untouched by fire. He was able to move his head slightly in her direction; she saw the strain it caused.

  He had a notepad on his stomach. He carefully wrote a note. He used his left hand. Laura tilted her head to read it; his handwriting was unnatural and hard to read, but she got it.

  Where’s my Brylcreem?

  She laughed. His eyes shone with approval.

  Laura said, “I’m so sorry about Chris.”

  He nodded, but wrote nothing on the pad.

  “You’re looking good.” Feeling she had to say something positive. Realizing again how she hated hospitals, hated being in them—she had an almost fight-or-flight response. Willing herself to be strong, upbeat, laugh at Jaime’s sense of humor, when what she really wanted to do was throw herself at his feet and beg him for forgiveness. “Can I get you anything?” she said, thinking she was sounding too jaunty. “Is there anything you need?”

  He wrote on the pad, “A yacht.”

  She laughed again, hoping her laugh didn’t sound forced. Tempted to ask him if he remembered which Circle K he’d bought his lottery tickets from, but his wife and the sheriff’s detective working the case already had. Jaime didn’t even remember dinner at Prieta Linda.

  He was writing something else. His handwriting getting worse. Laura craned her neck to see. The letters faint, but with effort, she was able to read the words:

  Nail his ass.

  ________

  Nail his ass. Laura promised herself she would, no matter how long it took.

  A list of Circle K addresses on the seat beside her, she started on Grande near Jaime’s house and headed in the direction of Prieta Linda on South 12th. Victor started at the sheriff’s office and headed in the direction of Jaime’s.

  It was time-consuming work. First, Laura asked the Circle K clerks if they had been there on that Friday night the week before. For those who answered in the affirmative, Laura described Jaime and his vehicle, which they might have seen through the front windows. Then she asked to see the purchases from that night, looking for a purchase of fifty scratcher tickets: twenty-five Crazy 8’s and twenty-five Diamond Bucks. She also asked to see the video tape from that Friday. Most of the time, the tapes had already been recorded over, and at that point, she was at a dead end.

  It was only luck that at the sixth Circle K on her search, the clerk remembered a big man buying fifty scratchers.

  Laura prayed that her luck would hold, and it did. The store manager had recently replaced the video tape of the outside of the store, and thrown it into a bin in the back. When the bin filled up, they would toss the whole thing out.

  Laura found the tape stamped with the date she was looking for. The woman who ran the store took her into the back office and pointed her to the VCR. Laura ran the tape, getting more excited by the minute. This tape did not show the inside of the store, only the front, but she could see all the cars that came up to the front of the store, the cars at the gas pumps, and a large section of the parking lot. Not only that, but she could see everyone who walked up to the front door.

  At nine thirty-three p.m., Jaime walked into the frame and opened the front door. At nine forty-two, he walked back out. Laura did not see his car, which must be parked at the edge of the lot, but that didn’t matter. She now knew where he was right before he drove out to her place. She did some addition in her head and figured it would put him on the ranch between ten thirty and eleven—if he didn’t stop anywhere else.

  That meant that the Circle K was his last stop before he drove out to the Bosque Escondido Ranch.

  Laura had what she wanted. She didn’t know how it would help. She needed to find out more about the bomb, how and where it was planted, in or on Jaime’s vehicle.

  She called Victor and told him to meet her so they could go over the tape together. Then she re-ran the tape.

  On the fourth pass, she saw something else.

  Between the time Jaime walked into the Circle K and walked out again, a car drove into the parking lot and parked near the far right-hand edge of the lot. The lot was bordered by a row of tamarisk trees. She saw the driver get out, but the bulk of the car obscured him or her from view, and the video was gray and jumpy.

  Laura waited for the driver to walk up onto the concrete apron fronting the store, but no one came from that direction.

  “Strange,” she muttered. She stopped, rewound the tape, and started it again.

  The car pulled into the parking lot. Laura noticed that the driver didn’t douse the lights, but got out immediately. There was perhaps an inch or so where the driver was in the frame, but it was too dark for Laura to see the person because the sodium arc lights cast the area under the trees into deep shadow.

  A few moments later, Jaime walked out the door.

  Beyond him, Laura saw movement under the trees. Someone walking fast? The light catching somet
hing small—just a shimmer, then it was gone. She thought the person walking fast was the driver of the car parked by the tamarisks.

  Laura ran the tape back again.

  What was the object in the driver’s hands? Something that shined when the light hit it.

  Again. Laura couldn’t tell what it was, the shimmering thing. She did notice this time that when Jaime Molina left the convenience store, he turned right, and headed along the walkway. He disappeared before she could tell for sure where he was going, but Laura guessed he had gone around the right side of the building.

  Laura ran the tape back to the beginning of the sequence: the car pulling in, the driver getting out. Leaving the lights on, and Laura guessed, the engine running. A pause—the driver leaning into the back seat? It looked like he was holding something. For a split second, she saw a tiny glint of light, quickly obscured by the shadow.

  The driver came back, moving quickly, but—Laura thought—carefully.

  Laura was more convinced than ever that whoever had followed Jaime to the ranch had picked him up here.

  Before entering the convenience store, Laura had looked around outside. There was an area alongside the right side of the building where people could park if the place was hopping—as it was that Friday—and there was still room for cars to drive through onto the street behind the building.

  Laura waited for Victor. They would need a warrant for the tape, even though the act of throwing it into a bin meant for rejected tapes made the tape technically garbage. It never paid to take shortcuts at times like this. They would take the tape and see what could be done at the lab to enhance the images. In the meantime, Laura realized something else.

  The car on the tape was sporty and low-slung. She couldn’t tell the color, but she was pretty sure it was a Pontiac Solstice.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  Even enhanced, the blown-up image from the video was hard to see, but Laura and Victor did learn two things:

  One, the driver was female. And two, she was carrying a jar of liquid.

  “Looks like a canning jar,” Victor said, staring at the photo. He looked at Laura. “You know how you make a calcium carbide bomb?”