“So when the news editor of the Beat returns the message I left for him, he's going to tell me that he assigned you to this story because of your past experience?”
Dawn slid toward the edge of the blue vinyl booth. “Uh ... yes.”
Frank extended one long leg to block her exit. “Only if you’re able to get to him before he gets to me, I think. Otherwise, I bet he’ll tell me that you came to him with the idea for the story. Reporters can do that, right?”
“You seem to think you know quite a bit about journalism, Chief Bennett. I won’t attempt to change your preconceived notions.”
“How did you—or your editor—find out about Jake Reiger’s death to begin with? The Beat doesn’t have a High Peaks bureau chief, does it?”
“We have a research assistant whose job it is to scan local papers looking for interesting stories that we can investigate further.”
“And a camper being attacked by a bear is the sort of thing this research assistant would flag for follow-up? I don’t think so.”
“Black bear attacks are very unusual—your ranger friend said so.”
“You knew Jake Reiger when you were in Utah, didn’t you? You must have interviewed him for your story about the hiker’s death at Langley Wilderness School.”
“I interviewed him by phone—I never met the man.”
“Maybe Jake was providing you with some inside information on MacArthur Payne’s latest educational venture,” Frank persisted. “Maybe that’s why he died."
Dawn shut her laptop with a snap. “It’s just a coincidence that a person I once interviewed happened to be the victim in this case. The real issue—which you seem to be blind to—is the terrible abuses that go on in these schools.”
“Cops don’t believe in coincidence.”
“You should.” Dawn clambered over Frank’s leg and exited the booth. “There was a big article about it in the Sunday New York Times Magazine a while back. People assign mystical or sinister meaning to coincidences because they don’t understand the mathematical principles of probability.” With a toss of her hair, she marched toward the door of the diner.
“I don’t think your showing up in Trout Run has anything to do with advanced mathematics, Ms. Klotz," Frank called after her.
It had taken Frank quite a while to unearth the tiny clip-on book light Caroline had given him for Father’s Day years ago so that he could read in bed without disturbing Estelle. Now that he slept alone every night, he didn’t need it. He could stay awake with the lights on as late as he wished—small consolation for his loneliness. But the book light was coming in handy on this late-night vigil at the library.
Rather than watch the building from outside, which would have been impossible to do unseen, he had very casually walked in the front door of the Store and bought something, then exited through the back door and slipped around the backs of the other buildings on the green until he came to the back door of the library. He used Rollie’s key to let himself in, and sat on the risers where Penny planned to have her children’s story hour, reading by the tiny glow of the battery-operated light as he waited for Justin Levine to appear.
He had finished Jane Eyre during one of the restless nights he’d lain awake worrying about Heather. Tonight he was starting a biography of Alexander Hamilton, and more than once his chin had hit his chest and the book had slipped from his hands.
He had read the same paragraph on Hamilton’s monetary theory three times when a soft click registered deep in his cop’s subconscious and jolted him into instant alertness. The doorknob rattled and the back door opened with a creak. Frank clicked off the book light and let his eyes adjust to the dim illumination provided by the moonlight slanting through the front window. The back hallway, where the intruder would enter, was utterly black.
Frank heard footsteps and a rustling sound, then a slight clunk as the intruder set something down. He had his hand on his flashlight, ready to shine its powerful beam into the hallway.
Then he smelled something, and knew exactly what to expect.
Chapter 28
The shriek that cut through the night when Frank flicked on his flashlight must have been heard in Albany.
“Penny! What the hell are you doing here at this hour?” The familiar floral scent had tipped Frank off to whom he would find in the hall when he turned on the light, but he was still shocked to see Penny standing there with two plastic bags from the Stop’N’Buy at her feet.
Penny’s right hand clutched her chest and her left reached out to the doorframe to steady herself. She hadn’t recovered the power of speech after her initial scream, when the sound of another key scraping in the lock made them both look toward the door. Penny’s eyes widened in panic as she looked from the door to Frank and back again. Frank moved to pull her into the room where he stood, to protect her from whomever was about to come through that door.
But she shoved him away with surprising strength. “Don’t come in!” she shouted. “Run! Run!”
Frank staggered backward, nearly losing his balance. It took him a moment to comprehend that Penny had been calling out a warning to whomever was outside. Now he headed purposefully to the door, while Penny clung to his arm to hold him back.
He tried to shake her off, but she was tall enough to put up a good struggle.
"For God’s sake, Penny, what’s gotten into you? Who’s out there?”
Frank finally reached the door and jerked it open. He shone his flashlight into the clutter of construction debris behind the library. The snow had been trampled by the passing of many work boots into a lumpy gray mess of ice and slush that made it impossible to discern fresh footprints. The intruder might have run behind the buildings toward the Store, or might have gone in the other direction, toward the road. But Justin Levine didn’t have a car, and he could hardly set off marching down the road in plain sight, so Frank chose to follow the path behind the buildings. He swung his flashlight from side to side, illuminating garbage cans and propane tanks and flattened cardboard boxes. A movement made him pivot to the right, only to meet the glowing eyes of a hefty raccoon eating the remains of a sub sandwich.
He rotated the light again, and heard a slight whimper from behind a tower of plastic milk crates at Malone’s kitchen entrance. Another animal? He stepped closer and this time heard an unmistakably human voice.
"Mommy!”
Frank knocked the milk crates aside with a clatter. Lorrie Betz huddled on the ground, clutching her two children in her arms.
Frank sat the kids down in the library and let them have at the snacks in Penny’s bags. The emergence of juice boxes and Cheese Nips quickly quieted their sobs. The two women were not as easily consoled.
Lorrie leaned against the wall glumly staring into space, while Penny paced, periodically raking her fingers through her hair, which somehow did not disturb its sleek lines.
“Will someone please tell me what the hell is going on here?” Frank asked.
Apparently, Lorrie didn’t feel this question was directed at her and continued to contemplate the unpainted walls in sullen resignation. Penny leaped into the breach.
“Frank, you can’t tell anyone that you’ve seen Lorrie and the children.”
She had chosen exactly the wrong approach. “Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do, Penny. Lorrie is wanted for questioning as a witness in a murder investigation, and she’s taken these kids in violation of her custody agreement.”
Penny recoiled as if she'd been slapped. He hadn’t meant to sound so harsh, but what the hell was she doing in the middle of Lorrie’s mess? He wouldn’t have thought the two women even knew each other, and here she was acting like Lorrie’s bodyguard.
Penny went over and put her arm around Lorrie and the two kids scampered into the group hug, shooting filthy looks at him as they went. They formed the kind of heartrending tableau of innocent victims newsmagazines put on their covers to boost circulation. He was losing this battle before the first shot had been fired.
He started the process of regaining the upper hand. “Lorrie, where have you been since the night of November twelfth?”
“I've been at the old Luhan place.”
Frank knew she was lying. The house, set back in the woods at the end of Beaver Dam Road and deserted since elderly Mrs. Luhan had been carted off to a nursing home, had been one of the first places the state police searched when they realized Lorrie was missing.
“The state police checked there, Lorrie. You weren’t there on November twelfth or thirteenth.”
“No, I mean I’ve been there since the fourteenth. It was a good place to stay with the kids, since the furniture was still in there. And it was close enough that I could walk down here and pick up the food Penny left for me. It was too risky for her to drive out there to bring it to me. Everyone knows her little sports car.” Frank tried to picture the end of Beaver Dam Road. When he drove down these twisting country lanes, he was often surprised at where he popped out at the other end. There must be a path that led from the back of the Luhan property down into the valley where the village sat. But it would be a steep walk back up, especially with two tired kids.
"How long did you plan on keeping this up?”
Penny and Lorrie exchanged a glance. Lorrie shrugged but remained silent.
Clearly Penny was the brains of this operation and had been hatching some plan to relocate Lorrie. He’d pry that out of her later. The right thing to do now would be to take Lorrie directly to state police headquarters for questioning in the murder investigation. But Lew was so determined that the case was solved that he probably wouldn’t bother to interrogate her properly. And if Lorrie told them something that didn’t support their case against Petrucci, would Meyerson even bother to record it as evidence? No, there was no big rush to get Lorrie to the Ray Brook Barracks.
"Tell me what happened the night of Heather LeBron’s death.”
“Wait!” Penny laid her hand on Lorrie’s arm. “She should have a lawyer. Weren't you going to tell her that?"
“She’s not under arrest. She’s not even a suspect.” Frank glared at Penny. “I simply need to know what she knows about that night.”
“He's right. I knew this would never work out.” Lorrie looked mournfully at Penny. "You may as well take the kids over to their grandparents’ house.” Her Charlie Brown-like fatalism would have been almost funny if the stakes weren’t so high.
Penny shook Lorrie’s slumped shoulders. “No! You can’t just give in.”
Frank felt truly exasperated with Penny now. Here was Lorrie trying to do the right thing, and Penny wanted to talk her out of it. “Listen,” he began, winding up to a lecture.
But Lorrie spared him the effort. “Give me your cell phone,” she said flatly.
When Penny complied, Lorrie handed it to Frank. “Call Chuck's folks and tell them the kids are on their way.”
“I still don’t think you should talk to the police without a lawyer,” Penny said as Frank ended his call to the Betzes.
“She has nothing to fear," Frank said. “Haven’t you heard? Paul Petrucci’s been arrested for the murder."
“Paul? Paul didn’t kill her!” For the first time that night, Lorrie’s mask of exhausted defeat slipped and her eyes lit with animation.
“You know who did?” Frank asked.
“No, of course not. But it sure wasn’t Paul.”
Back at the office, Frank had brewed a pot of coffee and sat sharing it with Lorrie. The buzzing fluorescent tube over their heads emitted the only light in downtown Trout Run.
“Start from the moment Heather knocked over her milk at dinner and tell me everything that happened that night,” Frank said.
Lorrie swirled her coffee around and around with a plastic stirrer. “I didn’t actually see her spill the milk, but all the other kids said it wasn’t an accident. I didn’t want to send her to isolation—I just wanted a nice quiet night. But the other kids kept insisting it was done on purpose, and that was the kind of shit Heather liked to pull. I had no choice but to send her to isolation. It would’ve looked funny if I hadn’t.” Lorrie stopped and bit her lip. “Oh, God—I shouldn't speak ill of the dead. I can’t believe she’s dead! And maybe she wouldn’t be if I hadn’t—”
Frank knew all about remorse and second-guessing when it came to Heather LeBron. He patted Lorrie’s hand. “It wasn't your fault. Tell me what happened next.”
“She freaked when I told her I was sending her to isolation. Started screaming and kicking, so I had to get Ray to help me take her.”
"Did Ray hurt her?”
“Nah—he picked her up under one arm and started carrying her across the dining room. Kids started laughing, so Heather settled down and he let her walk the rest of the way.”
Poor Heather, hauled off like a squealing piglet. Another humiliation to add to her list of injustices. “What’s so terrible about the isolation room, Lorrie? Do you know why she hated going there so much?”
"Beats me.” Lorrie chewed her swizzle stick flat. “I wouldn’t mind a few hours of total peace and quiet. I could sleep, even on that cold, hard floor.”
"Was there anything she was forced to listen to in there? Tapes playing with a motivational message?”
Lorrie cocked her head. “Tapes? No, what made you ask that?”
Frank moved on. “So you got her there—then what?”
“I took her shoes and her belt. Searched her pockets. She didn’t have anything in them.”
“You’re sure?”
“Absolutely. I reached in and pulled them inside out myself. She put up a fight again when we tried to shut the door. Ray had to push her inside, then slam the door fast.”
“Who locked it?”
“I did. I turned the key until I heard the lock click, then I tried the doorknob just to be sure.” Lorrie paused and twined the swizzle stick between her fingers. Frank watched as she wove it up and under each finger, then pulled it out and started over. The silence stretched to a full minute.
“And then?”
Lorrie looked at him, her eyes full of hopeless despair. “You don’t know what it’s like. He’s always watching me, just waiting for me to fuck up.”
“Payne?”
Lorrie snorted. “Dr. Payne likes me. I'm talkin’ about Chuck.”
“What’s Chuck got to do with what went down at the academy?”
Lorrie took a gulp of her coffee. “I was supposed to work until midnight. Except I met this guy a few weeks ago. He’s really nice and he wanted to take me out someplace special for my birthday. On my days off, Chuck’s always watching me, or he gets his buddies to do it. He always knows if I have a date, and he starts calling me a whore and threatening to tell the judge that I sleep around and create an unsafe home life for the kids.
“So I figured if there was a way I could meet this guy on a night when Chuck thought I was working, then I could see him and maybe—” She blushed a furious red.
Frank wasn’t interested in the details of Lorrie’s sex life. "So did you arrange to leave work early to meet this fellow? Did Payne know that?”
“No, Dr. Payne doesn’t approve of last-minute schedule changes. I already had to ask for time off when Tiffany got sick—I didn’t want to do it again. So I got, uh, a friend to cover for me.”
“What friend?”
Lorrie’s face hardened. “I’m not telling you that. He was only trying to help me—I’m not going to screw up his job for him. I won't do it.” She folded her arms across her chest.
Frank decided to let this pass and return to it later; he didn’t want to antagonize Lorrie this early in the interview.
“All right, so you left the academy at what time to meet your date?”
After a moment’s surprise, Lorrie leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs. “I left at nine. I had parked my car out on the road behind some trees so the guard wouldn’t see me leave. I drove to Willsboro and Gary and I had dinner there.”
“Very clever.
And you spent the night at his place, which is why you weren’t at home when the state police checked after the isolation room was discovered empty and full of blood.”
Lorrie nodded sheepishly. “In the morning I drove on up to Plattsburgh to do some shopping. It was my day off and I had planned to do that. It wasn’t until I was driving home that I heard the news on the radio that the police were looking for Heather and me, and that they suspected foul play. I panicked!
"I went back to Gary’s house and talked it over with him. He thought I should call the police and tell them exactly what happened.” Lorrie’s eyes welled with tears. “He just didn’t understand. It would mean I’d lose my job, and if I lost my job. I’d lose the kids. We argued about it. I could see he thought I was crazy. I spent that night there, still thinking about what I should do. The next morning I went and got the kids from the bus stop and took them to the Luhan place. We’ve been there ever since.”
Frank looked at Lorrie's forlorn but defiant face. Her life had been one long string of bad decisions and this was just one more. This Gary might actually be a man with his head screwed on straight, but Lorrie had probably blown her chances with him. Certainly the job was lost, and her actions had doomed her chances of regaining custody of the kids. Great-grandma Gert was right—Lorrie did go through life with a dark cloud over her head.
"How did Penny get involved?” Frank asked. It wasn’t pertinent to the case, but he sure wanted to know.
“Me and the kids ran into her in the green one day. She started talking to them about the new library and everything she wanted to do for kids there. She had some books in her bag and pulled them out and started reading to Tiffany and Charley right there on a park bench. She was so nice.” Lorrie said it in such a wondering tone of voice that it was obvious she wasn't used to Penny’s brand of spontaneous kindness.
“She gave me her cell phone number because she said she wanted to test out some ideas for her children’s programs on real kids. So when I needed someone to get me food, I called her. I knew if I called anyone in my family, somehow the word would get out. They’d want me to turn myself in. Penny understood what it’s like to have a husband who scares you.”
Blood Knot: a small town murder mystery (Frank Bennett Adirondack Mysteries Book 3) Page 21