Stalking Ground

by Margaret Mizushima

  “I’m friends with your sister here,” he said, giving a nod to Angie.

  “I can vouch for him,” Angie said, opening the passenger-side door. She boosted her sister up to help her clamber into the seat, Sophie’s backpack looking huge on her small frame, and then climbed up to join her. They settled into the bucket seat on the passenger side with Angie’s arms around Sophie while Cole drove slowly down the lane toward the house. It did Cole’s heart good to see them be playful with each other and to include him. He wished he didn’t have to do what he planned, but he decided he couldn’t avoid it. Why did parenting have to be so hard?

  Cole parked under the cottonwood tree out front, and they all unloaded and trooped inside. While Cole and Sophie paused to strip off their coats, Angie headed toward the staircase. His suspicion somewhat confirmed, Cole decided to follow her rather than confront her in front of Mrs. Gibbs and Sophie.

  “Go see if Mrs. Gibbs can help you get a snack in the kitchen,” he said to Sophie.

  He took the stairs two at a time, hurrying to catch up to Angie before she could shut herself away in her bedroom. “Hold up, Angel,” he called after her retreating back. “I want to talk to you.”

  She paused at her bedroom doorway, facing him with a frown. “Can it wait a minute, so I can put down my things?”

  “Sure,” he said, coming close to the door so she’d be hard-pressed to shut it in his face.

  Making an exasperated sound, she walked in and put her backpack on the bed. With her coat still on, she crossed her arms and faced him. “What do you want, Dad?” Her face and tone said she was none too pleased.

  “Go ahead and take off your coat. I can wait a second.”

  “Dad! What do you want?” If she’d been a few years younger, she would have stamped a foot.

  Cole decided on the direct approach; it usually served him best. “Okay, Angela. No more games. I want to see what you wore to school today.”

  She hugged her coat tightly closed. “Geez, Dad! What’s your problem?”

  “Angela, let’s not quibble about this. I want to know if you wore the shirt that we told you not to wear.”

  “What makes you think I did?”

  “I don’t need to explain myself. Did you wear it?”

  If possible, she clutched her coat even tighter. “What if I did?”

  Her defiance was maddening. “From the way you’re acting, I’m going to assume that’s the case. It’s not acceptable for you to sneak around and disobey me.”

  “Since when have you even cared what I wear, Dad? Why are you so interested all of a sudden?” Her eyes shot daggers at him.

  “I care about you, Angela. And I don’t want others to think badly of you.”

  “You never gave it a second thought until Mrs. Gibbs brought it up.”

  She had him there. “Maybe so, but cut me some slack. Your mother always took care of your clothing. I’m not used to needing to do it.”

  She raised her chin, showing the flushed skin on her neck. “Well, I don’t need your help. Go back to ignoring me like you’re used to.”

  “I don’t want boys to get the wrong idea.”

  “Maybe one of them will pay attention to me.”

  Cole stopped his next angry retort and drew a breath. “Angela, why do you say things like that? What is it that makes you believe I don’t care about you?”

  Tears filled her eyes and threatened to spill over. “It’s what you do, Dad.”

  “I’m doing the best I can here. I had Tess schedule this hour so that I could be home to spend time with you kids after school.”

  “Oh, good. Work us into your schedule.”

  “Angela! That’s enough. It’s my work. It’s how I pay the bills.”

  Her breath caught in a sob, tearing at Cole’s heart. He wanted to move toward her but stood rooted in the doorway. Would comforting her reinforce her misbehavior? What would Olivia do?

  “Maybe I’ll go away like Mom. Or die like Grace and Adrienne. Then you won’t have to worry about trying to spend time with me,” Angela said.

  Her words snatched his breath away. “You know that’s not what I want. Don’t even talk like that.”

  She unzipped her coat, shrugged it off, and threw it on the bed. She wasn’t wearing the forbidden shirt, but the one she had on was just a scrap of a thing—low-cut, tight, and high enough to show glimpses of her belly.

  “Where did you get that?” Cole said, stunned but thoroughly aware that she’d never worn this shirt before; he wouldn’t have missed it even during his most unconscious days last summer.

  The tears had stopped, and she faced him with all the defiance she could gather. “I borrowed it from a friend.”

  “Exactly which friend loaned it to you?”

  She clamped her jaw, thinning her lips.

  Cole felt his anger build. “Tomorrow morning, you’re going to show me what you have on before you leave this house.” He turned to go but stopped when another thought struck him. “And I’ll want to inspect your backpack, too.”

  “Fine,” she said. “You’ve spent some time with us; you can go back to work now.”

  “I don’t want any back talk either, Angela. Show some respect.”

  Cole escaped from her bedroom before she could retort. Mrs. Gibbs looked up at him from the bottom of the staircase with a frown of concern on her face, not even trying to hide that she’d been eavesdropping. Belle waited there beside her, giving him one slight tail wag before stopping altogether and standing rooted in confusion.

  “I didn’t know you were upstairs with Angela just now, so I was going to ask her if she wanted a snack,” Mrs. Gibbs said.

  Cole stomped down the stairway, brushing past her. “I’ll be back around six,” he said as he grabbed his coat and left the house. He climbed into his truck and slammed it into gear.

  What the hell? What was going on with Angela? Why was she acting like this all of a sudden? What was all this running away or dying talk about? He thought of the conversation he’d had with Mattie during their night up on the mountain. Maybe she had a good point after all. Maybe he needed to enlist the help of a good counselor.

  He drove to the clinic where he greeted Tess and kept himself busy until his first late-afternoon client arrived. Sometime during his final hour of office visits, Cole took a call from Mattie between patients.

  “I was thinking of you earlier,” he said as a greeting.

  There was silence for a few seconds before she spoke. “Oh?”

  “Yeah, I had a fight with Angela. She’s saying things I just don’t get. Maybe I should talk to that school counselor after all.”

  “I recommend it . . . for sure. I hope you will.”

  He paused, thinking her voice sounded tired. “Well, you didn’t call to listen to my problems. What can I do for you?”

  “We have some information that tells us Adrienne might have been working with horses shortly before she was killed. We’re looking at your list of horse clients to see if any of them are close to the trailheads that led to her gravesite or the car site. Could you take a look at the list, too, and tell me if any of them have ever crossed your radar as either violent or cruel with animals?”

  “I can tell you right now, I’m sure none of them have. The very fact that they were willing to have Adrienne do massage on their horses tips them into the kind and caring category. But I’ll have Tess call you with those located close to the trailheads.”

  “Okay.” She paused. “You’re working late.”

  “I am. I have a client up in a remote area, Dark Horse Stable, and it’s wreaking havoc with my schedule.” He had a thought. “It’s not even close to the areas you’re looking at. This woman is a new client, so I didn’t refer her to Adrienne. She’s just a very nice lady with a real sick horse.”

  This time the pause was so long that Cole began to wonder if Mattie was still on the line. Finally, she spoke. “I appreciate your time.”

  “Mattie . . . is everything a
ll right?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “I don’t know. You sound tired or something.”

  “Everything’s fine. And I am tired. I’ll try to get some sleep tonight.”

  “Didn’t you get a chance to catch up last night?”

  Again, there was a pause. “Something came up. Look, I’ve gotta go. Thanks for your help.”

  Her voice sounded strained, and if Cole didn’t know her better, he’d think she was fighting tears. But the Mattie he knew didn’t cry. He was able to slip in a good-bye just as she disconnected the call.

  *

  Mattie sat at her desk, struggling with the pain in her chest. She placed a hand over her heart.

  Cole’s words about his new client had set up a wave of emotion she didn’t know how to deal with, but they couldn’t be what caused this turmoil. Could it have been what her brother had said? Why was she such a mess?

  Soon Tess called, giving her a list of three stables, none of which were owned by people she knew. Tess vouched for all of them, saying these clients were the “salt of the earth,” but Mattie still thought they should follow up. Since Adrienne’s clothing indicated she’d been working with horses the afternoon she’d been killed, she didn’t want to drop all the leads and focus only on Ramon Vasquez. Even though the evidence was stacking up against him, it was too early in the investigation to do that.

  She went to join Stella in the office that Sheriff McCoy had assigned her. The detective was going over phone records, texts, and e-mails that they’d received from Adrienne’s service providers. Although Mattie’s shift had ended an hour earlier, she wanted to see if Stella thought she should follow up with the list of stables tonight.

  Tapping on the door, she entered Stella’s office, Robo padding behind her.

  Stella’s brow shot up when she looked up from her work. Nudging her reading glasses down on her nose, she peered over them and focused on Mattie’s face. “Your little scuffle this morning earned you a pretty good shiner.”

  Mattie touched her bruised cheekbone gingerly. “I’ve had worse.”

  “Sheriff McCoy said he sent Brody home, but he can’t afford to suspend him. He’s too short handed.”

  “We have a lean team here. We need every man we’ve got.” Mattie felt that Brody’s behavior was out of line, but there was a small part of her that understood how upset he was. “I have three stables that are near the trailheads we’re looking at. Both Dr. Walker and Tess say these owners don’t classify as people you’d suspect as killers, but we might still want to follow up. Do you think I should do that tonight?”

  Stella frowned, glancing back down at the pile of papers in front of her. “No, I want to talk to them myself. I have a few more phone numbers that I need to cross match and connect with names. Do you have phone numbers assigned to that list of clients?”

  “I do.”

  “Great. I can use that,” Stella said, taking the list from her. “The TracFone number that our anonymous tipster called in on doesn’t appear on her phone call history. But there are still a lot of numbers here that I’m trying to assign names to.”

  “Do you want some help?”

  “No, not yet. If I need another set of eyes, I’ll keep yours in mind.” She squinted one eye. “That is, if you can still see out of that one.”

  Mattie shook her head and offered a thin smile. “The call to Green Thumb Organics didn’t net anything. Jack Kelly wasn’t working today. I tried a home phone number, but no answer.”

  “Will he be in tomorrow?”

  “Supposed to be.”

  “Try again in the morning,” Stella said.

  “All right. If you don’t need me for anything else, I should clock out.”

  “Yeah, that’s fine. But I have a favor to ask. I’ll be here at least another hour. Could I crash on your sofa for the night? I need to be back here early in the morning.”

  Typically, Mattie wouldn’t want a house guest, but Stella had stayed one night during their last investigation, and tonight the distraction might be the thing she needed to stay out of her own head. “Sure. Just come when you’re done.”

  “Can I pick up some food? Maybe a pizza from that little hut beside the road?”

  “The Pizza Palace. Whatever you want. I don’t usually keep a lot of food at my house.”

  “I’ll bring enough for two.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll see you when you’re finished.”

  Rainbow was still at her post when Mattie passed through the lobby, so she stopped to say good-night. “What did you think of Ramon Vasquez’s voice?” Mattie asked her. “Could he be the one who called in the anonymous tip?”

  “It’s hard to say, but I remember a voice that wasn’t quite so deep, more of a Spanish accent.”

  “I suppose he could have disguised his voice on the phone,” Mattie said. “In fact, I assume that anyone would.”

  “Yeah, that’s probably true.” Rainbow looked distressed. “I wish I could be more help.”

  “Don’t worry. If he’s the one who called, we’ll figure it out.”

  After saying good-bye, Mattie clocked out, went outside to her SUV, and loaded Robo into the back. She settled into the driver’s seat but hesitated before twisting the key to start the engine. She hated to go home where she’d be alone with her thoughts. She decided to go check in on Brody. She wanted to replace Robo’s last memory of him with something better than the violent scuffle he’d had with Mattie. A patrol dog with a grudge didn’t make for a very good team player.

  She turned the key and drove to Brody’s house, a small, clapboard two-story on the edge of town. The windows were dark. His cruiser was parked in front, so she pulled up beside it. She exited the car, taking Robo with her. After stepping up on the small, concrete porch, she knocked on the door. When there was no answer, she turned and studied his cruiser, wondering if he’d gone somewhere on foot. Deciding to check around back, she told Robo to heel and went around the side of the house. In the well-lit backyard, she found an old vintage car—from the thirties or forties?—propped up on cement blocks. A pair of legs clad in grease-stained jeans were poking out from under it, and she assumed they belonged to Brody. A small space heater glowed, sending radiant heat under the car.

  “Hey, Brody,” she said as she approached the car, not wanting to startle him. “Nice car.”

  Robo sniffed one of Brody’s boots, curious but not vengeful. Glad to see it, Mattie signaled with her hand for him to come to her and then sit. He responded like a champ.

  The clanking under the vehicle stopped, but Brody stayed under it. “What are you doing here, Cobb?”

  “Thought I’d check in.”

  “Do you have Vasquez under arrest?”

  “We’re holding him on possession of drug paraphernalia.”

  “Why not murder one?”

  “Not enough evidence for that.”

  He rolled out from under the car, his body appearing a few inches at a time. He wore a blue western shirt with the sleeves torn out, revealing well-tanned arms etched with thick, ropy muscle and a variety of tattoos: flames, cars, and all kinds of barbed wire. When his face appeared, also streaked with grease, it took on a pained grimace.

  “Damn, Cobb. Did I do that?”

  Wanting to keep it light, Mattie wiggled her jaw with one hand as if testing it. “It was an accident. I think I got in your way.”

  He shook his head, looking disgusted. “Sorry.”

  She’d never had an apology from Brody before, not that she could recall. “Shit happens. I just wanted to make sure Robo doesn’t bear a grudge.” She pulled a dog treat out of her pocket. “Do you want to give him this?”

  “Sure.” He wiped his hand on his shirt, took the treat, and squatted. “Here, Robo.”

  “Go get it,” Mattie said, releasing her dog from his sit. In an instant Robo took the treat, signaling that her mission had been accomplished. He stood, waving his tail, as Brody patted his side.

  “I�
�m not sure that Vasquez killed her, Brody. Unless we can get more evidence, we shouldn’t rush to judgment.”

  He frowned, and she could see his jaw muscle flex as he clamped it.

  “He’s the same guy as Roger Howard,” she told him. “He’s her half brother.”

  “What? What are you saying?”

  Mattie explained the relationship and gave him the details about why and when the letter was written. “He says they reconciled the situation between them. We’re not going to quit looking at him, but I don’t like him as much for it as I should. We need to keep an open mind.”

  Brody squinted at her for a long moment, evidently turning things over in his own mind. “You got a minute?” he asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “I need someone to pump the brakes while I bleed the line.”

  “Okay.”

  Brody opened the door for her, and Mattie grabbed the steering wheel and hoisted herself up and in. The tan leather upholstery looked new, definitely not the original. She’d learned recently that Brody restored old cars, but she didn’t know he was working on something so impressive.

  Lying down on the creeper, he rolled himself back under the car. “Okay, start pumping until I tell you to stop.”

  Mattie did as told, pumping the brake repeatedly until she heard him call a halt. She climbed out of the car and joined Robo on the sidelines where he was watching. Brody reappeared from under the vehicle, stood, and picked up a rag to start wiping his hands.

  “Thanks. You came just at the right time.” Head lowered over his task, he turned his eyes up toward her and shrugged one shoulder, looking sheepish. “I tinker with these old things when I’m trying to relax.”

  “You’ve got reason to be stressed, but you’ve got to hold it together when you’re on duty. We can’t afford to lose you, Brody.”

  He shook his head, looking down at his hands again. Noncommittal.

  Surprised that he’d not bitten her head off, Mattie decided that was all she’d better say. “I’ve gotta go home. Do you need any more help?”

  He looked up from his hands and paused his cleaning. “Probably.” His eyes glinted with pain and repressed anger. “But not with the car. Thanks for stopping by, Cobb. I appreciate the information.”