Take Me Back (Paradise, Idaho Book 4)

by Rosalind James

  “I would,” Jim said. “I do. It’s not him. If it could have been him, I’d tell you. I wouldn’t leave Hallie in this much danger. Focus on the aunt and uncle. And tell me what you find out.”

  “You’re off the case.”

  “I know. Tell me anyway.”

  When he went back into the room, Hallie was asleep, and he spent what was left of the night sleeping in the chair, his legs stretched out in front of him. He’d done that before, too. And in the morning, he took her to his mother’s house.

  Hallie didn’t even object. She was quiet. Hurting. When they got to Vicki’s, she patted an ecstatic Cletus, then told Vicki, who’d brought Mac over to her place for the day, “I’d love to take a shower. I stink.”

  “That’s your hair,” Vicki said. “You go ahead. And after that, I’ll trim those burned pieces for you so you don’t have to lie there with that scorched-hair stench.”

  “Thanks,” Hallie said. “That’d be great.”

  When she disappeared into the bathroom, Vicki looked at Jim and said, “You’d better find out who did this.”

  “Don’t worry,” Jim said. “I will.”

  Hallie was in bed again, her curls a few inches shorter, by the time the doorbell rang. DeMarco.

  As hard as it had been not to do it, Jim hadn’t warned his mother they were coming. He wasn’t worried that she’d incriminate herself, and her answers would be more obviously genuine if it was apparent that she hadn’t been prepped. Besides, he’d had a chance to think it through.

  She looked startled and then resigned when DeMarco explained the reason for their visit.

  “We’d like to talk to your son first,” DeMarco said. “And we’d like to talk to him separately from you.”

  Vicki said, “I’d rather his sister were here. She’s his attorney.”

  DeMarco’s eyebrows rose. “He has an attorney?”

  “Because of the trust.”

  DeMarco nodded. “Well, that’s your right. Want to call her up, then, please?”

  “She’s in Seattle,” Vicki said. “I can ask her to come home, but—no. I don’t want to wait.” She looked at Jim. “Can you sit with him?”

  Jim said, “Sure,” then cocked his head at DeMarco.

  DeMarco sighed. “You’re not investigating.”

  “Nope. I’m his brother, that’s all. You can talk to him with me sitting in, or I’ll tell him to lawyer up and you can wait for my sister to get home. Your choice.”

  DeMarco chose to talk now, of course. They did it in the kitchen, and Cole didn’t have much to say. He’d eaten Thanksgiving dinner, and before and after that, had played board games and video games with Mac and his cousins. Anthea and Ben and the kids had left right after dinner, Jim and Mac had taken off around six, and his mom had gone to her room to read.

  “And what did you do?” DeMarco asked. “Go out?”

  Cole’s mouth twisted. “Go out where? Almost all my friends were all having Thanksgiving dinner, too. I watched a couple movies and fell asleep on the couch.”

  “How about your mom?” DeMarco asked. “She go out anytime?”

  “No,” Cole said. “I’d have noticed. I was up until about eleven, and even then, I was still on the couch. I sleep out there sometimes, because that’s where the TV is. Except she went out later,” he added. “After she got the phone call.”

  “Her cell phone?” DeMarco asked sharply. “When was that? And how could you hear it from the living room, when you were asleep?”

  “No. The landline. It’s loud. No chance I wouldn’t hear it. I don’t know when. She came out and told me she was leaving to stay with Mac, because Jim had to leave. She was in a hurry. She didn’t tell me it was Hallie. That was all I knew.”

  “What did she smell like?”

  Cole stared at him. “Smell like? I don’t know. I didn’t notice. I don’t go around smelling my mom.”

  “Did you smell anything unusual after that, or before?”

  “Well, turkey,” Cole said. “That turkey smell.” He looked completely baffled. “Why?”

  “How about cars?” DeMarco asked. “Hear any stopping outside, or starting up?”

  “Uh . . . no, not that I remember. My mom’s car was in the garage, if that’s what you mean. I would’ve heard that. The garage door is pretty loud.”

  DeMarco gave it one more try. “Did you see your mom at all before the phone call? Hear her? Going out or coming in? Moving around the house?”

  “No. I’d have woken up. I mean, I was on the couch. It’s, like, about five steps from the front door. I’d have heard the door. It squeaks.”

  “Right. How about the back door? Would you have heard that?”

  “I don’t know,” Cole said. “Probably. My stomach kind of hurt. I kept waking up.”

  DeMarco sat a minute, and Cole sat, too.

  “Can I see your phone?” the detective finally asked.

  Cole looked at Jim. “Is it OK to show him?”

  “Depends,” Jim said. “If you haven’t told the truth about any of that—the next words out of your mouth are, ‘I’d like to talk to my lawyer.’”

  Cole said, “I don’t need to do that,” then reached into his pocket and handed over his phone.

  DeMarco scrolled through the text messages for a couple minutes in silence while Cole sat and looked a little tense, but not horribly so.

  Finally, DeMarco handed the phone back. “Before you look at it, what did I see on there?”

  “Uh . . .” Cole stared into space. “Some texts with Aaron Clayborn about the game I was playing. Halo. I was at level fifteen. And some about a band I was listening to, I think. How lame Thanksgiving was. Pie. Like that.”

  “Pie?”

  “You know. What kind of pie they had. They had mince at his house, and it was gross. He’s got this really weird aunt who brought dessert, and it was only mince, plus a fruit salad, which is lame. He was asking me if I’d save him some pumpkin.”

  “Anybody else?”

  “One from Tom Ingeborg, asking if I wanted to come over.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  “Nah.” Cole looked down and rubbed a thumb along the wood grain of the table. “I haven’t been hanging out with him much.”

  “Thanks.” DeMarco stood up. “If we have more questions, we’ll check back with you.” He looked at Jim. “And in case you’re wondering—I’m talking to your mom now. And no, you’re not invited.”

  He left the room, and Cole said, “I did stay here. I swear.”

  Jim said, “They’ll check your phone records. If those texts came from here, you’ll be good. And, yeah,” he said when Cole looked startled, “another good reason to stay out of a life of crime. It’s tricky business if you’re not used to it.”

  He sat with Cole another ten minutes, watching his brother jiggle his leg under the table and unable to think of anything to talk about. When DeMarco appeared in the kitchen doorway again, he told Cole, “Give us some time here, OK?”

  “Sure,” Cole said, and left the room, clearly glad to escape.

  Jim eyed DeMarco. “You coming in to tell me what you’ve got?”

  DeMarco sat down with a barely repressed sigh. “Maybe I’m just hoping you’ll offer me a cup of coffee. I’m on overtime, and I’m not acclimated anymore. Can’t take all this crime. If you pick my brain while I’m in a defenseless fatigued state, I’ll deny it.”

  The corner of Jim’s mouth twitched, and he got up and poured a mug of coffee from the pot and handed it to DeMarco. Strong and black, the kind that saw you through the long nights. “Let me guess,” he said, grabbing a cup himself and sitting down again. “My mom passed the test, too.”

  “Yeah. She took a bath and read until nine thirty or so. Tired from all the Thanksgiving stuff, she said. She went to bed, but she says she woke up around eleven, maybe, and went to check on Cole, make sure he was there.” He shook his head. “Man, I’m not looking forward to my kid being a teenager. And after that, she
went back to bed, but she swears she would’ve heard if he’d gone out, ‘because I’m a mother.’ Whatever that means. She said the thing about the garage door, too. And of course, that you called her. On the landline.”

  “Yeah. She turns her ringer off at night on her cell.”

  “You could’ve told me that from the beginning and saved me some trouble. If Cole and your mom both heard the landline when you called here at two fifteen, and your mom picked up and then talked to Cole right afterwards, it’s hard to see how either of them could’ve been walloping Hallie on the head half an hour earlier, even in a town as small as this. Not without stinking of smoke and with the car in the garage.”

  “Maybe I didn’t tell you because I’m distracted,” Jim said. “Or maybe because I thought it’d be more convincing if you found out yourself.”

  “Or maybe you just like to waste department resources.”

  “That’s it. You’ve detected it.” Jim got serious again. “What about Dale and Faye?”

  “This would be the investigation fatigue loosening my lips.”

  “No, it wouldn’t. Not if you’ve crossed off my mom and brother, or come close, at least. Unless you’re thinking they were in it together. What did you get?”

  “Not much, is what. They had Thanksgiving dinner. Alone. Cozy little pair, aren’t they? She was tired and went to bed early, like your mom, but nobody called her. Both of them swear the other one didn’t go out, and unfortunately, I’ve got zero probable cause for a warrant. We can all see they’re the ones with a motive and no alibi, and we can all see that’s not enough.”

  “What about the scene? Anything there?”

  DeMarco eyed him sardonically. “After the fire department had stomped all over it, soaked it down with water? And then it started snowing? That would be a no. Fire department says accelerant, probably gasoline, though they’ll test. Rags. Pine trees. Gasoline splashed over those and probably along the wall. Wood-frame house. And Hallie maybe got hit with a mostly empty gas can. Hit hard, but no way that’s going to kill you. I’d say the person didn’t want to kill her, or even to burn the house down. They shoved her head into the concrete, yeah, because she hit too hard for anything else, but that probably wasn’t going to be enough to kill her, either. It was all small potatoes. Plus, she came out with a fully loaded shotgun on her, and she dropped it. They could’ve shot her—and the dog—or they could’ve beaten her head in with it. Easy murder weapon either way, and you can bet they had gloves on.” He must have seen Jim flinch, because he softened his voice. “But they didn’t, right? So they’re still just trying to scare her out of town, I’d say. Still keeping it lame.”

  “How about the cameras?” Jim asked. “The neighbors?”

  “Fire and water. Not good for electronics. The camera on the garage—that’s toast. And nobody saw a damn thing or heard anything, either. Who’d hear a car driving down the road at two in the morning? That house is too isolated. As far as Dale and Faye’s neighbors—they didn’t see a car leave or one come back. They were all asleep. And, no,” he said, anticipating Jim’s next question, “they haven’t seen anything like Dale conveniently carrying a gas can into his house. Of course, I’m sure there’d be plenty of gas cans at his construction office. Easiest thing in the world for him to get hold of anything he needed. I’ll keep working on that—ask him for access to the security cameras out there, poke around some, ask questions—but it’s a little hard when the guy in charge of the place is your chief suspect.”

  Jim sat for a minute and thought. “The main thing I’m coming up with besides that? It’s one hell of an escalation.”

  “Yeah. It is.” DeMarco levered himself up from the table. “I’m going home and getting some sleep, and then I’ll think about it some more. Meanwhile, I’d say—keep Hallie here, if you can. I don’t think small towns are good for her health.”

  IN LIMBO

  For the next two days, Hallie hung around Vicki’s house and felt terrible.

  “Face it,” Vicki said at dinner on Saturday night. “You’re going to have to call in sick for a few days. You look awful.”

  Hallie sighed. She’d faced it. It wasn’t the bandage, which would have been fine. It was the dizziness, the headaches, and the fuzziness in her brain. She couldn’t concentrate to save her life.

  So to speak.

  “The doctor said I shouldn’t drive for a week or so,” she admitted. “Until I can focus better. And unless we watch movies for a week, you’re right. My kids are going to have a sub for their sub for a few days, anyway. Probably this whole week.”

  “Which is fine,” Jim put in. He and Mac were having dinner with them.

  “How do you know?” Hallie asked him. She was feeling restless and grouchy. Her head was tender, her heart hurt, and her future looked way too questionable in every way.

  “Well, let’s ask Mac,” Jim said. “Is it all right to have a sub for a sub?”

  She shrugged. “Hallie isn’t like a sub. She’s like a regular teacher. She gives homework, and she’s strict.”

  “Doomed,” Hallie said. Mac actually laughed, and Hallie smiled at her and felt a little better.

  “So what are they doing?” Cole asked. “About Hallie’s . . . case?”

  “Still investigating,” Jim said.

  Cole rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right.”

  “You know I can’t tell you,” Jim said.

  “What about your house, Hallie?” Mac asked, for once sounding a little shy. “What are you going to do?”

  Jim had taken them all out to look at the house earlier that day. The garage wall had burned through, the floor above it damaged by water to the point where that entire section of the house would have to be torn down and rebuilt. Hallie’s car had survived, parked as it had been on the end of the garage closest to the house, but her father’s tools, his workbench—those were history. Above that—her father’s bedroom and bathroom had been empty. Now, they would be gone, replaced with something new. Which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

  Hallie put a hand to her aching head and pushed her sweet potatoes, the final remnants of Thanksgiving, around her plate with her fork. “Get it fixed, I guess. Rebuilt. I called the main insurance number yesterday and left a message.”

  “You could do something fancy when you redo it,” Mac said. “Like have a giant fish tank in the bathroom. Something happy like that.”

  Cole snorted. “That’s lame. She should have a giant Jacuzzi in her bathroom. That would be happy. And get her garage wired for an electric car, maybe, with a recharging station. That’d be cool. It would be the first one in Paradise, I bet.”

  “Seattle on the Palouse,” Vicki said.

  “You could do a swimming pool, Hallie,” Mac suggested. “Instead of the fish tank. Since you’re going to be rich.”

  Hallie laughed, even though it hurt her head and her back, which was aching, too. “I don’t think so.”

  “Cletus would like it,” Mac argued. “Golden retrievers like to swim.”

  “I’ll take him to the river this summer, then,” Hallie said. “I have no idea if he’s ever swum or not. We could see.”

  She stopped in confusion. Where had that come from?

  “Whoops,” Jim said. “Kinda sneaks up on you, doesn’t it?”

  “What does?” Cole asked.

  “Paradise,” Jim answered.

  Cole gave him a sardonic look for that. “Really? I can’t wait to get out of here. Is living in Seattle really cool?” he asked Hallie.

  “Pretty much. Lots of coffee. Lots of rain. Lots of bookstores. Lots of traffic, too. Are you thinking about going to school there?”

  “UW,” he said. “It’s big, it’s far away from home, and it’s got tech. That’s good enough for me. I don’t even have to worry about paying for it anymore, I guess, which is awesome.”

  She said, “That was my school, as a matter of fact. If you come out to visit, I’ll give you a tour.”

  “Wicked,” he sighe
d.

  Jim must have noticed Hallie’s loss of interest in her sweet potatoes, because he asked her, “How you doing?”

  “OK.”

  “Right. I’d say, time for bed.”

  “And I’d say you’re being dictatorial again,” she said. “Except that in this one instance only, you’re probably right.” She saw Mac smile into her own plate, which was a good sign, too.

  “One question,” Jim said, “before you head off. Were you able to reach Bob Jenkins this afternoon?”

  “No.” Hallie sobered again. “Anthea got hold of his wife, though. They’re down in Boise for the weekend, coming back tomorrow, and I’ve got a meeting with him on Monday.”

  “So did she talk to him about you being out of the house?”

  “Yeah. Obviously, I can’t be in there until the house is habitable. He agreed to that.” She felt more tired than ever at the thought. “And by the way—Dale called me today and offered to have some of his guys come over on Monday and seal it off, which was nice of him.” Protecting it against the elements, which would be necessary no matter what she decided to do about the rest of the rebuild, aquarium or no.

  “What did you tell him?”

  “I told him thanks, but I already had Kevin Yost coming to do it.” Which Jim had arranged on Friday, and thank goodness for that. You might be able to find a worse time to have your house burn than Thanksgiving night, but she couldn’t think what it would be.

  “Good,” Jim said. He didn’t offer anything more, but from the look on Cole’s and Vicki’s faces, he didn’t have to. They got it. Dale wasn’t her first choice to keep her house safe, from the elements or anything else.

  “And now,” Hallie said, standing up and picking up her plate, “I will head off to bed, if you all don’t mind. And tomorrow, I’ll see if my feeble brain is up to lesson planning for that sub.”

  “Or we could watch movies,” Mac said.

  “Maybe for the first day, anyway,” Hallie agreed. “Goodnight, everybody.”

  Staying away from Jim, which had once seemed so impossible, was now depressingly easy. She sure didn’t want to kiss anybody right now. Not even him.