“Can you send the threat information to the Jackson County sheriff, and to me at my private e-mail?”
“I will. I’m on my way to the hospital. I’ll keep you updated.”
This new information put Tess on edge.
She thought for a long time about the assassination attempt on the two agents. In a crowded city, there was a certain amount of cover provided for people who wanted to blend in. This was the advantage of living in a place as small as Rogue’s Hollow. Strangers stuck out, though they were usually tourists. If the Ghost was after her and he came himself, or sent one of his men, she would know. Unless . . . one of his men was already here. Like Roger Marshall, this person could be fitting in.
Carrington had fit in for a few months. Was he up here making bombs? Was that why Haywood was so afraid Arthur was spying on him?
Did Hector die for her? Or was killing Hector and framing her the plan?
Tess shot out an e-mail to Bender, telling him what Ledge had said, admonishing him to be careful and to let her know if they came across anyone suspicious from out of town.
After finishing the e-mail, Tess called Oliver and asked about the cloud account.
“Sorry, Tess. Travis checked the account. There’s nothing new there from Tim. The last photo on the cloud Travis received from Tim was on Easter Sunday.”
Crushed by this news, Tess put her phone down, at a loss as to where to go next.
What am I supposed to do? she wondered. Twiddle my thumbs, wait for something bad to happen? She paced.
The safe thing to do was to sit and let the DEA do their thing, obey Addie, be on vacation. Tess couldn’t play it safe; it wasn’t in her nature. She knew, first thing in the morning, she’d be off doing something.
49
Oliver arrived home a little early Tuesday night, and as luck would have it, he had a visitor. He smelled cigarette smoke before he saw the source. Don Cherry was back, standing off to the side of the house, in the shadows as usual.
“Evening, padre.”
“Don. I thought you quit smoking.”
“I’ve quit a million times,” he said as he crushed the butt out on the ground and walked over to where Oliver stood, blowing smoke out of his nose and mouth as he approached.
“You’ve not been around for a while. I wondered what happened to you.” Oliver stepped up on the porch and took a seat in his rocking chair, expecting Cherry to join him and sit in Anna’s chair, but the man remained at the bottom of the steps.
“Life happens.”
Oliver waited. Something was weighing on the usually talkative, sometimes even glib, man. His posture was tense and it made Oliver nervous.
“Padre, what do you think happens to people who do things they know they shouldn’t?”
“What kind of things?”
“Bad things. Stuff you’d probably call sin.” His gaze settled on Oliver and it was disconcerting. Cherry had brown eyes, but in the evening light they looked black.
“Is someone making you do things you don’t want to do?”
He glared at Oliver and punched his own chest with a meaty fist. “Do you think anyone could make me do what I didn’t want to do?”
In all the times they’d spoken, this was the first time Oliver fully realized how dangerous Don Cherry was. The last thing he wanted was to start a fight with the man, but he felt he needed to be bold. It was time to get to the bottom of Don Cherry.
He leaned forward in the rocking chair. “Don, everyone is a sinner. Unrepentant sinners will ultimately face the wrath of God. He’s a holy God who will not tolerate bad things, stuff we call sin. Like your friend the jail chaplain told you, everyone needs a savior. Is that what you want to know?”
“You guys are good at saying stuff like that. What I want is proof of this God!” he roared and leaped up on the porch, towering over Oliver. “The chaplain in prison couldn’t prove it any more than you can. You got that same smug look. You’re so sure of this God, prove it to me.” Spittle flew from his mouth.
“Why do I have to prove something you already know?”
Cherry rocked back on his heels. “What? You’re crazy. Why would I ask for proof if I knew?”
Oliver stood and Cherry backed up a step. “Don, after speaking with you several times, I know you do believe in God. And you know there is much in your past, and perhaps in your present, that you need to confess and repent of. But you don’t want to humble yourself. You’re operating under the delusion that God is your equal, someone you can manipulate like you manipulate people, and not an all-powerful deity. Stop fighting. He wins in the end.”
Oliver watched the anger drain from Cherry’s face. The big man went pale and backed up into the porch post.
“You’re crazy,” he repeated before he turned, jumped down off the porch, and disappeared into the night.
50
Wednesday morning Tess woke up even more determined to do something than she had been the night before. She ripped the evidence bag and pulled out her 9mm. The gun was empty and she loaded it, making sure to rack a round into the chamber. She grabbed her off-duty holster and belt and strapped the gun on.
She’d go back to the basics—for Tim’s case, that was back to the Spot—and see if anything at all would jump-start her murder investigation. She pulled her personal car out of the garage. It wasn’t a low-profile car; it was a bright-red Mercedes two-door coupe. She could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times she’d driven it since she moved to the state. The patrol SUV was the more practical vehicle. But right now she was on vacation and it was her only choice.
The Spot was empty. It even looked as if someone had cleaned the place up. Tess wandered around the rocks and tree stumps, natural seating that made the place an attractive area to party. She thought she was alone but heard a cough. Placing a hand on her gun, she called out, “Who’s there?”
“Huh?” A head popped up from behind a rock. It was Duncan Peabody.
“Chief.” He stood and brushed off his shorts. It looked to Tess as if he’d been crying, but she didn’t mention it.
“Are you by yourself, Duncan?”
He nodded. There was an energy drink in his hand. “All my buds are getting ready to leave for college.” He ran an arm under his nose. “Guess I’ll have to get used to rolling solo.”
Tess had heard from Casey that because Duncan had been a troublemaker in his early high school years, he’d barely graduated and did not have the grades to go to college. This meeting was fortuitous. She’d wanted to talk to him away from his friends, hoping he’d be more forthcoming, but she’d also dealt with group loyalty before. Duncan wasn’t a two-bit thug trying to avoid being a snitch; he was a kid with one foot in the adult world. What would work to get him to talk?
She stepped toward him. “What do you plan to do with yourself now that you’re out of high school?”
“I dunno.” He swigged the drink. He wouldn’t meet her eyes. His friends were a big part of his life.
Tess tried to think back to how it was with her friends in high school, but that didn’t help. Her high school years were dominated by the death of her father and the drive to become a cop like he was. She didn’t remember much of high school cliques or misguided loyalty. She fell back to what usually worked, a direct approach.
“Duncan, what are you guys hiding about the night Tim died?”
“Huh?” He looked at her, eyes wide. “We told you everything.”
“I don’t think you did.”
“Don’t you think I want to find Tim’s killer more than anyone?”
“Certainly not more than Mr. Harper. It’s just that every time we talk, I get the distinct impression there’s more than what you’re telling me. I’m not trying to get anyone in trouble except the person who killed Tim.” Her gaze bored into him until he looked away.
“We told you everything.”
“I think you’re holding back. I don’t know why, but that’s what I think. Every day you hold b
ack, Tim’s killer stays free.”
He rubbed the back of his neck but wouldn’t look her way.
Rigid with frustration, Tess didn’t want to give up, but what would be the key to open this kid’s mouth? She started to leave, then stopped.
“I thought you’d changed. You saw Glen and Anna murdered, and that made you want to stop being a delinquent and become a productive member of the community. Withholding information is not consistent with that change.” She thought she saw him flinch, but still he said nothing. After a few minutes, there was nothing to do but go home.
– – –
Tess arrived home frustrated and cranky. Nothing she said got Duncan to spill the beans. Greg was gone, visiting his new school, and while she wanted to talk to the other boys, she knew that would be pushing it. She’d spent the day driving everywhere in the valley hoping to find Dustin loitering around somewhere and came up empty there as well. A call from the Medford PD lieutenant in MADGE interrupted her frustrated pacing.
“Chief, wanted to let you know we’ve got a line on our fentanyl dealer, fellow by the name of Howard Delfin. Got a positive ID. He was arrested once in California for a DUI. He rents a house in Shady Cove.” He rattled off the address, but Tess barely heard him.
Howard Delfin. That was the name on the letter of reference for Eddie Carr.
“Outstanding news.” So the party crasher had a name. But he also had a record, so his prints weren’t the ones on the syringe or the bike. But he still might lead her to the killer.
“We expect a warrant soon but are taking it slow,” the lieutenant continued. “Fentanyl is such a dangerous commodity, we need to be certain no officers are in danger from contact with the substance.”
“I understand. I’d like to be there when you serve the warrant.”
“I’m not sure that would be appropriate.”
“Why not?”
“Chief, you’re the subject of a murder investigation. I can’t in good conscience invite you along on a warrant service.”
“I had nothing to do with that murder.”
“I might even say I believe you. But I’d be in trouble with my superiors if I ignored the investigation and asked you along. Sorry.”
He hung up, leaving Tess fuming.
She’d not even had the chance to tell him about the Delfin connection.
At least I have that lead, she thought. Working to stay positive, Tess set about making dinner. She needed to go grocery shopping; all she had were eggs and some bacon. Breakfast would have to do for dinner. Just as she cracked the eggs into a bowl, she heard what sounded like several vehicles pulling into her driveway.
Checking, she found a state police car, a couple sheriff cars pulling up. Were they coming to arrest her for murder?
51
Oliver was an early riser; therefore, he was also in bed early. But when Steve Logan came to tell him that Drake Harper was missing and so were his guns, all thoughts of an early bedtime fled.
“Have you told Tess?”
“That was our first stop.”
Something in the deputy’s response bothered Oliver. “Is she in danger? Did Drake threaten her?”
“Not directly, but he was angry. Actually, according to his wife, he was seething. Tess declined our offer to have a deputy stay nearby.”
Of course she would. Oliver wanted to go to Tess but decided he could best help by talking to Eva and looking for Drake.
That was what he’d been doing and now, after a fruitless search that lasted until after midnight, he was finally heading for bed. He climbed the steps of his house, certain he’d done everything he could do to assist in the search.
He nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw someone curled up in a ball on his doorstep. Briefly he wondered if he’d be in the same position as Tess. But the person wasn’t dead. When she moved, he saw it was Tilly, and then he spotted her dog off to the right.
“What’s the matter, Tilly?”
“Pastor Mac, please, can you help me? I’m so scared.” She stood up, and from the redness on her face he could tell she’d been crying. The dog sat quietly while she grasped Oliver’s hands.
“Come in. Tell me what’s wrong.” He gently pulled his hands free and opened his front door, motioning her to go inside.
Oliver switched on a floor lamp. He pointed to the couch, but Tilly ignored him to pace, throwing her hands in the air as she talked.
“It’s Bryce. He promised to meet me for coffee, but now he’s disappeared. He always does what he says. I’m so scared something has happened to him. He should have come to coffee. I’m afraid Blondie has hurt—”
Oliver grabbed her by the shoulders as gently as he could. “Whoa, whoa, you need to calm down. You’re talking about Bryce Evergreen?”
“Yes, we’re friends. I meet him for coffee sometimes. But he hasn’t come. I’ve texted, but he’s not answering. They keep him prisoner. They closed the fence. I can’t find him. I haven’t seen him . . .” She began to sob.
Oliver pulled her close. “Tilly, I want to help, but you’re not making much sense. Please, have a seat, let me get you some water, and then you can tell me what’s going on.”
She began the kind of sob breathing that people do when they’re about to hyperventilate, but she sat on the couch. Oliver offered her the Kleenex box and then went into the kitchen and filled a glass of water. By the time he got back, she’d calmed noticeably. He gave her the water and she took a sip.
Oliver sat next to her. “Okay, now tell me about Bryce.” Oliver remembered the young man who’d been troubled with drugs before he left the valley. And he was happy to see that he’d returned clean and was trying to make his life work. Bryce had been to church a couple of times. Oliver remembered him sitting with Tilly. But it had been a while.
She sniffled. “He’s disappeared. I saw him on Tuesday morning and now he’s gone. I tried to see him up at Blondie’s place, but I can’t get in anymore. I’m scared that Blondie hurt him.”
“By Blondie, you mean his boss, Haywood?”
She nodded and grabbed some Kleenex to blow her nose. “They treat him like a slave up there, and now I think they hurt him.”
She started to cry again, softly this time, and Oliver sat back, wondering. Tilly had so many of her own issues, but she was genuinely frightened. Did she have good reason to be afraid?
Oliver knew that Bryce needed the work at the pot farm to pay off his legal issues and get his car back. But he also had a bad feeling about Haywood and his operation. And he had a problem with pot growing in general. It wouldn’t hurt to take a drive up to the pot ranch and ask to see Bryce.
“It’s me, isn’t it?”
“What?”
“Me. I’m a jinx. Glen is dead and now Bryce . . .”
“Stop that, Tilly. No such thing as a jinx. You’re a child of God. And we’ll get to the bottom of where Bryce is. I’ll go up there myself and talk to him, first thing in the morning, okay?”
She looked up at him, so much pain and loss in her eyes, Oliver felt it hit him in the center of his chest like a fiery dart.
52
Thursday morning, Tess got up early after barely sleeping. The police who’d paid her a visit the night before hadn’t come to arrest her; they’d come to warn her and to do a search of her property.
“Drake Harper is missing, and so are two of his guns.” Steve had looked grim and professional as he delivered the news. “His wife is afraid he might want to do you harm.”
“I haven’t seen him.”
“These guys are here to look around, if that’s okay with you. And Belcher wants to leave a deputy here in case he comes around. Drake is a career Army officer; he’s served three combat tours.”
Impressive though that sounded to Tess, she declined the offer. “They can search, but I don’t need a babysitter. I’ll be fine.”
“He’s not thinking clearly.”
“He’s hurting. I understand him. And I can take care of myself
.”
Steve and the others left, but she could tell he wasn’t happy about it.
Now, as she set up her coffeemaker and pushed Brew, she checked the clock and wondered where Drake could be.
She showered and dressed for the day, floundering over where to start. After all, time was ticking away. Steve had suggested she stay close to home until Drake was accounted for. But dressed, hair wet, Tess poured her coffee into a travel mug. She’d just secured the top when she heard a car on her drive. Setting the coffee down, she picked up her handgun and walked toward the door.
It was another sheriff’s car. With news about Drake? Then she saw who climbed out of the driver’s seat.
“It’s rush hour around here,” she muttered to herself as she walked out to meet the man.
Belcher met her at the porch. In his hand, she saw her .45.
“The ballistics were inconclusive,” he said, stepping toward her and handing her the evidence bag holding the gun. “We can’t say that this was the gun, but we can’t say it wasn’t.”
“Yet you’re returning it, so someone in the lab must have told you that it was highly improbable.” Tess met his gaze and stifled a snarky comment. Belcher had a soft face, with an expression that always seemed to be mocking. It was no different today.
“All I’ll say is that the investigation is open and ongoing. And you’re the only person in the area with any motive to kill Hector Connor-Ruiz. No one else knew him as well as you did.”
“What about the information the DEA sent? The threats agents are facing? Did you read any of that?”
He scrunched his nose as if smelling something bad. “That type of targeting would never happen here in our small community. The Feds will get their guy. As far as Connor-Ruiz, after all the evidence is collected and analyzed, it will likely go to a grand jury.”
Tess felt her pulse rise. In a measured tone she said, “He said mean things about me. In my book, that is not a very strong motive for murder. Any grand jury will understand that. Besides the fact that I have an alibi.”
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