“We should go watch those security tapes.”
* * *
Sarah, the video technician, had set up her computer in a far corner of the office, next to a microwave oven dating back to the early 1980s. She took her time scrolling through the video footage. “According to the time code, John Dalton pulls into a parking space at three minutes past one. He spends thirty-six seconds in the cab before walking to the front door.”
Macy leaned in to get a better view. “He looks sober.”
“He’s inside for exactly fourteen minutes and thirty-three seconds. He finally leaves at one eighteen A.M.” She searched again until she found what she was looking for. “I’m just getting to the part where John Dalton leaves the bar.”
“No other cars pull up while he’s inside?”
“I watched it five times. There’s nothing more exciting than a plastic bag blowing across the pavement.” Sarah pointed at the screen. “Here we go. John comes out and walks directly to the alleyway. From this angle it’s impossible to tell if he’s speaking.”
Aiden’s voice was right in Macy’s ear. “He may have heard something.”
Macy asked for the clip to be played again. “There’s no hesitation. If someone called his name, you’d expect him to look up.”
“We’ll send the files down to Helena and see if we can clean them up, but I don’t think they’re going to tell us much more.”
“Send them anyway. Everything goes through Helena.”
“Will do.”
Macy looked up at Aiden. “What time is it?”
“Just past eleven.”
“Any word from the officers you sent out to canvas the area?”
“So far we have nothing other than the guy in the screened-in porch.”
“You said he couldn’t see.”
“True, Phil Walker is nearly blind. He’s been sleeping on the porch because it’s been so hot. He heard a car at around one in the morning. Twenty minutes later he heard gunfire.”
“What about the car? Can he tell us anything about it?”
“He says it was probably a V8 in need of a tune-up.”
“I want to talk to him, but I have to make a couple of phone calls first. Do you have a desk I can use?”
“I’m afraid we’re a bit short on space, so you’ll have to share my office.”
Macy sat down at the small desk wedged in the corner and pushed the door shut with her foot. She pinched open the window blinds. Two patrol cars were parked outside The Whitefish. Traffic slowed as it passed the crime scene. A few people mingled across the street. There were bouquets of flowers stacked up in the forecourt. The officer on duty took a bunch someone handed through the window of a passing vehicle and put it next to the others.
Macy’s mother sounded like she’d had to run to answer the phone. “How long will you be away?”
“A few days at least. The governor has gotten involved. Apparently, he’s a family friend.”
Ellen’s voice was sharp. “Layton Phillips is nobody’s friend. All he cares about is getting reelected.”
“Well, like it or not, he pays my salary. How’s Luke?”
“Don’t worry about a thing. He’s fine.”
“I’m not worried. I just miss him.”
“Then try to come down over the weekend.”
“I’ll do what I can. I should know more by the end of the day.”
“You look after yourself.”
There was a knock at the door. “Mom, I have to go. I’ll call you later, when I’ve checked into the motel.”
Aiden held up two Diet Cokes. He had a brown bag wedged beneath one arm.
“I wasn’t sure if you had time to eat.”
Macy took the can he offered. “I managed to grab a bagel at a gas station on the drive up, but it’s been awhile.”
He handed her the bag. “Another bagel, I’m afraid.”
She talked between bites. “Has anyone spoken to John Dalton’s friends?”
“They’d gone out riding early this morning. John was supposed to meet them. They were out of cell phone range, otherwise we’d have heard from them sooner.”
“When are they coming in?”
“They’ll be half an hour or so.”
“I’m going to go have a word with Mr. Walker.”
“You want me to tag along?”
“Nah, I think you’ve got your hands full here. You’ll need to set up an incident room. Have someone notify the press that we’ll make a statement tomorrow morning at ten. Until then nobody talks to reporters. And get hold of that officer who took Lana home. I want her here by the time I come back.”
“Oh, just so you know. I’ve put in a few calls to Patricia Dune, the doctoral student researching militia groups. She’s not picking up.”
“Keep trying,” Macy said, reaching for the door handle. “I shouldn’t be too long.”
* * *
Macy was unprepared for the sudden change in temperature. A sign above the bank registered 102 degrees. She wavered. It would be just as easy to send someone to collect Mr. Walker. It was the hottest time of day and the town should have been empty, but a small crowd had gathered across the street in front of The Whitefish. Young people clung to one another; some were on their knees reading the cards that had been left for John Dalton. A reporter Macy knew stood in front of a tripod-mounted camera pointed toward the alley, but stopped talking when she spotted Macy. Macy kept her eyes on the pavement and headed up Charlotte Street without acknowledging her.
She entered Mr. Walker’s yard through the front gate. The grass was going yellow in the areas where it was most exposed to the sun. Beneath the trees a mound of earth marked a freshly dug grave. A dog collar hung from a cross.
She leaned against the screen door and yelled, “Mr. Walker, it’s the police. I’d like to speak to you about last night.”
“Hold your horses, young lady. I’m blind, not deaf.”
His fingertips brushed along the walls as he made his way. Clean-shaven and well dressed, he was like his house, compact and perfectly formed. There was a photo of a younger Mr. Walker on the mantel, arm in arm with a woman Macy guessed to be his deceased wife. After offering her a cold beverage, he led Macy to the screened porch where he’d slept the previous night. A gray cat dozed on the camp bed with one eye open. A fan hummed in the corner, raising the hair on its back with every oscillation.
Macy looked out at the alleyway. Even though John Dalton’s body was on its way to the coroner’s office in Helena, the barriers were still set up at either end. The forensics crew moved about the crime scene. She recognized Ryan Marshall and a few others she knew. The employee entrance to the bar was still propped open, and she thought she could hear music.
Mr. Walker leaned against the windowsill. “It’s a shame my eyesight isn’t what it once was, otherwise I might have seen something that could be of use to you.”
“Do you often sleep out here?”
“When it’s hot like this summer, I do. In the winter I use it as a freezer, it’s so cold out here.”
“I imagine it would be. Tell me about last night.”
“I turned in early. I had to bury my dog yesterday so I was pretty tired.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“She just collapsed. I think it might have been the heat. Anyway, with her gone it was a very quiet night. I’d woken up to go to the bathroom, otherwise I don’t think I would have heard the car at all. Polly would have woke up the whole neighborhood had she been here when the car drove up. She had a tendency to bark.”
“Do you remember the time?”
“It was a little past one. The car was coming up the service road behind the shops. It was traveling slowly. To tell you the truth, it was kind of spooky the way it crept up the road with its headlights off.”
“Are you sure about the headlights?”
“If they were on, I’d have seen them. Light and dark I can see just fine. It’s details I have problems with.”<
br />
“You said it was a late-model V8.”
“It had that big-engine sound. You know that low growling you used to get when you barely put your foot on the gas? Might have been something like a Pontiac GTO or a Chevy Chevelle.”
“You seem to know your cars.”
“I used to be a mechanic, and like I said, there’s nothing wrong with my hearing.”
“What else did you hear?”
“A voice. I couldn’t make out the words, but there was something about it that seemed familiar.”
“Try me.”
“Nearest that I can say, it was like someone was delivering a lecture. It had that tone to it.”
“Did you hear the gunshots?”
“Yes, I did. After all that quiet it was like cannons going off. The car left pretty quick after that, sprayed gravel all over my window screens. The next time that guy comes creeping up the alleyway I’ll know to call the police. I’d always thought it was kids sneaking home after curfew so they kept the lights off.”
“You’d heard the car before?”
“Three, maybe four times in the past month. Always late at night. Always had the lights off.”
* * *
Aiden was leaning back in his desk chair with his phone propped under his chin. “I want you to come find me as soon as you get her here.” He hung up and cursed.
Macy dropped her bag on her desk. “What’s wrong? Did we lose our only witness?”
“No, they’re on their way. They’re just taking their sweet time. Apparently, Lana needed to do a few things around her house. What news from Mr. Walker?”
“He thinks he’s heard the car on at least four occasions in the past few weeks. Every time it came down the service road it had its headlights off.”
“Then this could have been a chance encounter. John may have been in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Possibly. It also might be that someone has been following him. I’m sure this wasn’t the first time John has stopped in at The Whitefish to see Lana Clark. By the way, has anything significant ever happened in that alleyway before this?”
“Nothing I can think of. A few fights over the years. Can’t think of any that John was involved in.”
“It was a big risk pulling off something like this in such a public location. The location may be important.”
“I’ll have the guys go through the records.”
“Also check with dispatch. They might not keep records of all the calls that come in, but it’s a small enough town that someone might remember something that wasn’t logged.”
“Fair enough.” Aiden held up some papers. “This came through from the coroner. It’s only preliminary.”
“Any surprises?”
“Nothing of note. He took the shot to the head first, and was shot twice in the back after he fell.”
“Caliber?”
“It was a nine-millimeter.”
Macy stood reading. “Did you see this bit about the gravel embedded in his right knee? His jeans had a hole in them.”
“Yeah, it looks like John was on his knees for quite a while.”
“Either that or he fell.”
“No abrasions to his hands, so I doubt it. The kneeling works if we’re considering this an execution. Although the two bullets in his back seem like overkill.”
“The one part that’s random is John’s movements. The killer had no way of knowing that he would be showing up there at one in the morning.”
“Unless someone told the killer where he was, or he was being followed.”
“It could have been someone in the bar or one of the guys he was out with.”
“We already checked Lana’s phone and the phone at the bar. No outgoing calls or texts between the time John arrived and was found dead in the alleyway.”
“What about John Dalton’s phone? Anything yet?”
“No prints. It was wiped clean. There are texts between him and his friends, making arrangements to meet earlier in the evening. All very aboveboard. By the way, Dylan Reed and Tyler Locke are in the diner where we met Jeremy.”
“Is that where we do all the interviews?”
“Nah, but it’s gotten pretty crowded in the office. I thought it would be better to park them there until we were ready for them.”
“What can you tell me about them?”
“Tyler Locke was John Dalton’s platoon sergeant, but they’ve known each other for years. He’s done six deployments, but has been home on extended leave from Afghanistan because his grandmother passed. He normally lives down at Fort Benning, Georgia. He’s thirty-two and has a stellar service record, but got into the service on a criminal waiver.”
“He has priors?”
“He went off the rails during his teens but found his feet again. The Daltons took him under their wing and really straightened him out. Sadly, it turned out he was stealing from them. He was pulled over for speeding and the arresting officer found two hundred pounds of ammonium nitrate in the back of his truck.”
“Fertilizer?”
“Yeah, but I doubt he was intending to use it that way. Jeremy said it was stolen but Annie said it was a misunderstanding. He got two years’ probation.” He held up a file. “Aside from the stuff when he was a teenager, it’s in here.”
“What do you think? Was it a misunderstanding?”
“Hard to say. It’s been more than ten years and he’s not put a foot wrong since. I’d like to give him the benefit of the doubt.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Aiden nodded. “You should know that he’s pretty beat up. Got a little too close to an IED and was sprayed with shrapnel. He has burns on his arms from trying to rescue someone in his unit from a Humvee that got hit by a roadside bomb. He’s kind of scary to look at and can be abrasive, but I’ve never heard anyone say a word against him.”
“What’s Dylan Reed’s story?”
“Dylan is the same age as John and they’ve been friends pretty much since birth. They enlisted at the same time, but Dylan went to train in San Antonio as a combat medic after completing his basic training at Fort Benning. He was shot in the thigh five months into his fourth deployment. From what I hear, he’s lucky to still have a leg.”
There was a knock at the door and they both looked up. A uniformed officer handed Aiden a printout. “This just came through. It’s Tyler Locke’s army service record.”
Aiden took a quick look before handing it to Macy. “That was fast. Anything on Dylan Reed yet?”
“Not that I’ve seen.”
“Okay, keep me posted.”
Macy flipped open Tyler’s file and started reading. “How do you want to do this? I’m beginning to think you’re a little too close to some of the witnesses.”
“I won’t be offended if you question them on your own. I’ll observe.”
“Are you sure? This is your town. I don’t want to overstep.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll let you know if you do.”
5
Dylan felt anxious standing in the entryway of the restaurant. He was about to tell Tyler he was leaving when a waitress, who looked vaguely familiar, took him by the arm and smiled sympathetically. She seated them in a booth next to the front windows and leaned in to set out the cutlery. He didn’t know what to do when she handed him the menu. He sat rigid in the cushioned seat, but his eyes moved across the restaurant like mine sweepers. He could actually taste the acrid smoke. Red dust was gritty in his mouth. He tasted blood too. It was that day again. He was out on patrol with his platoon. Hot white light reflected off buildings. One minute he was walking. The next he was falling. They dragged him into a nearby school. The high windows were cracked, the broken sky blue. Dark-eyed children cowered under desks. Their teacher begged the soldiers to leave. All that chaos. All that noise. The medic was calm, though. He never stopped talking to Dylan.
You’re going home now. You’re safe. Just focus on that.
Dylan glanced from one din
er to another, but found no sign of home. Every spoken word was a warning. Every noise reverberated in his head at ten times its natural volume. Perspiration beaded on his skin. He clenched his fist and the blue veins on his forearm swelled like rivers. He reached for the knife only to have someone snatch it away.
The man sitting across from him spoke in a low voice. His disjointed words floated through the air. Dylan tried to put them in an order he understood, but nothing made sense. A big round head with searching eyes leaned toward him.
“Dylan, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”
Dylan flinched at the sound of his name. He opened his mouth to speak, but his plea for help rolled back on his tongue like a sucking tide. He swallowed. There was pressure on his hand. It was being squeezed. The knife was gone. The fork too.
“Dylan, it’s okay.”
Dylan glanced down at his arm and watched the veins swell. It is not okay.
“Do you need to get out of here?”
He might have said yes.
There was no way they could leave through the front door. There were too many people. He’d never make it. The round face was no longer across from him. A voice whispered in his ear.
“Come with me. Let’s get you outside.”
The man pulled him by the arm and he stumbled from the booth. A woman looked up from her newspaper and stared. Another held a phone to her ear. He could hear every word. There was a squeal and a small child was lifted high. It floated through the air from one set of hands to another. A bell chimed and the front door opened. More people crowded in. They wore work clothes and were strangers to him.
Dylan let himself be led. They went out the back way. He dragged his fingertips along the wall as he tripped down a narrow passage that took him past the kitchen. His shirt was damp with sweat but his mouth was as dry as ash. A door swung open and he was thrust out into sunlight. It bounced off the whitewashed wall of the building opposite. He staggered toward it, only to be wheeled round again.
“Dylan, I want you to listen to me. You’re home. You’re safe. No one is going to hurt you again. Do you hear me, Dylan?”
Dylan understood everything this time. He buried his head in Tyler’s shoulder and wept.
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