He caught us in bed together. His best man and his wife.
Aside from a few rust-colored needles, the tree her mother had described in her journal had been picked clean by pine beetles. Dry limbs twisted outward, their gnarled tips still holding offerings—faded lace panties, keys without chains, crucifixes woven from twigs, and higher up, a pair of sneakers hanging from their laces. Jessie wove the broken necklace around a low branch. The heart-shaped locket spun like a top until she stilled it with her thumb and forefinger. The hot springs were hidden behind a ring of smooth granite boulders. The gray pool didn’t seem any more magical than the tree. Jessie took a long swallow from the whiskey bottle before stepping in fully clothed. Steam rose around her. She waded out to the middle and dipped down so that she was sitting with just her head and shoulders exposed. She tilted her head back so her dark hair floated around her face. The smoky haze had thinned. She would see the stars.
Annie had written about coming to these hot springs with a man that Jessie had grown up admiring from afar. There were always stories about him in the papers. To some he was a modern-day folk hero. To others he was a common criminal. The fact that Jeremy hated him only made Jessie like him more. In all these years she’d never suspected that he might be her father. She wondered if Ethan Green knew the truth about their connection—that he’d killed his own son and tried to rape his own daughter.
The morning after it had happened, it didn’t hurt as much as it should have, but that was only because she was still drunk. She’d laughed at Dylan. Come on, she’d said, confused by the look on his face. I don’t look that bad? He’d pulled her out of his bed and positioned her in front of a full-length mirror. Jessie was naked aside from a bra and a pair of Dylan’s boxer shorts. She put her fingertips to the swollen lips of the battered stranger in the reflection. She’d thought she might be dreaming. Dylan had held up his camera like an apology. We need evidence in case the police ever tie you to Ethan’s death. She’d nodded in agreement, but in her head she had been picking through all the blind spots from the night before. She’d lost hours, and no amount of sifting could get them back. She remembered waking up in the dirt with Ethan Green lying on top of her. He hadn’t looked like he was sleeping. The fact that he was actually dead made no sense at all.
Dylan had taken photographs: close-ups of her raw knuckles and broken fingernails; her bugged-out eye—red and swollen like a ripe fruit; her split lip; the black-and-blue handprints on her thighs; the boot imprint stamped on her belly. She looked down at her bruised body.
Dylan, who did this?
Ethan Green.
I killed him?
Don’t you remember?
I’m not sure.
Dylan had put the camera aside and there was no lens to shield her from his gaze.
Jessie, how long do you think you can keep this up before you end up dead? When are you going to realize there are people in this town who love you?
She had waited, reworking his words like she might do a riddle, trying to bend her low opinion of herself around them, trying to make him into the fool. He was talking nonsense. He had reached out to touch her, but stopped before his fingertips found her skin. Then it had hit her. She’d looked up at him. There it was, and it was unconditional. It was the first time she’d ever seen a man cry. She’d run to the bathroom, where she was sick until she was nothing but thin skin stretched over a drum of bones. She had washed her face, gingerly touching her bulging eye and lip. She’d used the toilet and there was a deep, penetrating hurt that burned and left her gasping for breath. Violent cramps had shot across her abdomen. She clutched hold of the sink and cried out for help, but Dylan was gone. She had returned to bed and gripped the pillow tight. She’d wondered how she could die when she already felt dead.
Jessie gazed up at the darkening sky. Tyler’s words were still fresh in her head. Ethan must have been planning John’s murder all year. That took some patience. And then that knowing smile. I bet he saves you ’til last. That’s what I’d do. I’d take my time with you.
Darkness fell and, as promised, the sky crystalized. Jessie tracked satellites and airplanes making their way through the thick veil of stars. She sipped from the bottle and wished she could fly to the moon. She shook herself awake. If she wasn’t careful she could drift away into nothingness and be none the wiser. The whiskey bottle slid from her fingertips and they floated side by side. People would explain it to Tara but she would never understand. Jessie tried to focus. All she needed to do was walk away. The car wasn’t far. There was a towel in the back, a sweatshirt too. She’d dry off and drive away. She imagined picking her way along the shore in the pitch-black.
Jessie opened her eyes and coughed up water. She’d fallen asleep. She thought she heard someone calling her name. She might have been dreaming. A beam of light skimmed the top of the boulders surrounding the pool. She sat up and water cascaded from her hair. She searched the darkness. There it was again. The light bobbed up and down along the shoreline and flicked toward the trees. She waited, half submerged. Dylan called for her again and she stood shivering in the rising heat. This time she answered.
19
Nick Childs was only forty-one years of age, but looked much older. His skin was darkened by years in the sun. There were two white blotches on his forehead where the pigment was gone. The Kalispell Police Department had held him overnight, but he was to be released as soon as Macy was through interviewing him.
“Mr. Childs, as you know, you were originally wanted for questioning in connection with the murder of John Dalton. You are no longer a suspect in that crime.”
“Does that mean I can finally go?”
“I was hoping you’d be willing to answer a couple of questions first. I’m following up on a witness statement.” She pushed Lana’s and Charlie’s photographs across the table. “I’d like to know how you’re familiar with Charlie Lott, if you’re aware of his present whereabouts, and if you knew Lana Clark prior to meeting her here in Wilmington Creek.”
“I take it Lana hasn’t been talking too much.”
“I’d like to hear your side of the story.”
He picked up Lana’s photograph and smirked. “I met Lana about four years ago. I was down in Georgia, visiting some cousins. She was working at a strip club, but she was willing to take it further for the right price. I spent a lot of money on her that summer.”
“Do you remember the name of the club?”
“The Night Crawler. It was about thirty miles east of Fort Benning. She said she was doing it to earn money for college. I treated her well. Hell, I even tipped her.”
“How did you know Charlie Lott?”
“He came into the club one night. I got the impression from talking to him that he didn’t know Lana was doing business on the side. She got real nervous when she saw us sitting together. The next night she was gone. I was pretty surprised when I found her working at The Whitefish and she had all her clothes on.”
“Tell me about Charlie.”
“Not much to tell. Seemed to be a pretty mellow guy. He was dealing, but it was small time. I think he was a musician or something.”
“Did Lana ever tell you that Charlie threatened her?”
“I wasn’t paying her to talk.”
“Have you had any contact with him since?”
“It was just that one time. I only remember him ’cause the situation struck me as funny. We’re drinking beers together and he’s got no idea I’ve been meeting his girlfriend in a motel room five nights running.”
* * *
Macy peered over the bar at The Whitefish, looking for some sign of life. It was eleven in the morning and the place was deserted. On the drive over, she’d called the manager and had been assured that Lana would be working.
“Hello,” she said. “Is anyone here?”
The door to a storeroom opened and Lana stepped out, carrying several boxes stacked on top of one another. She didn’t see Macy until she put them down on
the counter. She took a little jump back and nearly upset a tray of freshly washed glasses.
“Fuck, you scared me.”
Macy didn’t apologize. “Lana, we need to talk.”
Lana took out a utility knife and sliced open a box containing bags of potato chips. “I already told you everything I know.”
“That’s not for you to decide.” She gestured to the empty tables. “Would you rather do this here, or come down to the station?”
“I thought you were looking for some guy named Ethan Green. As far as I know, I’ve never met the guy.”
“I interviewed Nick Childs this morning.”
“What’s that got to do with me?”
“Can we sit?”
Lana plucked a glass from the countertop and poured herself a couple of measures of whiskey. “This time I’m going to have that drink.”
“Suit yourself.”
Macy dropped down in one of the many booths. The table’s surface was sticky. She slipped her notebook and pen from her bag and waited patiently for Lana to finish her drink.
“While you’re over there taking your time, I’d like a Diet Coke.”
She moved glacially. “Ice?”
“Yes, please.”
Lana leaned over the table and wiped it down with a wet rag before handing Macy her drink. “I suppose Nick Childs told you all about me.”
“He did.”
“I knew that little runt was going to ruin my life the moment he showed up here. I didn’t just come here to hide. I wanted a fresh start. Wilmington Creek. What are the odds that asshole walks in the door?”
“It does seem ironic. When was this?”
“About two months ago.” She sat opposite Macy, swirling the remains of the whiskey. The ice tinkled against the glass. “I told him that I’d put all that behind me, but he threatened to expose me if I didn’t cooperate.”
“By cooperate, I take it he wanted you to take him on as a client again.”
“No, it was worse than that. He wanted it for free. I was so afraid he’d say something. He’d come in with his friend and just sit at the bar watching me. Whenever John was here I made a point of acting like we weren’t together. I was already worried that John’s family wouldn’t think I was good enough, but this was far worse. If Nick Childs talked, I’d have to walk.”
“I’ve met John’s family. You had nothing to worry about. They seem to be pretty messed up.”
“John was thinking of going into politics. Even if I got rid of Nick Childs, there would be others. I’d be looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life.”
“What did you do?”
“I told John I wasn’t sure about us and I needed time.”
“That’s not how you felt though.”
“No, I really loved him. Through and through loved him.” She pulled a Kleenex out of a pocket and wiped her tears. “I couldn’t risk him finding out though. He’d have never understood. I was all set to leave town, but then Jean overheard Nick threatening me and kicked him out of the bar. I was sure he’d come back, but I never saw him again. After a while I began to believe it would be okay. That’s when things between me and John started to yo-yo. He didn’t trust me anymore and he’d made promises to Tanya. It was a mess. One minute we were together and the next he was telling me it was over.”
“You seem a bright girl. You must have known your actions would come back to haunt you.”
She pressed the tissue to her eyes. “I needed the money. My mother hasn’t been well for a long time. She can’t work. There’s no insurance. I did it for her. Not for me. For her. I lied and said it was to pay for school, but I didn’t see a penny of what I made. I don’t know what would have happened if I hadn’t taken care of things.”
“If that’s the case, I’m truly sorry.”
“And then I finally have a chance at being happy and, of all people, Nick Childs shows up.” She lowered her voice. “I didn’t even have that many clients. If I didn’t like the look of them I’d steer clear. Nick seemed all right.”
“No offense, Lana, but you’re a terrible judge of character. Nick is a convicted felon. He’s served time for multiple offenses, including aggravated sexual assault and armed robbery.”
“Shit.”
“That’s an understatement.”
“What happens now?”
“That really depends on Nick Childs. If he keeps his mouth shut, no one will be the wiser.”
“I’m tired of running.”
“Are you sure? It’s not just Nick you have to worry about. Charlie is still out there somewhere.”
“The worst has happened. I’m not afraid anymore.”
“All the same. I advise you to continue to take precautions.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you everything before. I know I’ve wasted your time.”
“I’m going to pretend it never happened.”
“Thank you. That means a lot to me.” She drained the remainder of the whiskey. “I have to get back to work or Jean will go ape shit.”
Macy gathered her things and made her way to the door. “I’ll keep an eye out for news about Charlie. I’ll let you know if I hear anything.”
* * *
Being careful to take the route marked out as safe by the fire investigators, Macy picked her way through what was left of Lindsay’s home. Water no longer dripped from the exposed rafters. Twenty-four hours after the fire, the house was bone dry. In places the ceiling was reinforced with freshly cut two-by-fours. Other than the linoleum floor, there was little that remained of the kitchen. The officers stationed out front told her Ryan was in the cellar. Macy stuck her head through an opening in the back wall of the kitchen. Acrid dust swirled in the lamplight. The wooden stairs had been replaced with a ladder. She took a deep breath.
“Ryan, are you down there?”
“Yep, watch your step. It’s a mess.”
Ryan stood alone in the middle of the low-ceilinged room. Cables and lights hung everywhere. Some areas had been completely consumed by the fire, but others were left untouched. Scorch marks ran up the walls, and in places the ceiling was open to the floor above. Shafts of light cut into the room at odd angles. They’d cleared a path through the debris.
“Where’s your trusty sidekick, Aiden?”
“He’s coordinating the team searching Ethan Green’s property. They’ve been up there since dawn.”
“Not your kind of thing?”
“Seems too much like hard work.”
“What’s the story with Aiden anyway?”
“Why? Are you interested?”
“I might be.”
“Ryan, he’s been married.” She paused. “To a woman.”
“Maybe he saw the light.”
“I’m telling you, he’s not your type.”
“You sound like you have inside information.”
“I might.”
He laughed. “Someday you’ll have to tell me everything.”
“You’ll have to wait until I write my memoir.”
“As long as I’m in the acknowledgments.”
“Wouldn’t dream of leaving you out. Can we get to work now?”
Ryan switched on a flashlight and pointed it to what was left of a storage unit. “Whoever did this knew what they were doing.”
“What am I looking at?”
“The landlord is a retired doctor. Instead of destroying old patient records, he kept them here.”
“That’s pretty creepy, but go on.”
“Everything was pulled out and piled up before being doused in gasoline.” He poked at a thin sheen of gray residue on the charred remains of a folder. “I’m pretty sure that’s candle wax. We’ve found it in almost every room in the house.”
“What’s the significance?”
“White utility candles can be bought in almost any hardware or home store. Cut them to the desired size, set them on top of your flammable material, and leave them to do their thing. They burn at a rate of one i
nch every forty-five minutes, giving the arsonist plenty of time to get away and establish an alibi before the fire starts.”
“Neat trick.”
“Low-tech and pretty much untraceable.”
“Did you find anything else?”
“Nothing you can use. If you hadn’t come along when you did, there’s a good chance the fire wouldn’t have been ruled as arson. Other than what you pulled out the bedroom window, this wax is all we have. And I don’t think anyone would have gone looking for it if you hadn’t found evidence that an accelerant was used. The accelerant was poured on the soft furnishings, beds and sofas. Whoever did this was careful not to leave any burn patterns on the floors.”
“It seems like they were counting on us not finding Lindsay’s body up at the canyon. They must have been wanting to destroy physical evidence in the house and her car.”
“Looks that way.”
“Kind of odd that her killer took such lengths to hide evidence of Lindsay’s murder, given how publicly John Dalton was killed.”
“Maybe Lindsay wasn’t part of his master plan.”
“Which would mean there is a master plan. The neighbor, Tyler Locke, said he saw a car drive by his house a little before ten.”
“That was probably the arsonist. By the way, I thought we’d decided we were looking for Ethan Green. You seem a little reticent about mentioning him by name.”
“I found all of Lindsay’s case notes on the mainframe. She didn’t seem close to finding Green. In fact, she was growing more convinced that he’d left town or died.”
“Are you tracking down everyone she spoke to?”
“So far they’re sticking with what they told Lindsay. Nobody has seen Ethan since last summer.”
“Have they found anything out on his property?”
“There’s no cell phone reception up there, so I have no idea what’s going on.”
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