“I think so, yes.”
“What’s going on that the FBI is interested in?”
“Just following up on a loose end, that’s all. Thanks for your help, Chief.”
“Yeah, well, you want to see Tanner, you stop in here when you get to Lake Grove and I’ll give you directions. I’m in my office every day by nine.”
“Thanks, Chief. I’ll be sure to do that.”
Aidan hung up the phone and went to the refrigerator, hoping to find a cold beer.
“Well, the cupboard certainly is bare, isn’t it?” he muttered to himself as he moved several bottles of water out of the way in his search. Finding nothing hiding behind the bottles of Deer Park, he had to content himself with one of those.
“Just as well. Should drink more water anyway. Healthier.”
He took the bottle of water out onto the small balcony and sat on a folding chair. He rested his legs on the railing, crossing his feet at the ankles, and from there contemplated how he’d spend the next few days. A trip to Ohio where he’d sit and talk with an oldtime cop who may or may not know something about Curt Gibbons.
Judging by Gibbons’s date of birth on the statement he’d given Miranda, Aidan knew that, if alive, he would be in his late thirties. If Lake Grove was as small a town as Lanigan had said, wouldn’t the police know just about every family in town? Maybe Tanner could point Aidan to some of Gibbons’s family who might have remained in the area. It was well worth the effort, if for no other reason than to see what Gibbons was up to these days. Scratch that itch in the back of his mind.
Aidan went inside and grabbed the phone book. If he was going on a road trip, he’d be driving something other than Dylan’s Corvette. While beloved, the old Vette wasn’t the car to take on a long trip. He’d thought that even the drive to Lyndon might have been pushing it. It would be better off left in the garage here at home.
Maybe something with a great sound system, he thought as he scanned the names of the rental car agencies. Something fast and sleek.
Smiling, Aidan dialed the number. He was back in the game, albeit in a very limited capacity, and it felt great.
It was a start.
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
MARA STARTED DIALING THE NUMBER, THEN DISCONnected, for the third time in a row.
She chided herself for her apparent lack of nerve. This shouldn’t be difficult. He said call him if I needed him. Well, I need him.
He’ll say yes, or he’ll say no. And this time, it won’t be Annie asking. He can say no to me, if he has something better to do for the next week or so, or if he just doesn’t feel like it. He’d never say no to Annie.
And if he says yes, it won’t be because he feels obligated, as if it’s part of his penance. He doesn’t owe me a thing.
Her fingers dialed the number, and she walked away from the telephone base before she could hang up again.
“Hello?”
“Aidan? It’s Mara. Mara Douglas.”
“Hey, how are you?”
“I’m okay. You?”
“Good.”
Her pause was just a little too long.
“So what’s up, Mara?” he asked somewhat cautiously.
“Oh, well . . .” She was finding this a wee more difficult than she’d thought it would be.
“Out with it.”
She told him about Judge Styler’s death, the connection between her and the judge, Vince Giordano, the death of his ex-mother-in-law, and Mara’s visit from the local detectives.
“Doesn’t sound good,” he told her, his mind trying to fit those pieces together without benefit of having been involved in the investigation and without knowing any of the parties.
“Annie thinks I should take a vacation.”
“Not a bad idea, to leave town for a while. Anyplace in mind?”
“Well, actually, we have a cabin. Annie and I do. Our grandparents built it back in the fifties. It’s in the mountains here, in Pennsylvania. Up beyond Scranton.”
“I don’t think I know the area.”
“You’ve never heard of the Poconos?”
“Oh, wait. That’s the place with the heart-shaped bathtubs in the hotel rooms?”
Mara laughed. “Well, Annie did put in a hot tub a few years back, but I don’t recall that it was heart-shaped. But yes, the area is known as the honeymoon capital of the east. Or maybe it’s the world. Lots of what we used to call honeymoon hostelries.”
“You’re planning on going there?”
“I’m thinking about it, yes.”
“How isolated is this cabin?”
“The closest town is about two miles away. We’re off a main road, but there are a few other cabins in the area. The closest is at the end of our road.”
“Weapons?”
“What?”
“Are you taking any weapons?”
“I don’t own any.” She paused. “Though I think there are some old hunting rifles up there. My granddad was a collector as well as a sportsman. My dad, who was more of a scholar than a hunter, held on to them. As far as I know, Grampa’s old gun collection is still up there. Annie and I have talked about selling it but we’ve never gotten around to it.”
He walked out onto the balcony and watched a young gull circle overhead in a blue, blue sky. He was postponing the inevitable. He knew what he had to do, and like a good soldier, he’d do it. He just wished he’d gotten his trip to Ohio in first.
“What time can you be ready?”
“What?”
“I asked what time you can be ready. I’ll have to pick you up today, because I’ll be leaving for Ohio in about an hour. But you’re going to have to put off your trip for a few days.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You really don’t think I’d let you go off alone, do you?” He paused for a moment, then asked somewhat hopefully, “Unless someone’s going with you?”
“No. No, there’s no one else. Actually, I was calling to see if maybe you could . . . if you weren’t doing anything else this week, that is . . .”
“You’re not used to asking for help, are you?”
“No.” She exhaled. “No, I’m not. But I am asking now. If this would interfere with what you have to do, though . . .”
“As long as you don’t mind tagging along.” Damn. Damn damn damn . . .
“No, no. Whatever you have to do.” She paused, not deaf to the hesitation in his voice. His plans—now that he actually had plans—hadn’t included her. “But, you know, maybe we’re overreacting. I’d probably be fine at the cabin for a few days. As far as I know, no one else even knows that we have it. So there’s no way for anyone—Giordano, if in fact he’s involved in all this, or anyone else—to find out about it.”
“This Giordano—you said he’s still in prison?”
“Yes, but apparently he could be released at any time.” She explained about the grounds for appeal. “I think the district attorney’s office is going to do everything they can to delay his release for as long as possible, but I don’t think they can keep him much longer without running into other legal problems.”
“And you’re sure—you are absolutely certain—that no one knows where this cabin is?”
“Positive.”
He mentally debated, weighing her arguments.
There was no way around it. He couldn’t take the chance. If something happened to her because he just hadn’t felt like taking her along on his trip to Ohio . . .
“Well, all of your rationalizations aside, there’s no way you’re going to go off into the mountains alone. And the fact is that I do have this assignment—”
“Assignment?” she asked, puzzled. Hadn’t he said he was no longer able to work?
“Craziest thing,” he told her, starting with the story of Miranda’s brush with Curt Gibbons six years ago, and leading to the fact that the Mary Douglas crime scenes had held a wisp of familiarity for both Aidan and Miranda.
“That’s amazing,�
�� she said. “That you both had the same feeling, that your boss is willing to let you follow through.”
“Yeah.” He began to pull a few items from a dresser drawer and tossed them into his duffel bag.
“Congratulations. I’m really happy for you. But if you’re supposed to be working on something, I’ll just be in the way.”
“I’m just following up on some information. Your going with me isn’t going to compromise some big investigation.” He glanced at his watch. “Look, the day’s marching on here. Go pack a bag.”
“Aidan, if you don’t want to do this, I’ll understand. I swear I will. It’ll be okay.”
“Hey, I promised Annie that I’d stick until this was over. It obviously isn’t over. I’ll see you in a few hours.”
Mara returned the phone to the base.
I promised Annie. . . .
She hung up the phone, feeling more than a little disappointed. Of course he still felt obligated.
He’d promised Annie.
It had taken Aidan longer than he’d estimated to go through the rental car process. He’d had to settle for a Ford Explorer instead of the sleek Lexus he’d asked for, and by the time he’d gotten through all the paperwork and on the road, he was running an hour behind. It was nearly three p.m. when he arrived at Mara’s house.
“I ran into a lot of traffic on I-95 around Wilmington,” he explained when she answered the door.
“It’s always a mess there.” She stepped aside to let him in. At the sound of Aidan’s voice, Spike had flown down the stairwell from his perch on the top step and had danced joyfully on Aidan’s behalf.
“I think he’s glad to see me.” Aidan leaned over to pat Spike on the head.
“I forgot to ask you if we could bring him along.”
“I don’t think he’ll be a problem. Does he need stuff—dog food and things?”
“Sure.” Mara lifted a canvas tote bag. “Food, treats, his pull rope, a tennis ball, his bowl, his little dog bed, and his blankey.”
“Spike has a blankey?”
“Can’t sleep without it.”
“Well, then, let’s get all this stuff out into the car.” Aidan grabbed her bag along with the one holding Spike’s essentials. “Annie knows where you’re going? Anyone else you need to tell?”
“I spoke with Annie after you and I chatted. She said . . .”
Mara hesitated long enough for Aidan to ask, “She said what?”
“That she owes you another one.”
“No, she doesn’t,” Aidan said very deliberately. “She doesn’t owe me a thing. This is between you and me.”
Mara nodded, feeling her face flush and hoping he meant it. The last thing she wanted was to be repayment of someone else’s debt.
He went out the front door, her bag and the dog bag under his arm, Spike trotting next to him on the leash. Mara checked the French doors one last time, then started out, stopping to lock the front door. She paused, the key in her hand, then pushed the door open and went back inside.
She ran up the steps to Julianne’s room. Standing in the doorway, she glanced around, then walked to the little white armoire upon which Mara herself had painted the little violets. She swung the door open all the way so that she could better survey the contents. Making her selection, she tucked the item into her shoulder bag and left the room.
“Forget something?” Aidan asked as she crossed the lawn.
“I just wanted to make sure all the windows were locked, that’s all.” She waved to Mrs. West, her elderly neighbor, who was emptying her trunk of that day’s purchases from the nursery. “Give me just one more minute. . . .”
Mara walked across the strip of grass that separated her driveway from her neighbor’s.
“Mrs. West, I can’t believe you have room for one more plant in that garden of yours,” Mara teased as she scooped up a flat of some red, feathery plant from the trunk of the car.
“Oh, there’s always room for another plant or two”—the old woman smiled, showing off her dimples—“or forty-eight. Now, when I go back tomorrow, I’m going to pick up another flat of those celosia for you. I think they’d be nice in a bed along your garage.”
Mara paused and looked over her shoulder. “There is no bed along the garage.”
“There will be by the time I finish.” She brushed her hands together, palm to palm, a satisfied grin on her face.
“Mrs. West, you really don’t need to plant things in my yard. As much as I appreciate it.”
Her neighbor waved her off. “As you pointed out, I’m running out of room in my own yard. And I love to make new flower beds. It makes me feel so creative.”
“I don’t know what to say, except thank you.” Mara knew when to give up. “Would you like these out back near your porch?”
“Yes, thank you.” Mrs. West placed the pot of pink impatiens she carried next to the flat on the porch. “Now, do I see that nice young man is visiting you again?”
“Oh . . . yes. He’s really a friend of Annie’s—”
“So he said.” Mrs. West’s eyes twinkled. Any fool could see that Annie was nowhere in sight.
“And actually, we’re . . . we’re taking a little trip. A business trip, you see—”
“You and Annie’s friend?”
“Yes. And I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind taking in my mail for the next few days.”
“I wouldn’t mind at all, dear. You just go on and have a nice ‘business’ trip with Annie’s friend. You and Spike both. I see he’s there in the backseat. You could leave him with me, you know. He’s no trouble. If you think he’d interfere with . . . whatever business you need to tend to.”
Mara burst out laughing. “You are not very subtle, Mrs. West. And Aidan is very much a friend. To Annie and to me.”
“Just a friend?” The woman frowned. “Nothing more?”
“Nothing more,” Mara assured her.
“Pity . . .” She shook her head slowly. “He’s quite a hunk.”
They stopped at a market on the other side of Lancaster, two hours into their trip. Aidan went inside and, finding the deli counter still open, picked up two containers of soup, a few sandwiches, and several bottles of soda and water. They ate in rapidly fading daylight at a picnic table set up in a grassy area adjacent to the store and made small talk. Mara walked Spike on the leash before they set off again. When she returned to the car, Aidan was checking the map.
“How do we get to where we’re going?” she asked as she lifted Spike into his little dog bed, which Aidan had placed on the floor behind the driver’s seat.
“We’re going to swing out to Harrisburg and pick up Route 76. Take that clear across the state and into Ohio.” He turned the key in the ignition and watched her buckle her seat belt. “Ready?”
“All set.” She smiled at him, and in spite of himself, it occurred to him that bringing her along on this trip might not have been such a bad idea after all.
“Feel free to look for another station on the radio.”
“What, you don’t like hip-hop?”
He rolled his eyes.
Mara leaned forward and scanned for something a little more to Aidan’s liking. She found a pop station and stayed with that.
They rode in silence for nearly twenty minutes before Aidan asked, “Do you hear something? An odd noise?”
“It’s Spike. He snores.”
“He snores, he can’t sleep without his blankey, and he travels with his own little bed. It’s like having a little person along.”
“He thinks he is a little person.” She rested her head against the headrest and gazed out the window. The sun had set behind the rolling hills, but the last fingers of light stretched upward from the horizon. Lavender and orange, set in a gray-blue sky.
“Were you planning on stopping somewhere?” she asked after they had moved onto the highway and were headed west.
“You mean, stop somewhere for the night?”
“Yes.”
“I was planning on driving straight through.” He gestured with a nod of his head toward the backseat. “There’s a blanket there if you’re cold. You can tilt the seat back and sleep if you get tired.”
“That’s fine.” She reached behind her and grabbed the blanket. It was soft and down-filled and fit around her nicely. She searched for the mechanism that would allow the seat to recline. Finding it, she lowered her seat halfway. “And you know, I can drive, if you want to rest for a while.”
“I’ll be fine. Thanks anyway.”
“What’s the name of the town we’re going to?”
“Lake Grove.”
“Am I allowed to ask what’s there?”
“Sure. This is not a secret FBI mission. It’s really just a sort of follow-up. No big deal.” He checked his rearview mirror before pulling into the left lane to pass a pickup.
“How do you do that sort of thing? How do you know where to start?”
“You find someone in the area who might still have connections to the person you’re looking for. In this case, that person is Curt Gibbons. I’m hoping that Chief Tanner—”
“Who’s Chief Tanner?”
“He was with the Lake Grove PD for fifty years or so. Retired several years ago after a long career as chief.”
“He must know a lot about what happened over the years. Why didn’t you just call him?”
“Tanner doesn’t have a phone. Figured that after having been its slave for so long, he’d had enough.”
“I can understand that.” She closed her eyes, and the slight rocking motion of the car lulled her. “Are you sure you want to keep driving straight through? Really, we could take turns. I don’t mind.”
“No, I’m anxious to get there.”
And besides, he acknowledged to himself, after all this time, it felt good—damn good—to have a destination again.
For the second time in less than two weeks, Curtis Channing was getting ready to leave town. The map was spread out over the single bed, his eyes tracing the route south. His work here was done, and he was anxious to move on now. While he felt reasonably certain there was no way the events of the past month could lead to his door, he was restless without a plan.
Dead Wrong Page 14