“Brent Taylor? Oh, that’s right. He lives in your building.”
“Yeah,” Sally said with a grin. “I think he’s kind of sweet on Vickie, though she doesn’t seem to have noticed.”
“Do you think she might have gone someplace with Brent?”
“Oh. I dunno. I didn’t think of that.”
“Here,” Flora said, handing over her phone. “Brent’s number’s in there. Give him a call and see if she might be with him.”
Sally scrolled through the numbers, found Brent’s, and called. “Hello. Hello, Brent,” she said a moment later. “Did you see Vickie tonight?” A pause as she listened. “Uh, huh. No. She wasn’t home when I got there. No. Huh? No. I’m with Flora. We’re lookin’ for her. I don’t know. Hold on a minute. Flora, he wants to know if he can help.”
Flora shrugged. “I don’t know what he could do other than what we’re doing. Unless he has some idea where she might have gone.”
Sally spoke into the phone again. “He doesn’t know either. But he’s gonna drive around, too, see if he can spot her. If he does, he said he’ll call you.” She gave the phone back to Flora. “You think we should file a missing person report?”
“We’ll get to that if we don’t find her,” Flora said. At that point she still focused on the possibility Vickie had simply left town. Rather than being worried about the girl Flora still nursed the belief Vickie hadn’t told all she knew on the hit and run and resented the way she seemed to be treating people who cared about her.
It would be a few hours more before Flora shared Sally’s anxiety about Vickie Walker’s welfare.
* * * *
In an effort to get her mind off her situation, Helen had insisted on Lydia joining her for a “girl’s night” at the movies that evening. Though it wasn’t his sport, Aaron Brubaker had just settled down before the TV in his den with a bottle of beer and a bowl of freshly made popcorn to watch the 76ers tangle with Miami in what promised to be an exciting game. The team had some interesting new players including the recently re-acquired Pierre Jackson, who had impressed Brubaker on his previous stint with the 76ers.
The game was barely under way when the ringing of the doorbell disturbed Brubaker. With a grunt of dismay, he sat aside his refreshments and made his way out the hall to answer the summons.
“Jimmy,” he said, surprised by his visitor.
“Hi, Chief. Sorry to disturb you at home.”
“No problem. Come on in. I was just watching the 76ers. Can I offer you a beer?”
Finkbine, who was on duty, shook his head in the negative and followed Brubaker back to the den. “I wouldn’t have come, but I thought you’d wanna hear what I found out,” he said as Aaron pointed him to a chair next to his.
The auxiliary officer flopped down on the edge of the seat, removed his cover, and placed it on the floor next to him. “You remember you asked me to check with my guys and see if any of them saw any suspicious vehicles around the time of that hit and run out by Vinnie’s?”
“Sure. Somebody see somethin’?”
Jimmy nodded. “Joe Yeager. He was on patrol in the vicinity. Shortly after the time the call come in, Joe said a vehicle barreled past him, goin’ so fast he couldn’t even get a glimpse at the plate number.”
“Joe was on foot?”
“Yeah. By the time he radioed in and patrol responded there was no sign of the Jeep.”
“It was a Jeep, you say?” Aaron asked, sitting up with interest. “Did he give a description?”
“Uh-huh. Older model Cherokee, light tan in color.”
“And he didn’t bother to report it until now?”
Finkbine shrugged. “You know Yeager. Not the sharpest tack in the box. He took it for granted patrol would report it. Evidently your guy wasn’t on the ball either. But I thought it was important I let you know soon as I found out.”
Aaron pursed his lips, considering who else had been on patrol that night aside from Flora. Fred. He made a mental note to check with him in the morning.
Finkbine was still seated, peering at him as though awaiting further comment.
“You did right, Jim. Thanks. I appreciate it.”
Jimmy didn’t move.
“Something else on your mind?”
The young man nodded. “Aaron, I just found out my old man’s been pressin’ you about giving me a job. I’m sorry. I want you to know I didn’t put him up to it.”
Aaron smiled and patted him on the knee. “Hell, I know that. Look, you got time for a cup of coffee? Let me get you one and put your mind at ease on this issue. Take your jacket off. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right back.”
Chapter 24
Harry Minnich had nearly reached the station when a voice hailed him from behind. Turning, he saw Fingers Schurke striding down the pavement toward him. “Hold on a sec, Harry,” he called.
“Wanted to catch you before you got inside,” Schurke said as he reached Harry’s side.
“What’s up?”
The former thief looked embarrassed as he hung his head, evading Harry’s gaze. “You know I haint never been no snitch.” He raised his eyes and peered at the officer. “But there’s somethin’ you need to know.”
“Come on inside,” Harry said, opening the door and gesturing for Fingers to precede him.
“Do we gotta go inside?” Schurke glanced around as though fearful one of his cohorts would see him entering the police station.
“You haven’t done anything, have you?”
Schurke shrugged and gave him a grin. “Me? I’m reformed. You know that. Oh, what the hell.” He shouldered past Harry, then followed him back to the squad room, conscious of Joe Fishburn’s surprised look as they passed the reception desk.
“Have a seat,” Harry told him. “You want a coffee or something else to drink?”
Schurke pulled a chair up beside Harry’s desk. “Nah. This haint no social call.”
“Okay,” Harry said, seating himself. “What’s so important I can convince you to voluntarily come in here?”
Fingers glanced around, glad there were no other cops around to witness his presence. He leaned forward, crossed his legs, and clasped a knee in his big hands. “It’s about Diana. You know—the reporter, Diana Wozniak? I don’t think what happened to her was no accident.”
* * * *
“You’ve got to hear this, chief,” Harry said entering Brubaker’s office and followed by a reluctant Fingers Schurke. “Have a seat, Earl,” he added, pointing to the visitor’s chair. “Tell Aaron what you just told me.”
“What’s this about?” a puzzled Brubaker asked.
“Diana Wozniak went to see that Stoneroad guy the night she got killed,” Schurke said in a gravelly voice.
“The night she was killed?”
“Yep. I know ’cause I showed her how to get on the property without the Staties seeing her.
* * * *
“Why should I believe some ex-con?”
“Because he’s telling the truth,” Brubaker said, waving a stubby finger in Runyan’s face.
Runyan leaned back in his chair and peered up at the police chief hovering over him. “Stoneroad’s secretary told us the woman was out there. Even if your guy is tellin’ the truth, he’s just verifying what she already told us.”
“Calder said Wozniak came out on the morning she was killed and denied Stoneroad saw her. Fingers told us he took the reporter out there that evening. I believe the man. If Stoneroad has nothing to hide, why would his secretary give us a different version of her visit?”
He added what Jim Finkbine had told him about a speeding Jeep. Fred Grumbine said he hadn’t been able to locate the vehicle, but that didn’t mean the report hadn’t been accurate.
Runyan grimaced. “I don’t know. It’s still circumstantial. Maybe the secretary was just protecting her boss or Stoneroad never talked to the reporter.”
“Maybe indeed,” Brubaker said with a smug look of satisfaction. “Which raises some othe
r questions. Like why were they in such a hurry to get rid of Jason’s vehicle? That strikes me as more than a little suspicious. Don’t you agree?”
“I guess maybe we could talk to them again.”
* * * *
Nan heaved a sigh of relief as Stoneroad rolled off her. Both were breathing heavily, their naked bodies slick with sweat, after the exertion of sex. Nan stole a look at Clay who lay with a forearm covering his eyes, his hairy chest rising and falling with the rhythm of his breathing. She touched his thigh with the fingers of one hand.
“Sorry,” he muttered, the word barely a grunt.
“Don’t be,” she told him, though her frustration at his failure to perform once again belied her compassionate words.
“Maybe I should have took one of those blue pills.”
“It might not have made a difference. You told me you weren’t up to it. There’s too much else on your mind right now.”
He moved his arm and gazed at her. “I didn’t have that excuse last time,” he murmured as he reached out, the back of his hand caressing her cheek then sliding down to fondle her breast.
“I’m worried about Lillian,” he said when Nan didn’t respond.
“He brought it on himself,” she snapped.
“He was her child.”
“And he wanted to destroy all of us.”
Stoneroad raised himself on his elbows, peering at her. “Give her some time. If you had a child, you might understand what she’s going through.”
Nan hissed a sibilant breath. “Not likely I’m going to have one, am I?” she snapped. She rolled on her side, putting her back to him.
Hurt by the jibe, Stoneroad declined to respond.
“I said from the beginning, we shouldn’t have brought him with us,” Nan said. “Lillian knew—we all knew—he was plotting against us then.”
Stoneroad laid a hand on her hip. “She wouldn’t hear of leaving him behind.”
“He wasn’t a child. He would have survived.”
“Be kind to her, Nan. She needs our support.” His fingers stroked her thigh.
Nan slapped his hand away and pushed off the bed. “I need a shower.”
* * * *
Stoneroad sighed and lay back on the bed. He stared up at the cracks in the plaster of the ceiling. A tree limb scraped at the window behind the curtain as a breeze rose outside. The limb cast a shadow against the far wall. A moment later he heard the water running in the shower. He sighed again, wondering how he’d let things get so out of line. I should have handled Jason. This is my fault as much as his. In some ways he missed the boy. Or was it just that it bothered him how much it hurt Lillian? She’d been so loyal through everything. She didn’t deserve the pain he’d caused her.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed, cradling his head in his hands. Lately his failure to satisfy Nan posed another problem. She was a virile young woman. Would she stay with him if he couldn’t fulfill her needs?
Another sound interrupted his thoughts. At first, he couldn’t place it, thought it might be something to do with the wind. Then it came to him. Someone knocking on the door downstairs. Muttering profanities, he reached for his clothing on the chair beside the bed.
Downstairs, Stoneroad opened the door and found himself facing Runyan and Hetrick. “What now?” he snapped.
“We have more questions for you,” Runyan said, stepping forward.
* * * *
Nan heard voices as she came downstairs. Moving stealthily on bare feet, she crept down the hall, following the sound of the voices as they led to the living room. Clay, his tone irritated but not raised to a volume so she could make out his words. Another male voice responded. That cop, Runyan? Yes. It was him. Nan didn’t enter the room. Pressed against a wall, she strained to hear what they were saying.
“I didn’t…” Clay started.
“We have a witness,” Runyan told him.
“What witness? Nan told you—I never even saw the woman. Nan dealt with her.”
“We’ll need to talk to her again, too. And your wife—that is, if she’s up to it.”
“Lillian is out riding.”
“She’s well enough for that?” another male voice interjected.
“My wife loves to ride. She says it helps her cope...”
“We believe your secretary lied, Mr. Stoneroad,” the other voice said now. “Our witness escorted Miss Wozniak here—in the evening, not the morning as Miss Calder told us.”
Oh. The other detective. Nan ran her tongue across a dry lower lip, hesitated a moment longer, then entered the living room. “Clay,” she said, “what’s going on?”
He glanced up at her from the chair where he sat. The two detectives hovered over him like hungry hawks. Clay gave an irritable grunt. “These guys are accusing you of lying to them.”
“Why would I do that?” she asked, raising her eyebrows as she gazed at them, an innocent grin of her pouty lips.
“We have a witness…” Runyan began.
“I heard that. He must be someone you trust since you’re willing to take his word over mine. As I told you before, the woman came in the morning. I spoke to her. Mr. Stoneroad never saw her.”
Nan noticed an exchange of glances between the two officers. Is there something about this witness they aren’t sharing with us? Her mouth went dry. Her heart pounded. She had to stay calm. They couldn’t really know anything.
“Our guy brought her out here after dark,” Runyan said.
Nan took a deep breath to calm herself and leaned against the wall in the archway. “Well,” she told him, “that may be. But it doesn’t mean she got in the house or spoke to Clay, does it?”
The other man, Hetrick, was studying her. His dark eyes glittered behind gold-rimmed spectacles hanging low on his beak of a nose. The intensity of his gaze rattled her. “What?” she demanded.
“Have you seen Vickie Walker today?”
“Who?” Stoneroad asked.
Nan crossed to stand by Clay’s chair. “The girl who thought I was her sister,” she told him. “No,” she responded to Hetrick. “Why?”
“She’s missing.”
Nan braced her hip against the chair, averted her gaze from Hetrick. “Look, the girl isn’t right. If you knew all I had to go through to convince her I’m not her sister. I felt sorry for her. But I think she’s a little bit nuts. I haven’t seen her for a couple days and I don’t want to see her ever again. No matter what I do, she keeps refusing to accept the truth. Ask Officer Minnich. He thought he’d finally convinced her after comparing my fingerprints with those of her sister. Maybe she took off, looking for another person to harass with her wacky story.”
“You think she’d just leave town—without telling anyone?”
Nan shrugged. “I don’t know. Like I said, I think she has some mental problems.”
* * * *
“That went well,” Runyan said as the two investigators drove back to town.
“I think our showing up rattled them both,” Hetrick told him.
“Fat lot of good it did. Neither of ’em admitted a thing. This girl—the one who’s missing—you think Stoneroad had reason to harm her?”
“She was the only witness to the hit and run that killed Miss Wozniak. Flora Vastine suspected the girl of holding back on what she saw. If she saw a chance to put the squeeze on Stoneroad…”
“He acted like he didn’t know who she is.”
“I think he knows more about all of this than he lets on. Have you noticed how Nan Calder always seems to cover for him?” There was something off about the Calder woman. She was abrasive, and Sticks didn’t trust her. In fact he couldn’t have said he liked her.
Runyan shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time a young woman had a crush on an older famous man.”
“There may be more to it than that.”
“Howja mean?”
“Lydia Brubaker told Flora Stoneroad made a pass at her the night young Jason was killed. I had Harry Minnich look
into the man’s past. It appears he has a tendency to get in trouble over young women. After several accusations of sexual harassment he was discharged from a teaching post at a college in the Philadelphia area.”
Runyan swiveled his head to gaze at Hetrick. “Are you suggesting the old man killed his stepson over Lydia Brubaker?”
“It’s a possibility I’ve considered.”
Chapter 25
Vickie strained at the ropes, but the more she tugged, the deeper they cut into her flesh. Her arms were stretched around a post and her hands bound together at the wrists. Her skin burned where it had been chafed by the cord, but that was the least of her discomfort. During the long night, dampness had crept into the darkness of the room where she’d been confined, and she shivered as it sapped energy from her body. She might succumb to hypothermia if it got any colder.
She’d had nothing to eat or drink since lunch. Vickie thought she might bear the hunger, but she desperately needed a drink. The futile screaming she’d engaged in earlier accomplished nothing save to strain her throat and burn up more energy. Forced to sit in one position for hours on a hard floor had her muscles and bones aching as though she’d endured a long day of physical labor.
Vickie had no idea how long she’d been here or even exactly where Nan had brought her. I don’t know why she went crazy like that. I only wanted to apologize and tell her I meant her no harm. It’d been such a shock when Nan’s face went livid and she’d pressed the blade of a box cutter against Vickie’s throat. Where had it come from? Nan must have had it in her coat pocket all the time.
Nan forced her to scrunch down on the floor so she wouldn’t be seen, even though the parking lot had been empty, and warned her to keep quiet whenever she tried to talk. Finally, she’d given up and tried to stay calm as Nan drove them out into the country. They parked on a narrow lane and Nan hustled her through a patch of woods and into this little building. Dusk had been falling by that time. Vickie saw there were other buildings beyond this one, but they seemed deserted and run down.
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