Dylan glanced at Ricky. “Shouldn’t we—”
“We should.”
They picked their way through the woods, and made it back to the motorcycle unnoticed.
Ananke’s cell phone rang.
“How was the party?” Ricky asked.
Barely eleven p.m., she had just finished taking a shower in anticipation of heading out again for some late night recon. “Interesting. How was your excursion?”
“The same. I have something you’re going to want to see. I’ll bring it right over.”
“Ricky, wait! Don’t you even think about—”
“Relax, Annie Stress Ball. I was kidding. I’m not coming over. I do have something you need to see, though.”
“What it is?”
“A piece of a car.”
“Okay. And?
“There’s a paper bag behind the ice machine on your floor. Get it and take a look inside, then call me back.”
He hung up.
Grumbling, she grabbed the ice bucket and exited her room. The community ice maker lived in a nook near the elevator. Unfortunately, when she arrived, a guy in gym shorts and a T-shirt tight enough to show off his beer belly was staring at a snack vending machine as if the choices might change at any second.
He glanced at her and grinned. “Never anything healthy when you really want it.”
She smiled back politely and stuck her bucket into the slot on the ice machine, angling herself enough to keep the man in her peripheral vision. He’d returned to staring at the vending machine. If Mr. Clean Living didn’t leave before Ananke’s bucket filled, she’d have to try again later.
Just take the candy bar.
As the last space in her bucket filled, she heard a clunk behind her and saw the man lean down to the extraction slot. She shook the bucket as if trying to make room for more ice.
“Have a nice night,” he said.
She glanced over her shoulder. “You, too.”
She tracked the sound of his steps as he walked down the hall. When she heard a door open and close again, she stepped over to the nook entrance and peeked around the corner. The hall was empty.
Quickly, she squeezed around the side of the ice machine. On the ground behind it sat a small paper bag. She snatched it up and returned to her room.
She knocked on the connecting door to Rosario’s room, and then dumped the ice bucket in her bathroom sink. As she walked back into the bedroom, Rosario opened the door and leaned in.
“You wanted me?”
Ananke dangled the bag. “Ricky left us a present.”
“What kind of present?”
“If he wasn’t lying, it’s a piece of a car.”
“Not a very big piece.”
“Not a very heavy one, either.”
Ananke opened the bag and dumped onto her table a piece of plastic about the size of a crushed soda can. She picked it up and flipped it over. Blue on both sides.
She handed the piece to Rosario and called Ricky, putting him on speaker.
“Okay, we’ve got it,” she said. “Where did you find it?”
“On the road into the solar farm, next to a tree that had been hit recently by something big. You know, like a car. A blue one.”
“You’re thinking it’s from Patterson’s Prius.”
“Seems like a good possibility to me. Thought maybe Rosario could confirm car type.”
Ananke looked at Rosario.
Rosario examined the piece for a few more seconds before saying, “Possible, but I am not sure.”
“Oh, you’re there,” Ricky said. “Good. If you can’t figure out exactly what it’s from, you could probably rule out a bunch of models it doesn’t belong to, right?”
“That is more likely.”
“Did your scouting turn anything else up?” Ananke asked.
Ricky briefed them on his and Dylan’s exploration of the solar site.
“You’re sure the guard who spotted you can’t ID you?” Ananke asked.
“One hundred percent positive. He only saw us for a couple seconds and most of that time it was just our backs.”
“You said he came back to the trailer before he should have. Any idea why?”
“Not a clue. Maybe he ran out of coffee or something. Who knows?”
Ananke hit him up with a few more questions, then said, “Good job, Ricky.”
“Did you just compliment me?”
“Don’t make me regret it.”
“You did compliment me.”
“Good night, Ricky.”
“Good night? But it’s still—”
Click.
Chapter Fifteen
While Rosario got to work on the car fragment and other info Ricky had turned up, Ananke headed out on her after-dark mission.
Via her tracking app, she located three of the Bradbury police cars she’d tagged earlier that were in use. Using side streets and approaching from behind, she eliminated the first car as the one she was looking for, and made her way to the second. At 10:40 p.m., she hit pay dirt, confirming the driver of squad car number two was Officer Harris.
Ananke had two goals for the evening. First: seeing if Harris made a return trip to Patterson’s. According to the information Rosario had found, the graveyard shift started at ten p.m., therefore it was possible Harris had already visited the house, but Ananke’s intuition told her no. The previous night the woman had arrived at the home around eleven p.m., meaning she had probably taken some time to settle into her shift first. There was no reason to think Harris would do anything differently tonight.
There was also no reason for Ananke to tail the woman herself.
She retrieved her phone.
Ricky answered on the third ring. “Hey, what’s up?”
“I was wondering if you might still be up and willing to do a little something for…” She heard laughter and music in the background. “Where are you?”
“Bradbury Brewery. Come on over, I’ll buy you a beer, then I can get on whatever it is you need.”
“I’m a little busy. And you’re about to be, too.”
“Hey, didn’t hurt to ask. What is it you need Ricky to do?”
“I want you to watch Patterson’s house again. I have a feeling the cop from last night might make another visit. If so, I want to know what she does.”
Silence, then, “Couldn’t we just set up a camera to do that?”
“I apologize if I’m bothering you. I didn’t realize that you were occupied with something that takes precedence over the job.”
“Come on. It’s not like—”
“Get your ass over there.”
“Yes, boss. As soon as I finish this glass, I’ll be on my way.”
“Now, Ricky.”
“All right. I’m going, I’m going.”
Ricky hated to waste a good beer, and the Bradbury Brewery’s Hidden Rapid IPA was a pretty damn good one. He considered downing the remaining half pint, but despite his rogue façade, he was a professional at heart, and knew the added alcohol would not aid his senses. Plus, there was the promise to Ananke.
He pushed the glass away, muttered his apologies to the drink he was leaving behind, and stood up.
“Where you going, man? It’s still early,” Magnus said from the other side of the table. He was a software engineer at someplace called Weedoo Noise. He and the two with him tonight—Kailee and Bennett—had been part of the group Ricky met at the brewery the previous evening.
“When work calls, what are you going to do?” Ricky said. He tossed a couple of twenties on the table. “Next round’s on me.”
On his way out, he noticed a copy of the Bradbury Evening Independent lying on one of the tables. Front and center was a picture of a burning big rig and trailer, with emergency personnel working to put the fire out. The headline read: TRUCK BLAZE CAUSES MAJOR BACKUP.
During the meeting that morning, Dylan had mentioned the accident had delayed his and Liesel’s arrival. Ricky grabbed the paper. If nothi
ng else, he could do some light reading while on stakeout.
Ananke switched off her lights right before turning onto Merrick Road. The rising quarter moon provided just enough illumination to keep her from driving into a gully. When she reached Harris’s driveway, she rolled to a stop.
No light on inside the house, and no C-Max parked out front. Though Ananke hadn’t seen anyone else when she spied on Harris earlier, she had to assume, until proven otherwise, the cop didn’t live alone. So, as much as she wanted to pull down the driveway, Ananke continued to the same forgotten road she’d used before.
She moved quietly through the dark on foot until she reached the edge of Harris’s lawn. Using her camera, she checked the position of the sensors for the motion-activated floodlights, and discovered a narrow corridor between two that should allow her to approach the house without triggering any illumination.
She crept through the dead zone, ready to sprint back into the darkness if one of the lights came on. None did.
At the house, she paused and listened.
All was quiet on the Harris front.
Ananke worked her way to the back door and scanned for a house alarm. After a few moments, her app responded with:
NO SYSTEM DETECTED
A country house outside a small town that likely had a very low crime rate meant an alarm would be wasted money. Besides, most of the cops Ananke knew liked to take care of their own problems.
Harris had, however, invested in top-notch locks, which meant it took Ananke fifteen seconds longer than usual to pick each. After stepping inside, she found herself in a combo family/dining room. The furniture appeared to be at least a decade old. Utilitarian. Holdovers from when Harris’s parents were still alive, perhaps.
Ananke crept into the hallway and checked the rest of the rooms. When she was sure no one else was present, she turned on her phone’s flashlight, used her fingers to control its intensity and direction, and started a more in-depth search.
The only thing of remote interest in the front of the house was the mail on a side table in the dining room. Bills, mostly. She read the opened ones and noted none were past due.
Next stop, the master bedroom. She scanned it from just inside the door. The furniture here was a lot newer than that in the living room, and a hell of a lot more stylish. It felt almost like this room belonged to an entirely different house. It seemed that after Harris’s mother died, the officer could bring herself to change only the room she slept in.
Two stacks of books and a lamp with a cell phone cord wrapped around its base covered the nightstand on the left side of the bed. Though the other nightstand had a matching lamp, only a single book lay beside it. Harris obviously slept on the left.
Since the right side of the bed was closer, Ananke approached it, intending to check under the box springs. But the cover of the lone book on the nightstand stopped her.
She picked it up. Lab Girl by Hope Jahren, with a bookmark about three quarters of the way through. The description on the back explained it was the memoir of a female scientist. Ananke flipped open the book to the marker and felt some give to the binding, telling her the book was indeed in the process of being read.
If Harris was reading it, why wasn’t it over on the other stand? Had someone else brought it here?
She set it down and pulled open the nightstand drawer. A pad of paper and a pen, a hair brush, and an eye mask. She picked up the brush and noted long brown hairs in the teeth. Harris’s hair was shorter and almost black.
A long-haired boyfriend? Or girlfriend?
Ananke touched the pad of paper and felt a bump. She pulled it out and ran her fingers over it. Indentations, several near the top of the sheet and in the middle. She removed the top three pieces of paper, slipped them unfolded into her jacket pocket, and returned the pad to the drawer.
She looked under the bed, found nothing there, then moved around to the left nightstand. No nonfiction here. Harris apparently had a penchant for mysteries with a medical bent. Ananke checked the drawer and found nothing unusual.
She headed into the master bathroom and noted two toothbrushes in a cup by the sink. A check of the shower turned up more of the long, brown hair.
Okay, Harris has a…friend. So what?
Ananke wasn’t here to delve into the cop’s love life. Her interest was strictly in any evidence of Harris being involved in Patterson’s disappearance.
Ananke entered the walk-in closet. On one side were half a dozen police uniforms, and a whole bunch of shirts and pants and a few dresses that all appeared to be about Harris’s size. On the other side were more woman’s clothes, only Ananke didn’t need to look at the tags to know they were too small to fit the cop.
A girlfriend, then.
Ananke started turning back to the bedroom when she noticed the two expensive-looking business suits tucked in among the smaller clothes.
Could it be…
She searched one of the suits and found a cough drop wrapper and thirty-five cents. In the inside pocket of the second suit, she found a small stack of identical business cards.
SCOLAREON, INC.
Natasha Patterson
Chief Financial Officer
Well, I’ll be damned.
Harris didn’t have just any girlfriend.
She had a girlfriend who’d gone missing.
The door to Rosario’s room still hung open when Ananke returned to the hotel.
A peek inside revealed Rosario studying her computer. “Guess what I found out?” Ananke said.
Rosario looked up. “I have no idea.”
“Come on. Guess.”
“Um, okay. Harris has Patterson tied up in her basement?”
Ananke stepped inside. “Wrong, but not bad. But Patterson has been to her house.”
“Really? Are you sure?”
“Positive. Patterson is, or was, Officer Harris’s girlfriend.”
Rosario stared at her. “You are serious?”
Ananke told her what she’d discovered.
“It would explain Harris’s trip to Patterson’s house,” Rosario said.
“It would. And why she knew about the trip wires. Either she’s involved in the woman’s disappearance and wants to make sure no one comes snooping around, or she’s wondering what happened to her.”
“If she is not involved with those who took her, why would she not report it to the police?”
That question had occurred to Ananke, too, but she’d had time to think about it during the drive back. “We’ve pretty much established that Patterson is not AWOL of her own accord, and that whoever took her are the ones who’ve been sending the messages that claim to be from her, right?”
“Right.”
“What if Patterson—or Harris, for that matter—wanted to keep their relationship secret and no one knew about them? Small country town. People might not be as understanding.”
“Then whoever is sending the messages would not have known about Harris and would not have written her.”
“Exactly. And Harris would have tried every means of getting ahold of her without success. Short of anything that might expose the women’s relationship, since she couldn’t be positive that Patterson was in trouble. And wouldn’t want to damage her reputation.”
Rosario grimaced. “Okay, but if I were Harris, I would have eventually tried to reach Patterson directly through Scolareon.”
“If she’s not involved, I’m sure she did. And they would have told her that Patterson was out of the office for a while. But Harris is a cop. A little more investigating, and she could have probably found out about the messages the company received. The problem would be that none of it was concrete proof that something was wrong.”
“Sounds to me like you are convinced Harris had nothing to do with it.”
“No, I’m not convinced either way. Both choices are equally possible.”
“Perhaps we should ask her?”
“We might just have to do that, but not until we have
a better handle on what’s going on. For the moment, it’s better if we keep an eye on her.” She ran a hand across the back of her head. “I’m beat. Let’s pick it up again first thing.” She turned for the door, and stopped. “I totally forgot.” She pulled out the notepad pages she’d found and handed them to Rosario. “There’s something on these.”
After running a finger across them, Rosario set them on the table and reached into her computer bag. As she rummaged around, Ananke’s phone rang.
The display read RICKY.
“How’d it go?” she asked him.
“Your instincts were right.”
“Harris is there?”
“Just left. Stayed about seven minutes and checked the house. Same pattern as last night.”
“She didn’t go inside.”
“Nope.”
“Okay, good. Thanks, Ricky. You’re released for the night.”
“Wait, there’s something else.”
“What?”
“I don’t know if this means anything or not, but…you know that accident Dylan and Liesel passed on their way in this morning?”
“Uh-huh. What about it?”
“There’s an article in the local paper, with pictures of the two guys who died.”
“I assume this is leading somewhere.”
“I saw both of them last night.”
She paused. “In person?”
“Yeah.” He told her about overhearing the two men arguing at the Bradbury Brewery. “I thought they were talking about some stupid small-town crap they’d gotten messed up in. But I’m thinking now it had something to do with whatever they were hauling. The one guy sure didn’t want anything to do with it anymore. I know, it probably has nothing to do with our gig, but you said to let you know if anything strange came up.”
“I don’t know if it has anything to do with it, either, but I appreciate you keeping your eyes open. Good work tonight, Ricky. Go get some sleep.”
“Copy that.”
As Ananke hung up, Rosario said, “Look at this.” She held up one of the notepad pages. The white surface was covered by pencil rubbings that brought the indentations in the paper to life. Three lines in three columns: the first column contained strings of characters, the second numbers only, and the third dates.
Town at the Edge of Darkness Page 14