“There’s your answer. I saw it going that way and decided not to stick around and land my ass in a jail cell until they figured out they had the wrong guy.”
“So why come back?”
“I missed you. You missed me too—twelve missed calls from you.”
“The detective wants to know what hotel you saw Connor at in Salt Lake.”
“Oh yeah? What else does he know?”
“He’s talking to everybody; everything’s bound to come out. He said you’re a person of interest. If you help him, he’ll help you.”
“You believe his bullshit?”
“If Connor cheated on Stacey and she found out, maybe they fought and he ended up killing her. He wants to follow up on the thing at the motel. There’s no other evidence.”
“Val will have my ass.” Jack stared out the windshield into the night.
“Why?”
“He owns the place. But, damn, I have to look out for myself first. He taught me that. I saw them at the Spring Grove Motel, but leave out the fact that Val owns it.”
“Okay.”
“My turn. I kind of need your help. You’re the only one I can trust.”
“I wish I could say the same about you.”
“Do we have to do this again? She’s dead. Gone. No threat to you. Stop with the jealousy. People might think you killed her.”
“You’re crazy. No one would think I killed her. She was my best friend.”
“Crime of passion, baby, happens every day. She did you wrong, you lost control, it happens to the best of us.”
“She said things had gotten serious for the two of you. How do you think I felt, Jack, hearing that from her?”
“Call me Mr. Right Now. She planned to marry Mr. Right next month. End of story for me.”
“What if she broke it off? Would you be with her?”
His eyes hardened. “Why are you doing this? It’s over.”
“She was my friend and you went after her!”
Jack ran his hands over his face. “I told you, I didn’t know about you and her being friends.”
“Would it have made a difference?”
He took a deep breath and shook his head. “I’m losing my patience here.”
“Would it, though? I need to know you wouldn’t knowingly betray me with my best friend.”
“You and me, we never made any promises. Be honest. I saw you tonight, out there on the porch with that guy. Don’t pull this holier-than-thou bullshit with me. I don’t buy the double standard thing.”
“A kiss is not the same as sex.”
“My mistake.” He reached for the door handle.
“You’re going?”
“What happened with Stacey doesn’t change anything for me. If it does for you, I’ll deal with it. I am done with this conversation. You understand me? Done.” He lifted her chin again and made her look at him. “Come here.” He pulled her to him.
“I’ve been worried about you,” she said, relenting. “I didn’t know where you went off to.”
“I’m here now.” He kissed her.
“What do you need my help with?”
“That’s my girl. That’s more like it.”
He took the phone from his pocket and placed it in her hand.
“What’s this?”
“Her phone.”
“Stacey’s phone? Where did you get it?”
“I found it on the floor.”
“I felt so bad when I heard you found her.”
“Not your everyday kind of experience.”
“Why did you take it?”
“I don’t know. I panicked and I took it.”
She stared at the phone in her hand. “It’s a crime to take evidence.”
“Are you on my side or what?”
“Of course I’m on your side.”
“I deleted some stuff, nothing important.”
Kelly didn’t tell him the Sheriff’s Department could get Stacey’s phone records. She didn’t want to set him off. She knew all about Jack’s temper, and Detective Antelope had warned her to be careful. The way he’d just ambushed her had made her afraid of him for the first time.
“Give it to the detective,” he said. “This is me cooperating.”
CHAPTER 27
Father Todd Bellamy drove home to Rock Springs alone. The evening’s service had gone well. He’d said a few words about Stacey and her wonderful family and fiancé and led the rosary and closing prayers, everything that was expected of him.
The hardest part of these things for him was being with people when they cried. The sound of sobbing grated on him the way nails on a chalkboard got to other people. And Fern Hart had cried with abandon, clutching at Max and Connor like they could save her from falling into the abyss of grief.
It got so bad, her moans had gotten so loud, that he’d gone to her and whispered that she might want to leave and compose herself. At that, the waterworks had turned off.
He’d wanted a minute with Connor but hadn’t managed to make it happen. Stacey’s mother and brother had pulled him close and wouldn’t let him go, or let anyone else in. To be expected. Still, it irked him, because of his importance in Stacey and Connor’s life. He’d hoped his special connection with the couple would be acknowledged by the family tonight.
In the center console, he found his cigarette case and lighter. He inhaled the first drag of an American Spirit, and his irritation faded. He most enjoyed smoking in the car and in the bath, where he could indulge at leisure in his guilty habit. Only occasionally did he allow himself the pleasure in other places.
It annoyed him that the detective and psychologist had discovered his weakness. It would be important in the coming days to maintain control over his image and credibility. He knew how these investigations went. A small seed of doubt in a lawman’s head, and a person could be under the microscope for months.
The life of a priest was inherently lonely. Everyone else in that mournful place tonight had gone home with someone to share the sadness with and find comfort in the sharing. Not Todd.
And now Connor knew aloneness. He worried about him. Stacey had always been the stronger of the two, and now she was gone. His unique role as the couple’s spiritual counselor had allowed him to watch their relationship evolve. Over time, Connor had become increasingly dependent, insecure, and controlling. Stacey had confided in him about the burden many times.
Unfortunately, his best advice, to step down and let Connor take the lead, had created some balance in their partnership—which did not sit well with Stacey. Looking back, it was clear that their relationship had been on a collision course for some time.
In the end, her strength had ruined everything. Nothing he did or said could have changed the course of events. Stacey, stubborn and determined; Connor, uncertain and hesitant. Could it have ended any other way?
They were his parishioners, his spiritual children, and also his friends. He’d tried to do right by them, and he’d failed.
All his life, he’d found it hard to make friends. His mother had always said others envied him and all the gifts God had bestowed on him—his looks, his intellect, his superior athletic ability. She said someday he would find friends of his caliber: quality people, people worthy of him.
After he was ordained, he found a way to be comfortable with others. The young people of the parish had needed guidance and attention, and they’d looked up to him.
A depressed young teen when he met her, Stacey Hart had welcomed his interest. As her priest, he’d offered spiritual guidance and comfort—and, when she grew older, friendship. The grief he felt over her death he would now manage on his own, with only prayer to sustain him.
He’d chosen this life, though, and he’d never once regretted it, even on the hardest days. The particular difficulties of life in the priesthood suited him better than the life of a layperson. He smiled, pleased with himself, relishing the comfort of self-awareness.
Still, a sense of unease lingered;
he hadn’t seen this terrible thing coming—a life taken, a life story ended. What else waited ahead, out of sight, out of his control?
CHAPTER 28
The funeral procession left Our Lady of Sorrows Church on Broadway and traveled up the South Side Belt Route to the back entrance of the Rock Springs Municipal Cemetery. The route bypassed Cedar Street and the house where Stacey Hart was murdered.
The historic cemetery was lush and serene, planted with flowering trees and ornamental bushes—the greenest spot in an arid, high desert town. I parked under a sprawling cottonwood tree and stepped out of my car. It was twelve noon and heat rose in waves off the black asphalt lanes.
I’d never met Stacey. Max had asked me to come. Even after a year in treatment, it had taken a lot for him to ask.
I joined the others at the gravesite. Detective Antelope stood at a distance from the circle of mourners. I knew he wanted a vantage point from which to watch all who came to say goodbye to Stacey—hard to do if he was right in the middle of things. He’d called earlier to set up plans to meet for lunch at the Village Inn after the funeral.
Father Todd Bellamy said the final prayers. Max held a basket of long-stemmed white roses, which Fern distributed to the assembled guests. After the mourners tossed the flowers on the bronze casket and the service was over, Max led his mother to the limousine. He nodded to me as he walked by. Tomorrow morning, the process of working through his grief and anger would continue.
One by one, the vehicles rolled away. Only a couple of people stayed to watch as they lowered Stacey Hart into the ground. The afternoon wind came up right on schedule, carrying the sweet smell of the funeral flowers into the air.
I walked to my car before the gravediggers finished the hard work of burying Stacey Hart. A gentle wind rustled through the trees, making a muted sound like the lazy shuffle of playing cards. Antelope was still standing and watching them as I drove away.
CHAPTER 29
Antelope hadn’t spotted any new faces at the church. A smaller group had made it to the cemetery. Scruggs was there as the official representative of the Sweetwater County Sheriff’s Department.
Antelope watched from the shade of a cottonwood tree, studying each face closely. If the killer was going to pay final respects to Stacey, this graveside service would be the last chance.
The women from the Our Lady of Sorrows Convent were all in attendance in formal habits, heavy black robes, and white surplice collars. Standing close together, they looked like one single unit rather than individual women. It reminded him a field of birch trees that shared the same DNA: if one of the trees was cut down, there would be no need to plant a seed; it would sprout back from another tree on its own.
Father Bellamy officiated, of course. Toni Atwell was there, but she stood apart from the rest of the mourners, keeping a distance between her and the sisters and the sheriff, too. She might have been mistaken for a security guard in her navy blue pantsuit and dark glasses.
Kelly Ryan arrived alone and joined the prayer circle. She wore the same long black dress and black lace scarf she’d donned for the visiting hours at the funeral parlor. Her polished toes gleamed red in the green grass.
When the prayers began, she pulled the scarf up to cover her head and exposed a bruise on her right shoulder that Antelope hadn’t noticed the night before. She turned her face away as the casket was lowered into the ground. She spoke to nobody and no one spoke to her as the prayers ended and the crowd dispersed under the weak morning sun.
Besides the gravediggers, he was now alone in the cemetery. White flower arrangements, cross and heart shapes, surrounded the open grave.
He was about to leave his post, leave Stacey in her grave, when a truck pulled up and parked.
It slowed and stopped; the door opened. A male stepped out, hand on the open door. He took one step toward the gravesite, did a quick scan of the surroundings. Jeans and a black sweatshirt—hood up—and sunglasses. He must have felt someone watching. He stepped back inside, slammed the door, and sped away.
Antelope raced down the hill and got a look at the license plate before the truck squealed around the corner and disappeared from sight. He radioed Sweetwater County dispatch, read off the numbers, and ordered an all points interstate bulletin put out on the Dodge Ram, white, with Utah plates. He was sure it was Jack Swailes.
As he walked to his car, a yellow Volkswagen sped toward him. It stopped, bucked, and stalled out when Kelly yanked the emergency brake.
“Got something for you, Detective,” she said when he leaned toward the open window. She handed him a brown paper bag.
He spotted a bruise on her left shoulder—an exact match for the one he’d spotted earlier on her right. He lifted the bag. “What is it?”
“Jack wants you to know he’s cooperating with the investigation. It’s Stacey’s phone.”
“Did he do that? I warned you not to see him.” He pointed to her arm. “Are you okay? I’m sorry I put you in this situation.”
“I kind of didn’t have a choice. He came to me.” She shrugged. “Remember I told you about the tracking app? She downloaded it.”
“Good work. We’ve been looking for this.”
“He deleted some things. Probably love messages between him and Stacey. But you guys can get those records, right?”
“I already put in a request for the voicemail transcript.”
“Don’t you want to ask me something?” She twirled a section of hair around her finger.
“You got the name of the motel?”
“It’s the Spring Grove Motel. And oh, here’s a little something extra—Val Campion owns the place.”
He thanked her and she drove away.
There was no point hanging around the cemetery. He’d like to go after the Dodge, but he didn’t have a clue which direction it had gone in, and he’d lost time talking to Kelly. The road to the cemetery came out on a highway that bypassed Rock Springs’s business district. The interstate highway exits were less than a quarter of a mile away.
He cruised around for a while. No white Dodge Rams on the road. He checked some parking lots in the area; no luck. He was gone.
He gave up and drove over to the Village Inn to meet with Pepper Hunt.
CHAPTER 30
I was sitting at the corner table Antelope and I both favored—the one with the view of White Mountain—when he arrived.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said, sliding into the booth. “I almost got run over by a yellow Volkswagen.”
“Who was it?”
“Kelly Ryan—Stacey’s best friend, or so she says. She cut out of the funeral early, then came back to give me something.”
“And you’re going to tell me what, after pausing for dramatic effect?”
“It’s Stacey Hart’s phone.”
“Why did Kelly have it?”
“She claims Jack Swailes paid her a surprise visit last night and gave it to her.”
“I thought he left town.”
“He came back. But he’s gone again.”
“What’s her connection to Jack Swailes?”
“Kelly has a secret life. She met Swailes at the Astro Lounge, she’s a dancer there. His uncle owns the place. She said what happened between them was a hookup, but I’m getting a different vibe.”
My mind went into overdrive. “She wanted Jack for herself? She killed Stacey because she was jealous?”
“I wouldn’t rule it out at this point. I’ve just upgraded her to ‘person of interest.’”
“You don’t think she’s credible?”
“She didn’t tell me she worked at the Astro or knew Swailes. She didn’t let on to Stacey about her and Swailes. And she never indicated any romantic connection with Max Hart, past or present. I saw the two of them together last night, and from the way they kissed I’m sure it wasn’t the first time.”
Max and Kelly? This was news to me. “So you’re wondering what else she isn’t saying.”
“She’s a master
at deception. I didn’t get it at first. I usually pick up on that kind of thing.”
“You don’t like being wrong. Neither do I. As a therapist, I get to hear all the secrets—at least, that’s the delusion I operate under. But Max has never said a word about anything romantic with Kelly. He’s only talked about her as a friend from the past.”
“Different situation, though. He holds back on you, and he stays a sick puppy. She holds back on me, a murderer goes free.”
“Possibly.”
“I’m being dramatic?”
“Possibly.”
“And self-important.”
“Yes. But your work is important. And hard. You don’t need someone intentionally misleading you, whatever reason she might have to do so.”
“I have to trust Kelly enough to follow up on some information she gave me. According to her, Swailes spotted Connor going into a no-tell motel with another man. He passed the info on to Stacey. I have no corroboration for this, haven’t even questioned Mr. Collins about it. He’s due at my office in an hour. But I might hold off on that line of questioning for now. I’ve got bigger fish to fry with him.”
I leaned forward, intrigued. “Can you tell me?”
“I went back to Cedar Street the night of the murder. It was dumb luck, but I found Stacey’s engagement ring on the ground. Like she took it off and tossed it.”
“He hasn’t said anything that would indicate she was in that frame of mind?”
“He admits they argued about Swailes and he asked her to fire him, and she wasn’t happy about it. Otherwise, he’s sticking to the lovebirds in paradise theme.”
“You have your work cut out for you.”
“I’ll follow up on the Salt Lake angle when I have some facts. I have the name of the motel. I don’t want to tip Connor off and give him time to get the hotel and destroy any records they might have. For the time being, he can relax and think he’s in the clear about his activities there.”
I raised my eyebrows. “That was fast. How did you narrow down the motel?”
“Kelly Ryan got it out of Swailes last night.”
On a Quiet Street Page 11