by J. A. Jance
“I just got off a call where I introduced myself to Detective Jana Davis, the Coconino County investigator who’ll be looking into that case. Butte, Montana, has been put on alert as well. Right now we’ve got McCluskey dead to rights on the kidnapping charge, but sending him up for murder in one of those other cases would be a lot more to my liking.”
“Mine, too,” Ali agreed.
Just then a call came in from B., so Ali hung up with Dave and switched lines. “Where are you?” B. asked.
“Waiting outside Chris and Athena’s house. Mom wanted to talk to them on her own, so I’m giving her some space. What’s happening there?”
“Shirley’s on her way to Prescott to pick up Cami and bring her home.”
Ali was astonished. “They’re releasing her this soon?”
“On the condition that she’ll have someone in the household to look after her. Her father evidently wanted her to come back to California with him. She said absolutely not, and they got in a huge row over it. I suggested that she come stay at our place. She said no to that as well. Since she’s dead set on going home, Shirley volunteered to help out. She says she lives close enough that she can look after Cami while keeping an eye on her mom at the same time. I also said you and I will pitch in as needed, and Alonzo, too, if necessary.”
“Cami actually agreed to that kind of arrangement?”
“Evidently. When it came to choosing between her dad and Shirley, there was no contest. As far as I know, Mr. Lee is on his way back to California with his nose permanently out of joint. How are things on your end?”
“Once Mom finishes talking to the kids, she wants to go speak to the truck driver who hit Dad.”
“Is that a good idea?”
“I don’t think so, and it sounds as though you don’t either. But she’s bound and determined, too.”
“Do you know who he is and where he lives?”
“His name is Milton Albright, and he lives in Camp Verde.”
“I’m surprised the cops let that leak.”
“They didn’t. That nugget of information came straight from Frigg.”
B. sighed. “Figures,” he said, but he made no further comment on that score. “Just so you know, without Cami we’re so shorthanded that I’ll probably end up staying here at the office tonight. You can bring me a change of clothing in the morning, or I’ll have Alonzo drop some off. Unless you need me to be there with you. If you do, just say so.”
Ali’s first choice would have been to have B. at home that night, but these were tough circumstances all the way around. She was tempted to tell him what Dave had told her about the McCluskey case, but she didn’t. That information would come out in due time, and when it did, she’d need to be as shocked and surprised as everyone else.
“Don’t worry about me,” Ali said. “I’m looking after Mom right now, and you’re looking after the shop. We’re both doing jobs that need to be done. By the way, how’s Mateo working out?”
“I’d say surprisingly well, except it’s not so surprising. He’s exceptional. He’s too new to turn loose unsupervised, but he’s catching on faster than anyone expected.”
Ali’s phone vibrated in her hand, and the caller ID screen said Sister Anselm.
“Sister Anselm is calling. I’ve got to go.”
“Let me know what happens with the truck driver. I’m predicting wholesale disaster.”
“So am I,” Ali whispered.
She hung up with B. and picked up Sister Anselm’s call. “Sorry I didn’t get back to you earlier.”
“I’m sure you’ve been busy.”
“I have been.” Over the next few minutes, Ali brought her friend up to date on everything that was going on. When she got to the part about Shirley volunteering to look after Cami, Sister Anselm called a halt.
“What are Shirley Malone’s qualifications for that kind of duty?” the nun demanded hotly. “Is she a trained nurse? Is she a patient advocate? Of course not, but you just happen to know someone who is, and I’m available. So text me the address of Cami’s home in Cornville. Let Shirley know I’ll be there to take over once they arrive.”
Ali didn’t bother arguing. There was no point. “Yes, ma’am,” she said for the second time that day. She no longer had the strength or energy to put up a fight.
Just as she hung up, Edie emerged from the house and opened the passenger door. Ali turned her phone back to silent and put it away.
“Did you get the address for me?” her mother asked.
Ali nodded. “It’s already in the GPS.”
“Let’s go, then,” Edie said. “I want to get this over with before I lose my nerve.”
|CHAPTER 51|
COTTONWOOD, ARIZONA
Halfway through his second full day at High Noon Enterprises, Mateo Vega was afraid his head was going to explode. He had arrived on Saturday expecting a job interview and nothing more. Instead he’d been hired on the spot. Then, due to the crisis with Cami, he’d been put straight to work.
In the intervening time, he’d learned so much new stuff he could hardly believe it. In the joint he’d learned at his own pace, but the speed of that had been determined by the availability of materials accessible through interlibrary loans. He wanted to send Mrs. Ancell a note to tell her about this wonderful stroke of good fortune, but there was literally no time. Very soon now someone from High Noon would need to let his parole officer know that Mateo was staying on in Arizona because he had a JOB! But that would have to wait as well, because there was too much happening.
Earlier that morning Stu had told Mateo to take a break and walk across the street to the RV park and check in with the manager. Sid had shown him the unit in question. Someone else might have found the tiny space lacking, but for someone who’d spent more than a decade and a half in an eight-by-ten cell, the place was downright luxurious. His cell hadn’t had a kitchen. The RV did. It might have been minuscule, but it included a two-burner stove, a microwave, and a one-drawer dishwasher. His cell had had a stainless-steel toilet but no shower. The RV had a bathroom with a shower and a door that could be opened, closed, and even locked from the inside if necessary. Showers in the Monroe Correctional Facility were public and notoriously dangerous. There’d been no television set in his cell. This one had a forty-inch flat-screen attached to one wall of the tiny living room, and both cable TV and a Wi-Fi connection were included in the monthly rent.
Compared to what Mateo had known before, he would be living in the lap of luxury. And when Sid told him the sum total for the first and last month’s rent as well as the security deposit, Mateo didn’t have to pause. High Noon’s signing bonus had already been electronically deposited into his bank account, and he knew he had enough to cover it.
“I didn’t bring along any checks, and they’d be from out of state anyway, so why don’t you use this for my upfront costs,” Mateo suggested, handing Sid his Visa. Moments later the charge went through, and suddenly Mateo Vega had his own place to live—a private one with no drunken roommates!
Yes, life in Arizona was very good indeed.
|CHAPTER 52|
CAMP VERDE, ARIZONA
During the drive from Sedona to Camp Verde, Edie Larson maintained complete radio silence. Ali meanwhile wrestled with a growing sense of dread. She couldn’t imagine that the driver of the truck would be happy to have them show up on his doorstep, much less be interested in hearing what her mother had to say. And if this ended up turning into some kind of litigious situation, her mother’s in-person visit could have dire consequences. Once lawyers and insurance companies got involved, Ali feared that whatever nest egg Edie and Bob had set aside for their retirement would be completely wiped out. Even so, despite the possibility of impending lawsuits, Edie remained determined to say her piece.
As they turned onto South Third, both sides of the street were lined with cars. Since the Albrights’ home was smack in the middle of the block, it seemed likely a crowd was gathered there. Ali pulled over an
d parked behind the last car.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked.
Edie nodded. “I’m sure,” she answered, “but this time I’d like you to come along.”
Clearly relegated to a backup role, Ali followed her mother down the street, up the Albrights’ front walk, and onto their porch. When Edie knocked on the door, a man wearing a clerical collar answered.
“Is Mr. Albright available?” Edie asked.
“I’m Matthew Grogan, Mr. Albright’s pastor. Can I help you?”
“My name is Edie Larson,” she replied. “Robert was my husband. I’d like to have a word with Mr. Albright if it’s at all possible.”
Grogan gave Edie a long, assessing look before making up his mind. “All right,” he said, “one moment, please. I’ll see what I can do.” He closed the door then, leaving Edie and Ali waiting on the small wooden porch for what felt like an eternity. Eventually, however, the door opened again.
The man standing before them now was stocky and solidly built. He was somewhere in his mid-forties and dressed in workaday khakis. His eyes were red, as though he’d been crying, and the look of devastation on his face was the same one Ali had seen on her mother’s when she’d first arrived at Sedona Shadows earlier that morning.
For several seconds Milton and Edie simply stood staring at each other in silence. “I’m Milton,” he said at last. “What do you want?”
Edie took a deep breath. “I came to tell you that my husband had been having mental issues—dementia issues. I was asleep when he left and had no idea he’d gone out on his own. I came to tell you that what happened isn’t your fault and that I’m so sorry.”
Another long silence followed. Then, to Ali’s utter astonishment, the two of them—the grieving truck driver and the grieving widow—simply fell into each other’s arms and wept. It was, as Ali told B. later, a moment of pure grace.
When they parted at last, Milton wiped the tears from his face and said, “Thank you for telling me. Would you care to come inside?”
“I’d better not,” Edie replied. “I’ve said what I came to say. We’ll be going now.”
With that she turned and retraced her steps, Ali once again following behind.
Back in the car, silence returned. Ali couldn’t help but feel slightly ashamed of herself. Clearly her mother’s kind gesture had meant the world to a man shattered by having taken someone else’s life through no fault of his own, and Ali had done her best to dissuade her mother from taking that course of action.
“Where do you want to go now?” Ali asked.
“Back home,” Edie said. “I need to start facing up to the folks at Sedona Shadows. They’re our neighbors. They’re all going to want to say how sorry they are, and I need to let them do it—the same way Milton Albright did for me.”
Back to Sedona Shadows they went. This time Edie insisted on walking in through the lobby while Ali went around back to park. When she entered the lobby several minutes later, she found Edie in the midst of a crowd of concerned and sympathetic residents. Eventually Ali and Edie returned to the unit, where Betsy, using her own key, had made herself useful in the interim. With the help of the staff in the facility’s kitchen, she had organized a small buffet on the kitchen counter, complete with finger sandwiches, cheese and crackers, and a variety of cookies.
For the remainder of the afternoon, Ali stayed with Edie as a steady stream of visitors filed through the unit. Other than Betsy, who kept cups filled with either tea or coffee, no one stayed long. They came, spoke briefly to Edie, had some refreshments, and left. Even so, by five o’clock in the afternoon Ali could tell that her mother’s emotional capacity was completely depleted.
“I think we need to shut this down for now,” Ali announced. She found a Post-it Note, wrote the words “NO VISITORS, PLEASE,” and stuck it on the outside of the door before she closed it. Then she turned to her mother. “I think you should rest.”
Edie nodded her agreement.
“Would you like me to bring you a tray from the dining room?” Betsy asked.
“No thank you,” Edie said. “I’m not hungry. I’m going to undress and lie down for a while, although I doubt I’ll sleep.” She reached into her pocket, pulled out her phone, and turned it on. Until that minute Ali had no idea the phone had been on her mother’s person.
“Fifty-three calls,” Edie said after a moment, “but I’m not going to try to return any of them right now.”
“Good idea, Mom,” Ali agreed. “Just leave them be for the time being. Tomorrow you can return them or not at your leisure.”
For an instant Ali considered offering to stay over, but then she thought better of it. She had no doubt that her mother needed some time and space to grieve on her own. After planting a good-bye kiss on her cheek and giving her a quick hug, Ali left.
All day long, Ali’s phone, too, had been silently blowing up. On the walk back to her car, she discovered she had forty-six missed calls and eighteen voice messages. Most likely there would have been more of the latter, but by now her voice-mail box was probably completely full. She also had seventy-three new e-mails and dozens of text messages. At that point Ali decided to take a little of her own advice. She returned B.’s call and let him know she was on her way home. She left everyone else’s for later.
In the house Ali found Bella in the kitchen eagerly awaiting her arrival. There was a note from Alonzo saying there was homemade Senate bean soup in the fridge if she wanted to heat up some of that in the microwave. Right that moment Ali wasn’t hungry, any more than her mother had been.
Once in the bedroom, she put her almost-dead phone on the charger. Then she undressed and slipped into the shower. There, standing under a cascade of steamy water, she finally gave way to the storm of tears she’d held in abeyance all day long. Her father’s note had made it clear that he’d done what he felt was best for him and what he thought best for his wife, but had he understood how much it would hurt everyone he left behind? How could he go off and leave them without giving any of them a chance to say good-bye? How could he do that?
Ali stood there crying until she ran out of both tears and hot water at the same time. Once she’d dried off and donned her robe, she padded out to the kitchen. She hadn’t been wrong in trying to encourage her mother to eat, so she took that bit of her own advice to heart as well. Fortified by some soup, she returned to the bedroom. There, seated on the love seat with Bella cuddled next to her and with both her phone and computer within easy reach, Ali set about returning all those calls and messages.
|CHAPTER 53|
PRESCOTT, ARIZONA
By five o’clock that evening, Sheriff Holman was on the phone with Detective Jana Davis of the Coconino County Sheriff’s Office.
“I’ve spent the whole afternoon reviewing everything we have on the Maureen Richards case,” she told him. “The witness interviews are all on VHS tapes, so there’s really no way to share them, but I can summarize what they said. Maureen’s family members have always believed that Harvey McCluskey killed her. Her sister, Rochelle, reported that when Marnie was little, she and two of her brothers had spent several hours trapped at the top of a stalled Ferris wheel. The brothers had both walked away from the experience unscathed, but Marnie had been left permanently traumatized. Since she’d been terrified of heights, Rochelle maintained that the idea that Marnie would willingly take a hike into the Grand Canyon was completely out of the question. McCluskey’s response had been something to the effect that Marnie had been excited about starting her new life with him and had wanted the two of them to do something daring together.”
“It was daring, all right,” Dave muttered under his breath. “It was downright deadly.”
“That’s what the investigators thought at the time,” Jana agreed, “but with no signs of foul play, no physical evidence, no questionable bruising, and no apparent defensive wounds, the prosecutor wasn’t willing to take the case to court. In his opinion investigators didn’t have
enough. Maybe we still don’t, but I’d like to come have a chat with him about it.”
“Be my guest,” Dave said. “Have at it.”
“Thanks,” Detective Davis said. “I believe I will. As a matter of fact, I’m already on my way. I should be there in just under an hour.”
By then Dave’s early-morning serving of over-easy eggs was in the distant past. After winning the election, he and Priscilla had talked about moving to the county seat in Prescott, some eighty miles away, but Priscilla’s thriving nail-salon business was based in Sedona and Cottonwood. Besides, they both loved their home in Sedona. So he had rented a studio apartment where he batched it during the week unless he felt like making the long commute home. As it happened, this was a night Priscilla had invited friends over for dinner. Late as it was, he called to let her know what she’d probably already figured out—that he wouldn’t be there to greet their guests.
“What else is new?” she asked resignedly. “I’m pretty much used to it by now.”
For the second time that day, Dave hiked over to Whiskey Row’s Chuck Wagon. The bar in the back was doing land-office business with an entirely different demographic—the evening drunks as opposed to morning ones. Once again Dave’s beverage of choice was black coffee. For food he ordered a bowl of chili.
As he ate his solitary meal, he couldn’t help but consider that if Harvey McCluskey had just left Cami alone and if Ali hadn’t gone digging into the guy’s background, none of the rest of this would have come to light. The man appeared to have gotten away with multiple murders for decades. In the absence of the failed kidnapping, he might have kept right on doing so.
* * *
An hour and a half later, Dave was sitting on the other side of the two-way mirror as Detective Jana Davis entered the interview room where Harvey McCluskey and Detective Morris were already seated and waiting.
“Who’s this?” McCluskey asked when she entered.