Cop by Her Side (The Mysteries of Angel Butte) (7 page)

Was that what
she
needed, too? Clay wondered, appalled. Or, at least, thought she needed? Man, he hoped not.

Repeat to self, this isn’t about me. It’s not about us.

“So things have been going sour since he lost his job,” Clay said thoughtfully.

“I... Maybe.”

“You noticed more than you thought you did, then.”

Jane nodded unhappily.

Clay went back to eating, and she did the same. After a minute, between bites, he told her about his visit to Stillwell Trucking. “You ever met any of her coworkers?” he asked.

“Sure. Speaking of the Fourth of July, the owner always throws a big shindig. He has a really nice place out of town. He always has everyone who works for him over for the holiday. Barbecue grills, potluck, great view of the fireworks, families welcome. I’ve gone a couple of times with Liss and Drew and the kids.”

“This year?”

She nodded.

“Who does she like? Not like?”

Jane stared at him, her eyes wide, the color...bewitching. A word that had never so much as crossed his mind before.

“Why does it matter?” she asked. “What are you thinking?”

He hesitated. This investigation was his. She was family. Could he trust her not to repeat things he said to her brother-in-law?

Yeah, he was surprised to realize. He thought he could. And face it, his speculation was just that so far.

“I’m not thinking anything yet. I’m...casting a fly on the water, looking to see what rises,” he admitted. “If your sister really just had an accident and Brianna was grabbed by a stranger who happened to stop, then I have absolutely nothing to go on. Finding her is going to be purest luck. One of the tips people are calling in panning out. You know how those work. The guy stops for gas, has to take the little girl to the restroom and somebody sees and recognizes her picture on the five o’clock news.”

Jane nodded again.

“I’m not saying that isn’t what happened. I hope not.”

She shuddered, not needing him to explain. Stranger abductions were the worst.

“We’re checking into registered and suspected child molesters in the area, for what that’s worth.”

Another nod told him she understood how unlikely it would be for them to find Bree that way.

“But there are these little mysteries digging at me,” Clay continued. “Why was Melissa so insistent about not taking her daughter with her? With her working full-time, it’s surely natural for the kid to want to spend some time with her. Why didn’t they go where your sister said they were going? And why did the accident take place so far out in the country, not on the way to anywhere logical?”

Her lips tightened. He guessed she had asked herself all those same questions.

“Do you remember all the stuff that happened last winter,” she said, “when Colin produced the long-missing Maddie Dubeau?”

Surprised by the abrupt right turn in topic, Clay said, “Sure.”

“Did you know one of the attempts on her life took place at that falling-down resort so close to where Melissa ran off the road? The one you said is some kind of group home now?”

“No,” he said slowly. “I didn’t.”

So she told him about the incident. How Maddie, who had suffered from amnesia, had driven straight to the resort by instinct, thinking it was important. How, after she had talked to the couple who now owned the place, she’d started down the driveway, only to have bullets shatter her car window. “She wasn’t hurt then. I mean, later the guy grabbed her and tried to kill her, you know that.”

“You’re thinking the two things are connected.”

“I really doubt it. How could they be?” Jane pushed the tray away, although as far as he could tell she’d hardly eaten a bite. “Coincidences bother me, that’s all.”

They bothered him, too. And that wasn’t all.

“There’s something you’re not saying.”

She lifted her eyes to his with obvious reluctance. “I kind of found out something I wasn’t supposed to. And I don’t want to tell you, because you might think you have to do something about it. And I really
don’t
think it has anything to do with what happened to Melissa or Bree.”

Maybe not, but she was wondering anyway. And Jane Vahalik had good instincts. They were what had made her a top-notch detective.

“What if I promise not to do anything about what you tell me?”

“Can you really do that?” She sounded skeptical.

He gave that a moment’s thought. No, he didn’t like giving blind promises. But now his curiosity was aroused, and...this was Jane.

“Yeah. As long as it doesn’t impinge on this investigation,” he said finally.

So she told him. The old Bear Creek Resort was indeed a kind of group home, but not a licensed one. In fact, it flew so far below the radar, it was as invisible as the stealth bomber.

He gave his head a disbelieving shake. “So the boys there are all hiding from authorities. This couple running the place is defying court orders, the kids’ parents and just about everyone else. And you knew about it.”

Her look was more sidelong than direct now. “Well...yes.”

“It didn’t occur to you that one of these runaway seventeen-year-olds might have a thing for little girls?” His gorge was rising. “That this nice couple providing a bolt-hole probably don’t actually know much about the boys they have living there?”

“No. Not until... Well, I just got to thinking about it. When you talked about the weird location where the accident took place. And, um, the resort might have been a logical place for Bree to go for help.”

“You just got to thinking.” He was
just
getting mad. “Goddamn it, Jane!”

“I’m sure they vet the kids carefully. I really don’t believe—”

He swore and pushed his chair back, getting up.

“Wait!” Jane shot to her feet, too. “What are you going to do?”

“What do you think I’m going to do?” he said from between tight jaws.

“You promised.”

“You know I have to go check it out.”

Her misery was so apparent, his anger softened. “Jane, I have no choice. I didn’t say I’m going to turn these people in. But I have to pursue an all-too-realistic possibility. Would you want me to do any differently?”

She searched his face anxiously. “No,” she finally said. “If one of them hurt Bree...”

Hurt
was a euphemism on a par with
passed away,
but Clay understood why she couldn’t make herself say words like
raped
and
murdered
in the context of her own niece.

A strange impulse seized him then. “You can come with me if you want,” he suggested, before common sense could jump to his rescue.

“Really?”

He liked the way she was looking at him, as if she thought
he
was a nice guy, too.

But after a moment she gusted a sigh. “I can’t. I promised to keep Alexis today. There’s no way Drew can have her with him if he’s going to stay here at the hospital.”

That was true. Staff would never let a kid that age go back into ICU, even supposing it would be a good idea for her to see her mother looking the way she did.

“But you’ll call me, won’t you?” she asked.

“I can do that,” he agreed, picking up his tray.

They bussed their dishes, Jane collecting the lunches she’d picked up for her niece and brother-in-law. Clay walked her partway, before their routes diverged. When they reached the place where the corridors crossed, he stopped.

“We got distracted. You never did say what you thought about the people Melissa works with.”

Tiny crinkles formed on Jane’s forehead. “I...actually don’t know. She seemed to get along with everyone.”

“What about the big guy? Did you see them together?”

There was a noticeable hesitation this time. “I guess she was a little flirtatious with him,” she said. “Nothing that obvious, though. He was sort of, I don’t know, gallant. Like he was flattered. I didn’t see any secret glances and they didn’t sneak off to meet somewhere.”

“You sure?”

“Positive,” she said firmly.

Clay found he didn’t want to give up that particular scenario, but he would set it aside for now. “All right,” he said. “Jane...”

His voice had come out rough. She suddenly looked shy.

“Take care of yourself, too, okay? Not just everybody else.”

“I do—”

“You barely ate.”

“Oh.” She appeared startled he’d noticed. “I’ll get something later, at home.”

“Okay.” Damn, he wanted to touch her. Kiss her cheek. Comfort her in some way. Or was he really wanting to lay a claim? Unsure of his own motivations, he only nodded and walked away, aware she hadn’t moved and was watching him go.

* * *

“T
HE
BOYS
WERE
with us all morning,” Mrs. Hale told Clay.

With her graying hair in a braid and wearing Birkenstock sandals and a tie-dyed T-shirt, Paula Hale looked like, and maybe was, an aging hippie. Gray streaked her husband’s hair and beard, too.

Clay had seen their wariness from the minute he parked out front of the old log building and walked to the front porch. They were itching to find out how much he knew about their operation, but didn’t dare ask any questions that would make him curious if he wasn’t already.

If not for what Jane had told him, he might not have thought much about it. People always looked alarmed when police cars turned into their driveway.

“You were gathered together when the officers arrived to ask about Brianna Wilson,” he said.

“That’s right.” Roger Hale stood protectively behind his wife, who was perched stiffly on a bench that served as seating for a long table. One of half a dozen long tables. Clay straddled the same bench at the other end.

The shabby interior of the former resort was set up to serve as home for a lot more residents than the Hales were admitting to. Clay had made note of the commercial appliances in the kitchen, the one indication significant money had been spent to update the old lodge.

He’d seen a couple of teenage boys when he’d arrived, although both had faded away immediately. Maybe he should suggest to the Hales they coach the boys to fake it better. That slow slide out of sight would catch the attention of any self-respecting cop.

“How long had this meeting you were holding with the boys been going on?” he asked.

“We started at ten,” Paula told him. “We do one every Saturday, regular as clockwork. Attendance is required, no exceptions allowed. Routine works well for these boys. We’d actually finished and were getting lunch on the table when the deputies arrived.”

“Did any of the boys leave at any time during those two hours?”

The couple exchanged a glance. Not a conspiratorial one, Clay didn’t think.

“A couple of them used the john,” Roger said. “For that matter, I did. Nobody was gone for more than a couple of minutes. I’d have noticed if the back door had opened or closed, or the toilet wasn’t flushed.” Reading Clay’s expression, he said, “Yeah, we get a bad apple once in a while. And some of the kids need time to settle when they come to us.” Code for
they’re really screwed up.
“We have a pretty stable group right now.”

“Looks like you could accommodate a lot more than you have,” he suggested.

“We could. Our numbers rise and fall. Just depends on referrals.”

Clay nodded. “All right. You understand I had to ask when I learned you have a number of teenage boys here who might have significant issues.”

“Of course we do.” Paula sounded as if she meant it. “You haven’t found the little girl? Does her mother not remember what happened?”

“Ms. Wilson hasn’t regained consciousness, although we still hope she will,” he said. “And no. Frankly, at this point we don’t have a clue. That leaves me pursuing all possibilities.”

Expressing sympathy, they saw him to the door together. There he paused, turning finally. “Sounds like you’re doing a good thing here. You ever need us, you let me know.”

Their faces relaxed. They wouldn’t like knowing how obvious their relief was.

“Thank you, Sergeant. We’ll keep that in mind.”

Getting into his Jeep, he caught sight of a couple boys, lurking almost but not quite out of sight. He nodded at one and smiled at the flare of alarm. Judging from their reaction, his smile was not reassuring.

He didn’t quite know how he felt about the Hales’ operation, but he’d keep his promise to Jane. And he’d seen too many kids returned by an overwhelmed court to an abusive home. He couldn’t help sympathizing, even though he also believed absolutely in the rule of the law.

Clay was struck during his drive back to town by how much he’d come to diverge from his father’s more rigid beliefs. A cop, too, his father would have turned in the Hales without a second thought. But then...he’d been only a small step away from abusive himself.

Instead of making Clay uneasy, the reflection eased something in him. He did not want to be a reincarnation of his father. He didn’t like thinking he had been heading that way.

Maybe he and Jane could find common ground.

The trouble was, discounting the contempt for most of humanity his father had taught was one thing. Changing a gut-deep belief that a man took care of a woman, especially the one he loved, and didn’t stand back while she took care of herself—that was something else.

A gulf he didn’t know if he could cross.

CHAPTER SIX

“D
REW
,” J
ANE
SAID
the next morning at breakfast, “you need to stay home today.”

He stared at her in shock. “I have to be at the hospital.”

“No, you don’t. You should spend some time with Alexis. Take a nap when she does. If you want to go back tonight, fine, but you look really bad.” She shook her head when he started to speak. “I’ll sit with Lissa this morning for a bit. Then I need to go by the station, check on my apartment and grab a few things I forgot yesterday, maybe pick up some groceries. I promise I’ll go back by the hospital after that. They have your phone number. They have mine. If anything changes, I’ll call. I promise.”

Comprehension was slow to enter those bloodshot eyes, but it got there. He nodded slowly, as if even so minor a movement required energy he didn’t have. “I’m running on fumes,” he admitted.

“Alexis needs you. She’s scared.”

The five-year-old had fought sleep the night before even after Jane had welcomed her into bed with her. It seemed like once an hour, she woke up sobbing and clutching Jane, who was wearing down herself. Right this minute, she and Drew, bleary-eyed, probably looked like the parents of a newborn.

The home phone rang and he sprang to his feet. A moment after picking up the receiver, he slammed it back down without saying a word.

“Aluminum siding.” He sank back into his chair, looking dazed from what had probably been an adrenaline-inducing cocktail of fear and hope.

“Which phone number does Bree know?” she asked. “Home or cell?”

“Ah...both, I think. I know she’s called me on both.”

Jane wondered if a seven-year-old actually could memorize three separate phone numbers, but maybe. It was also possible that some of those phone calls had been prompted by a friend’s parent, who had told her the number or even dialed for her.

When Jane went to the guest room, Alexis was sitting bolt upright in bed looking scared, and with a gasp threw herself at Jane. “I thought you were gone!”

Jane explained that she was leaving temporarily, but that Daddy would be home with her, and watched as the little girl tore off in search of Drew. It gave her a pang. The girls loved her, she knew they did, but truthfully she was like a stuffed animal Alexis was fond of yet only cuddled as a substitute when her pitifully worn blankie couldn’t be located. Jane shook her head, bundled her dirty clothes into the duffel she’d brought, then carried it along when she stuck her head in the kitchen to say goodbye.

Alexis seemed content enough eating the Eggo waffle her father had toasted for her, but Drew trailed Jane to the front door, hovering a little closer than she liked.

“When do you think you’ll be back?” he asked plaintively, looking as if he was about to cry.

She wanted quite desperately to go back to work and be Lieutenant Vahalik again, not Drew’s fill-in...what? Not blankie. Wife? The thought brought a wrench of anxiety.

No, that was ridiculous. Maybe he and Melissa
had
been having problems, but he loved her. Look how devotedly he’d stayed at her bedside!
He’s grateful to me, that’s all,
Jane told herself.

“Probably dinnertime, but I’ll call, okay?” she said, and couldn’t help feeling a wash of relief at her escape.

Chagrined, she wondered if she’d lived alone too long and was past being able to adapt to the demands of real family life, when you couldn’t have fun for the day with the kids and then return them to their parents and go home free as a bird.

She wondered if Clay would be disgusted to know she had any doubts at all about whether she wanted children. In his world, single women were probably supposed to be hankering to immerse themselves in motherhood.

For just a moment, she found herself wondering what their children would look like, if she and Clay had any.

She snorted and got into her car. Yep. Those would be the children
she
was supposed to stay home and care for while
he
headed out the door every morning to earn their daily bread. To solve cases, play hero and rise in the ranks.

And that would be while
her
career stagnated and died.

But, damn it, not two seconds later she was wondering if she’d see him today.

* * *

D
REW
WAS
SITTING
on the floor trying to fit a teeny tiny sweater on a Bratz doll whose hair reminded him of Jane’s. Alexis was much more deftly dressing her doll, the one with hair more like hers. Born bossy, she had picked out the outfit he was to dress his doll in. It looked kind of slutty to him—the skirt was miniature, and then there were tights that looked like those leggings ballet dancers wore, followed by hot pink boots. His fingers felt big and clumsy.

At the sound of the doorbell, his whole body jerked.
God.
This was even worse than when the phone rang. Who could it be? Maybe Jane had come back for something and couldn’t put her hands on her key...?

He blindly thrust the doll at his daughter. “Daddy has to answer that,” he said.

Through the stained-glass sidelight he could make out the tall, bulky shape of a man, and he knew. It was the cop again.

Sure enough, when he opened the door, there was Sergeant Renner, impassive and somehow merciless. There was no lightness on his rough face to suggest he had good news, but no pity to foretell bad, either.

“Sergeant,” he said past the tightness in his throat. “What is it?”

“May I come in?”

“No” wasn’t a viable answer. Nodding stiffly, Drew stepped back.

“You don’t have news?” he asked.

“I’m afraid not. Is there someplace we can talk?”

“I’m alone with my youngest.”

“Jane’s not here?”

He explained she’d persuaded him to stay home today and that she was on the way to the hospital.

Not seeing a lot of choices, Drew finally led the cop to the dining room table, where they had a degree of privacy but he could see Alexis—and she could see him.

Drew didn’t offer coffee. “What can you possibly have to ask that you haven’t already?” he asked wearily.

“I want you to tell me about your wife’s work,” the sergeant said.

Drew hid his dismay. How had the guy learned that Lissa’s job was a sore point between them? Or had he? Maybe he was poking until he noticed a wince.

“She’s been with Stillwell for six years. Before she had Bree, Lissa worked for a dental supply place. She said it was boring and decided not to go back. Pay’s better at Stillwell, too.”

“Uh-huh. I’ve been wondering about that. Do you mind telling me what your wife earns?”

Drew stared at him incredulously. He and his family were the victims, but they were being treated like criminals. “What does it matter?” he asked.

“I’m just wondering a little why Melissa’s job seems to be so important to her,” Sergeant Renner said blandly. “But let’s get back to that. Tell me what you think of her coworkers.”

Afraid he’d stiffened, Drew talked about Betty Jean Bitterman, always described by Melissa as the old biddy. Lissa wasn’t always kind, but Drew had to admit that Betty Jean was halfway to being fossilized. Glenn Arnett had been new to the company sometime after Lissa had started there.

“Maybe four years ago?” he said. “Yeah, I think it was after Lissa went back from maternity leave. You know, after Alexis was born.”

The sergeant nodded.

“She didn’t say much about him.” Drew told him about the one good friend Lissa had at Stillwell Trucking, the front office receptionist. Courtney Hendricks. Mostly the two women did girl things together, which was good—Drew had next to nothing in common with Courtney’s husband, who owned an auto-body shop.

He should have known, though, that Renner was only working his way around to his true object of interest: James Stillwell.

Clay paged back through his notebook as if he needed to find a reference before pinning Drew with those sharp blue eyes. “Mr. Stillwell assures me that he
relies
on your wife. Seemed a little strange to me, her being only a bookkeeper. Not even the only one. And he’s got Mr. Arnett.”

This
was what Drew didn’t like thinking about. What Lissa and Stillwell were to each other. When Drew asked, she told him he was being ridiculous. They’d had some pretty hot sex one time when she was reassuring him that she wanted him and not her boss. The reassurance had worked, too...for a few weeks.

“My impression,” he said carefully, “is that Stillwell keeps Betty Jean on only out of gratitude for her years with him. I suspect he leans a little more heavily than usual on Lissa because she’s so much more computer savvy. She does a whole lot more than her half of the work. When Stillwell wants a figure, she can pull it up.”

“Rather than him asking Mr. Arnett for that figure.”

“Why are you asking me about this anyway?” he said sharply. “Why not talk to them?”

“I might do that.” He paused. “I’ve been told that your wife and Mr. Stillwell seem flirtatious. I believe that was the word used.”

He stiffened and hoped it wasn’t obvious. “Lissa’s style is flirtatious. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Uh-huh. Well, then, let’s get back to her salary.”

Unable to see any way out of it, Drew grimly told him what she brought home.

Sergeant Renner glanced around, his eyebrows raised, as if assessing the house. “I assume you have a mortgage?”

A big-ass mortgage. Drew had thought they’d overreached themselves when they bought this place, but Lissa had loved the house and at the time both their jobs had seemed safe.

“Yes,” he said tersely.

“You must have been having to dip deep into savings since you’ve been out of work.”

Drew glared at him. “My wife handles our finances.”

“I suppose that makes sense, since she’s a bookkeeper. But you’ll be able to handle the bills until she’s able to take them over again?”

“Yes.”

“You do online banking? Maybe you have investments beyond a savings account?”

“We both have retirement accounts through our jobs. Once I hire on somewhere, I’ll roll mine over.”

“You do know it may take your wife a while to bounce back after a head injury of this magnitude.”

Whether Melissa might be brain damaged was one of Drew’s many fears. This time, the cop sounded compassionate.

“I can’t let myself worry about that until she wakes up.”

“One thing at a time. I understand that.” He took another one of those assessing looks at the living room with a vaulted ceiling and soaring windows, the kitchen with gleaming granite countertops, garbage compactor, double ovens and copper rack over the large island with a second sink. “If I were you, though, I’d be taking a look at my finances, just to see where I am.”

With a nod, he rose, thanked Drew for his time and left. Locking the door behind him, Drew had the unpleasant thought that Sergeant Renner had a point.

The truth was, he admitted, if only to himself, he hadn’t asked as many questions as he should have about how the bills were getting paid. And—
God—
if Lissa didn’t wake up pretty soon, he wouldn’t have any choice but to find out how they were holding on to this house on a bookkeeper’s salary. Especially since right now she wasn’t earning a salary at all.

The kernel of dread that had been with him for months twinged painfully.

Tomorrow,
he told himself.

Maybe tomorrow.

* * *

C
LAY
STEPPED
INTO
the Kingfisher Café on the main drag in Angel Butte and looked around. He hoped this wasn’t one of those places where the servings were skimpy and the combination of ingredients weird. Where food was concerned, he was conservative.

Like Dad?

Irritable, he shook off the thought. Not like Dad. His father had grumbled whenever Mom had served anything unfamiliar for dinner. Clay was more adaptable. He wasn’t much for leafy greens, that was all, especially the ones that looked and tasted like weeds gathered from the roadside verge. And, hey, sue him—he liked meat. He was a big man, and he needed his meals to be substantial.

He didn’t see Jane on his first scan of the interior, but his gaze did find a blackboard listing specials. The chili and a burger with blue cheese both sounded good to him, and he relaxed.

Yeah, and he’d have eaten bitter greens for lunch without a word of complaint just so he could have a meal with Jane. She was the one to suggest this café.

“Hi,” she said from beside him. “Have you been waiting?”

He turned, surprised as always at how far down he had to look. Jane had a personality way bigger than her shorter-than-average height suggested.

“No, just got here. Had to park a couple of blocks away.”

“Me, too.” She wrinkled her nose. “Tourists.”

Clay grinned. “And where would we be without ’em?”

That dimple flickered in her cheek. “You and I would have a whole lot more leisure time.”

“Assuming we still had jobs,” he pointed out. “Think of the layoffs in our respective departments if all those tourists, bless their hearts, didn’t bring crime in their wake.”

Jane actually laughed. “You’re right. I just wish they wouldn’t take the parking spot I want.”

The hostess appeared then to seat them, putting them at a small table against the wall. Clay’s knees bumped Jane’s under the table. He didn’t mind and couldn’t tell if she did.

“I’ve never eaten here,” he said.

She looked up from her menu, her surprise obvious. “Really? It’s the best place in town for lunch. Everyone from the police department and city hall eats here. Besides—” she leaned forward and lowered her voice conspiratorially “—the owner and chef is best friends with Colin’s wife, Nell.”

“Ah. As long as she can cook.”

They put in their orders, then looked at each other.

“You’re not getting much sleep,” he said.

Jane grimaced. “I was a little shocked when I saw myself in the mirror this morning. Alexis keeps waking up with nightmares. And who can blame her?”