Walleye Junction (2 page)

Macy flipped through the information she'd gathered on the homeowner. Ron Forester was a Flathead Valley–based accountant who was serving time for aggravated sexual assault. He'd told the police that the kidnappers had used his home without his knowledge. Macy had watched his recorded interview from her hospital room. He'd held up his hands.

Nothing to do with me.

Macy checked the Edgewood Road property's phone records again. In the past three months there'd been no outgoing calls aside from the one Philip Long had made on the night he died. The property's utility records told a similar story. There'd been a spike in usage in the days prior to Long's abduction. The property was about a half mile away from Route 93. There were no neighbors and so far Macy could find nothing to tie Philip Long to the owner of the property. She checked the files again. A local company called Mountain Security was contracted to monitor the house alarm. According to bank records, payments for the service were still being made. Whoever broke in must have known the access code. Macy picked up Ron Forester's photo. The man was a convicted felon. She had no reason to trust anything he said.

“Nothing to do with
me
, my ass,” she said.

Macy sifted through the photos of the home's interior. The kidnappers had forced the lock on the back door and cleared out the basement storage room where they'd kept Philip Long. There were Chinese takeaways in the refrigerator, a warm coffeepot, and dishes soaking in the sink. So far they'd found two sets of unidentified fingerprints that couldn't be accounted for.

A large flock of blue jays peppered the dawning sky before settling into uppermost branches of a birch tree at the far end of the garden. Macy glanced at the clock hanging over the kitchen table and frowned. A highway patrol officer was picking her up in an hour. Macy had protested she was well enough to drive back up to the Flathead Valley on her own, but her new boss at the Department of Justice had insisted that it was either a driver or medical leave. Macy gave in. If she wanted Philip Long out of her dreams she needed to figure out what had happened out on that isolated stretch of Route 93. The first thing she had to do was go see the house where he'd been held captive. Photographs weren't good enough.

There was a light step on the stairs and Macy turned to see her mother, Ellen, coming down in her robe and slippers. She wasn't alone. A naturally cautious child, Luke held tight to his grandmother's hand. He was nearly two and half and tall for his age. With his shaggy black hair and aquiline nose, Luke was a dead ringer for his father, former Chief of State Police Ray Davidson, but when his green eyes lit up, he was pure Greeley.

“Mommy!” he said, flinging his arms wide and racing toward her.

Macy smiled through the pain as she bent low to pick him up. The seat belt strap had left deep bruises across her chest and her left wrist ached where it had slammed against the SUV's roof. Ellen put a hand on her daughter's shoulder.

“Please don't put on an act for my benefit. I know you're hurting. Did you take some ibuprofen when you got up this morning?”

Macy groaned as she slid Luke into his high chair.

“Yes, but it doesn't seem to do much good.”

“It will take time to heal, but you know that. Anyway, nothing is broken so you'll mend soon enough.”

Macy started making faces at Luke. He giggled and grabbed at her nose.

“I wish I had your faith,” said Macy.

“Macy, you're stronger than you think. I am grateful they're sending a driver around though. You're not ready to sit behind the wheel just yet.”

“Highway patrol officer Gina Cunningham has seventeen years of experience. I doubt she's happy being reduced to a
driver
.”

Ellen laughed. “If I get a chance to meet her I'll keep that in mind.”

Macy held up the coffeepot. “I just made a fresh pot. Do you want some?”

“Thank you, that would be lovely.” Ellen drifted through the downstairs rooms, turning on lights. “Why do you insist on sitting in the dark? It's creepy. And speaking of creepy, are those crime scene photos all over our kitchen table?”

“Sorry about the mess. I'll clear it up in a sec.”

Ellen took a quick look. “If I were looking at these photos I'd have every light in the house switched on.”

“In my spare time I'm trying to save the planet.” Macy swung open the refrigerator door. “I'm making scrambled eggs. Do you want some?”

“No thank you. I'll just have a bowl of cereal.” Ellen smiled. “I really like your new haircut. It suits you.”

Macy brushed her red hair forward so it framed her face. “I'm not sure I like it this short. I feel oddly exposed.”

“Sweetheart, you're being ridiculous. It's shoulder length. Besides, most of the time you'll pull it into a ponytail like you've always done.” Ellen brushed a piece of lint from Macy's navy blazer. “You look well. You're starting to get some of your color back.” She touched her daughter's cheek. “You even have a few freckles coming through. Must be spring.”

Macy turned away from her mother's steady gaze. Ellen was incredibly perceptive and Macy didn't want her to see how conflicted she was feeling. Macy had been offered medical leave. It would have meant more time at home with Luke. It was her choice to return to the Flathead Valley so she could continue investigating Philip Long's kidnapping and murder. Once she was committed to a case she always saw it through. Every file and photo was stored in her head; she'd work every angle until it made sense. She'd failed Philip Long in life. She would not fail him in death.

She bent low so she could look her son directly in the eyes. Fortunately for Macy, Luke wasn't as perceptive as her mother, but she knew there would come a time when she'd have a lot of explaining to do. There were other moms who were home for dinner every night and had weekends off. She wasn't one of them. This wasn't the first time her job had taken her away for days at a time. There were a lot of police departments in rural Montana that didn't have any detectives on staff. As a special investigator working for the state, she was sent where she was most needed.

Macy made a conscious effort to change the subject. She pointed to her mother's yoga mat. It was rolled up next to the kitchen door with her gym bag.

“Are you going to your yoga class today?”

“Yep, it's nice that Luke likes the day care center. It's good for him to socialize.”

“It's good for you too.”

“I socialize plenty. The girls are coming over for dinner tomorrow night.”

Macy smiled. The girls were all in their late sixties and loved playing a dirty game of poker.

“But the girls don't go with you to yoga?”

Macy was pretty sure her mother had met someone. Ellen was taking more care in her appearance and had finally gained back the weight she'd lost after Macy's father died. During a recent shopping trip at the mall, she'd introduced Macy to an older gentleman named Jeff who they'd bumped into in the food court. Apparently, Jeff and Ellen attended the same yoga class. Ellen had been so flustered she'd had difficulty speaking.

“Thank you again for looking after Luke,” said Macy. “I couldn't do this without you.”

“It's wonderful for all of us. I love that you and Luke are here with me.”

Macy ruffled Luke's hair as she handed him an apple she'd cut up into wedges. He was generally quiet but took a great deal of satisfaction in repeating any interesting words he heard, the more inappropriate the better. Macy still forgot and cursed sometimes. It was hard not to laugh when he mimicked her, but Ellen had put her straight on that one right away.

Don't you dare encourage him,
she warned.
There's nothing cute about a child saying fuck.

Macy had loved how formal it sounded when her mother said it.
You're right. It's much cuter when
you
drop the f bomb.

Ellen picked up a photo of Ron Forester's living room and held it up to the light.

“This house is beautifully furnished,” said Ellen.

“It should be. It belongs to a rather well-off accountant.”

“Accountants do seem to have all the money.” Ellen waved a hand over the rest of the images on the kitchen table. “Where was he during all this?”

“He's serving time for aggravated sexual assault.”

“Charming.”

“I'm interviewing him tomorrow.”

Ellen raised an eyebrow. “Where's he being held?”

Macy pulled out a bowl and cracked her first egg. She would not meet her mother's eyes.

“Montana State Prison, Deer Lodge.”

“Ray Davidson is also being held there.”

“I'm aware of that.”

“Have you spoken to him recently?”

“Not since he agreed to plead guilty on all counts.” Macy switched on the hob and placed the frying pan on the burner. “I wanted to thank him for not dragging all of us through the courts. Not that it matters much as everyone learned about our affair during the inquiry.”

“It wasn't an affair. It was a relationship. He was separated from his wife when you were seeing him.”

“Not the second time around.”

“Well, he lied to you and just about everyone else. Why didn't you tell me you spoke to him?”

“I knew you wouldn't approve.”

“He's behind bars, but you're not safe yet. I know you're still not over him.”

Macy kissed Luke on top of the head. “It's difficult to move on when I'm constantly reminded.”

“Stop torturing yourself. Luke may resemble Ray, but I really think he takes after your father. We'll dig out the family photos so you can see for yourself.”

“Mom, you may not understand this, but I really needed to tell Ray that he did the right thing.” She scooped some scrambled egg onto a plate and put it on the counter to cool. “What he did was awful, but he's living a nightmare.… They'll never let him out.”

“Don't you dare feel sorry for that man. He's corrupt through and through. It's his wife and children who you should feel sorry for.”

“His wife has moved the family to Chicago. I hear she's already engaged to a guy she dated when she was in high school.”

“Can you blame her for wanting to move on as quickly as possible?”

“No, not really.” Macy took the seat next to Luke and started clearing away the case files. “Sometimes I wish I had the option of leaving.”

“Running away won't help matters. It's better to stay and work through this. I know it's hard now, but if you continue to do your job well, people will soon forget.” Ellen paused. “Are you going to be seeing Aiden when you're up in the Flathead Valley?”

“That's the idea. It's been a while since we've had any time together so it will be nice.”

“I told you to take things slow, but this is glacial.”

Luke popped a piece of apple into Macy's mouth and howled with laughter when she made a face.

“After everything that's happened I don't know if it's wise for me to date someone in law enforcement again.”

“With the hours you work who else are you going to meet, let alone date?”

“This is true.”

Ellen smiled over her cup of coffee. “You could always try online dating. I hear there are sites that specialize in single women who are attracted to men in uniform. I'd say you qualify.”

Macy laughed and it hurt.

“I'm going to pretend I never heard you make that suggestion.” The doorbell rang. “That will be my ride.”

*   *   *

Gina Cunningham's hairstyle was short, sharp, and spiked with a grid of golden highlights that reminded Macy of a leopard print. There was nothing subtle about her personality either. She was known for speaking her mind and for this reason Macy was thankful they'd always been on good terms. Gina had said nothing about Macy's recent troubles with Ray Davidson. She'd instead asked after her son and expressed concern that Macy might be trying to get back to work too soon after her accident. As usual, Gina was direct.

“I hope you don't mind me saying this, but you look like shit, Greeley.”

They arrived at the outskirts of Walleye Junction at around nine in the morning. The site of Macy's accident had been cleared. If it wasn't for a hastily erected roadside shrine, someone could pass by unaware of what happened four nights ago. Gina slowed the highway patrol car for a better look. Stray bits of broken glass sparkled on the asphalt. Skid marks twisted into a question mark. Cards fluttered every time a car passed by and flower bouquets, some still wrapped in plastic and others clearly made of plastic, sparkled in the midmorning light. Pools of melted candle wax dotted the pavement and an enterprising church had left a notice offering its free counseling services for mourners who were in need of spiritual guidance.

Philip Long may have been a divisive figure in Walleye Junction, but he was also a popular one. It seemed his critics had considered him a worthy opponent. Macy had scrolled through the comments sections on various obituaries. One admirer wrote,
Sometimes it takes an outsider to shine a light on our problems
to which someone responded,
Although I respected Philip I always wondered why he didn't return to England if he was so opposed to how we do things over here.

Seeing a break in the oncoming traffic, Gina crossed over the southbound lanes and pulled onto the hard shoulder. She opened the window and leaned out to get a better look at the messages of condolence left for Philip Long's family.

Macy gripped her hands together on her lap and focused on the middle distance. It was a clear spring day and everything was sharp and new. The cherry orchards were in blossom and verdant evergreen forests coated the surrounding foothills. Higher up, the mountain peaks of the Whitefish Range were covered in a crisp layer of white.