The Hideaway

by Meryl Sawyer

  She had always suspected that he had known. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  He shook his head. “You were so damn innocent, and I was the bad boy from the trailer park. I was crazy about you. I didn’t want to ruin your illusions about the perfect family by saying our parents had been carrying on for years.”

  Years. The word staggered her. She gazed into Zach’s earnest face and saw how much he cared about her. Oh my God. He was telling the truth. What she’d thought of as a short fling had been much … more.

  “They’d always loved each other, and your father knew it. When you confronted him, he was forced to do something. They chose to leave town. You can’t blame yourself for the automobile accident. Those things just happen.”

  “All these years, my father’s acted as if—”

  The door swung open. “Sorry, Sheriff, but the chief is on his way. He says the prisoner had better be in her cell, or he’ll fire me.”

  Thirty-one

  Time passed in a monotonous blur, days melding into nights, distinguishable only by the change in the guards’ shifts. Prison, Claire learned, meant the lights were never off, the guards’ radios never stopped playing. There was never one second of the day when she was assured of privacy. Going to the bathroom, showering—every intimate moment became public.

  She wasn’t being treated differently than any other prisoner would have been, she realized. Accused of a crime, you automatically lost your rights. Claire was the only person in the jail, making the guards even more vigilant, more watchful.

  Despite the hovering guards, she felt alone, isolated from the rest of the world. She had always had someone—her father. But he wasn’t with her now. He’d deserted her when she’d needed him the most.

  Had her father twisted the events surrounding her mother’s death to suit himself? Once, she would never have believed that her mother had indulged in a long-term affair with Zach’s father. She had clung to her idyllic view of her family life. Her parents adored her and were deeply in love. The perfect, happy family.

  Had she been wrong? Had there been problems in the marriage? Why hadn’t Claire been able to detect any trouble?

  Back then, her father had been good-looking, successful, a community leader. Jake Coulter had been a handsome devil like his son, but hardly competition for her father. Perhaps her mother had been attracted to Jake because he was a gifted artist, she thought, remembering the magnificent bronze of the owl. That must have been how they’d met.

  She could understand it. Fatal attraction. She reacted to Zach’s virile appeal the same way, unable to resist him despite her better judgment. But she was free to do as she liked; her mother had been married and had a child. Hadn’t her marriage vows meant anything to her mother?

  “You’re wanted in the visitor’s room.”

  The guard interrupted her thoughts, and Claire jumped up, hoping it was Zach. He had made it sound as if he would quickly see to her release, yet days had passed and she hadn’t heard from him.

  When Claire arrived in the visitor’s room, Angela was waiting, her expression tight. “Are you okay?” she asked the second Claire sat down.

  “I’m fine. Tired, that’s all.”

  “We just returned,” Angela explained. “We heard you had been arrested. Paul couldn’t believe it. We know you could never have killed anyone.”

  Hot, salty tears rose in her eyes at her friend’s words. It was great to have people with faith in her. Claire batted her eyes quickly to banish the tears, saying, “Thanks. This is all a big mistake. I—”

  “Claire, your father. Why hasn’t he hired a good defense attorney?”

  “My father was willing to help—if I promised to never see Zach.”

  Angela nodded, her expression troubled. “Why am I not surprised? My father would have pulled the same stunt.” She leaned across the table, coming so close to Claire that the guard stepped forward. “Don’t worry. I’ll find you the best attorney available.”

  Claire almost opened her mouth to say Zach had the situation covered, but something in her, a lingering doubt, kept her quiet. Where was Zach? Why hadn’t she heard from him since the other evening? He’d asked her to give him time, and on faith, she had, asking no questions. Days had passed, and she was beginning to regret her decision.

  Zach rocked back in his chair in the Federal Marshal’s office in Santa Fe, watching Vanessa Trent play the falsely accused woman. The interrogation had dragged on for much longer than he’d expected. With each movement of the wall clock, he imagined Claire sitting in a lonely cell wondering what had happened to him.

  Not since he was a kid and his mother had tied him into the swing and the snake had slithered out of the brush had Zach felt so helpless. Vanessa had a hot-shot attorney at her side. Zach doubted if God himself could get her to admit anything more than she already had.

  “Like I told you, Seth opened dear, dear Max’s safe.” Vanessa batted false eyelashes at Marshal Greer. Not that it did any good. The elderly federal marshal stroked his beard and stared at her. “He said Max wanted me to have that bearer bond to finance my film.”

  “How many times is she going to say the same thing?” Brad whispered to Zach.

  “Until time runs out and we have to either release her or charge her,” Zach answered as he flipped through the file. He was convinced they were missing something. What was it?

  He spotted a small detail, something probably not worth checking, but he needed to get out of the interrogation room for awhile. He told Brad he was taking a break and left the agent with the marshal to continue questioning the actress.

  It was dark by the time Zach returned. He rushed into the federal building and down the hall to the Federal Marshal’s office. Vanessa and the arrogant attorney she’d hired were just leaving.

  “Unless you have any further questions, Sheriff Coulter, the marshal is releasing my client,” the lawyer said more smugly than necessary.

  Zach was too proud of himself to give a damn about the lawyer’s attitude. “I have a question.” He blocked Vanessa’s exit, catching Brad Yeager’s eye over her shoulder. “For the record, tell the marshal where you were on the night Duncan Morrell was murdered.”

  “I missed my flight.” She quickly looked to the attorney, obviously sensing she was in trouble. “I was in Los Angeles.”

  “My client doesn’t have another thing to say.”

  Zach walked over to the marshal’s desk and put his folder in front of the older man. “Ms. Trent missed her flight, but she found a private plane to bring her to Albuquerque. Then she rented a car and drove up to Taos.”

  He turned to face Vanessa, so he could have the satisfaction of seeing her face. He gave her credit for staring at him as if he’d just arrived from another planet.

  “When she didn’t find Duncan at home, she remembered that he was going out to the club to hear Flash and the Rusty Roots. She drove there and found Morrell’s car parked next door at The Hideaway.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” the attorney said, but he didn’t sound convincing.

  “Works for me.” Yeager played along. “Witnesses reported a rental car in the lot.”

  Zach met Vanessa’s glare with a cool smile. “I have statements from the private pilot and the rental car agent, saying you were here on the night of the murder.”

  Vanessa moved closer to her attorney, but her head was still set at a defiant angle. “It’s true. I was able to get here that night. But I did not kill Duncan. I drove up to The Hideaway, saw the ambulance, and police cars and left. I didn’t want to be involved with anything that went on out at that disgusting club. It was only later that I learned someone had killed Duncan.”

  Zach almost smiled. “There wasn’t any ambulance—or police cars. I was the only one on the scene for over an hour. Then a van from Hemphill’s mortuary removed the body.”

  “Don’t say another word,” cautioned Vanessa’s attorney.

  Zach knew she had killed Morrell, but the evidence
was circumstantial. Worse, the murder weapon had been found in Claire’s possession. She could easily be found guilty of the crime. He had believed the lies Seth and Vanessa had told about Bassinger’s death would lead to solving Morrell’s murder.

  He’d been wrong. He needed Vanessa to confess to the killing. That was the only way he knew to free Claire. He decided to roll the dice and bluff. His career in law enforcement would be over as soon as the whole truth was known about the events at The Hideaway on the night of the murder.

  What did he have to lose?

  “You might as well confess,” Zach told the actress while everyone else stared at them. “Stacy Hopkins can put you at the scene of the murder. She saw you open the door and find her in bed with Duncan.”

  “No, she didn’t,” Vanessa replied, shaking off her attorney’s hand as he tried to keep her from speaking. “If she had, Stacy would have come forward before now. Anyway, there wasn’t anything to see. I never got out of the car.”

  “Yes, you did.” Zach hoped his voice sounded as if he were telling the truth. “I just spoke with Stacy by telephone. She’s left her husband and is in Los Angeles with Carleton Cole. He’s taken her to a drug treatment center. She’s in counseling and she told him all about sleeping with Duncan.”

  It was difficult to tell if Vanessa was buying this. Everyone else was hanging on every word, even Yeager, so Zach thought he sounded as if he were telling the God’s honest truth. He had to sound convincing. Claire’s life was at stake.

  “Stacy didn’t give a damn about Duncan. She only slept with him to try to get money back that Carleton had invested in Morrell’s bogus prints. Stacy didn’t come forward earlier because she didn’t want Carleton to find out what she’d done. But she has her head on straight now. She’s willing to testify.”

  “Claire Holt shot him,” Vanessa insisted, but Zach detected a hint of desperation in her voice. “The murder weapon was found in her shop.”

  “The gun could have been planted,” Yeager put in.

  Zach played his trump card, “It was planted because Claire Holt has an alibi for the time of the murder.”

  It took a little more badgering, but the bluff worked. Vanessa Trent confessed to the killing. Zach was positive her attorney would cut some type of deal, but he didn’t care. It was the only way he knew to solve the crime and get Claire out of jail.

  “Nice work,” Yeager told him as he walked Zach to his car. “Did you really speak to Stacy Hopkins?”

  “Hell, no. I have no idea where she is. Hopefully, she is getting treatment.”

  Yeager’s brows drew together. “As sheriff—”

  “I’m turning in my badge,” Zach said. “I’ve abused my authority.”

  “This is tough. You’re one of the best,” Yeager said. “You pushed the envelope, but you solved the case, providing some smartass attorney doesn’t try to pin it on Claire.”

  “No way. I was bluffing about Stacy Hopkins, but Claire does have an alibi.”

  It was midnight when he drove home from Santa Fe and pulled up to the jail. Two hours later Claire was released.

  “Zach,” she said, as she came toward him, her clothes rumpled from days in a holding bag, her eyes glazed from lack of sleep. “I thought you’d forgotten me.”

  “No way.” He pulled her to him, wondering if he could ever bring himself to tell her the whole story. “It took longer than I expected. I’m sorry if you were upset.”

  “I knew you were coming,” she assured him, but something in her tone told him that she had questioned him. “Let’s get out of here.”

  In the parking lot she asked, “They said the charges against me were dropped. Did you find the real killer?”

  He opened the Bronco’s door for her, not wanting to brag, saying, “The federal marshal is handling the case now from his Santa Fe office. It’s not just murder. It’s an international print fraud ring that the FBI has been tracking for over a year.”

  “Who killed Duncan?” she asked as he helped her inside.

  “Can’t you guess?” He closed her door and went around to the driver’s side.

  “This isn’t fair,” she complained as he started the engine. “I’ve been racking my brain for days, asking myself how the killer knew I had spent the night at The Hideaway and didn’t have an alibi. Only you or someone in your office knew.”

  “Max Bassinger saw you the next morning when you were hitching a ride home. He saw you getting into the van outside The Hideaway.” He drove out of the lot and down the dark street toward Claire’s house. “Remember, I said Duncan’s mystery woman was the key to this case. I was right. He was divorcing his wife to marry Vanessa Trent.”

  Claire gasped, then shook her head. “That’s hard to believe. Duncan was attractive, but someone like Vanessa had her pick of men.”

  “You overrate her. Vanessa’s career is stalled. She was desperate for money to produce a film starring herself, of course. Duncan’s little print scam was much more extensive—and more lucrative—than anyone realized.”

  Zach pulled into her drive and shut off the engine, explaining how Vanessa secretly flew into the state, then drove to Taos and discovered the man she loved sleeping with Stacy Hopkins. During the explanation, he didn’t tell Claire about his bluff, a risky gamble that had led to the confession.

  “I thought Duncan loved Vanessa,” Claire said as they got out of the car.

  He opened the front gate, and the dogs were waiting for them. He ruffled Lobo’s ears saying, “He probably did love Vanessa, but Stacy Hopkins was just too tempting.”

  Claire unlocked the door and flicked on the lights. They went into the living room and collapsed on the sofa. He put his arm around her, wishing he didn’t have to tell her this story. He’d much rather curl up, holding her, but she deserved to know the whole truth.

  “Vanessa killed him in a fit of jealousy,” Claire said.

  “You’re right. Jealousy and greed. Morrell sold her a lot of phony prints that she’d been hoping to use to finance her film.”

  “I thought Vanessa had an alibi.”

  Zach shrugged, still amazed at Vanessa Trent’s arrogance and toughness. She almost got away with murder. “She lied and expected us to believe her. Know what? We almost fell for it. Then I checked and discovered she wasn’t on the early morning flight.”

  “But how did she know Duncan was at The Hideaway?”

  Zach gave Claire a little squeeze, again wishing all of this was behind them. “Duncan told her that he was going to the club when she called to say she’d missed her flight. When she arrived here and Duncan wasn’t home, she drove out to the club, then walked in on them. She flipped and went out and got the gun Duncan kept in his car and a small pillow she’d taken from the airplane to use as a silencer.”

  Her green eyes narrowed speculatively. “I can’t believe it! I saw Vanessa the morning after Duncan’s death when she came into my shop. She seemed genuinely grief-stricken, crushed by his death. In a million years, I never would have suspected that she’d killed him.”

  “It was probably her best acting ever. She brazened her way through the entire situation.”

  “What made you suspicious?”

  “Motive,” he explained, still downplaying his role in solving the case. “Eliminating as many suspects with motives as possible is the foundation of police work. Yeager hadn’t gotten around to checking Vanessa’s alibi when Max Bassinger died. We knew they were lying about the time of death. It made us wonder what else they might be lying about.”

  “You were able to prove Max died earlier?” she asked, snuggling closer.

  “Yes. He died between midnight and one in the morning. Seth couldn’t resist crowing to Vanessa that he knew the combination to Bassinger’s safe. There was a fortune in bearer bonds inside.”

  “They stole them?”

  “Vanessa persuaded Seth to take them, or so he claims. Knowing the bonds were missing, we obtained a search warrant for both their homes and a court o
rder to check their financial records. We squeezed Seth hard, and he confessed.”

  Claire shuddered, her body trembling in his arms. “Circumstantial evidence can be incriminating. I was headed for the gas chamber. Thank you so much for all you did. I truly appreciate it.”

  He listened to her, his eyes on her lips. He longed to kiss her, and make love to her all night, but he needed to tell her the rest of the story. He knew she was going to be angry, and she had every right to be. Things were changing between them. He felt more and more comfortable with Claire each time he saw her. The last thing he wanted to do was ruin his chances with her.

  He could wait and keep this night for himself, but what good would delaying do? The entire story would be in the morning papers and blasted across every television screen in America.

  He had to tell Claire himself.

  “You were never in danger of going to prison,” he began quietly. “You had an alibi.”

  Claire pulled away from him, a frown etching her smooth brow. “You found the stranger? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Remember the morning I came into your shop and asked if you’d lost your panties? How do you think I got them?” He watched her slowly shake her head. “I put them in my pocket when I left you in bed that morning … in The Hideaway.”

  She gazed at him a moment, then his words registered. “You? You were the man I spent all night with?”

  “Yes. I was the man with you at The Hideaway.”

  “It couldn’t have been you,” she cried, utterly astonished. “The man had a full bushy beard.”

  “I was wearing a fake beard.”

  “You creep!” She scooted away from him, anger underscoring every word. “How could you take advantage of me like that?”

  “I knew nothing about the Roofie.” He vaulted to his feet and shoved his fists into his pockets to keep from grabbing her and kissing until she forgave him. “How was I supposed to know you were in some altered state and wouldn’t remember anything about me come morning?”

  “Didn’t you notice I was acting strange?”