Slowly he walked over and climbed into the car, but he didn’t put it into gear. He stared unseeing through the windshield for a long while before he turned to Ursula. “They got him.”
“Who?”
“Andi’s murderer. Joel Thaine is in police custody.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
THE NEXT MORNING, Mac was up at five, hoping to reach Detective Ralston as soon as he came in for the day, but it was after seven before Russ returned his call. “We’ve got him, Mac. That detective you hired is good. Based on that tip from the sister and knowledge of Thaine’s habits, he was able to locate him in a popular sushi bar in Omaha. Followed him home and the Nebraska state police made the arrest.”
“How long until he’s extradited back to Oklahoma?”
“Already done. He’s in a cell here in Tulsa now.”
“Is he talking?”
Russ gave a mirthless laugh. “He waived his right to remain silent and now he won’t shut up. From what I understand, he confessed to the arresting officers, confessed to the US marshal who transported him here and probably confessed to the guard who fed him breakfast.”
“Odd.” Thaine had been steadfast in proclaiming his innocence before he disappeared. He’d even given a couple of media interviews, playing the role of wrongly accused to perfection. Why now would he suddenly confess?
“Very odd. I’m on my way to question him in fifteen minutes.”
“Won’t his lawyer shut him down?”
“He’s waiving his right to an attorney, as well. I have a bad feeling about it all.”
“You think he’s up to something?”
“As I said, I haven’t spoken with him yet. But I have to wonder if he’s going for diminished capacity.”
“Some sort of insanity plea?”
“Possibly. Apparently he mentioned voices and avenging angels.”
Mac’s gut tightened. “Angels?” A character in one of his books had claimed to hear voices from avenging angels. Could it be a coincidence?
“We’ll get to the bottom of it. I’ve got to go now, but I’ll call you back later today and we’ll talk more, okay?”
“All right. Thanks, Russ.”
Mac ended the call and stared through the window into the darkness. It was possible, he supposed, that guilt had worried away at Thaine’s conscience, eventually leading him to confess to the crime. But he hadn’t turned himself in. His conscience seemed content to let him hide out until they caught up with him. Mac suspected Russ was right, that this sudden burst of cooperation and refusing counsel was all part of Thaine’s backup plan.
Avenging angels. If Thaine had simply said he was hearing voices, Mac would have written it off as an obvious ploy. But throw in the angels, and Mac had to wonder if it wasn’t part of a larger scheme. What was Thaine up to? Mac squared his shoulders. Whatever it was, it wasn’t going to work.
* * *
MAC TRIED TO READ, or whittle, or do something productive, but in actuality, he spent all morning and part of the afternoon pacing between the rooms of his house, waiting for the phone to ring. He’d just started a pot of coffee when Blossom jumped up and ran into the living room, tail wagging. Mac opened the front door just as Ursula raised her hand to knock. “Hi. Come on in.”
“Thanks.” She stepped inside, carrying a tote bag, and reached down to stroke Blossom’s head. “Any more news?”
“Not much. They have him in Tulsa now. Can I take your coat?”
“No, I can’t stay. Rory will be home from school soon.” She reached into the bag and pulled out a plastic container. “I just came by to bring you some of this mulligatawny soup. I figured you’d be sticking close to home, and wasn’t sure if you had food in the house.”
At the mention of soup, his stomach rumbled, reminding him he’d never eaten lunch. Ursula laughed. “I guess I have my answer.”
“I do have plenty of sandwich fixings, but this is much better. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. You’re invited for dinner tonight as well, if you like.”
“Thanks, but no. I’m feeling unsettled tonight. I wouldn’t be good company.”
“I understand. I’ll just—” Mac’s cell phone rang.
He held up a hand to ask her to wait and answered the call. “This is Mac.”
“Mr. Macleod, this is Detective Ralston.”
“Yes, Russ?”
“Do you still have the personal items recovered from the crime scene? Including a silver bracelet?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Could you please send that bracelet to me by overnight mail?”
“Why?”
“There have been some developments in the case and we need to take another look at it. Please don’t disturb it any more than necessary before you mail it.”
“Russ, what’s going on? Talk to me.”
“Mac, I’m sorry. I know this is hard.” Russ paused for a long moment, and when he spoke, he was once again using his official voice. “After interviewing the subject and examining evidence found in his residence, we believe we know how he was able to locate Andrea.”
In a flash, Mac knew. “A tracker chip. In one of the charms in the bracelet.”
“Yes.”
“A battery that small wouldn’t last more than a few days.”
“No. He must have known she was about to run.”
Or he had the means to keep the battery charged. Just like a character in one of Mac’s books. The same character that claimed he heard voices of avenging angels. The same character that managed to manipulate the system and almost get away with murder. Even though he was standing next to the woodstove, goose bumps rose on Mac’s arms. “I’ll be there tomorrow.”
“You don’t need to do that. It will be a while before this goes to trial. The bail hearing is tomorrow afternoon, but he won’t make bail. I’ve no doubt the judge will order psychological evaluation.”
“Trial? I thought you said he confessed.”
“Yeah, he did.” Russ gave a frustrated sigh. “But now he’s claiming he’s innocent, that the avenging angel took control of him.”
“I see. I’ll be there. Goodbye, Russ.” Mac ended the call and tossed his phone onto the couch. He looked up to see Ursula watching him, her eyes wide with concern. For a moment, he’d forgotten she was there.
“What is it?”
“He’s playing games. Claiming insanity.” Mac strode to the coat closet and pulled out a suitcase. “I need to be there.”
“What can you do?”
What could he do, other than deliver that bracelet which he was ninety-nine percent sure would contain a GPS tracker chip? Russ was right, if he was claiming to hear voices, Thaine would be going through psychological evaluation whether Mac was there or not. But Mac’s gut was telling him to go.
“I need to be there,” Mac repeated. He picked up his phone and pulled up an airline site. “I’ll see if I can fly tonight.”
“Book two seats.” Ursula crossed to the kitchen and placed the container of soup in the refrigerator. “I’m going with you.”
He stopped flipping through the flights and looked up. “You can’t. Rory has school. And there’s Blossom. I need to leave her with you.”
“I’m sure Catherine can stay with Rory, and she can run the B&B and keep Blossom, as well.”
Mac paused. On one hand, he wanted Ursula with him. She was a rock, and he needed that stability if he was going to keep on functioning. But if what he was starting to suspect turned out to be true, he wasn’t sure he wanted her to know. Because all of this might be his fault.
Ursula came back from the kitchen to stand in front of him. “Mac, I saw your face when you were on the phone. You don’t have to tell me what’s upsetting you if you don’t want to, but I’m not going to let you go through this alone.”
/> It was probably selfish to take her away from Rory, but the next few days were going to be a lot easier to get through with Ursula beside him. Besides, she didn’t look as though she was going to back down, and he didn’t have time to argue. “All right. If you can get Catherine to stay with Rory, you can come.” As he said it, he realized how ungrateful he sounded. “What I mean is, thank you. I’ll call you with the flight information.”
“That’s fine. I’d better get home. I’ll talk to Catherine and Rory and pack a bag.”
He nodded, returning to his phone, but she made no move toward the door. “Mac?”
“Yes?” He looked up.
She stepped closer and put her arms around him. Instantly, some of the weight he was feeling seemed to lift from his body. She rubbed her hands over his back and then released him. “You’re going to get through this. We’ll do it together.”
* * *
URSULA TUGGED HER roller bag around the pole in the security line at the airport. The queue was surprisingly long, considering it was almost midnight. An accident on the Seward highway had delayed them, and she was starting to get worried about missing the flight. Ahead of her, Mac stared at the wall. He’d been doing a lot of that since that phone call. Something had him rattled. Badly.
She wasn’t sure why. Of course catching his daughter’s killer would bring the memories to the forefront, but shouldn’t Mac be feeling some sense of satisfaction? He’d been working toward this goal from the beginning. But from the time he spoke with the detective on the phone, he’d withdrawn into himself. That’s why she’d insisted on coming.
Ursula had mixed feelings about this trip. Despite what she’d told Mac, she didn’t like leaving Rory in someone else’s care, even Catherine’s. But Rory had been okay with it when Ursula explained that she and Mac needed to go to Oklahoma to take care of some business about his daughter. Especially once Ursula told her they’d be leaving Blossom with her.
“I’ll take good care of her,” Rory had promised. “She can sleep with me.”
“She can sleep in her own bed,” Ursula had said, but looking at those eager eyes, she softened. “Maybe you can have her bed in your room.”
Rory had agreed, a little too quickly. Ursula suspected that before long, either Blossom would end up in Rory’s bed, or Rory on Blossom’s.
She and Mac shouldn’t be gone too long. The bail hearing was tomorrow. Mac needed to deliver a bracelet that, based on what she’d overheard on the phone, might contain a tracking chip. Mac hadn’t volunteered any more information, and she hadn’t liked to push. He was having a hard enough time without added pressure.
They reached the front of the line, and Mac stepped aside to let her go first. She presented her identification to security and walked to a conveyer belt to send her carry-on, handbag, shoes and coat through the X-ray. A moment later, Mac followed her.
At security’s direction, Ursula stepped inside a scanner and lifted her hands while the machine hummed around her. This is how a microwave casserole must feel. Once the scan was done, the guard waved her through to collect her belongings.
As soon as Mac finished his scan, he started to join her, but two guards stepped up to block his way. “Sir, please raise your hands so I can wand you.”
Mac swore under his breath as he complied. “I forgot it was in my pocket.”
Ignoring him, the guard ran a scanner up and down his body. It always beeped when it reached his pocket area. “Please remove the object.”
Mac reached inside his pocket and pulled out a pearl-handled knife. His grandfather’s knife. Ursula tried to step closer, to explain, but a guard barked at her to stay back. Another guard offered a plastic bowl, and Mac dropped the knife inside. Then he turned and trudged toward Ursula.
She laid a hand on his arm. “Is there some way to get it back when we return?”
“No.” Mac’s voice was flat. No emotion showed in his face.
“Maybe we could buy some stamps and mail it home.”
“No time to get through security again. We board in fifteen minutes.” He collected his bag, slipped on his shoes and started toward the gate, moving mechanically.
Ursula finished tying her shoe before hurrying to catch him. “Mac, wait.”
He turned back, looking mildly surprised as though he’d forgotten she was there. “Sorry.”
She slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow. “Are you okay?” Even as she asked, she realized what a ridiculous question it was. He was anything but okay.
Still, he managed a tight smile for her. “I’m fine. We need to hurry.”
They passed an airport bookstore on the way. On the table in front, a pyramid of Mac’s latest title anchored the display. He glanced at it and looked away. They reached the gate, where they found a pair of unoccupied seats. Across from them, a young girl with sleepy eyes leaned against her father’s shoulder. An older boy played with a handheld toy of some sort, while his mother typed something into her phone. A few rows away, a news program flashed pictures of a crowd of protesters on the television screen hanging from the ceiling.
The airline employee announced that they would begin boarding soon. Ursula stood to stretch. Suddenly, a publicity photo of Mac flashed on the television screen.
Mac’s image was replaced with Andi’s smiling face. It was a snapshot, taken outside at what looked like a city park. The hand pushing her hair back from her face sported a charm bracelet—the same one Mac was delivering to the police. Closed caption ran across the bottom of the screen, but Ursula couldn’t take her eyes off that face. Young, happy, with every expectation of a long life ahead of her. The picture changed, to a video of someone in an orange jumpsuit and handcuffs being led from a police car.
A woman a few seats down nudged her husband and pointed toward the screen. “They caught the guy that murdered that poor girl.”
“Her dad was rich, right? Probably wouldn’t pay the ransom.”
“No, it was her boyfriend who killed her. Remember? They think she was running away from him.”
Ursula looked back at Mac. He was watching the screen, his face like stone. Thankfully, no one around them seemed to have recognized him. The call went out for preboarding, and everyone began gathering their belongings rather than paying attention to the television. The news cut to a bus crash somewhere in the world.
Their boarding call went out. Mac still sat, his eyes focused on something far away from the airport terminal. Ursula put her hand on his shoulder. “Are you ready?”
He blinked and turned his gaze toward her. “Ready?”
“To board the plane. They just called us.”
“Oh. Yes, I’m ready. Let’s go.”
* * *
URSULA SMOTHERED A yawn as the taxi wound its way through traffic. The six-hour flight from Anchorage to Dallas/Ft. Worth had been uneventful, but she could never sleep on airplanes. As far as she could tell, Mac hadn’t slept either. Their layover had been just long enough for a cup of coffee and a muffin before the flight to Tulsa. Now they were on their way to Mac’s house.
The taxi turned into a neighborhood of tall brick houses on large lots with mature trees. They pulled into a circular drive edged with boxwood and stopped in front of the pillared porch of an expansive redbrick home with a steep slate roof.
Mac paid off the taxi and unlocked the front door. “Just leave your suitcase here. I’ll carry it up later.”
“All right.” Ursula took in the polished wood paneling in the entryway and the warm tones of the Oriental rug on the floor. A far cry from how he’d been living in Alaska. “Your home is lovely.”
Mac grunted thanks and led her through a formal dining room to a kitchen, which opened into a family room and another dining area. The combined space of the three rooms was probably more than Mac’s entire cabin in Alaska. A bowl of fruit and a piece of paper rested on the acre
of polished granite that topped the kitchen island.
Mac opened a cabinet door and pulled out a bag of coffee. Ursula picked up the note. “Someone named Joan says she stocked the refrigerator.”
“My housekeeper.” Mac spooned coffee beans into a stainless-steel coffee machine of the type Ursula had seen advertised in upscale catalogs.
She crossed to the refrigerator. Eggs, milk, vegetables. Oh, and Mac’s pickles. “Looks like she left a casserole, too. That was kind of her.”
“She’s a kind woman. She’s been with me for, let’s see, fifteen years.” Mac started the machine and let it finish grinding the beans before continuing. “She was crazy about Andi. Always trying to fix her up with her son. He’s a good kid. Smart, hard worker. Unfortunately, they never seemed to be unattached at the same time. I just wish...” He trailed off, but of course Ursula knew what he meant. If only Andi had been involved with his housekeeper’s son instead of Joel Thaine, she’d be alive now.
“What would you like for lunch? Looks like there’s deli meat and cheese, or I could scramble eggs.”
Mac checked his watch. “I don’t want to be late for the bail hearing.”
“We have two hours. You need to eat. All you’ve had since yesterday is a bran muffin.” And he’d tossed most of that away, uneaten. The last thing he needed was more coffee on an empty stomach. She played her trump card, knowing it was the only way to get him to take care of himself. “I’m hungry.”
“Go ahead, then, and put together whatever you want for lunch.”
She managed to get him to sit down long enough to eat a turkey sandwich, but the second she took the last bite of hers, he was sweeping the plates to the sink and reaching into a drawer for keys. “Let’s go.”
He led her out the back door and across a covered patio toward a detached garage made of brick that matched the house. A wide lawn swept across the yard, dappled with shade from old oaks and edged with shrubby mixed borders. Across the yard, something glinted in the sun.
Alaskan Hideaway Page 21
