“Started it with…?”
“Teammates, I guess. Greer, Bolton, Cassel, maybe Mackler.”
“What does—?”
“God! Leave me alone.” Grace turned away, reached in, snatched the folded tarp from the car floor, and hugged it in front of her like a shield.
Their questions were interrupted by a low-grade noise back toward the highway. They saw the cloud of dust before they saw the vehicle. A quarter mile away, Forest Service green pickup. They left the Bonnie and walked out to meet it as if they had nothing to hide. “It’s the breakfast guy from the rest stop,” JJ said. “Say we’ve been visiting friends in Bonners Ferry, just needed a driving break.”
Mick nodded. That would work.
When the truck stopped they saw their mistake. Government insignia had been painted over. The truck had been bought at auction.
The man behind the wheel set down the paper sack he’d been sipping from, reached over and lifted a twelve-pack off his seat. Gestured like “want one?”
JJ headed around the far side of the Pontiac. Mick shook his head. Grace was motionless beside him.
The man turned off his engine, stopping his truck in a position that blocked their car’s path back to the road. Stepped out carrying the box of beer. “Too hot for work, even early in the morning, huh?” He reached in the box, came out with a can, and pitched it to Mick.
Mick stepped aside and let the can fly by, hit the ground and roll.
“Well, if you can’t catch, I’m damned sure going to hand one to the lady.”
“We’re not drinking,” Mick said.
“I saw your little dance back there at the stop. Thought the little lady might need some help.”
Grace shook her head. “No. An argument. I’m fine.”
“Say the word.” The man tipped his hat back and wiped his forehead with his sleeve, even though it was just past dawn and far from warm. When Grace didn’t speak, he started again. “You broke down?” The man drew out another beer, popped the top, and took a long swallow. “Hell of a place to be busted,” he said. “Nothing around except the Merrill spread and I’m the best grease monkey he got.”
“We’re fine,” Mick said. “Just taking a break.”
“One boy, two ladies, whatcha do on your break? Getting frisky? I wouldn’t mind some of that.”
Mick looked the man over more carefully. What was he missing? Was he just drunk or was he dangerous? Guy was unshaven under his battered cowboy hat. Bowlegged, wiry, sun-beat, with a crafty narrow face that made Mick think of a ferret. Looking for a gun or a knife on his belt, Mick finally spotted the crowbar, hanging from a belt loop and lying close to his leg.
“Lot can happen out here fifty miles from Jesus,” the man said. “You don’t want to get crossways with a Good Samaritan. That’d be arrogance. Be costly.”
Grace walked a couple of steps away, bent over and picked up a fallen limb from a tree they were parked near. It was dry, over two feet long and thick as her wrist. Held it at her side.
Mick saw JJ making a looping circle past the back of the man’s truck and then walking toward them talking on the cell phone.
“His license number is 41-1130,” she was saying. “Green Dodge. He’s about fifty, slim, five eight or ten, one sixty. We’re just off Bull Lake Road past Troy about a half mile south of the rest stop on 2. You want to talk to him?”
The man was listening, mouth open. Took a step back as JJ continued to walk toward him, now holding the phone out. “Who’s that?” he asked, glancing back at his truck.
“My uncle, Lieutenant Cassel, Highway Patrol.”
The man turned and left without another word.
Watching the truck’s tailgate disappear over a short rise, Grace turned to JJ. “Nobody, right?” she said.
JJ clicked the phone shut. Smiled. “No service.”
Mick had been going to bull-rush the man, hit him like a tackling dummy. Now he was reconsidering. Thought maybe his dad had taught him the wrong kind of fighting. Thought maybe he should ask JJ to teach him some brain-fu.
* * *
“So it could be any of those guys at the river,” JJ said. “Who drove you home the night before we went swimming?” she asked Grace. “Was it Hammond?”
“She’s seeing old men?” The picture of Grace with somebody like Hammond gave Mick’s insides another crank.
“Shut up!” Grace slammed the limb down and whirled to face them. “You guys made me come back. I told you what I know. Now drop it!”
“You only tell us what you want us to know.” Mick, not going to be put off again. “You leave us, me, holding the bag for this and I tell Paint and Cassel about California. Get you sent back.”
Grace laughed. “You don’t know anything and you’ll never find out, so it’s not gonna happen.”
Once again, Mick’s rage flashed. He’d been willing to give up his home for her! He could strangle her, choke her out, close that mouth for good.
JJ broke in. “So one of the V guys dumped the girl. And whoever brought you home that night, it’s probably not him. So could it be Mackler? He’s a slimebag. Right?”
Mick missed her question. He was distracted, heading down another track. Going with the fury. The killing … what if it was rage? Like he himself a second ago. Who could get angry enough with Evelyn to kill her? Who had a V-ring and a violent temper? Scott Cassel, probably. Larry, so he’d heard. Mackler? He hadn’t met the man. Tim? Cunneen? But would those two have a ring like that?
57
GRACE HALF LISTENED to Mick and JJ discuss a plan she wasn’t going to follow. She was dazed, off in an entirely different direction, and Mick’s threat had triggered it. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t seen it before. Her mother hadn’t filed a missing person report!
If her mom got the police involved and Grace was found, the information about the incest might come to light. Couldn’t have that. Wreck her brothers’ lives? The scandal would affect her parents’ reputation. They could lose their jobs. Her mother wouldn’t take any of those risks. She’d let sleeping dogs lie. Grace saw it clear as day. Her mother didn’t want Grace back. Ever.
As much as she disliked—hated—her mother, that awareness brought tears. Her mom didn’t care about her. At all. In a way she was an orphan like JJ. Might as well be. Grace made herself yawn. Rubbed her face with her sleeve to cover the sorrow.
* * *
When the sadness passed, freedom remained. Neither Cassel nor Paint could get anything on her. They couldn’t find out her real name or where she was from. They couldn’t send her home! Whole new game.
Grace would call Hammond as soon as possible. Be straight. Tell him the killing freaked her out and she ran. Admit she was there when they found the body but say she had no idea what had happened or who did it. If he had any questions, she’d answer them. Tell him she was ready to go back to work.
After that, she’d call the restaurant. Blame Cunneen and Tim Cassel for scaring her. Say she couldn’t think straight. Tell Cookie they threatened to hurt her and she ran without sorting out the consequences. Apologize. Say she needed the job and her placement with the Stovalls so she could eventually be independent. Beg her boss to take her back.
Hammond would probably pull the strings to make that happen. He’d want her close by to keep tabs on her. Actually, her return would probably reassure him. She wouldn’t knowingly put herself in his grasp if she was trying to hide something.
But Mick and JJ couldn’t include her in this ring thing. If Hammond found out she knew about the ring, all bets were off. So she had to go back to town first. Before JJ and Mick. She needed some separation to make her story credible. She needed Hammond to think she’d split from the other two. Broke away. She’d say she hitched home with a tourist. Hammond might believe it. Might. It was a story he couldn’t check.
She had to get JJ and Mick to agree. JJ probably would. JJ’d lie so Grace wouldn’t get hurt and so would Mick. Especially if she made up to him. Poor dope.
And no sense telling him that his father was the one who’d brought her home that Monday night. He didn’t need to know Fitz went out with both her and Ev.
She hadn’t thought about Fitz and Ev. Would he kill her? Grace had refused sex with Fitz, Ev had said yes. No motive. And he’d had all the chance in the world that night he’d taken Grace shooting. If Fitz was going to force a girl, hurt a girl, that was a great opportunity. Out in the country, drinking, holding a gun … no, Fitz wasn’t the guy.
Larry had his eye on Ev, too. Ev was polite but distant and Grace knew the girl didn’t warm to him. Somebody may have warned her. Larry had a rough reputation. In spite of the money, Ev wouldn’t date him. How would Larry Cassel take “no” for an answer? Was that what she’d overlooked that bothered her earlier? Immediately she could see how it happened!
Larry follows her from the café as she drives home to Plains. He runs her off the road. She tells him one more time she won’t do it with him and he goes ballistic and kills her. He’s the one. Ring, motive, temper!
That changed everything. Larry would be her winning lottery ticket. Mick and JJ could do whatever they wanted. Grace didn’t care. She was homed in on her target. The end game. She might be just hours from real freedom.
The Women’s Homeless Refuge in Coeur d’Alene had given her the key. She no longer needed Gary’s. As soon as she got a bit more money she could go to a homeless shelter in Billings, lie about her age, pick a new name, and they’d begin connecting her with services. Housing, employment resources. She’d be a new woman, with her stash to finance a career as soon as the staff stopped paying attention. Her stash? She’d brought twenty-four hundred from Portage and earned another twelve in Coeur d’Alene. If Larry would spring for a thousand to get rid of her that’d be enough to start something.
She regretting pulling that dumb hiding stunt back at the rest area. Now Mick and JJ were wary. Be difficult to phone Larry without their hearing, but she could find a way. Especially if she agreed to all their ideas.
She needed Larry’s work number so she could she leave a message at his office. Show him how dangerous she could be. Would he have a secretary? She didn’t think so. It was risky, so she’d have to be casual. Something like “Found your ring on the river and thought you might want it back. Call me.” Afterward, she needed to hide and wait for his response.
Best place to do all that was … the restaurant? No, going there might bring Hammond and Scott Cassel into the mix. She didn’t know Cookie or any of the waitresses well enough to go to their homes. But how about the Conoco? Mick’s dad? He wouldn’t hurt her, had kind of a bond with her. Plus, she had something on him if she needed it. The guns, the underage dating. She’d call him after she left her tease message for Larry. Wouldn’t Fitz let her use the service station’s phone number and hang out while she waited for the return call? Flirt a little. No problem.
58
GRACE BROKE IN ON MICK AND JJ’S PLANNING. “They’ll give my job to some other girl, like permanently, if I don’t check in at the café today. By lunch shift. I probably have to do the motel, too.” She’d keep harping until they caved and did what she wanted. Actually, her scheme fit pretty well with their idea about how to ID the ring’s owner. Mick was ready to rush back, get to Sheriff Paint first before anything else got messed up. JJ only disagreed about the order of things. She thought they ought to make their ring calls before contacting Paint.
Grace showed her agitation, paced, fiddled with her hair. Said since they made her come back, she couldn’t have Hammond and his friends getting more and more upset. She had to get to Sanders County ASAP, call the restaurant and arrange her return to work. Neglected to mention that a local phone book would tell her the county building inspector’s office phone number as well as the Conoco.
Mick bought Grace’s performance. JJ was more suspicious. She’d never heard Grace be so concerned about her work. Neither JJ nor Mick wanted to give Grace too much room to set them up for more trouble, but they both thought that going back to the café might keep her from doing something more dangerous for money. Maybe it would settle her down again. They couldn’t keep Grace with them all the time. If she wanted to split, she’d find a way.
The decision? Grace got her phone numbers and made her calls about an hour later when they reached Noxon. They stopped in Trout Creek for a snack and were on the outskirts of Portage well before noon. Mick went as far as Pond Street on Main and dropped Grace at the corner. She walked downtown toward the café stretching her arms over her head, apparently glad to be out of the car and in the sun.
Grace had promised to get back with them at closing. The three of them together would go to Dovey’s and set their “insurance” plan in motion. They’d give the woman the ring and ask her to call Sheriff Paint for a truth-telling session. If Grace blew them off, they’d tell Paint she’d been tricking like Ev and doing other “special” work with Hammond.
Mick and JJ watched her. She didn’t turn around to check on them, didn’t seem furtive or nervous. Good so far. They took the less traveled Maiden Lane a mile east across town to the garage JJ knew. It was practically on the river and reasonably close to their own compound. Mick hid the Bonnie on the far side of the wooden building.
“We can go in if you want,” JJ said, pointing to a weathered back entrance. The door itself looked sturdier than the building. JJ knew the combination to the heavy-duty lock.
Mick could not have been more surprised. He’d expected a single hanging lightbulb, spiderwebs, stained cardboard boxes, ancient rusted tools. Instead, as soon as JJ flipped on the fluorescents, he saw clean, bright blue outdoor carpeting and a polished four-wheel-drive Ford Bronco with the big engine, oversized tires, roll bars, and a winch. An orderly workbench surrounded the car on three sides, shelves above stacked with labeled metal canisters.
“Gary said he bought this place and the dope shed on the north side when he first came to town. I don’t think Tina even knows he has it. I know Grace doesn’t.” JJ, smiling. She sat on a tall stool and leaned against the workbench.
Mick shook his head. His dad would love this place. He pointed to the Bronco.
“Off-roading,” JJ said. “Gary hardly ever does it anymore, but he likes it. Drives to back lakes. This is the car we took to Missoula on that trip I told you about to the planetarium. This is like his travel car. Or maybe a getaway car if he needs it. His secret.”
Mick felt like clapping. Gary was full of contradictions. The horrible way he handled Jon versus the kindness and protectiveness he could show Tina and the others. The ever-present Visine. The carefully hidden SUV.
“When it’s too cold for the river, I come here to be alone,” JJ said. “Even got a toilet.” She pointed to a closed-off area in the far corner. “Got an electric door.” She pointed above their heads to metal rails that helped raise and lower the sectioned roll-up in front.
Mick had an unfamiliar jolt of playfulness. He wanted to hug JJ, celebrate with her. Celebrate what? He couldn’t say. But they were alive, damn it, and they had a plan. And Mick might just be getting out from under some baggage that had been weighing on him for years. He could live without his dad and he knew it.
Mick didn’t hug her. Didn’t even look at her. But he wanted to and it baffled him.
* * *
“Sanders County Bank, how may I help you?”
“May I speak to Mr. Greer?”
“May I tell him who’s calling?”
“I’m a friend of his family,” JJ said, glancing at Mick to see how he thought she was doing.
Mick nodded his encouragement.
“Robert Greer.”
“Mr. Greer, I found part of your V-ring up on the Salish. Would you like to meet me to get it back?”
“I’m sorry, Miss … uh, miss, but you’re mistaken. I’m looking at my ring as we speak and it’s fine.”
JJ hung up, looked at Mick, sighed. Dialed the next number.
“Sanders County Superior Court.”
In a few minutes they’d contacted everyone. Scott Cassel demanded to know who was calling. Greer and Mackler denied any problem with their rings. Bolton suggested a meeting in person to see if he could identify the setting. JJ broke the connection. No one she talked to seemed alarmed. She had to leave a message with Hammond and Larry Cassel. Neither had called back.
Mick was disappointed, the calls useless, their plan a failure. “We have to see if Dovey knows who has a ring like that. We just haven’t found the right guy yet. He wouldn’t tell the others, so they’d have no reason to be bothered by our questions.” He touched JJ on the shoulder to get her attention. “I keep thinking about how the killing happened.”
JJ looked at him funny, like who hasn’t?
“No, I mean, what kind of guy would do it.”
“Anybody could do it.”
“Okay, but look, it wasn’t planned. Right?”
“Why?”
“If somebody planned to kill Ev, they would’ve done a better job. Hidden the car, really hidden the body, or even made it look like an accident. It was a rush job.”
JJ nodded, dubious.
“So are there guys we know who might get angry and kill her? Not plan to. Maybe not even mean to. See what I’m saying? Would Hammond be the kind of guy to put himself in that situation and act that way? Would the judge? Or the Social Services guy? The bank guy? I don’t see it. But how about Larry or Tim or Cunneen? They might.”
“I get it, but it’s such a huge guess. It’s not even fair.”
“We need to ask Dovey, find out exactly which people have those rings. That’s what we know that other people don’t, the connection between the ring and the murder. That’s our edge.”
“But that’s another huge guess. We don’t really know the ring and Evelyn are connected. Not for sure.”
Mick heard her. That was true, but he had a feeling about this. The rage, the ring, he was getting closer to the answer.
Dead Girl Moon Page 15
