A Good Day to Buy

by Sherry Harris

  “There’s been some complaints of kids partying out here,” James said. “They’ve climbed the fence a couple of times onto the runway.” Fitch Field was right behind the trees. It was a facility shared by Fitch and the Massachusetts Port Authority. “A pilot had to abort his landing the other night because of kids on the runway.”

  “That’s awful,” I said.

  “It could have been a disaster in the hands of someone less skilled.” He slowed down as we passed the thrift shop and shined his light in a wooded area. A blur of movement caused James to slam on the brakes. He swung the light back around, and a coyote paused to stare at us for a moment before trotting off. James continued on, past a back entrance to Fitch Field on our left and a tower the base’s fire department used for practice on our right. We got to the end of the road. James turned the car around and then cut the engine.

  He leaned his head back against the seat. “What did you want to talk about?” His eyes closed.

  I knew shift changes were hard on the body. But I was worried James was this tired while he was on duty.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  James nodded but kept his eyes closed. “Talk to me.”

  “Do you know Bartholomew Winst?” I figured if my brother was doing some kind of undercover investigation he might have used his alias for more than just hotels.

  James’s eyes snapped open and he turned toward me. “Bart? Yes. But how do you?”

  “I’ve known him for years.” I didn’t want to add anything else, didn’t want to betray our real relationship until I absolutely had to. “Where’d you meet him?”

  “At Gillganins.”

  Gillganins was a popular Irish bar right off base. They had everything from karaoke nights to wakes. I loved going there. What if I had run into Luke there? It would have been more shocking than finding him at my door. “When?”

  James studied me for a minute. I didn’t think he was going to answer without asking me a lot of questions first. It was one of the problems with trying to get information from someone in law enforcement.

  “About a week ago.”

  Luke had been in town a whole week? Why hadn’t he contacted me sooner? Maybe he hadn’t planned to at all, but then something had happened at the Spencers’ and he’d needed a place to lie low. I still didn’t want to believe he would murder anyone, or use me to hide. But since he hadn’t called me all day I was beginning to have doubts.

  “Have you talked to him since?”

  “Not for a couple of days.”

  “What did you talk about? Did he say why he was here?”

  “You’re starting to worry me, Sarah.” James looked alert now, like he’d gotten a second wind. “If you want me to answer your questions, then you’re going to have to answer mine.”

  “I might not be able to. Not tonight anyway.”

  James didn’t say anything.

  “Can you please just trust me?” I asked.

  He nodded. “Okay. We struck up a casual conversation at the bar.”

  “Who was there first, you or Bart?” I had a bad feeling there was nothing casual about Luke starting a conversation with James since James had been on Luke’s list of names.

  James frowned. “I guess I was. Bart sat on the stool next to me. It wasn’t any deep conversation. Just chitchat.”

  “Did he tell you what he was doing here?”

  “Said he was a marine. Not active duty. He was walking the Appalachian Trail in segments. Working out some issues.”

  That didn’t sound like the brother I knew. But I guess I didn’t really know him at all. Because the brother I knew would have gone surfing to work out his problems and mocked hikers as people who just walked.

  “What issues?”

  James closed his eyes again. He was quiet and his breath so even I thought he’d gone to sleep.

  He opened his eye and rubbed a hand over his face. “We swapped war stories. He’s seen some terrible things. I felt bad for him.”

  Luke had seen terrible things? Things he could talk about with a total stranger but not his own family. It made my heart hurt for him. Perhaps what he’d seen had driven him away from us. “But you could understand because you saw terrible things too.” I was guessing, or maybe it really wasn’t a guess but a fact of war.

  James started the car and gripped the steering wheel. “I did.”

  It was what I’d suspected for some time now. “Are you getting help for it?” I had wondered if James had PTSD.

  “This is off the record.”

  I didn’t think any of this conversation was on the record. “It’s just you and me talking, James.”

  “Unless you tell me something I have to report,” he said.

  Or vice versa. I nodded. “I wouldn’t ask you to compromise your position here on base.”

  “I’ve been seeing someone off base, a shrink. I don’t want it on my record.”

  He started driving back down the road. I hated that there was still a stigma about getting psychological help in the military. “I’m glad, James. But seeing someone off base without anyone knowing could land you in trouble.” I didn’t know the exact regulation that covered that, but I knew there was one.

  James nodded. As we passed the fire tower, I yelled, “Stop.”

  James slammed on the brakes. “What is it?”

  I pointed toward the base of the tower. “Over there. It looks like someone is slumped over by the base of the tower.”

  James flipped on his searchlight. He rotated the light in the direction I pointed. The light crossed the blacktop, the rusted leg of the tower, and then the figure of a man. I was out of the car and sprinting toward the figure, ignoring James’s shouts for me to stop and get back in the car. Next to the figure was a backpack. It was Luke’s.

  Chapter 12

  The crumpled figure wasn’t Luke. Thank heavens. It was my main thought as I kneeled in front of the man. I almost cried with relief. But I recognized him. Ethan, a homeless vet who roamed the streets of Ellington. He refused offers to stay in shelters or at the VA hospital. Although, he always accepted a cup of coffee and donut from Dunkin’ with a crooked smile and a thank-you.

  James shoved me aside. I stumbled over the backpack, upending it. James checked Ethan for a pulse, yelling into his shoulder mike as he did. But Ethan was dead. Blood caked the back of his head. I clapped my hand over my mouth at the terrible sight and gagged. This looked all too similar to what had happened to Mr. Spencer. Luke. He’d been at the Spencers’ house and now his backpack was here.

  James was busy with the business of death and policing, so I looked through what had spilled out of the backpack. Luke’s things had been replaced with Ethan’s—a grubby shirt; a worn copy of Walden, by Thoreau; a pack of gum; a scrap of paper with a phone number, which I palmed; a dented tin canteen, diabetes medication and needles; and most startling of all, a stack of cash.

  “Stop. What are you doing?” James’ voice came out low and commanding.

  “I knocked this over when you shoved me.” I gestured to the backpack.

  “Don’t touch anything. Do you know him?” James asked. “You bolted out of the car like you recognized him.”

  I still shook from the panic of thinking it was Luke. “It looks like Ethan.”

  “Last name?”

  “I don’t know.” I filled him in on what I did know.

  “Has he been around long? I don’t remember seeing him.”

  I concentrated on James, his serious face, trying to recall any details I could about Ethan. “I’ve seen him at yard sales and auctions.”

  “Auctions. That sounds highfalutin for a homeless guy.”

  “I’m not talking Sotheby’s. These are ones held in someone’s front yard or in a barn. Where swatting at a fly at the wrong moment has you bidding on something whether you meant to or not.”

  “Did he bid on anything?”

  James sounded so incredulous I almost laughed. I closed my eyes for a moment trying
to remember. “Clothes, military memorabilia, books, camping equipment. Stuff like that. Nothing I was ever interested in. I don’t think we ever bid against each other on anything.”

  James squinted his eyes. “That backpack. I’ve seen it before.”

  Oh no.

  “Bart Winst carried one just like it,” he said.

  I heard sirens heading toward us and knew I’d better come clean with James now before fingerprints on the backpack told him what I already knew. “I have to tell you something about Bart.” I stood. “Bart’s real name is Luke Winston.”

  James stared at me. “Your brother. The one wanted for questioning in the Spencer murder. You lied to me about a murderer?”

  Before I could answer, squad cars arrived, brakes screeching and doors slamming. James stalked off.

  * * *

  I lingered off to one side, getting a headache from the flashing lights of the growing number of police cars and first responders. The bright blue lights cut through the dark night. I alternated between worrying about Luke and wanting to smack him. A squad car from Ellington showed up. The base and towns surrounding it had signed memorandums of agreement allowing them to help each other with investigations. Awesome climbed out. He jabbered something into his shoulder mike as soon as he saw me.

  I was sure CJ would come as soon as he heard about the backpack and my presence. I hoped he’d seen my email and text or listened to my message before he arrived. What if CJ hadn’t read my email yet? And he must not have since he hadn’t called me. I pulled my phone out of my jacket pocket. No calls. I dialed his number again, but it went to voice mail.

  James ignored me. If only it was because he was busy instead of mad. I worried he’d be in trouble because I’d been with him in the patrol car. But it wasn’t only James who ignored me—so far, other than a couple of glances, everyone had avoided me. Someone should be coming over to take my statement. I wrapped my arms around my waist, trying to stay warm.

  Where was Luke? Why had Ethan had his backpack? And the cash. Mr. Spencer had cash too. It seemed like neither of these deaths had been robberies or maybe they had been failed robberies.

  I edged around the crowd, staying out of the way, but heading toward James. I finally caught his eye and he came over. “We have to come up with a story,” I said. “I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

  “I already have a story.”

  I was relieved. “What is it?”

  “The truth. I’m not going to make this any worse than it already is by concocting a story and then getting caught when one of us flubs it.”

  My stomach suddenly tightened like it was cinched in a corset. “Okay. Put the blame on me. I’m the one who called you, who asked you to meet.”

  James nodded.

  “Are you going to mention our conversation?” I asked.

  “Yes. My commander is going to want to know why I had a civilian in the car on patrol.”

  “Can you say this was a ride along?”

  “If it was anyone but you, she might believe it, but you’ve been on a million of them. I don’t think that will fly with her.”

  I hadn’t met the new commander, but had heard she was tough. “Tell her whatever you need to.” The corset around my stomach cinched in tighter. I didn’t care if she was mad at me. She was the least of my problems. I checked my phone again—no calls from CJ.

  Maybe I hadn’t really wanted to tell CJ before I found Luke. I could have driven to the station. I could have told him I was bleeding and made him listen. Finding Luke and getting hold of Vincenzo had been my priority. I’d thought if Luke turned himself in it would be better than Luke being hunted down. I was still trying to protect him after all of these years.

  “Look, Sarah, I won’t mention what you wanted to see me about unless I have to,” James said, his voice weary.

  “No. I don’t want you to do that. Tell her what you know, what I said.”

  James had worry lines sprouting around his eyes.

  “I’m not going to say anything about what you told me.” I touched his arm briefly. “It’s not important to what happened here tonight.”

  James nodded. “Thanks.”

  * * *

  I remembered the phone number on the piece of paper. I walked as far away as I could from everyone else and dialed the number. It rang and rang, but no one answered. There was no cheery voice saying who the phone belonged to or telling me to leave a message. I tried again. This time, it was answered, and as I’d feared, or hoped, it was Luke.

  “How the hell did you get this number?” he asked.

  “A man, Ethan, had your backpack. I recognized it.”

  “How do you know Ethan?” he asked.

  “Everyone in town knows him. How come he has your backpack?”

  “I saw him the other day. The paper bag he hauled his stuff around in had split open. I emptied my stuff out of my backpack and gave it to him. I left him my phone number, told him I could help him out. Get him off the street.”

  “Where did you see him?” Did Luke somehow have access to base? He was a veteran, but he hadn’t served twenty years so he didn’t have a retiree ID.

  I heard another car driving down the road. It was CJ in his official police business SUV. I turned away like he couldn’t see me with my back to him. “I have to tell CJ I saw you.”

  “What? Don’t. Give me a couple of more days to get this story finished.”

  “Call Vincenzo DiNapoli.” I recited the number to him.

  “Why?”

  He must know. His fingerprints were at the Spencers’ house. I felt a rush of tears in my eyes. I didn’t think I’d ever been around this many people and yet felt so isolated. “Trust me. Call Vincenzo and turn yourself in.”

  “Sarah,” CJ called to me.

  I kept my back to him. “Do it now, Luke, because all hell is about to break loose.”

  Chapter 13

  I hung up seconds before CJ wrapped his arms around me. I turned and rested my head on his chest.

  “Are you all right?” CJ asked.

  “Yes.” No. “Did you get the email I sent you? Or my texts?”

  “I haven’t had time to even look.”

  “Chuck,” someone called. It sounded like Awesome.

  CJ dropped his arms. “I’ve got to see what they want. I’ll be back in a minute. Love you.”

  “No. Wait . . .” But it was too late. He’d already loped off. “CJ.” I yelled it as loud as I could. He hesitated for a second but went on. I watched as he stood by Awesome, who’d yet to even glance in my direction. James and the security forces commander joined them. James did a lot of talking. I saw CJ’s posture stiffen. Then they all turned and looked in my direction. James shrugged like he was trying to apologize from afar. But CJ had a terrible look on his face and he shook his head. I wanted to run, but knew I had to stay and face whatever came next.

  * * *

  I walked over to the group, my chin a little higher than normal, my teeth clenched together. Awesome finally looked at me. If someone could express disappointment with just their eyes, he was doing it. He headed over to his squad car. James and the commander walked off too.

  “CJ—”

  “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you’d seen your brother. Where is he?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve been trying to find him.”

  CJ folded his arms over his chest.

  “I tried to tell you, but you hung up.”

  “You told James but not me?”

  “I told James right after we found the body. I texted you, called you, left multiple messages, and emailed you. Check your phone.”

  “I look like a fool. My own wife knows where the suspect is.”

  “I’m not your wife.”

  “You should be.” He started to turn away.

  “Stop. After all these years, don’t you think you should listen to my side of the story? You are always in such an all-fired hurry. You won’t even listen to me. The job comes f
irst, the job’s more important. I’m supposed to understand, be there when you want me to be, be happy if you’re there or not. Did you ever once stop to think how it felt from my side?”

  We stared at each other. I’m not sure where all of it came from. I don’t think I’d ever consciously thought all those things. We both were breathing hard, like we’d been running a long time and we’d finally, suddenly stopped without a cool-down.

  “I didn’t know you felt that way.”

  I didn’t know either. I was shaking, not from the cold, or the death, but from emotion. Was this it? Was this the end of our relationship? Could we get beyond this moment?

  “Let’s sit in my car. I’ll listen.”

  The car was warm and smelled like CJ, woodsy, lemony, clean. Nothing was out of place. Not a speck of dust to be seen. “Like I said, I don’t know where Luke is. I haven’t since you told me Luke’s fingerprints were at the scene at the Spencers’ house.” As mad as I was, I had to tell CJ about calling Luke. I took Luke’s phone number out of my pocket.

  “But I do have Luke’s phone number.”

  CJ’s jaw tightened. “You had his number all this time and didn’t tell me?”

  “No, I got it tonight. I called him and told him to turn himself in.”

  “How long ago?”

  “Right when you pulled up.”

  “James said you went through the backpack. Is that how you got the number?”

  “Yes.”

  “Please try calling him again.”

  I dialed, but it went straight to voice mail. I tried again, but it did it a second time. CJ called the police station to see if they could track down where the cell phone was. He listened for a long time before hanging up.

  “It looks like he took the battery out. It pinged off a cell tower in Bedford, near the VA hospital. Does he know anyone there?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “How about the Spencers? Ethan?”

  “I don’t know what kind of connection he has to the Spencers.” I explained how Luke had met Ethan. “Luke showed up at my house two days ago.”

  “Two days? Are you kidding me?” CJ clenched his hands on the steering wheel.

  “You said you were going to listen.”