‘So you’re a private citizen, and I’m a private citizen. That means I don’t have to answer any of your questions, right?’
‘Yes, you’re right. Then again, I’m also working for your boss.’
Peach hesitated. ‘Ms Fairmont?’
‘And Caprice Dean,’ Cab said.
‘What did they hire you to do?’
Cab said nothing, and the girl nodded at the irony. ‘Yeah, okay, you could tell me, but then you’d have to kill me,’ she said.
‘Something like that,’ Cab replied.
‘Why do you care about Justin? The police say he was killed in some kind of drug deal gone bad.’
‘Do you believe that?’ Cab asked.
‘Do you?’
Cab studied the girl’s defiant face. He’d come in here expecting to play cop games with her, but instead, she was playing cop games with him. He decided to be honest and see how she dealt with the truth. ‘No,’ he said.
Peach couldn’t hide the intensity of her reaction. It wasn’t surprise or curiosity. It was exhilaration. With one word, he had changed something inside her. She leaned forward with a strange excitement, as if, suddenly, she knew her place in the world. She’d been vindicated.
‘If it wasn’t drugs, what was it?’ Peach asked.
‘You tell me.’
She was silent. Around them, the walls shook with the wind. ‘I have no idea,’ she said finally.
Peach was lying. As always, lies told him more than the truth. She knew more than she was letting on, but whatever she knew, she was reluctant to tell him. He was a stranger.
‘How well did you know Justin?’ he asked.
‘We worked together, that’s all.’
Cab heard the translation in his head: We were close. Very close. He wondered exactly how close. Were they friends? Were they lovers? He thought that her skin flushed at the very sound of his name.
‘What did you two work on?’
‘Research.’
‘Oh, right. Your lips are sealed. I know you have to be careful about telling people what you do, but we’re on the same team, Peach. I’m not the enemy. If you and Justin were digging into something that got him killed, you should tell me.’
‘Justin and I weren’t working together before he was killed,’ Peach said. ‘I can’t tell you anything.’
‘What about computer records?’
‘The police took everything. You’d have to talk to them.’
‘Is there anyone else in the office who would know something?’
‘Ogden Bush is the liaison to the campaign. You could talk to him.’
‘Is he here?’
‘No.’
‘Then I guess I’m talking to you,’ Cab said.
‘I already said I can’t help you.’
Peach gathered her files around her, as if the conversation was over. Cab thought about who this girl was. Peach Piper, sister of Lyle Piper. A decade earlier, she would have been a child, grieving the loss of her brother. The summer when Birch Fairmont was assassinated had changed her life profoundly. It had to be in her consciousness every day.
‘One more question,’ he said. ‘This one’s not about Justin.’
She was suspicious. ‘Okay.’
‘Who killed your brother?’ Cab asked.
Peach stared at him. ‘What kind of question is that?’
‘I imagine it’s a question you think about all the time. Who do you think murdered Birch Fairmont and Lyle Piper?’
‘I don’t know who pulled the trigger. It was some right-wing fanatic from the Liberty Empire Alliance. Maybe it was Ham Brock himself.’
‘You believe that’s what happened?’ Cab said.
‘Of course. That’s why I’m here.’
‘That’s very noble.’
‘Don’t patronize me,’ Peach snapped. ‘You wouldn’t be sarcastic if someone from your family had been murdered.’
‘I wasn’t being sarcastic, I was being sincere. And I nearly did lose a family member that day, although I know that isn’t the same thing.’
Peach’s eyes narrowed with recognition. ‘Bolton? You’re related to Tarla Bolton?’
‘I’m her son.’
Her face softened. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.’
‘That’s okay. I usually don’t advertise it.’
‘Everybody says your mother saved Ms Fairmont that day. She was very brave.’
‘Well, my mother rarely thinks before she acts,’ Cab said. ‘Sometimes the results are better than others.’
‘It was a terrible day,’ Peach said.
‘Were you there?’
‘No. Thank God. I couldn’t have handled seeing it happen.’
Cab leaned across the conference table, which meant he was almost in Peach’s face. She looked very young. ‘Did you spend a lot of time at Birch Fairmont’s estate that summer?’
‘Sure. Lyle was there all the time because of the campaign.’
‘What do you remember?’
‘Not much. Deacon and I spent a lot of time in the pool. I read a lot. I was just a kid.’
‘You strike me as a kid who would notice things,’ Cab said.
‘Like what?’
‘Like something bad happening.’
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ Peach replied.
‘Do you remember anything about Birch and Diane?’
‘No. They weren’t together a lot. Birch was on the road. Ms Fairmont was alone.’
‘Did you talk to her much?’
‘Oh, no, hardly ever.’
‘What about Diane’s son? Drew?’
He saw a slight tic in Peach’s face. ‘What about him?’
‘Did you know him?’
Peach shook her head. ‘Why are you asking about him?’
‘No reason.’
He let the silence linger. Staring at her, he thought she was telling the truth this time. She didn’t know Drew. Even so, something about Drew’s name had elicited a reaction, and she was obviously curious about why he’d brought it up. It was the same message as before: I could tell you things, but I won’t.
She didn’t trust him. Not yet.
Cab thought about Gladiola Croft’s story. Something had happened two weeks before Labor Day between Birch and Diane. An argument. A fight. Maybe it didn’t mean anything at all; maybe Drew’s threat to kill his stepfather was just twenty-something angst. Or maybe this was all a game by Rufus Twill – and the shadowy people pulling strings behind him – to create a scandal that would tarnish Diane’s campaign.
He would have been willing to believe the story was just a convenient lie, except for one thing.
Justin Kiel was dead. That was real.
‘Two weeks before Labor Day, something very ugly happened at Birch’s estate,’ Cab told Peach. ‘Do you know anything about that? It was a Saturday night.’
‘No, if it’s the weekend I’m thinking about, I was sick. Pneumonia. I don’t remember much. I’m sorry.’
‘I’m asking because of Justin,’ he told her.
‘How does this involve Justin?’
Definitely friends, Cab thought, watching her face. Probably lovers.
‘Justin was in Lake Wales shortly before he was killed. He was asking questions about the Labor Day murders.’
‘What? No, that can’t be right.’
‘You didn’t know? He didn’t tell you about it?’
‘No, he didn’t,’ Peach said. She looked dazed, as if a wave had washed her away. ‘He didn’t say anything like that.’
He lowered his voice, but he held her blue eyes with his own. ‘You understand why I’m worried, don’t you? Someone killed Justin. It happened two weeks ago. Maybe the police are right, and this was a drug-related murder, but I don’t like coincidences. I don’t like the fact that Justin was looking into Birch’s murder, only to wind up dead himself. I want to know what he found, because if it was enough to get him killed, then something is going on. Something is going on right here and now.’
Peach stood up. ‘Stop,’ she said. ‘Just stop. Please.’
‘Peach, if you know anything—’
‘I don’t,’ she insisted.
‘I need you to trust me.’
‘I don’t know you,’ she said.
‘Listen to me. Someone killed Lyle and Birch. Someone killed Justin. They may not be finished yet.’
‘I have to go. I’m sorry.’
Peach held up her hands and backed away from him. He may as well have been holding a gun. Like a spooked deer, she bolted from the office without another word, leaving him alone.
Cab eased back in the reclining chair, frustrated, and let out his breath in a sigh. He didn’t like walking away with nothing. He’d learned to trust his instincts, and his instincts told him that Peach knew more about the past than she’d told him. She probably knew more than she really understood.
He wished he had Lala with him. Lala had a way of connecting with young women that Cab never had.
His eyes scanned the conference room table. Peach had left her files behind her. He had no interest in spying on the inner workings of the Common Way Foundation, but he noticed a half-folded piece of paper on the desk, tented and face down, as if Peach had been looking at it before he arrived. Curious, he used a fingertip to slide the paper toward him.
Cab unfolded it and read it. He didn’t understand what the photograph showed him, but by instinct, he didn’t like it. Something about this single piece of paper in his hand felt dangerous. And important.
He saw a name he didn’t recognize. Frank Macy.
And a name he did. Ramona Cortes.
26
Peach knew where she needed to go. Lake Wales.
She drove inland. Highway 4 was jammed with cars. There had been no evacuation ordered for Chayla’s landfall, but some coastal residents weren’t taking any chances with the storm.
It took her twice as long as it usually would to reach the exit at Lakeland, where she headed southeast toward Bartow. The farther she drove into the back country on the quiet two-lane highway, the more she retreated into her past. The land between towns was untouched by time. Flat, empty green fields. Fruit stands selling mesh bags of oranges out of barrels. Billboards advertising gun shows. The sky was a depressing charcoal overhead.
She thought about what Cab Bolton had told her.
Justin had been in Lake Wales before he was killed. They’d been there together barely a month earlier, and then he’d gone back without saying a word about it. He’d started asking questions about the Labor Day murders. That was his secret.
Why?
Part of her was angry at him. He’d lied and kept her in the dark. Their trip to Lake Wales was supposed to be a chance to talk about who they were, about life, love, sex, and the future. Their future. She’d even thought about breaking her vow that weekend and letting him take her virginity, but in the end, he’d been the one to say no, and she loved him even more for it.
She wondered how that same man could have deceived her. She wondered if he’d had an ulterior motive about the trip from the beginning.
When she’d left Lake Wales with Deacon years earlier, she had never wanted to see the town again. Justin had been the one to persuade her to return with him, but with each mile they drove, emotions rushed back. Memories flooded her, disconnected images that made no sense and left her deeply anxious. She was haunted by grief, loneliness, and loss. Through it all, Justin was there beside her.
Now she was going back again. Alone. She needed answers.
Ten miles outside town, when the first spatter of rain struck her windshield, she saw a cross in the long grass by the highway shoulder. Flowers decorated it, and the paint was fresh. Someone still honored whoever had died there. It was nice to think you could die and not be forgotten.
That had been her marker. That was where she’d pulled off the road with Justin.
‘Why are we stopping?’ he asked.
Peach didn’t answer. She let the dust settle before climbing out of the car into the humid morning. They were alone here, early on Sunday, with nothing but the buzz of crickets rising from the fields and the black splotches of hawks circling in the blue sky.
She sat on the hood of the car. The metal was hot underneath her jeans. Justin came and joined her.
‘See the little white cross?’ she told him. ‘You have to be careful when you drive here.’
Justin nodded, but he didn’t understand.
‘It’s terrible how you see them everywhere,’ she went on, ‘and you know that every cross means somebody was lost.’
Peach breathed in the moist air. The sun was merciless. She realized that all her muscles were wound up into tight little knots. Her knees drummed relentlessly, making the car shake. She didn’t want to go home again. She didn’t want to be back in Lake Wales.
‘We don’t have to do this,’ Justin murmured.
‘I know.’
The world was absolutely still. She stared past the sagging telephone wires. Brown and white dots of cattle interrupted the green fields. Trees of uneven height lined the horizon. Some looked as tall as giants.
‘You’d think I’d remember everything, wouldn’t you?’ she said. ‘I don’t. It’s more like photographs in my head.’
‘What do you remember?’ he asked.
Peach took his hand and squeezed it tightly. ‘A policewoman broke the news to me. I was at Birch’s estate. I’d spent the evening there in one of the spare bedrooms, and I’d fallen asleep. They were all supposed to come back later. Lyle, Caprice, Birch, Ms Fairmont, her friend Tarla the movie star. Instead, none of them did. The police woke me up. They were all over the house. She told me that Lyle – she told me he was gone. So was Birch. I turned on the television, and that was all anyone could talk about.’
‘You were alone?’ Justin asked.
‘Deacon was at our apartment, but he came and joined me. It was hours before anyone else got back, and they didn’t talk to us. That was it. That’s how your whole life changes.’
He took her hand, and he kissed each of her fingertips. She wanted to cry, but she had no tears.
‘It was supposed to be a treat for me. I’d been so sick, and now that I was feeling better, Lyle said I could stay up for the party when they came home. I think he felt bad. He’d been angry for weeks. Me, Deacon, Caprice, he was yelling at all of us. This was a way to make it up to me.’
‘Why was he so mad?’
She shrugged. ‘That was Lyle. He had a temper. I understand campaigns now better than I did then. All the intensity. All the pressure. And that was the very first campaign for the Common Way Party. Lyle had everything riding on that race. He and Caprice had been planning it for years.’
A truck passed them on the rural highway. It was so big and fast that the vibration nearly slid them off the hood of the car. The truck carried fruit; she smelled a wave of citrus in its wake.
‘People drive so fast,’ Peach said, shaking her head. She closed her eyes. ‘Poor Lyle, that last month was a nightmare.’
‘How so?’
‘Oh, it was my fault,’ Peach said, with a tiny laugh. ‘There was some big political fundraiser in Tampa in August, and Lyle had to go. He took me and Deacon with him. I really, really wanted to see the city. Deacon wound up like a babysitter, which he didn’t like, and Lyle didn’t have five minutes to spend with us. Then I got sick on Saturday night. Puking, hacking, burning up. It was really bad. Lyle acted like I was doing it just to annoy him. I wanted to go back home, and I was screaming and crying about it, and Lyle told Deacon to take the car and drive me back to Lake Wales. Deacon wanted to stay, so they yelled at each other, and then I yelled at both of them. Real nice. Anyway, Deacon finally drove me back, but that was a mess, too, because he hit a deer, which banged up Lyle’s precious Mercedes. By the time we got back, I was so sick I was almost delirious, and Deacon was so rattled he could hardly walk straight. So he took me to Birch’s estate to get help.’
S
he was quiet.
Justin said, ‘Peach?’
And then: ‘Are you okay?’
‘Yeah.’ She shrugged. ‘Yeah.’
‘What is it?’
‘We walked into the middle of something there,’ she said.
‘What?’
‘I don’t know. My doctor was already at the estate when we arrived. Dr Smeltz. He said it was pneumonia, that it was lucky we got there when we did. I think my fever was like 104. Deacon was freaked out about the car, so he wasn’t any help. I remember Caprice putting me to bed and kissing my head. She was very sweet. I woke up two days later, I think, or that’s how it felt. Lyle was there when I did.’
‘What did he say?’
‘Nothing. I said I was sorry about being sick, I was sorry about the car, but he didn’t say anything. I felt horrible, like I’d caused all the problems. I mean, I was twelve, I didn’t know any better … except …’
‘Except what?’ Justin asked.
‘I don’t know. Something had changed.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘I’m not sure I do, either. Everyone was different. It’s like I went to sleep that Saturday night, and when I woke up, nobody was the same. Lyle hardly talked to anyone. I’m not sure he ever slept. Ms Fairmont, I didn’t see her at all. She was practically invisible. Birch drank all the time. There was this weird blackness hanging over everyone in the house. It felt like … it felt like something was going to happen. And then it did. I know that sounds crazy, but when the policewoman woke me up that night, it’s like I already knew. I was expecting it.’
‘You couldn’t have been expecting anything like that,’ Justin said.
‘You wouldn’t think so, would you? But she didn’t have to say a word. I had this premonition. I think I even said it out loud before she did.’
‘Said what?’
Peach frowned. ‘I said, “They’re dead, aren’t they?”’
Finally, she drove into Lake Wales. Its deserted downtown streets felt like echoes of a ghost town. She saw no one. She drove past the Walesbilt Hotel, painted sea-foam green. It had once been a glamorous destination, but it was abandoned now, a fenced-off ruin with broken and boarded-up windows and deep cracks riddling the stucco. She and Justin had thought about breaking in at night, like urban explorers. Instead, they’d sat outside, eating fried chicken in her car and studying the destruction wrought by marauders and storms.
Season of Fear Page 20
