“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “It looks like that’s what they are. But these are copies. I know the original files are here. I’ve seen a couple of them.”
He continued to stare at the contents of the box, then said, seemingly more to himself than to her, “Tom just wouldn’t quit.”
C.Z. heard the pathos in his voice, and she was as certain as she could be that if someone had deliberately shot her father, it wasn’t Colby. Still, given what must be his role in all this, she couldn’t feel much sympathy for him. Legalities aside, Dave Colby’s greatest problem was a lack of moral courage.
“That’s the way Dad was,” she agreed. “I recognized some of those cases because he used to talk about them. But what really struck me as being strange was that there’s a file missing.”
Colby had been riffling through the files, but at her final words, his head snapped up and he stared hard at her. His fear was palpable. “What file?”
“The school bus crash. No case ever bothered Dad as much as that one, but it’s not there. It’s strange, because he mentioned to me the last time I talked to him that he thought he knew who was driving that truck that hit the bus. That was only a week before he died.”
“Hmph!” Colby went through the files again, as though searching for what he certainly knew wasn’t there.
C.Z. had been standing, but now she took a seat and strove to find exactly the right tone. “Chief Colby, please don’t misunderstand what I’m about to say. I know that all of you would have done your best to find the man who killed my father, but is it possible that it wasn’t an accident, that whoever Dad suspected knew he was under suspicion?”
Colby dragged his gaze away from the box and stared at her. “Are you suggesting that your father was murdered?”
“It’s possible, isn’t it?” she asked. “I mean, if Dad knew something that could have put him in jail, he could have done it and just made it look like a hunting accident.”
Colby said nothing as he walked around the desk to his chair. And in those few seconds his back was turned, he managed to compose himself.
“A hunting accident’s just what it was,” he said sternly. “We’ve never had any reason to think otherwise.”
Perfect, she thought, rising from her chair. It was exactly the reaction she’d hoped for. She could now take the next step. She held out her hand to the startled Colby, who took it rather belatedly.
“Thank you for your time, Chief Colby.”
Then, before he could say anything else, she walked out the door and out of the building. But instead of going to her car, she walked around to the front entrance. And on the way, she saw what she hadn’t noticed before: Colby’s black Bronco parked in the space reserved for the police chief. It looked exactly like the vehicle she’d seen parked outside her condo.
After checking the directory posted in the lobby of the elegant old courthouse, C.Z. walked up the stairs to the second floor suite of commissioners’ offices. A secretary in the outer office confirmed that Commissioner Summers was in, and after conferring with him on the phone, pointed the way to his office.
By the time she reached it, Harvey Summers was out from behind his desk, his face wreathed in smiles and his hand outstretched. She wondered if Colby had called him.
“C.Z.! What a pleasure! Have a seat. How can I help you?”
C.Z. took the proferred chair, thinking that it was no wonder this man had remained in office all these years. He was the consummate politician. The only wonder was that he hadn’t parlayed all that heartiness into a higher office.
“I hope you meant what you said about being willing to help me, Mr. Summers, because that’s why I’m here,” she said with a hopeful tone and smile.
“Of course I meant it,” he assured her with seeming sincerity. “But please call me Harvey. Everyone else does.”
“Thank you, Harvey. What I’m here about may be a kind of delicate matter, and I could be wrong. In fact, I probably am wrong, but…” She let her voice trail off uncertainly, then went on.
“I’ve just come from Chief Colby’s office. He was very nice to me, but I don’t think he intends to do anything.”
Once again, she paused, searching Summers’s face. If he had any idea of what was to come, he was certainly hiding it well. She told him about her discovery of the files, then repeated her lie about her father’s telling her that he thought he knew who was responsible for the school bus tragedy.
“It was only a week before he died, and I can’t help wondering if he could have been killed by whoever it was that he suspected. But Chief Colby didn’t seem to want to consider that possibility.”
“I see,” was all Summers said as he got up from his chair and walked to the big windows that looked on the town square. After a few seconds, he turned to face her.
“Well, I’m sure you know that your father’s death was thoroughly investigated. But let’s just say that you’re right If he did suspect someone, don’t you think he would have told someone about it—his men, I mean? And he must not have, or it would have come out during the investigation.”
“I thought about that, and the only reason I could think of that he might have kept it secret is that the person he suspected was someone with enough power or influence in the community that he didn’t dare go public with it until he was sure.
“It was such a terrible thing, after all. And if the man he suspected was the driver and knew that Dad suspected him…” She shrugged, paused and then went on.
“And there’s something I didn’t tell Chief Colby, because he didn’t seem interested. Someone broke into my condo recently. I didn’t report it to the police because nothing seemed to be missing. But later, when I went through that box of files and saw that there was no file there for the school bus crash, I began to wonder if whoever broke in might have taken it.”
“But if nothing was taken, how do you know someone broke in? Was there a broken window or broken door lock?”
She shook her head. “No, it was the footprints. There were dusty footprints in the upstairs hallway carpeting. Someone had been in the attic, and that’s where the box of files was.”
Summers looked at his watch. “I have a meeting in a few minutes, but I’ll speak to Chief Colby. I can’t make any promises, C.Z., because I know the investigation into your father’s death was very thorough, but I’ll try.”
She got up and put out her hand. “Thank you, Harvey. I really appreciate it.”
She had turned to leave. His voice stopped her. “You said this break-in occurred recently. Don’t you think that if someone was worried about that file, they would have come sooner?”
His question caught her off guard, but she answered easily. “Yes, I did think about that, but I don’t have an answer—yet.”
“YOU THINK your father was murdered?” Sam Gitting’s dark eyes grew wide.
C.Z. glanced quickly around them. There were empty tables between them and the other diners, and no one appeared to have heard Sam’s outburst She leaned toward him, keeping her voice low.
“I can’t be certain, Sam. Maybe I’ll never know for sure, but yes, I think it’s possible.”
Then she went on to tell him everything—or nearly everything. She left out the minor detail of her role in Zach’s escape and her relationship with him, and she repeated once more the lie about her father’s last conversation with her.
“You see, I just didn’t begin to put it all together until recently—what Dad had told me, Harvey Summers’s lies about Zach Hollis, the break-in at my condo. But it makes sense, Sam. I think Summers was the drunk driver who killed those children, and I think Dad had found out something that made him suspect Summers. So Summers killed him and made it look like a hunting accident.
“Then, when Zach Hollis was hired as chief, I think Summers began to worry that he would continue the investigation, or at least start it all over again. Zach is smart and he’s persistent, just like Dad was. Remember, Summers didn’t want Zach to be hired. H
e wanted Dave Colby to get the job. Not only isn’t Colby all that smart, but I think it’s possible he was the passenger in that pickup. That would explain why he’d go along with Summers when he lied about Zach.
“And I’m pretty sure Colby was the one who broke into my condo and took that file. I saw a black vehicle just like his in the parking lot several times, and it followed me for a while, too.”
To his credit, Sam didn’t interrupt her once, and when she’d finished, he leaned back in his chair and frowned thoughtfully. Sam was the opposite of Zach, a quiet, thoughtful, deliberate man. In fact, he was much like she was, or like she had been, before Zach Hollis turned her life upside down and inside out.
For one brief moment, watching him ponder the story she’d told him, C.Z. found herself longing for that lost self, for a time when her life had been normal. But then she saw in her mind’s eye the ice-blue eyes of Zach Hollis, sparkling with a passion that could even now send a soft heat stealing through her.
“Well,” said Sam after a long pause during which their dinners arrived, “as a theory, it sounds possible, except for one thing. If Summers and Colby suspected your father had left something incriminating in that file, why did they wait so long to try to get it back? Surely they’d have worried that you’d find it.”
“I’m sure they were worried. Harvey Summers offered to help me pack up Dad’s things after he died. I think they just didn’t have a chance to get it then, and they probably counted on my being too upset to go through them—or on the fact that if I’d found them, I would simply have returned them to police headquarters, where Colby could easily have gotten it and destroyed it.”
“Okay, I’ll buy that. But why would they decide to go after it now? What made them get worried again all of a sudden?”
Now came the tricky part, she thought. She’d anticipated this question and had an answer ready—if Sam would believe it.
“My guess is that they found out I was meeting with Zach Hollis in prison as his psychologist, and they were worried that the two of us would put our heads together and come up with the truth.” She paused. “I visited Zach in the hospital only hours before he escaped. He’d asked to see me because he was worried about returning to the prison. I was questioned later by the state police, but they decided that I had nothing to do with Zach’s escape. However, if Colby knew all this, he might have believed otherwise.”
Sam stared at her in silence. C.Z. waited, hoping he wouldn’t ask if she had, in fact, helped Zach to escape. She didn’t want to lie to him, and she knew she could trust him, but Zach had pointed out some time ago that they had no right to put Sam into an ethical dilemma that could ruin his career—or get him sent to jail.
“I suppose you must realize that by talking to Colby and Summers, you could be putting yourself into danger,” Sam said.
She tried not to let her relief show and wondered if he hadn’t asked because he suspected he wouldn’t like the answer. “Yes, I know that. But I’ll be careful. It was the only thing I could think of to do, Sam—unless you have some ideas.”
“The key to everything is proving that Summers was driving that truck. I’d like to see the police file on the school bus accident.”
“Can you do that, or could I get it myself? I’m not sure how that works.”
“I can get it if you retain me to look into it.”
“Consider yourself retained, then. I’m sure that if Dad had discovered something that made him suspect Harvey, it won’t be in there, but maybe there will be something we can use.”
They finished their dinner over other conversation, but C.Z. could almost see the wheels turning in Sam’s head. She knew he would want to solve this not only for her sake, but for Zach’s, as well.
They left the restaurant and Sam walked her to her car, which was parked some distance from his. She’d met him there because it was she who had invited him to dinner, and he lived on the opposite side of town from Stacey’s place.
“Come to my office tomorrow,” Sam said as they stopped beside her car. “You can give me a small retainer and make it official that you’ve hired me. I’ll give it back. This one’s on me. If you’re right, it will not only bring justice for your father’s death, but it’ll also free Zach. His case has really been bothering me, especially since my appeal was denied.”
She nodded. “I’m really grateful to you, Sam.”
He reached out and took one of her hands in both of his. “And I’m really worried about your safety. If you’re right, then Summers has already killed, and my guess is that that would make it easier to kill again.
“That’s one reason I want to make this all official. I want to make it known fast that you’ve hired me, because that means you’ve told me about your suspicions. And that means that going after you would be too risky for Summers.”
She hadn’t thought about that, but she saw that he was right—maybe. “Or it could mean that you’re in danger, as well.”
“I don’t think so. There has to be a limit to the risks they’d take. Still, I want you to promise me that you’ll be really careful, C.Z.”
He was still holding her hand, and she leaned toward him and brushed her lips against his cheek. “I’ll be careful.”
Then, just as she moved away from him, she saw, over his shoulder, a sight that made her freeze. The restaurant was located in an old inn that had a bar with a separate entrance on the side. She’d been vaguely aware of a vehicle pulling into the side lot by the bar, but she’d paid it no attention. And now she saw the driver, still standing beside the battered Jeep as he stared at them.
“What is it?” Sam asked, turning to see what she was staring at.
“Nothing,” she said quickly. “For a moment, I thought I recognized him, that’s all.”
The driver started across the lot, his back to them as he walked toward the bar entrance. C.Z saw Sam watching him with a frown, but she knew he’d never recognize his friend and client.
They said good night and C.Z. got into her car. But all the way to Stacey’s house, she kept envisioning that scene as Zach would have seen it—two people close together in the shadows sharing a kiss. And she remembered Zach’s burst of jealousy over Sam Gittings.
Chapter Eight
She couldn’t sleep. No matter which position she tried, no matter how many times she pummeled the pillow, no matter what mental exercises she tried—nothing worked. It was almost as though she’d somehow snatched his vision of her and Sam. She could see them through his eyes, with his mind.
For a time, she tried on righteous anger. How could he think she would betray him when she’d told him she loved him? What kind of person did he think she was?
But the anger wouldn’t hold. He was alone, a fugitive from the law, and he was frightened even if he refused to show it. She was the one person he trusted. And even if he didn’t think she was betraying their love, he would be hurt She kept remembering what he’d said about not being able to take her out to dinner. It had seemed to her to be such an inconsequential thing, but she realized it was far from unimportant to him.
Before she was aware that she’d made the decision, she had slipped quietly out of bed and was dressing, pulling on an old pair of jeans and a sweater. Surely it would be safe to go to him at this time of night.
The big old house had two staircases, the elegant, curved front stairs and the narrow back stairs to the kitchen. She chose the latter, to keep away from Stacey and Ted’s room. She felt like a sort of reverse thief, stealing out of their house in the middle of the night.
Her car was parked at the rear of the driveway, in the wide, paved area in front of the detached double garage that had once been a carriage house. It wasn’t likely they would hear her leave, but still, she kept her eyes on the upstairs front windows as she started it, then rolled quietly, without lights, down the driveway.
There were only a few cars parked on the street in this neighborhood, where most homes had long driveways and garages. She studied them
as she drove past them, but she saw no one. Then, when she made the turn onto Main Street, she slowed down and watched her rearview mirror. There were no lights behind her. She didn’t really expect to be followed at this hour of the night, but after her encounters with Colby and Summers, she couldn’t be sure.
She’d gone to them at least in part to take the heat off Zach and to establish an independent reason for her inquiries. She wanted them to think that she represented more of a threat to them than he did at the moment, and tomorrow, when Sam went to police headquarters to request the file on the school bus tragedy, they were likely to put finding Zach on the back burner for the moment—perhaps even believe that he’d simply disappeared.
She drove along dark, quiet streets, still keeping an eye on the rearview mirror. At one point, she saw headlights several blocks behind her, so she turned onto a side street. The car passed by on Main Street. She made several turns to get back there herself. The car was nowhere in sight. She hadn’t gotten a good look at it, but it definitely wasn’t Colby’s Bronco or a police car.
Should she tell Zach what she’d done? It would explain why she was with Sam, but it would also mean that she’d ignored Zach’s request not to take any action without consulting him first. A dilemma.
She turned off Main Street onto the mountain road that led to the A-frame, still undecided. Either way, Zach wasn’t going to be happy with her. Trust between them was so important now, and regardless of what she said or didn’t say, he would believe she’d betrayed him.
Most of the road she was traveling was winding, but when she reached the end of a relatively long, straight stretch, she suddenly saw headlights behind her. Cold fingers of fear slithered down her spine. Why would anyone be out here at this hour of the night?
She made a sound of disgust. She was out here, after all. Did she think she was the only one who had a reason to be on this road?
As she drove on, she passed several gravel and dirt roads that led to homes and cabins, but still she saw the lights behind her, always the same distance behind.
Runaway Heart Page 15
