“I’ve been thinking,” he replied as he, too, stared out at the rain. “We need to get to a phone so you can call Sam. If he knows you’re alive and safe, it might prevent him from doing anything foolish. We also need to know if Summers has involved the police or if he’s going to try to find us himself. Sam could tell us that.”
“If only we had a cell phone.” She sighed. There certainly weren’t any phone booths out here.
“I looked into getting one, but most of this is a dead area. We’re not far from a road here, and just a few miles from where this trail comes out, there’s a closed gas station with a phone booth.”
She turned to him in surprise. “You’ve really planned for this,” she said in admiration.
He nodded. “Be prepared isn’t just a Boy Scout motto. Like I told you, I figured it might come to this sooner or later. But what I hadn’t counted on was having you with me.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, even though there’d been no condemnation in his tone.
He reached over and took her hand, squeezing it gently. “I’m not blaming you, Charlie. What you did was actually a good idea, but I would never have let you do it.” He paused. “You came to see me because you thought I would be angry about seeing you with Sam, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” she replied uncertainly. He didn’t seem angry, but she couldn’t be sure. “I only kissed him because I was grateful for his help and for his concern for me.”
“But you thought I’d see it differently,” he finished for her. “Actually, I did, for a while. But then I realized that it was mostly because I was angry that I couldn’t be with you.” He chuckled. “See what you’re doing to me, Dr. Morrison? I’m learning to analyze myself.”
She leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. “Don’t be too hard on yourself.”
He turned in his seat and drew her clumsily into his arms. Their lips met in a lingering kiss. Desire sizzled along her nerve endings, and apparently along his, as well. With a sigh of regret, he released her and swept a hand around the narrow confines of the Jeep.
“Even if we weren’t both well past the age of making out in the back seat, it wouldn’t be possible.”
Their shared laughter served in some perverse way to both dampen their passion and to heighten it. Desire became a low hum beneath the incessant battering of the rain.
“Is it my imagination, or is there some snow mixed in with that rain?” she asked as they both stared through the blurry windshield.
“It’s not your imagination. I heard the forecast yesterday and there’s a good chance this will turn to snow tonight. It’s going to get even colder, which brings us to our next problem.”
“What’s that?”
“Apart from the fact that snow will make it easier for them to track us, there’s the matter of getting you some warmer clothing and a sleeping bag. We’ll need more food, too.”
“How can we do that?”
“We could try to find something by breaking into some cabins, but there might not be anything. Or we can go to the source. How do you feel about a little burglary?”
“Where?”
“You know that new strip mall on Route 117? There’s an outdoor supply store there. I doubt if they have alarms. Most businesses up here don’t. We can break into it tonight.”
She grimaced. “Maybe we should just steal a car and get away from here.”
“That won’t do us any good. We need to find that truck, and I think I might know where we could get some help.”
“We don’t even know for sure the truck is out here,” she pointed out.
“I think it is—and if I’m right, then I know who might know where it is. I should have thought about him sooner.”
“Davy Crockett!” she cried, remembering the recluse. “But how can we find him?”
“I’ve been thinking about that, too. I know where he used to meet your dad each month, and I know which road he takes when he walks into town. Plus I know that he got to my place. So that narrows it down a bit. After you call Sam, we’ll start to look for him, then go to the store tonight.”
“But even if he knows where the truck is, it won’t help unless he actually saw Harvey Summers dump it there. And if he saw that, surely he would have spoken up.”
“No, he wouldn’t have. It isn’t likely he even knew about the school bus accident. He doesn’t live in the world we know. If we find the truck, it may be possible to trace it back to Summers somehow. Someone had to have sold it to him.”
C.Z. said nothing. It sounded like an incredibly long shot to her. It was extremely frustrating to know that they’d found the truth but were unable to prove any of it. She told him that, and he nodded.
“It’s the most frustrating part of any cop’s job—and it’s why some of them resort to planting evidence. Sometimes the law demands too much.”
“Did you ever do that?” she asked, sensing something in his tone.
He shook his head. “But there was one case I worked where I was pretty sure that my partner planted some evidence, and I didn’t call him on it because I knew the guy was guilty. That was another sign to me that it was time to get out. So I came up here and then I got into something even worse.” He gave her a grim smile, then turned the key in the ignition.
“Let’s get to that phone booth.”
“SAM, IT’S C.Z.”
“Where are you?” he asked in an urgent tone that told her he was very worried.
“At a phone booth.”
“Zach’s with you, isn’t he?” he asked. “No, forget I asked. I don’t want to know. The police are looking for you. They say that you’ve been helping him. I heard about it on the morning news. They say Zach’s been staying at a cabin in the area and that they followed you there, but the two of you got away into the woods.
“As soon as I heard that, I went over to police headquarters and asked for the file on the school bus accident. I wanted them to know that you’d hired me.”
“Did they give it to you?”
“Yes. If Colby had been there, I might have been in trouble, because I don’t have any proof that you hired me. But he wasn’t there. There’s a lot of confusion and I took advantage of that.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, her gaze straying from the road, where a few cars passed by, to the closed gas station. Zach was waiting in the Jeep, which he’d parked behind the station. The rain had turned to ice, and it made a soft ticking sound as it struck the glass booth.
“There are a couple of cops I know pretty well, and I think they’re getting suspicious that something strange is going on. Cops are always suspicious, though, and that won’t stop them from hunting you down.”
“What’s made them suspicious?” she asked.
“One of them told me that a lot of the guys have always had their doubts about Summers’s story that Zach tried to kill him. And now that they know a former chief’s daughter is involved with him and I’m suddenly showing up asking for an old file and claiming I’m representing you, they’re beginning to smell something fishy. They tried to find out why I’m interested in the school bus business, but I wouldn’t tell them.”
“Have you read the file?”
“Yeah, and there’s one thing I found kind of interesting. It’s a long shot, but—”
“What is it?” she asked, gripping the receiver tightly. She’d never expected there could be anything of value in that file. If there was, surely Zach would have seen it.
“Your father got a list from motor vehicles of all dark-colored pickups registered to people in the area at the time of the accident. There were check marks beside all of them, indicating that he’d talked to the owners and eliminated them as suspects. But one of them caught my eye, so I went through the write-up he did on it.
“Stanley Williams had a pickup that fit the description. The printout your father got showed that the registration had expired. Stan told your father that he’d sold it for junk two months earlier, but I didn’t find any record of
your father’s having checked that out. I know he and Stan were longtime friends, so that’s probably why.”
“Mary’s husband,” C.Z. said, her mind spinning wildly. He’d died not long after that.
“Right. What got my attention is that Stan was also good friends with Harvey Summers. He was one of the regulars at the poker games out at Summers’s camp right up until he died. Like I said, it’s a long shot, but what if he sold or gave that truck to Summers to keep out at the camp? That’s what you were thinking could have happened.”
“But why would he have lied about it?” C.Z. said. She remembered Stan Williams quite well from her childhood, when they’d been neighbors. He’d been a kindly man and active in many community organizations.
“Well, technically, he didn’t lie, or at least he might have justified it that way to himself. He could have sold it for junk to Harvey, who then used it in the woods.”
“But he would have known why Dad was questioning him, and he must have suspected that Harvey could have been driving it that night. I can’t believe he’d lie to Dad about it. Why would he want to protect Harvey?”
“Well, here we get into confidentiality. All I can tell you is that I handled Stan’s estate when he died, and he knew he was going to die nearly a year ahead. He had lung cancer. You’ll just have to trust me that there could have been a reason.”
“I thought that Mary Williams knew something,” C.Z. said, as much to herself as to Sam.
“I could try talking to Mary myself,” Sam said, “but I don’t think she’ll talk to me. She’s never quite forgiven me for representing her former sister-in-law in a very messy divorce. But I know how she felt about your father, and if she realizes that Summers might have killed him—or had him killed—I think she’d talk to you.”
He heaved a sigh. “But I don’t see how you can risk coming into town. Maybe you should call her.”
“I’ll figure out something,” C.Z. said determinedly. “Thanks, Sam. I’d better go now.”
“I guess this is a pretty dumb question under the circumstances, but there’s something going on between you and Zach, isn’t there?”
“Yes. I’m sorry I’ve lied to you, Sam, but we didn’t want to get you involved. I shouldn’t have come to you at all, but I thought it wouldn’t cause you any ethical problems to look into Dad’s death. Now I’m worried that you could be in danger.”
“There’s not much chance of that, now that the police know I’ve started looking into his death.” He paused. “He’s a lucky man.”
“Let’s hope so,” she replied before hanging up. But the luck she was thinking of was very different from what Sam was talking about.
A car sped past on the nearby road as she opened the door of the booth. She kept her face turned, and then, when it had passed, she ran toward the back of the gas station. The raw wind flung tiny ice pellets at her, but she scarcely noticed them.
“Sam found something!” she announced as soon as she had climbed into the Jeep. “I think it could be the break we’ve been waiting for!”
She related the conversation to Zach, and he swore softly as he frowned in thought. “I missed that,” he said disgustedly. “The name Stan Williams didn’t mean anything to me. I never met him because he died a couple of years before I became chief. And I just assumed your father had satisfied himself it couldn’t have been anyone on that list.”
“Well, if it’s any consolation, Dad failed, too. He apparently just took Stan’s word and didn’t check to see if the truck had really been junked. But it’s still hard for me to believe that Stan would have lied to Dad.”
Zach was silent for a time, then he started the engine and drove cautiously toward the road. Their luck held. They didn’t come upon any other vehicles before they had once again plunged into the forest. He brought the Jeep to a halt.
“Do you want to try to talk to Mary Williams?”
“Of course, but how can I?”
“She lives in a new condo development at the edge of town. I think I could get to it—or close to it—through the woods. It isn’t that far from my place.”
“Then let’s go there tonight. If I tell her my suspicions that Harvey killed Dad, I think she’ll want to help.”
“Maybe. Don’t forget that she’s got her own reputation to think of. If she knows something now, she knew it then, or at least suspected it And she didn’t come forward, either. Do you remember what Stan’s business was?”
“Of course. He had a garage. His son, Steve, has it now. Why?”
“Right. I know Steve. That’s where I got my work done, too. And it’s also where Harvey Summers gets all his garbage trucks serviced. I imagine that’s a pretty big chunk of his business.”
“Oh!”
Chapter Nine
C.Z. felt like the proverbial thief in the night as she hid in the shadows outside Mary Williams’s condo. Mary wasn’t home, and she didn’t know how long to wait. Zach was hiding in the woods behind the complex, and their Jeep was parked even farther into the woods.
Fortunately, he’d known which condo was Mary’s because she’d had him over to advise her on security after another condo in the complex had been burglarized. It was a stroke of luck that hers was one of the ones in the back rather than in the better-lit front section.
Two strokes of luck now, she thought, wondering grimly if they could dare to hope for any more. They certainly needed it.
After Sam’s information about the truck that had belonged to Mary’s husband, Zach was champing at the bit, eager to force Mary to tell them what she knew. They’d argued for some time about his accompanying her to talk to Mary.
Zach had pointed out that he was the one who was skilled at interrogation. She had argued for going alone, fearful of his heavy-handed tactics. Mary might like him and know him better than she knew C.Z., but C.Z. finally convinced him that she was the one best suited to the task.
Her reasoning, which Zach finally accepted, albeit grudgingly, was that there was a powerful bond between her and Mary because of her father, and whatever reasons Mary might have for having kept her silence, it was C.Z.’s plea for justice for her father that was most likely to move her.
But her reasoning was predicated on the fact that Mary did know something, and that was far from certain. Still, as Zach had pointed out, even if all she had were suspicions, their story might well be enough to turn those suspicions into fact.
She glanced at her watch. She’d been here for nearly an hour, crouched in the shadow of the wall around Mary’s patio. It was nearly ten o’clock, and she was getting colder by the minute. The wall sheltered her from the biting wind and most of the snow that was beginning to settle on the grass, but still, she knew she couldn’t stay much longer.
A bubble of black humor welled up in her. Talk about a thief in the night! When they left here, they were planning to burglarize the outdoor supply shop to get her some warm clothing and a sleeping bag. She’d debated asking Mary for some clothing. They were about the same size. But in the end, she decided against it. If they were caught, the clothing might be able to be traced back to Mary, and she didn’t want that. If they were captured, wearing stolen clothing would be the least of her worries.
She heard a car in front of the condo. She waited anxious moments, straining to hear a door being opened. Then she did hear one, but she also heard voices, a man and a woman. It was too distant for her to know if the woman was Mary, but if she had someone with her…
It hadn’t occurred to her that Mary might have a new man in her life. If she did, would that mean that she’d be less likely to help? She hoped not, trying to quell an irrational annoyance with the woman. How could she have gotten over it when C.Z.’s grief felt so raw and unhealed? But then, Mary couldn’t know yet that he’d been murdered.
Her thoughts were focused on Harvey Summers’s smiling face when suddenly a light went on in the condo next door. She could hear the two voices much more clearly.
It was time to go. Mary
might even be out of town. C.Z. got up stiffly and started toward the gate in the wall, staying in the shadows as best she could. Then, when she had nearly reached the gate, she heard, to her horror, the sound of the sliding door opening.
Immediately, a tiny bundle of fur hurtled itself toward her, yapping wildly. A Yorkie, she thought, though she couldn’t see it clearly. She ran for the gate, and the little dog ran toward her, still barking hysterically. Just as she slipped through the gate, floodlights came on and she heard the man’s voice.
She dashed beyond the range of the lights, over the narrow strip of grass and into the woods, then flung herself onto the ground. The man came to the gate and peered into the darkness. C.Z. felt icy sweat prickle her skin as she lay there shivering, praying that he wouldn’t get a flashlight and come looking for her.
The dog was still barking, and she envisioned the man opening the gate and sending it out to find her. But instead, after what seemed like several lifetimes, he turned back and she heard him trying to calm the dog.
The floodlights remained on, though, and C.Z. waited, uncertain if he’d gone inside—and, if he had, whether or not he’d come back with a flashlight to make a more thorough search.
Then suddenly, just when she began to believe she might be safe, something heavy fell on her. A scream started to escape from her throat, but all that came out was a small squeak as a big hand clamped itself firmly over her mouth.
She was already struggling to free herself by the time she realized it was Zach, and even then, seconds passed before terror could give way to relief.
“What happened?” he whispered, his lips close to her ear and his beard tickling her cheek and neck.
“Mary wasn’t home. I was waiting for her and then the neighbors came home and let out their dog. I don’t know if he saw me or not, but I think he might have. The dog certainly did.”
Runaway Heart Page 17
