No new leads had come in regarding Becky, and as far as she knew, the kidnapper hadn’t reached out to the Langleys. What was he waiting for?
Despite her hectic schedule, she felt it would be worthwhile to swing by the amusement park. If old prison associates of Clifford’s were now working there, maybe someone would know something and be willing to talk.
It is the Anarchist Freedom Network all over again, she thought, as she drove to the east side of town. People she didn’t know had been cropping up around town like weeds through concrete, easily unnoticeable, but rampant just the same. Convicts. And because they were taking jobs no one in town wanted—cooks and bus boys and construction workers—it was safe to assume the other resident of Rock Ridge hadn’t observed the infiltration either.
But again, she stopped herself from thinking the worst. Instead, she pulled off the main road, turning into the old camping area, which was now overwrought with bulldozers and cranes while construction workers operated various machines she had never seen before. They were building quickly. The last time she had swung by, there wasn’t an admissions building, but now its foundation and steel frame were erect.
Coming to a stop in the parking area, she felt for her cell phone in her overalls, making sure it was still on her, and then pulled her key from the ignition. She spied a trailer up the way. Its broad side was marked with the Six Flags logo, and its side door was open.
It stood to reason that among the construction workers who were also ex-cons, at least one of them would’ve known Clifford. The trick would be connecting to that person. She wasn’t sure her effort would be productive, but she had to start somewhere. Scott meant well, but she was losing faith in him. In the same vein, she didn’t want to strain their marriage further, so she promised herself—whatever she found out, if anything—she would turn it over to him, perhaps anonymously. That way, she could send him in the right direction without jeopardizing their dynamic, which couldn’t afford to falter any further than it had.
As she made her way towards the site, movement within the trailer caught her eye. The trailer windows were open, and there was nothing concealing her view. Dean Wentworth was inside, pacing with his fists planted on his hips as though something was wrong. Then a man in a suit came before the window and began arguing a point she couldn’t hear.
Quickening her pace so she wouldn’t be seen, she neared a stack of steel materials and ducked behind them. She scanned the construction workers. Some she recognized as residents, a good sign that Dean had followed through with his promise to employ those in Rock Ridge who had been out of work. However, the majority of men she saw definitely weren’t from around Rock Ridge, or at least they hadn’t been.
She startled when a man brushed by her from behind, mumbling, “Watch it,” as if she could’ve foreseen she would be in his way. He was wearing a hard hat, and though he was muscular, his stature implied he was getting up there in years.
“Excuse me,” she said, getting his attention. He pivoted and furrowed his brow to meet her eye through the glare of sunlight that was beating down.
“You lost?”
“Do you know a man named Clifford Green?” she asked, diving in without pretense.
He smirked and his expression shifted in a way that told her he thought she might be out of her mind.
“Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but Clifford’s dead.”
“Yes, I know that.” She neared him secretively. “I heard he was hired here.”
“So?”
“Did you know him?”
“Yeah, you could say that. Who are you?”
Grady hadn’t exactly been more apt to talk to her after finding out she was the local handy woman, so she answered his question with the more personal aspect of why she was here.
“I’m close friends with a woman whom the police are looking at for his murder, but she’s innocent.”
The construction worker eyed her for a long beat, then his face smoothed curiously with a knowing smirk.
“Hey, you’re the police chief’s wife, aren’t you?”
She was still getting used to people referring to her as Scott’s wife. Though being married to him meant the world to her, it often didn’t sit right that people didn’t see her as someone with her own identity, but rather as an extension of her husband. But she quirked her mouth into a confirming smirk.
“So your hubs is interrogating your friend?” He laughed, shaking his head.
To get him back on track, she stated, “Clifford did some time, and I wonder if he was killed because of something that happened in prison.”
He glanced around, saying, “Yeah, we’ve all done some time.”
“You were in prison with Clifford?”
“I was,” he said reluctantly. “But a lot of us were.”
“Can you think of anyone who would’ve had it in for him?”
“Look, most of us here just got out of prison. Why would we do something to risk going back?” he challenged, and it was a good point. “If it was anyone, it was one of you people. Do you have any idea how much of a hard time we’ve been getting? I’ve personally been refused service at several delis, bars, and a park.” He gaped at her, his mouth dropping to emphasize his point. “Can you believe that? I was at a public park and a cop asked me to leave. Said I was scaring the children.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said, even though she wasn’t.
“I don’t want to get involved, and you’re not going to want to quote me on this because—quite frankly—the cops around here aren’t going to believe the word of an ex-con, but I saw this crazy woman arguing with Clifford.”
Kate cocked her head with interest. “Clifford got into an argument with a woman?” Clara came to mind.
“No, Clifford didn’t get into anything,” he corrected. “He was backing away and trying to get her to calm down.”
“What were they arguing about?”
“As far as I could tell... money.”
“So they knew each other well?”
“That’s what it looked like.” He took a moment to light a cigarette, as though he figured they would be talking for a bit. “Then when we were going to leave for the day, Clifford saw his rear tires were slashed. It was crystal clear the woman did it.”
“Do you remember what she looked like?”
“She was about your height. Wavy hair. She looked like she had money if you ask me.”
Clara has flower tattoos, and her hair is constantly changing colors, so it can’t be her, Kate thought.
“Then the boss broke it up. Sent her on her way. But…she didn’t leave, not until she slashed Clifford’s tires.”
“What boss? The construction manager?”
“No, the freaking mayor.”
Immediately, Kate peered around the steel pile into the trailer window. Dean was still in the throes of his heated discussion with one of the executives.
“Did the mayor seem familiar with her?”
“Familiar? I don’t know. I was trying to mind my own business. You should ask him.”
Kate started for the trailer then turned on her heel.
“What’s your name?”
“Bobby,” he said, but she waited for his last name. “Shank.”
“Your last name is Shank?”
He grinned. “They didn’t have to give me a nickname in prison.”
“No, with a name like Shank they wouldn’t need to,” she agreed then rounded the steel pile and padded up the trailer’s steps.
But the second she glanced into the trailer, she caught eyes with Jason, who was seated in a chair, observing the argument from his front row seat.
“Jason,” she said, interrupting Dean and the executive, who had discarded his suit jacket and rolled his sleeves up.
“Mom, what are you doing here?” he asked, quietly getting to his feet, as if her arrival might go unnoticed. “You’re not checking up on me, are you?”
“No.” She was so thrown to find h
im here, her mind suddenly jumping to the conclusion that her son would be working in the midst of all sorts of criminals that she didn’t think to apologize to Dean, who was now staring at her with wide eyes.
The executive looked even less pleased. “Is this how you’re running things, Wentworth? Random people encouraged to barge in on meetings?”
“It’s not how I’m running things,” Dean snapped. “That’s why we’ve got Jason here.”
Jason beamed a smile at Kate. “Hear that?”
“You’re going to be running things?”
“Dean doesn’t have time to manage Wentworth Construction and hold his seat as the mayor, so he just hired me,” he explained, but when Dean glared at him for still being here, he quickly guided Kate out of the trailer and down the steps.
“Honey, that’s great,” she said.
“I think so. It’ll give me structure.”
It would also give Scott a reason to back off of Jason’s case. If Scott suspected Becky and Jason had orchestrated her kidnapping as a ploy to exploit money from the Langleys, his theory would collapse in the face of Jason’s new income.
“I’m going to start tomorrow.”
“When did this happen? Dean approached you?”
“He gave me a call.”
“So what’s with all the yelling and screaming in there?”
Speaking in a low tone, Jason said, “Dean was supposed to put everyone on the payroll at minimum wage. It’s that guy’s money after all. But Dean didn’t think it would be right to pay residents with clean records the same as the ex-cons working here. It’s only like twelve guys who are getting better pay, but the suit in there is furious.”
Kate smirked. She always knew Dean was a good guy. She was glad he bent the rules. Yet, Dean had his secrets.
“So why are you really here?”
“Ah, I was hoping to talk to Dean about... Jared’s office. It’s going to be a lot more expensive to fix up than I thought.”
It seemed to make sense to Jason, who nodded then padded up the stairs, readying to catch Dean on her behalf.
When he returned, she could see Jason was in good spirits and she couldn’t be happier. His face wasn’t drawn like it had been, and he wasn’t lumbering about exhaustively. Being appointed the head of Wentworth Construction could prove to be the best thing for him, but it still concerned her that he would oversee so many criminals.
“I’ve got to head out. Get my affairs in order,” he said, to which she smirked.
“Affairs?”
“Well, errands—laundry, grocery shopping, stocking up the house since I’ll be working long hours. Damn,” he said, his smile falling, “Becky would’ve been so proud of me.”
“She will be,” said Kate. “As soon as she’s back.”
“I want to think that, Mom. But I know what they say about the first seventy-two hours a person is missing.”
“You can’t give up hope,” she said, turning serious. “Jason, she’s out there and we’ll find her.”
Relenting, he said, “Yeah, I know.” Then he shot her a sad smile and started towards the parking area.
A moment later, Dean stepped out of the trailer.
“Jared’s office is going to be pricey?”
She waited for him to descend the stairs before she delved into the issue at hand.
“No,” she admitted. “But I didn’t want Jason in our business.”
“So what’s up?”
“You broke up a fight between Clifford Green and a woman?”
The casual smile on Dean’s face drooped and then his expression hardened. “Who told you that?”
“It doesn’t matter,” she said, reading his demeanor, which had her suddenly concerned. “Who was the woman?”
Avoiding the question with the same cadence she had used, he said, “It doesn’t matter.”
“I’m afraid it does,” she countered. “If you know something, you really need to tell Scott.”
“Who’s to say I haven’t?”
She was willing to bet he hadn’t, but she didn’t say it.
“I know you think you’re helping,” he went on, “but just because someone gets into a verbal altercation doesn’t mean they’re guilty of murder. You should know that better than anyone.”
“All I know is that whoever killed Clifford is still running around town free as a bird.”
“I gave your son a job,” he said curtly. “One that pays quite well if you really must know.” To conclude, he added, “You’re welcome,” and then he padded up the trailer steps and disappeared inside, slamming the door.
Who was the woman who slashed Clifford’s tires? It wasn’t Clara, and she doubted it was Carly. Her florist friend had wavy hair, but like Kate, Carly dressed sensibly for working with flowers and soil. No one would characterize her as someone whose clothes screamed money.
Becky came to mind, but she forced the possibility out of her head. It was too outlandish, and she had already decided it couldn’t have been Becky she saw outside of Daisy’s Luncheonette that night.
Dean knows something, she thought, as she pulled out of her parking spot and headed into town. And if Dean doesn’t want to tell me, then maybe Jessica will.
Jessica Wentworth had a long history of being a mayor’s wife. Formerly married to Dudley Stuart, the prior mayor of Rock Ridge two terms ago, Jessica had lived quite a cozy life—except for the tragedy of her son, Bradley, having gone missing when he’d been only four. When Dudley had been murdered, Jessica reached an all-time low, not only mourning his death, but also because she had been accused of committing the crime. She had bounced back, however, when she became involved with Dean. And two years ago, she reached an all-time high—thanks to Kate, who had reunited her with her long, lost son.
Because of it, Kate felt confident that if Jessica knew something, she would let Kate in on the secret, so Kate put off price-checking furniture rentals for Meredith’s house to stop in on her.
As she pulled to the curb in front of the house, she felt her cell vibrate in her pocket and wasn’t at all surprised to find a text message from Justina asking her if she was planning on stopping by with her budget.
Give me until six o’clock? She responded then hopped out onto the street.
The heat was stifling, as she made her way up the walk. She knocked on the door then realized the house was too big for anyone inside to hear her, so she rang the doorbell. She could hear it chime faintly through the door, and a few moments later, Bradley opened it.
“Kate,” he said, surprised to see her on the welcome mat. “Is my mom expecting you?”
“No, I hope that’s okay.”
“Sure,” he said, widening the door for her to come inside.
As soon as she did, the crisp AC hit her, and she realized she must have been sweating terribly. Following Bradley—whose name still popped up in her head as ‘Toby’ because that’s who he had introduced himself as when she had met him years back surrounding the Anarchist Freedom Networks infiltration into Rock Ridge—she asked, “How are you enjoying college?”
“I’m enjoying the summer break,” he laughed. “But it’s going well. I’ve been helping out in the mayor’s office when I can, too. Jared’s hilarious.”
“Is that right?”
“Hey, Mom,” he said, hovering in the doorway of her studio.
Jessica had turned her flare for designing t-shirts, which had only been a hobby, into a full-fledged business a year ago and had since branched out into all styles of clothing. Her studio was a lively mess of cloth and scraps and mannequins in various stages of undress.
“Oh, Kate,” Jessica exclaimed, straightening up from her sewing machine. “What brings you here—besides a cup of coffee?”
She smiled and realized the mere mention of coffee had caused her mind to go momentarily blank.
Jessica was already approaching a table in the corner where a coffee maker sat with a fresh pot of dark roast. She poured a mug and offered it to Kate.
And when she reached for it, she realized Bradley had silently excused himself. They were alone.
“Thanks,” she said between sips. “I needed this.”
“How is Jason doing?” she asked, concerned. “How are you doing for that matter?”
“We’re holding up.”
“I know the feeling,” she said. “But if I got Bradley back after more than a decade, there’s always hope Becky will be found.”
“We’re certainly trying to stay hopeful,” she said in agreement.
“I’m so glad Jason accepted the position at Wentworth Construction,” she went on. “I know it must have been hard for him. There’s a lot of guilt surrounding the idea of moving on after a loved one has vanished. But the fact of the matter is that you can keep your life going while remaining active in the search, you know?”
“No, I know,” she said. “He was getting so depressed, and now that he’s been hired, it’s like the life came back into his eyes.”
“That’s so good to hear,” she said, sitting on the edge of her table.
“So I’ll get down to it,” she began. “I don’t want to take up too much of your time, but I’m sure you heard about one of Dean’s construction workers getting murdered?”
“Of course. Clifford Green. Shocking.”
“I have to ask you...” she trailed off. She dreaded putting Jessica in a position to perhaps betray her husband.
“It’s okay, Kate. You can ask. If it wasn’t for you, I might be in prison right now, falsely convicted for Dudley’s murder.”
She was glad she didn’t have to point that out.
“I heard Dean broke up a fight between Clifford and a woman at the construction site,” she said. “And then the woman slashed Clifford’s tires. I haven’t heard any other account of violence against Clifford, and I know he did time, but I’d really like to know who the woman was. Dean wouldn’t tell me.”
Jessica’s expression didn’t give much away, but Kate couldn’t tell if that was because she was preparing herself to protect her husband, or if she simply didn’t know anything about it.
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