Shadow Lake

by B. J Daniels

  “Like hell. The whole right side must have been smashed up pretty good.” Based on the fact that the registration in the glove box had been bloody, Nash figured the passenger must be dead. “What did you do with the body?”

  “There weren’t no body. Are you crazy? I don’t do that shit.”

  “But there had to be blood everywhere.”

  Leon sighed again. “Man, if you know so much about this, then why are you raggin’ on me?”

  Nash swore under his breath. “Didn’t you wonder what was up with all the blood?”

  “Sure, man.”

  “So what did Jonathan Fairbanks tell you?”

  Leon laughed. “How dumb you think I am? Like I’m going to ask that dude.”

  “He didn’t give you any indication?”

  Leon swore. “He indicated he wasn’t interested in talking about it. Come on, man, I’m going to be late for my meds. But I can tell you this. The dude called me from the hospital.”

  “Which one?” Nash asked.

  “I can’t remember the name. That one in Ballard.”

  AFTER DOC HAD RUTH FAIRBANKS in the ICU and all her vitals stable, he went to find Anna. He’d seen how upset she’d been when she’d arrived at the hospital shortly after the helicopter had brought in Ruth and her son.

  Anna was now huddled in the waiting room nervously tracing her scar, her knees pulled up to her chest, her chin resting on them, eyes closed. She looked like a child and he felt a wave of tenderness toward her. He could have so easily had a daughter her age if Gladys had been able to conceive.

  “Is she all right?” Anna said, shooting to her feet the moment he entered the room.

  “She just sent for her lawyer and Judge Gandy. I guess we’re about to find out if she’s all right. She’s demanded a competency hearing.”

  Anna felt her heart sink. “She must think she’s going to die.”

  “Then wouldn’t you send for a priest? Or your family?” Doc asked. “Instead, she wants guards at her doors and she’s put Jonathan and her daughter-in-law on an absolutely-no-admittance list. No, I believe Ruth is well aware that she’s going to live and wants it on her terms.”

  “What about her heart?” Anna asked.

  “She didn’t have a heart attack, although I can’t convince her son of that,” Doc said. “I’d say she had a panic attack. It’s so not like Ruth Fairbanks. I guess that’s why Jonathan has insisted a cardiologist be called in, since his mother has refused to be flown to a Seattle hospital. Not that panic attacks can’t be dangerous, especially in a woman her age.”

  “This is all my fault,” Anna said, sounding close to tears. “I should never have gone out there.”

  He steered her to the couch and sat down beside her. “This had nothing to do with you.”

  Anna was shaking her head. “When I found her, she was burning these.” She pulled two sheets of folded, slightly crumpled paper from her pocket and handed them to him. “She wouldn’t even let me call for help until I took them and promised to burn them. She’d already burned a number of the pages in the fireplace.”

  He frowned as he unfolded the papers, glancing from the first few lines to Anna. “Ruth had you investigated? And that makes this your fault how exactly?” He couldn’t hide his anger. This was so like Ruth Fairbanks.

  “She was trying to burn the report when she collapsed. I heard her gasp, then knock over a lamp as she fell. Something in that report about me had to have caused her attack.”

  “Did you read it?”

  She nodded. “The first two pages. The rest she’d already burned.”

  “Is there something in there that would have been that traumatic?”

  “Not that I can see, but read the report and see what you think,” Anna pleaded.

  Brubaker nodded and, adjusting his glasses, read what was written on the two pages. When he’d finished, he refolded the pages and handed them back to her. “There’s nothing there, Anna. If Ruth’s panic attack has something to do with that report, then it must have been in the pages she’d already burned.”

  His beeper went off. “I told the nurse to call me if Ruth started making more demands.”

  He headed for the door, then turned to look back at her. “You aren’t going back to the island, are you?”

  “Not likely.”

  “I have a big old house and could use the company. The front door is always unlocked. You’d be doing me a favor. The place has been rather lonely since Gladys left. The guest room has a great view.” He seemed to hesitate. “Gladys wouldn’t object. In fact when I go by to talk to her today, I’ll tell her you might be staying for a while.”

  IT HAD BEEN ONE OF THOSE DAYS. Walker was still reeling from what he’d learned.

  If he was right, then the vehicle that hit Anna Collins eight months ago was Jack Fairbanks’s Lincoln Navigator. It was too much of a coincidence that Jack’s SUV was stolen around that time and matched the description right down to the fish sticker on the bumper.

  Back at his office, he went over the financial reports he’d ordered on the Collinses. He shouldn’t have been surprised to learn that Anna had real wealth, apparently handed down from her family.

  Marc Collins, on the other hand, had made some bad investments in a depressed housing market. But for the past six months he’d been banking ten grand a month on the fifteenth of each month; that sent up a red flag.

  From what Walker could tell, the money hadn’t been coming from Collins’s wife or any other source that he could find. It reeked of blackmail.

  When Chief Nash called from the hospital, he said Lucinda might lose the baby.

  “I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do?” Walker had asked.

  “I just wanted to let you know that I have complete faith in you when it comes to this murder investigation,” Nash said. “I’m not going to be able to help.”

  Walker swore under his breath. He understood what was going on. Jonathan Fairbanks had gotten to him. No CID. Let that officer of yours handle the murder trial.

  “You can’t expect me to handle a case of this size—”

  “Walker, I know you. If anyone can solve this case, it’s you. Who’s working today?”

  “Tillman.”

  “Good. If you need, call in the others. They normally would start the first of May anyway. What’s a week early? I’m sure they can use the money. I would appreciate it though if you’d keep me abreast of any new developments.”

  “Sure.” Walker couldn’t believe this. Nash was throwing him to the wolves, gambling that Walker couldn’t come up with anything that would hurt the Fairbankses. Meanwhile Nash had distanced himself from it.

  “How long will Lucinda be in the hospital?” Walker asked, trying to keep an angry tone out of his voice.

  “Doc doesn’t know. The baby’s all right. At least so far. I’m staying with her. As you know, I’ve been thinking about retiring for some time. I will be announcing my retirement once this murder case is over and recommending you as the new chief.”

  Walker mumbled a thank-you and got off the phone as quickly as possible. Nash had thrown him a bone, knowing that his chances of being Shadow Lake police chief were nil if he went after the Fairbankses.

  He’d barely hung up when Doc called from the hospital.

  “I suppose you heard that Ruth Fairbanks was brought in,” Doc said. “She has asked me to see about hiring someone to guard her while she’s in here.”

  “Bodyguards?”

  “Apparently she has reason to fear for her safety,” Doc said.

  Walker let out a low whistle. “Okay. I know a couple of guys who might want the work. How soon do you need them?”

  “Immediately.”

  Walker hung up. He hurried down the hall to the fax machine. It didn’t take long to find what he’d been looking for. Marc Collins had called Jonathan Fairbanks’s campaign office just over six months ago shortly before he was called on his cell by the politician himself. There were several more ca
lls just before the fifteenth when the first ten thousand dollars appeared in Collins’s personal account.

  Walker picked up his hat. It was time he paid another visit to Marc Collins.

  ANNA STEPPED OUT OF THE hospital and took a gulp of the cold, damp air. The day, like all of the rest since she’d been here in Shadow Lake, was dark with clouds and the promise of rain.

  She shivered and rubbed her arms through her jacket, thankful that Ruth hadn’t had a heart attack. Still Anna couldn’t shake the feeling that what had caused the woman’s panic attack was something she’d read in the investigator’s report. What had been in the other pages—the ones Ruth had saved?

  “I’ve been looking for you,” said a male voice behind her, jerking her out of her thoughts.

  Anna turned to come face-to-face with Marc. She hadn’t seen him since his visit to the hospital. She was surprised he was still in town and wondered what he’d been doing, since little was open for the season.

  “I thought you would have left town by now.” She’d hoped he had. He was the last person she wanted to see.

  “I have a business deal going. Just waiting on a call to finalize it. This seemed as good a place to wait as any other.”

  She wondered why he was being so cryptic. This deal he had going didn’t sound like a real estate one. But she really didn’t care one way or the other.

  “I also thought I should stay around in case you needed me,” he added as an afterthought.

  She couldn’t help but smile at that. “What? Haven’t you done enough to help me?”

  “I just told the truth.”

  “Right.” She started to walk away.

  “We need to talk,” he said, and indicated his car parked down the block.

  The last thing she wanted to do was talk to him let alone get into his car with him. His eyes seemed too bright, his demeanor odd. She didn’t get the impression he’d been drinking, but he appeared to be high on something.

  Anna shook her head. “I think we’ve said everything we need to say to each other. When this is over, I’ll be filing for divorce.”

  He bristled at the news. “You’re that confident you won’t be going to prison?”

  She turned to leave. He grabbed her arm, but she jerked free.

  “Please, Anna, I’m sorry. This isn’t how I want to leave things between us.”

  “Sign the divorce papers then, Marc.”

  He looked off toward the lake, then back at her. “Okay. I just wanted to tell you that I have a buyer for the business. I’ve decided I need some time to get my head straight. I’m thinking of doing some traveling. I’m not sure when or if I’ll be coming back.”

  That surprised her more than him selling the business.

  “It’s time I got on with my life,” he said belligerently. “I’ll be free to do anything I want. I’ll have money and nothing but time.” He grinned, the grin too big, the eyes glittering. “You sure you don’t want to come with me, just skip town before you get sent to prison?”

  “I’m sure.”

  He shrugged. “If you change your mind, I’m staying at the Pine-something Cabins on the lake. It’s just down the road on the left. Cabin nine. I’ll be there until tomorrow.”

  She didn’t bother to tell him she wouldn’t be changing her mind. She waited until he drove away before she walked toward Dr. Brubaker’s house.

  As she passed the marina, Anna remembered that she hadn’t paid for her boat trip to the island. A breeze came up off the water as she neared the small building. She could hear someone inside it moving around and the occasional tink-tink of metal on metal.

  As she rounded the corner, she saw the same young man who’d taken her out to the island that first night. “Hi, Eric,” she said when he looked up.

  He smiled bashfully. No doubt he’d heard that the Fairbankses had called the police on her.

  “I hope I didn’t get you in trouble the other night,” she said. “I still have to pay Harry.”

  “That’s him now,” Eric said.

  She heard the boat motor and turned to see a fishing boat come in off the water. As it pulled to the dock, a heavyset man wearing a Panama hat tossed out a stringer of fish onto the dock.

  Eric hurried to tie up the boat as Harry bragged about the day’s catch. From the older man’s boisterous laugh, she could only assume, even given the hour, that he’d consumed a few of the beers that had once been in the aluminum cans now crumpled and piled in the bottom of the boat.

  Eric said something to him and Harry looked her way. “Clean those for me, will ya, Eric?” Harry said jovially, then punched the kid playfully in the shoulder. “Just kiddin’.”

  “Hello,” Harry said as he came up the dock toward her. “Eric says you want to give me money? Always love to get money from a pretty lady.” He laughed.

  “Eric was kind enough to give me a ride out to the Fairbankses’island the other night,” she said. “I’d like to pay you.” She held out her credit card, the only one she still had after losing her purse in the lake. “You do take cards, I hope.”

  Harry lifted one furry brow as he took her card. “A popular place, that island, lately.” He looked down at the card, saying, “Always take credit cards. Collins?” He glanced up at her. “You related to Marc Collins?”

  She couldn’t hide her surprise. “You know Marc?”

  “He rented a boat from me. Like I said, popular place that island lately.” He stepped into the small building, working his way to the back where he pulled out an old-fashioned credit-card machine and ran her card through it.

  “Marc went out to the Fairbankses’ island?” she asked, thinking Harry must be mistaken.

  “That’s right. I gave him the directions myself,” Harry said as he came back out with her card, a pen and the receipt for her to sign.

  “When was that?” she asked as she scribbled her name.

  Harry frowned in concentration. “Two or three days ago? I know, it was the morning before you borrowed my helper here to take you out to the island.”

  Marc had gone out to the Fairbankses before she had? Why wouldn’t Jonathan or his mother have told her that?

  IT TOOK A WARRANT TO GET the name of the patient brought in the night of August 30 eight months before.

  Nash knew a judge in Seattle who’d run against Big Jim Fairbanks in a primary years ago. He’d been happy to sign a warrant even though Nash had told him he doubted little would come of it.

  When Nash finally had the patient file in his hand, he’d known at once that even if he’d kept the bloody registration, he could never have brought Jonathan Fairbanks down with it.

  The patient, who’d been treated for extensive facial lacerations, had been whisked off immediately by private jet to sunny Southern California for plastic surgery by the state’s leading face-lift doctor.

  Patricia “Pet” Fairbanks, according to the medical record, had been the only passenger in a one-car rollover. There was nothing about who had brought her to the hospital. Nothing about any drug use. Or record of the accident.

  News like this involving the daughter-in-law of Senator Big Jim Fairbanks would have made national television. Except it hadn’t. Nash knew it had taken more than Jonathan to keep the lid on this. It had taken Big Jim himself.

  Nash left the hospital and called Jonathan Fairbanks from a pay phone down the block.

  “It’s Chief Nash,” he said. “I’m at the hospital in Ballard.”

  Silence on the other end of the line.

  “I know about Pet’s ‘face-lift’ after her one-car rollover August 30, the same night a woman named Anna Collins was injured and her four-year-old killed in a hit-and-run. The same night a car thief named Leon picked up Jack Fairbanks’s black Lincoln Navigator and made it disappear.”

  “What is it you want?” Jonathan asked his voice cold as stone.

  “Nothing. As far as I’m concerned, you and my family have no connection whatsoever nor will we ever again,” Nash said.
/>   “I can live with that,” Jonathan said.

  Nash bet the bastard could as he hung up.

  He didn’t need Jonathan Fairbanks to tell him that he would have had hell making a case against him. Leon, a felon doing time in the pen, wouldn’t make a credible witness against a man like Jonathan Fairbanks, nor would Lucinda even if there had been proof.

  Even with the bloody registration, Nash would only have had proof that Pet had been in an accident that was never reported.

  But the fact was, Jonathan Fairbanks had paid twenty-five thousand in blackmail money to Lucinda for papers from the car. And Big Jim Fairbanks had reported the black Lincoln Navigator stolen, lying though his teeth to protect his sons.

  As Nash drove back to Shadow Lake, Nash told himself that it was over. But he knew he would always wonder who’d been driving the SUV that night. Jack? Or Jonathan?

  THE PATROL CAR’S HEADLIGHTS swept through the rain and fog to pick up number nine in the Pinecrest Cabin Court.

  Walker was relieved to see that Marc Collins’s car was still parked outside the cabin. He pulled in, cut the engine and let the rainy day settle around him.

  Through a crack in the curtains, he could see a light on inside the cabin. He considered for a moment how to handle Collins. It would be hard to get him to talk, especially given the disgust Walker felt for the man.

  Collins had blackmailed the killer of his child. The minute the eyewitness had told him about the glow-in-the-dark fish pasted over the Fairbanks campaign bumper sticker, Walker had known the hit-and-run vehicle belonged to Jack Fairbanks.

  He hadn’t wanted to believe it. Not Jack. Jonathan, sure. But Walker couldn’t imagine Jack doing something like that and living with the guilt.

  But Jack hadn’t, had he?

  Walker shoved away thoughts of Jack. He couldn’t deal with that right now. Later, when he had enough evidence against the Fairbankses, then he would deal with it.

  Right now, he had to get Marc Collins to talk. Walker knew the Realtor would have lawyered up by now. Somehow Walker had to get Collins to roll over on the Fairbankses.

  He opened his car door and stepped out into the rain. Cabin number nine was cloaked in cottonlike fog. For a moment, this felt like a dream. A bad one.