“It’s going to take a while to walk along the shore, a couple hours, maybe more. Then we’ll have to get a ride the rest of the way. It will be dark by the time we get home.”
“Isn’t that raft rental place somewhere between here and town?”
“I doubt it’s open this time of year,” said Grace.
“There’s a pay phone.”
“I forgot about that. We’ll call for a ride when we get there.”
Grace checked her cell phone for a signal before striking out along the shore. They were still out of range. Lara and Grace leaned against each other for warmth. Every few minutes Grace turned to see if Jordan was following them. The hunting rifle he was carrying had a spotting scope. That worried Grace now that they were out in the open. If he was a decent shot it would be easy to pick them off from a distance.
* * *
The man who’d given them a lift into town offered to drop Grace and Lara off at their apartment, but they said it would be fine for him to leave them anywhere along Main Street. They thanked him again for being so helpful and offered him money for gas. He waved them off.
“Next time you go for a walk in the woods be sure to dress properly,” he said.
They’d been hiking along the river’s rocky shoreline for nearly two hours when they’d finally come across the little store where they rented rafts during the summer. It was way past the end of the season so they’d been lucky the owner was there. He was doing some necessary repairs to the roof and shuttering all the windows in preparation for winter. He brought them inside and served them coffee next to a wood-burning stove. He was well into his sixties but moved with ease. His long gray beard was flecked with copper. There wasn’t much stock left on the shelves, but he’d found them some Cup-a-Soup and boiled water in a kettle on the stove.
He’d asked where they’d run out of gas and shook his head upon hearing their response.
“Another mile up the road and you would have come to a gas station. What on earth possessed you to head through the woods like that?”
There’d been no truth in their answer.
They’d rested near the stove while he’d finished up the work that needed doing. It was dark by the time they squeezed into the cab of his pickup truck and headed for Bolton.
Lara and Grace were both exhausted as they walked along the final stretch of road that would take them home.
“We’ll drive out in the morning and pick up your car,” said Grace.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea. He might be waiting for us. You need to go to the police first.”
They stopped about a hundred yards from their apartment building. The overhead trees were thick and lamplight barely touched the pavement for long stretches. A young woman squealed with laughter as a group of teenagers entered the park across the street. Grace and Lara relaxed. There were still people about. They walked down the center of the road. Jordan’s Bronco was nowhere to be seen.
Grace took her phone out of her jacket pocket and dialed 911.
“What are you doing?” asked Lara.
Grace had the phone pressed to her ear. “This doesn’t feel right. I’m calling the police.” She waited to be put through. “26 Spruce Road. A man is threatening us.”
They both turned around at the sound of footsteps. Jordan had emerged from between two parked cars. He walked toward them. Grace held the phone in her hand like a threat. She and Lara backed away from Jordan. Grace yelled loud enough for the dispatcher to hear her.
“I’ve called the police,” said Grace. “They’re on their way.”
Jordan kept coming. “They’re going to be too late.”
12
Thursday
Macy was beyond tired. Wrapped in a bathrobe monogrammed with the hotel’s logo, wet hair secured in a towel, and every muscle aching, she stretched out on the bed and faced a silent television screen. She emptied a miniature bottle of whiskey into a glass half filled with ice. The first taste warmed her lips. The second burned her right down to the core. The third brought on a much-appreciated thaw. She opened a second bottle and tipped more whiskey into the glass.
It had been a long time since Macy last gave Grace Adams much thought. Quite an achievement considering how heavily the young woman once weighed on Macy’s personal and professional life. Her mother’s murder was linked to the first big case Macy had worked with Ray Davidson. Back then, Macy was a young recruit and Ray already a seasoned investigator. Their subsequent romantic relationship turned out to be one of the biggest mistakes of her life. At the time of Luke’s birth, Ray and Macy were no longer a couple, but a snowstorm had trapped Macy in the same town that had brought them together. She’d been alone when she gave birth to their son in Collier County Hospital. Grace Adams was one of her first visitors. The young woman had also been alone. Wheeled in by a hospital orderly, she’d been left at the foot of Macy’s bed with nothing but a sketchbook and a worried smile. Grace hadn’t come to apologize, but they both knew that she should have found the courage to tell the truth sooner.
Macy played with the buttons on the television remote, idly scanning the channels. Hannah Granger’s surprise return from the dead was all over the news. After the interview she’d been released without being charged but told to remain in Bolton. There were still many unanswered questions. An unidentified woman had died while sharing a bed with her husband and several valuable paintings were missing. No one in Bolton and the surrounding areas had filed a missing person’s report, and a search of the Granger’s cabin, Jessica Reynolds’s home, and the university grounds had yielded nothing in the way of stolen artwork. Macy would interview Cornelia Hart and the students from the writing workshop in the morning. Grace Adams was the first person Macy wanted to speak to.
Macy wondered how much Grace had changed. She’d only had time to skim the thin file Alisa had handed her. Grace Adams had been living under the name Larson and attending Bolton College for the past two and half years. She’d requested assistance from the local police on four separate occasions because she felt she was being followed and feared for her personal safety. The four men had left town without incident after being approached by police officers, so no charges were ever filed. All Macy had in front of her was a list of names. None of the men had criminal records. The most determined of Grace’s stalkers had travelled all the way from Eastern Europe. Detective Sergeant Brad Hastings had posted an unofficial note in the file. In July, Grace Adams had been found asleep and presumably drunk on Peter and Hannah’s sofa. For some reason Peter Granger and Grace had pretended not to know each other. Macy wanted to know why.
Macy tipped the rest of the second miniature bottle of whiskey into her glass.
“No more after this,” she promised herself.
She sipped, she poured, she stirred. She sipped some more.
Her cell phone vibrated angrily on the pillow next to her. She picked it up and scrolled through the missed calls and messages. Her boyfriend, Aiden, was a very understanding man, but if she didn’t call him back soon he’d be in his rights to feel neglected.
She closed her eyes and imagined what it would be like to have him by her side. There were times she wanted to leave her job at the justice department and do something else—move to Wilmington Creek and live a quiet life. She’d actively chosen to live a life apart. Her son was in Helena and the man she loved was in Wilmington Creek. Her days were fulfilling but every night she stayed alone in a hotel, far away from them both, felt like an unsuccessful compromise.
Aiden answered on the third ring. He sounded as if he’d been dozing. His voice was full of sleep and a slight growl that could be traced back to a time when he smoked two packs a day. He claimed to have quit completely, but she knew better than to trust him on that score. Their relationship wasn’t without its issues. After years of moving through life without firm romantic commitments they both were adjusting to the new boundaries they’d set for themselves. It didn’t help that they both had a natural tendenc
y to flirt. She was trying to reel it in and had to trust that he was doing the same. She couldn’t call him on it without coming off sounding insecure, so she focused on his illicit cigarettes instead.
“Hey, babe,” he said. “I was hoping you’d call.”
“I miss you.”
“I think I can fix that.”
“Please tell me you’re in the room next door.”
“Not that close, but I am on my way. You have space in that hotel room of yours for one more?”
“You know you don’t need to ask. When are you coming down?” asked Macy.
“Tomorrow, early evening if the roads are clear. I have a surprise for you.”
“You don’t have to bring me anything. Just come.”
“How are things? I was watching the news. Hannah Granger looked like a deer caught in the headlights.”
“I think we’re all feeling that way,” said Macy.
“Is she guilty?”
“She seems the obvious choice but I’m not convinced.” She hesitated. “You know I’m going to be pretty busy this weekend.”
“That won’t be a problem. I’ve got friends in Bolton I’d like to catch up with so I’ll see you when I can.”
“How’s work? Have the new plans for the resort been cleared?” asked Macy.
“It’s been tricky but the powers that be finally saw sense.”
“I was worried you’d have a long fight on your hands. That stretch of the Flathead River is precious to a lot of people.”
“We’ve been bending over backwards to make the project environmentally sustainable and it looks like our efforts have finally paid off. It also helps that the resort and fishing lodge are going to bring jobs and money into the area.”
“When will construction start?”
“Hoping to break ground in the next couple of weeks.”
“That’s wonderful. Congratulations.”
Aiden yawned. “I can’t believe it’s actually going to happen. I know there will be a fair few hours behind a desk each day, but I’ll be on the river as much as possible.”
“You’ll be able to go fishing for a living. Imagine that.”
“Living the dream.”
“I’ll let you sleep,” said Macy.
“Sounds like you need to do the same.”
“All tucked up in bed and ready to pass out.”
“I love you,” said Aiden.
“Love you too.”
Macy put her cell phone aside and closed her eyes but, try as she might, she couldn’t sleep. A half hour later she was heading out the door with a cup of coffee and Grace Adams’s address keyed into her cell phone.
* * *
Macy walked out of the hotel lobby and set off on foot down Main Street. A handful of bars and restaurants were still open but traffic was sparse and few people were about. She walked as far as the K-Bar and stood out front drinking the coffee she’d prepared in the hotel room. Other than a half-dozen bouquets of flowers prominently displayed out front, there was little evidence of the violence that had broken out on the premises four days earlier. Brad Hastings had been downcast when Macy had passed him in the corridor earlier in the evening. Despite hours of interviews, they’d yet to find their missing Elvis.
If the map on Macy’s cell phone was correct, Grace Adams’s apartment was only a twenty-minute walk away. The most direct route took you within four blocks of the Granger’s home, but going there meant doubling back toward Main Street, which made the fact that she’d sought refuge on their sofa following a night out drinking at the bars on Main Street even more suspect.
Macy walked down the quiet sidewalks in the residential neighborhood where the Grangers lived, peering up at windows still flooded with light. The roadblock on Grand Avenue had been cleared and a single patrol car was parked in front of the Granger’s house. She showed the officer on duty her badge as he rolled down the window.
Patrol Officer Casey Winn regarded her with hooded eyes.
“You’re out late, Detective Greeley.”
“I couldn’t sleep. All quiet?”
“Thought I saw some lights around back earlier but didn’t find anything when I went for a closer look. The kids in the neighborhood have been daring each other to go inside.”
“I would have been up to the same sort of crap when I was young, so I can’t be too self-righteous.”
“Same here. Bolton is pretty boring by most people’s standards. This is big news.”
“The bars seem to get enough action.”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t provide the younger folks much in the way of entertainment.”
“How often do you have minors trying their luck?”
“More often than is reported. We like to give the bar staff the benefit of the doubt. It’s a college town so some nights it’s packed. We know they do their best, but these kids are clever and determined. Same for all the underage drinking that goes on at the college parties. We like to take a pragmatic approach.”
“Certainly saves on paperwork.”
“That it does.”
The police radio barked at them from the dashboard. There was a disturbance in front of an apartment building on Spruce.
Casey picked up the radio and let the operator know he was on his way.
“I’m heading that way as well. Do you mind if I ride along?” asked Macy.
Casey told her to hop in.
The modern five-story apartment building was situated across the street from Prospector’s Park, a sprawling green space that was riddled with walking trails. Casey slowed the patrol car to a crawl. Three people stood on the sidewalk in front of the building. Macy got out so she could approach on foot.
Two women were in a shouting match with a bearded man.
“I read that letter. Grace threatened to kill him.”
The man punched one of the women in the face and grabbed a bag from where it had fallen onto the sidewalk. The other woman tried to stop him but he shoved her out of the way and ran across the road toward the park.
Casey raised his firearm and ordered him to stop but it was too late.
Macy followed him into the park. At first the trail ran parallel to the road and the streetlamps were close enough to cast some light on the densely wooded area. Macy caught a glimpse of the reflective stripes on the man’s jacket. He wasn’t too far ahead. She quickened her pace. She’d run these paths every day when she was a student at the college. Up ahead the trail branched off in several directions and entered what the locals liked to call the maze. If she lost him in there she’d have trouble finding him again. Macy heard voices. They weren’t the only ones in the park. A girl’s high-pitched laughter filtered through the darkness. There was a scuffle and someone crashed through the undergrowth. The girl was no longer laughing.
“What the fuck? Watch where you’re going!” she yelled.
Macy came upon a group of kids. One had been knocked to the ground.
“Police,” she said. “Which way did he go?”
A girl pointed to a trail that branched out to the right. Macy took off running again. The pathway was completely in shadow. She had to slow down several times. She could hear him moving through the trees on the other side of a narrow creek. It sounded like he was heading into a nearby neighborhood. A security light at the rear of one of the houses went on as he cut through a backyard. Macy slipped on the rocks as she made her way across the creek. One boot ended up in the freezing water. She dragged herself back up onto dry land and kept running.
Several dogs broke into a chorus. Macy followed the noise. He was moving through the backyards, heading east. She took a path between two houses and ran headlong down the sidewalk in the same direction. She turned on Taft Avenue and moved along a high hedge that lined one side of the street. There was no sign of him.
More dogs barked.
He tore through an opening in the hedge and crashed right into her. They both hit the pavement hard. She managed a strangled cry before he put his h
and over her mouth. She bit down on his fingers. Instead of letting go he slammed her head back onto the concrete.
“Police,” she gasped, smashing the top of her head into his nose.
There was sickening crunch and warm blood poured onto her face. He swung his arms wildly, striking her several times on the head with his open fists. She rocked back and kneed him in the chest. He tried to roll away but Macy grabbed hold of his leg. He shook himself loose and stood over her. His beard was stained red and he was breathing heavily. He raised his boot and stamped down hard on her stomach. Macy curled up into a ball and gasped for breath. She could hear police sirens, but there was no sign of a patrol car. She watched him run down the darkened street. He was getting away and there was nothing she could do. She couldn’t even call for help.
She lay quietly, catching her breath. Her right ear was ringing. Her jaw ached. She pulled a small flashlight out of her jacket pocket and turned it on. Grace’s bag was lying open a few feet away. Several items had spilled out onto the pavement. She managed to stand as a patrol car turned the corner. She limped out onto the pavement and waved it down.
* * *
By the time Macy returned to the apartment building, both Grace and her friend were gone and the apartment’s glass fronted lobby was filled with spectators. Macy got out of the patrol car and went over to speak to Casey Winn. She held up Grace’s bag.
“I got her bag back,” she said.
“Looks like he put up quite a fight. I hope it was worth it.”
“Do you have any idea what happened here?”
“It seems pretty straightforward. The guy tried to rob them as they entered the building. Grace Larson is pretty roughed up so she’s gone to the ER, and her friend Lara Newcomb is upstairs in the apartment they share. She’ll come into the station tomorrow and make a formal statement.”
“There’s more to this,” said Macy. “I’m pretty sure there’s a connection to the fire on Madison. Both the women were Peter Granger’s students.”
“Could be a coincidence.”
“I somehow doubt it.”
Silent Rain Page 17
