Patrol Officer Casey continued to scribble notes onto his pad. “I’m just finishing up here. Can I give you a ride to your hotel, or do you want to be dropped off at the hospital?”
Macy nodded. “Appreciate that. The hotel will be fine.”
Macy called Ryan while she waited in Casey’s patrol car.
“Hey, did I wake you?” asked Macy.
“Never going to happen. What’s up?” asked Ryan.
“I’m hoping you’re still in Bolton.”
“Arrived back here ten minutes ago. Do I need to be somewhere?”
“Meet me in my hotel room in fifteen. Bring your kit.”
* * *
Macy dropped Grace’s bag on her bed and peeled off her clothing. Her hip was heavily bruised and her knees grazed. She stood in front of the bathroom mirror and examined her face. The swelling was minimal but a bruise was forming around her left eye. She gathered a fistful of ice from the bucket next to the bed in a washcloth and gently pressed it to her face. She winced.
There was a quiet knock on the door. Macy wrapped herself in a bathrobe and went to let Ryan in. He threw her a pained expression.
“Jesus, Macy. What in the hell happened to you?”
“I would say, you should see the other guy, but other than teeth marks on his hand I don’t think I left much of an impression.”
He brushed past her and stood in the middle of her hotel room.
“This isn’t funny,” he said.
“Do I look like I’m laughing?”
“Let’s go into the bathroom where the light is better.”
Ryan worked quickly. After collecting evidence from her hair and nails, he had her stand in her bra and underwear so he could photograph her injuries. He measured the boot print on her stomach.
“I’d say he’s a size eleven.”
“Feels more like a thirteen.”
“Where are the clothes you were wearing?”
“In a plastic laundry bag. He had a nosebleed. A real gusher, so there should be plenty of blood.”
“Mind if I bag and tag?”
“I need to keep my jacket.”
“I’ll go over it here then.”
He handed her a couple of tablets.
“What’s this?” asked Macy.
“I’m afraid it’s nothing more exciting than ibuprofen.” He winked. “My days as your drug dealer are over.”
“I’ll put that in my report.”
“Any idea who this guy was?”
Macy put the bathrobe back on and sat down on the edge of the bed next to Grace’s messenger bag. Though it was in good condition, it had put in some miles.
“I have no idea, but he was very interested in getting his hands on Grace Adams’s bag. Apparently, there’s a letter inside. I think he said something like ‘I saw the letter. Grace threatened to kill him.’”
Ryan tossed her a pair of latex gloves.
“Let’s see what that’s all about then,” said Ryan.
Macy checked the wallet first. Grace’s driver’s license confirmed it was her bag and the fake ID told Macy she was no longer the young innocent she’d been in Collier. Macy had hoped that she’d learned to live a bit, but maybe that hope was misplaced. It looked like Grace was in trouble again.
“Grace Adams has been living under the name Grace Larson since she moved to Bolton.”
She handed Ryan the wallet.
“According to her fake ID, her name is Beth. A good quality fake, by the way. This would have set her back a few bob,” he said.
Macy would have raised an eyebrow, but it hurt too much.
“A few bob?” she asked.
“British expression. Think paper.”
“Paper as in money?”
“Racks on racks on racks.”
“Steady on, Ryan. You’re slipping into embarrassing uncle territory.” Macy took a pregnancy wand out of the Ziploc bag and held it up to the light. She handed it to Ryan. “Even if someone was overjoyed at the prospect of being a mother, it’s an odd thing to carry around.”
“The female victim we found in the house was pregnant.”
“Could be related, but it’s a bit of a leap. By the way, are we any closer to establishing what caused her death?”
“Cardiac arrest but, given she was only in her early twenties and in good health, we have good reason to suspect foul play. The poor condition of the remains makes it difficult to determine with any certainty what happened.”
“Any chance it was suicide?”
“A possibility. She had been self-harming for some time. Suicide is often the next step. We’re running a tox screen.”
Grace’s .22-caliber handgun was hidden in an inside pocket. Macy cleared the bullet from the chamber and took out the cartridge before putting everything in an evidence bag.
“Does Grace Adams have a license to carry a concealed weapon?” asked Ryan.
Macy nodded. “She’s legal.”
“Anything else?”
Macy held up a wrinkled envelope addressed to Peter Granger. “Some light reading material. Looks like it’s about eight pages long.”
Ryan yawned. “Well, this Hardy Boy is dead tired and in no mood to hear all about some girl’s latest crush.”
“She’s hardly a girl.”
He came over to where Macy was sitting and gave her a gentle hug.
“I’ve become very fond of you,” he said. “I’d appreciate it if you tried harder to stay in one piece.”
“I’ll see you in the morning, Ryan.”
He kissed her on the top of her head.
“Breakfast is on me.”
* * *
Macy was tired, so she skimmed Grace’s letter to Peter Granger. It didn’t take her long to realize that Grace had every right to be angry with her former mentor. She’d trusted him and he took advantage of that trust. Grace had conveniently written her most explicit threats in capital letters. In one paragraph she wrote that she hoped he’d BURN IN HELL.
Macy stopped reading when she found a passage that was even more specific.
SOMEDAY YOU’LL WAKE UP TO FIND YOUR HOUSE IS ON FIRE. I HOPE YOU DON’T MAKE IT OUT ALIVE.
Macy slipped the letter into an evidence bag. It had been obtained without a warrant so it might not hold up in court. Grace’s lawyer would be right to argue that it was his client’s way of venting her rage. The letter was never sent. It was for her eyes only. No harm done.
But Macy wasn’t going to let Grace off the hook just yet. She’d seen firsthand how unhinged Grace could be and it was possible that Peter Granger’s betrayal had pushed her over the edge. This wouldn’t have been the first fire Grace Adams had set. Three years earlier she’d burned down the mobile home she’d lived in as a child. It was derelict and empty, so no one got hurt. She’d even admitted to what she’d done. It had been Macy who’d let her get away with it. She’d understood Grace’s rage then just as she understood it now. This time was different, though.
Two people had died.
Macy turned off the lights and lay in darkness. Her whole body was throbbing. She dreamed she was running through fire.
Friday
Macy walked into her office and dropped her things on her desk. Ryan was seated in her chair with the newspaper open to the crossword puzzle. He muttered a muted “hello” but didn’t look up.
“Don’t you have any work to do?” asked Macy.
“I put in some serious overtime last night. How are you feeling?”
“I’ve had better days.”
“Any word on the guy who attacked you?”
Macy was sore all over but doing her best not to let it show. She dropped down into the empty chair and started going through the paperwork that had been left on her desk.
“They spent a few hours combing the area but no luck. I’m interviewing Grace Adams and Lara Newcomb this morning. According to their initial statement they’d never seen him before. I’m fairly sure they’re lying.”
Alisa walked in looking ex
cited. She held a piece of paper aloft but stopped short of speaking when she saw Macy’s face.
“You missed all the action last night,” said Ryan. “I suppose you were tucked up in bed watching the Disney Channel.”
Alisa didn’t miss a beat. “Actually, it was the porn channel.”
Macy laughed hard and it hurt. She pointed to her face. “I’ll explain this later. What have you got for me?”
Alisa handed Macy the piece of paper.
“Someone has been downloading files from Peter Granger’s remote server using a computer at the library. Two of the files were sent to Print Works, a shop that is located here in Bolton. After they were printed out the order was picked up and paid for in cash,” said Alisa.
Macy gave the information a quick glance. “Could it have been Peter Granger?”
“The files were transferred yesterday morning.”
“Okay, that is suspicious. Are you familiar with the shop?”
“Yeah, it’s near campus.”
“I want you to head over there and speak to the manager and anyone else who may have worked the day the files were transferred. Hopefully, they may remember who came in. Also check whether they have security cameras.”
“Should I go to the library as well?”
“Absolutely. They may keep a log of who uses their computers. Did you manage to get in touch with Cornelia Hart? I have a few follow-up questions.”
“She’s not answering her phone.”
“It’s still early, but send a unit out to her place if she doesn’t get back to you in the next couple of hours.”
13
Friday
Steve had given Grace a dozen pink roses. They were proper ones from a florist, not the grocery store or the gas station forecourt. She rested them on her lap and tried her best to resist the urge to hug them. They were beautiful and she said so. Steve had taken off his hat and was standing as if at attention. Grace had only seen him outside the coffee shop on a few occasions. Despite his height he seemed out of his depth.
“Hospitals make me nervous,” he said.
“Maybe you should sit down,” said Grace.
Steve pulled up a chair and perched on the edge of the seat like he was ready to bolt.
“It’s the time I did in the military,” he said, by way of explanation. “Field hospitals in Afghanistan are pretty stressful places.”
“I didn’t know you were in the military.”
“I worked in catering. Not exactly exciting.”
“Where I come from you’re considered lucky if you survive a trip to the hospital. This is the nicest room I’ve ever been in.” Her eyes drifted to the window. “I mean, look at the view.”
Steve looked.
“Good point. That looks nothing like Kandahar. How are you feeling?”
“The doctor says everything is fine but they’re still running some more tests.” Her mood changed. She was no longer excited. She was anxious. “I guess I’ll have to go in to speak to the police at some point this afternoon.”
“Did you get a good look at the guy?”
Grace fiddled with the IV tubing sticking out of the back of her left hand. The bandages were making her skin itch. The doctor had told her the IV was just a precaution. Among other things, she was dehydrated.
“It was dark,” said Grace. “But, yeah, I think Lara and I gave a good enough description.”
Steve glanced over at the side table where a few prescription bottles were lined up in a neat row. “I suppose the hospital has to be extra cautious because of your condition.”
Grace had told Steve about her medical history in a moment of weakness that she’d lived to regret. They’d been on their own a lot at the café during the slow period between Christmas and New Year. Steve had just found out his brother was going into surgery to have a tumor removed. One thing led to another and Grace told Steve that she’d had a heart transplant three and half years earlier and was doing fine. She’d wanted to put him at ease, but it had had the opposite effect. Steve was even more anxious. He’d treated her like an invalid until she threatened to quit. Since then he’d been sending her out to the loading bay to collect deliveries and giving her longer shifts.
Grace shook one of the bottles of pills. “These are immunosuppressants. I have to take them for the rest of my life.”
“Do you ever think about the man who donated his heart?”
“I don’t know much about him.”
“Didn’t you say that he got shot in a hunting accident?”
“No one knows for sure. He was on his own. There were no witnesses,” said Grace.
“Was it suicide?”
“I don’t like to think about it.”
“That was … Sorry. That was insensitive.”
Grace changed the subject.
“I can still go to the concert tonight. I mean, I can still go if you still want to take me.”
“I’m not sure it’s a good idea. You probably need to rest,” said Steve.
“I’m not as fragile as people think. I’m just a little tired, that’s all. As long as we’re sitting down it will be fine.”
Steve stood up.
“Are you leaving?” she asked.
“I need to get back to work. I left Matt in charge. He’s not good in a crisis. Gets a bit flustered if there’s more than four people in line.”
Steve kissed her on the top of the head.
“I’ll pick you up at seven,” he said.
* * *
Grace set her cell phone down on the bedside table and closed her eyes. The police officer had been polite on the phone, but Grace couldn’t help but feel anxious. They’d recovered her stolen bag and Detective Macy Greeley was on her way to the hospital. Grace had been unable to fake her way through an appropriate response. She’d stuttered, gone silent, and then lied, saying that a nurse had asked her to get off the phone.
It was possible it was a routine interview. Grace had been one of Peter’s students. They were probably speaking to everyone who’d had contact with him. Grace was praying this was the case. If Macy read the letter she’d suspect Grace was involved. There was a period of time she couldn’t account for on the night of the fire.
Lara arrived carrying an overnight bag. She set it down at the foot of the bed and gave Grace a long hug.
“I was so worried I couldn’t sleep,” said Lara. “Are you okay?”
Grace wiped the tears from her eyes.
“Better now,” she said.
“I thought you might want a change of clothes so I brought you a few things. Will you have to stay much longer?”
“I hope not. The doctors are just running some tests. They’re worried I’ve been under too much stress.”
“That’s kind of an understatement. Have the police been in touch?”
“They found my bag.”
Lara made sure they were alone.
“What about the letter?” asked Lara.
“They didn’t say. Macy Greeley is on her way. That can’t be good.”
“What will you say about Jordan?”
“I’ll have to tell the truth.”
“Don’t be an idiot. Wait and see what she knows first.”
“Lara, it doesn’t work like that.”
There was a light knock at the door. Macy Greeley stood at the threshold watching them. She smiled warmly but there was caution in her eyes.
“Grace, it’s good to see that you’re still in one piece. Are you feeling well enough to talk?”
Grace felt like she was eighteen years old again and her mother had just died. Different hospital, same detective. Lara squeezed her hand. This time it was going to be okay. Grace had friends. She wasn’t alone anymore.
Macy Greeley didn’t wait for an invitation. She moved slowly. Her eye was bruised and swollen. There was an angry-looking scrape along her jawbone.
“I had a rough night,” said Macy. “But I guess it shows.”
“Did he do this to you?” aske
d Grace.
“He’s a dangerous man, but I think you already know that.”
Lara spoke up. “Grace doesn’t know anything about him.”
“That’s interesting. I was under the impression you were acquainted.” Macy pulled a chair over so it was next to the bed. “The important thing is that everyone is going to be okay, and I got your bag back.”
Grace gave Lara a warning look.
“Why am I guessing this isn’t the outcome you were hoping for?” asked Macy.
“Did you arrest him?” asked Grace.
“No, but we have DNA and fingerprints. We’ll find him soon enough.” Macy stared at Grace. “I was hoping you would make it sooner. I need you to tell me what you know about him.”
“He came out of nowhere,” said Lara. “We don’t know—”
“Be very careful what you say from here on out. We found his prints on a letter that belongs to Grace, so we know it was in his possession at some point.”
“You read it?” asked Grace.
“It was laying open on the ground so I took the opportunity to have a look. You made it very easy for me to find all the interesting parts. All caps does have some advantages. I guess I should thank you for that.”
“Are you going to arrest her?” asked Lara. “Cause you should know she was with me on Halloween night. We were at the K-Bar together.”
“Grace, your friend lying for you is not doing you any favors. We checked the security cameras. Grace left the bar alone at 11:52. Another camera picks her up walking along a street that would have taken her to the neighborhood where the Grangers lived.”
“The guy you’re looking for is named Jordan,” said Grace.
Macy started writing some notes. “No last name?”
“I didn’t ask.”
“How did you meet him?”
“He showed up at the café where I work about three weeks ago. I think he started following me around Bolton a short time later.”
“Why didn’t you report this to the police?”
“I was hoping I could deal with it on my own.”
Lara spoke up. “He stole that letter out of her locker at work. You can’t use it as evidence. My dad is a lawyer. I know things.”
Macy stared at Lara. This was the woman who gave Hannah the Polaroids instead of taking them to the police. She had a lot of explaining to do, but it would have to wait.
Silent Rain Page 18
