“Lara, I’m glad you have some basic understanding of the law. It means I won’t have to explain what obstruction means and why you could be charged. Yesterday evening you gave a false statement to the police. You should have told the truth. Jordan is a very dangerous man. It’s time to drop the bullshit and tell me everything you know.”
“He drives an old green Bronco,” said Grace.
“Have you had any other contact with him?”
“He followed me home after I left the K-Bar on Halloween night. I had to cut through some backyards to get away from him.”
Macy made some more notes. “I’ll need details, but that can wait until later. Anything else you want to tell me?”
Grace and Lara remained silent.
“Your paths must have crossed again if you managed to get the letter back from him,” said Macy.
“It was in his car,” said Lara.
Grace tried to interrupt her but Lara kept talking.
“We waited for Jordan outside the café where Grace works. He comes to all of her shifts.” Lara shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. “His car wasn’t locked so I decided to have a look inside.”
“Where was Jordan all this time?” asked Macy.
“Inside the café.”
Macy placed the photos of her injuries on the bed in front of Lara and Grace.
“I want you to see what this guy did to me,” said Macy. “Go on, Lara, take a good look. You’ve got no business climbing into a stranger’s car. You’re lucky he didn’t kill you.” Macy lowered her voice. “Now, is there anything else you need to tell me?”
“We know where he lives,” said Grace.
“How in the hell do you know that? Did you follow him home?” asked Macy.
“I didn’t have a choice,” said Grace. “Lara didn’t get out of his car in time.”
“You’re both lucky to be alive. Do you realize that?” Macy held up her pen. “I need to know where he lives.”
“I’m not sure of the address, but I can find it on Google maps.”
Macy handed Grace her phone.
“Are we going to be arrested?” asked Lara.
“I don’t know yet,” said Macy. “I want you both to come into the station this afternoon for a formal interview.”
“Is this about this guy or the Grangers?” asked Lara.
“You’ll have to wait and see.” Macy stood with difficulty. “Meanwhile, I’d really appreciate it if you stayed out of trouble for the rest of the day, and don’t even think about leaving town.”
* * *
Grace tried to sneak out of the hospital unseen, but Hannah Granger spotted her as she was making her way toward the elevators. Hannah had been sitting alone in the waiting room, looking rumpled, a newspaper shielding her from curious glances. If she hadn’t called out Grace’s name she may have gone unnoticed. Their eyes met but Grace kept walking. She was already in enough trouble with Macy Greeley. She was pretty sure the detective would disapprove of any contact between the two women who were probably high on her list of suspects. Besides, Grace had no reason to show Hannah any kindness. Grace stopped at the elevator and pushed the button for the ground floor. The sooner she got home the better. Hannah had other ideas. She stepped between Grace and the opening doors.
“Grace,” said Hannah. “Can we talk?”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“There’s a chapel at the end of the corridor. We can speak in private.”
Grace felt like a schoolgirl trailing behind Hannah. The woman in front of her moved with purpose, her head held high. She waited for Grace at the entrance to the chapel.
“It’s perfect. No one here but us,” said Hannah.
They sat in a pew near the front. Grace felt a slight pang of guilt. She hadn’t been inside a church since her aunt’s funeral. More than two and a half years later and she was still trying to find a way to believe in God again.
“How’s Jessica?” asked Grace. “I assume she’s why you’re here.”
“She’s doing better. We talked a bit this morning.”
“She thought you were dead.”
“I was snowed in. We have a cabin.…”
“Nice story. Is that what you told the police?”
“I know how it looks,” said Hannah, “but, I swear to God I didn’t kill anyone.”
Grace flinched. She may have given up on religion, but saying the Lord’s name in vain while sitting in his house wasn’t going to fly with her.
“This is a chapel. Show a little respect,” said Grace.
Hannah raked her hands through her hair. Her makeup was smudged, her hair greasy. Dark roots blazed a trail down the part.
“I don’t care if you believe me. I didn’t do it and I have no idea who did.”
“Do you know who the woman with Peter was?” asked Grace.
“No, but the police are bound to figure it out soon enough. You should know that they found the Polaroids.”
“What Polaroids?”
“Lara said you knew about them. That all of you knew.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Lara found a whole box of them when she was snooping in Peter’s office while she was housesitting for us in August. He must have been … He’d been taking photos of girls for years. I have a feeling drugs may have been involved. The girls are naked. Their faces are covered.”
Grace placed a hand to her chest. There was nothing wrong with her heart. It was still beating.
“Are there pictures of me?” she asked.
Hannah’s voice sharpened. “That depends. Did you ever sleep with my husband?”
“God, no,” said Grace.
“Now who’s saying the Lord’s name in vain?”
“Fuck you, Hannah.”
“That kind of language is uncalled for. You girls threw yourselves at him. Do you know how that made me feel?”
“You just said drugs were involved,” said Grace.
“Like you guys didn’t do drugs and drink too much whenever you were with him. I’ve seen you at it with my own eyes. You shouldn’t complain when you find out it’s not quite as pleasant as you expected.”
“How can you continue to defend him?”
Hannah stared at the cross hanging above the altar. “I didn’t come in here to argue.”
“You could have fooled me.”
“Calm down, Grace. I’m not the enemy here.”
“Don’t tell me to calm down. Peter treated my friends and me like shit and you did nothing. What do you want from me? You sure as hell didn’t come in here to face the truth.”
Hannah lowered her voice. “You saved Jessica’s life. I’m grateful.”
Grace stood over Hannah. “Jessica is a nice lady. I just hope she figures out what a bitch you are before it’s too late.”
* * *
Grace found the stack of Polaroids in a box in the back of Lara’s closet. She sat on the floor of Lara’s ransacked room and stared at the images in front of her. Not daring to touch them, she put on a pair of gloves before bringing them out into the dining room. She turned on the overhead light and studied each photo carefully. She was relieved when she didn’t recognize any of the women. She did notice that there were some similarities between them. They all appeared to be very young, for starters.
She didn’t look up when Lara came into the apartment. Lara stood at Grace’s shoulder, silent and watchful. It sounded like she was holding her breath.
“When were you going to tell me about these photos?” asked Grace.
“I took a few to Hannah. I was hoping she’d do something about it.”
“Hannah thinks these women were all consenting adults.”
“That’s not true. He drugged them.”
“How do you know?”
“I know because he did it to me.”
“You aren’t here.”
“I gave those photos to Hannah,” said Lara.
“She told me the p
olice have them now.”
“They must have found them when they searched her office,” said Lara.
“Who were the girls in the photos you gave her?”
“Not you.”
“Then who?” asked Grace.
“Me, Clare, Pippa, and Taylor.”
“Are you sure there were no photos of me?”
“There were more than this but I checked every single one of them. You weren’t there.”
“Why didn’t you tell any of us about the photos? Clare and Taylor are struggling and Pippa had a nervous breakdown. Her family needs to know what happened to her.” Grace sifted through the photos again. “Peter should have been arrested.”
“I wanted to do the right thing, but I was worried we wouldn’t be able to prove it wasn’t consensual. We all partied with him. We all crossed the line.”
“I didn’t.”
“Are you sure about that, Grace? You spent the night at the house a few times. Do you remember everything that happened?”
“Lara, that’s irrelevant. You should have let Clare, Taylor, and Pippa decide what to do about these photos. Besides, Hannah has always put Peter first. She was never going to help you.” Grace started gathering the photos. If she looked at Lara she would cry. “Lara, I’m really trying to understand why you didn’t tell us about these photos but I’m not there yet.”
“What happens next?”
“We need to give these to the police.”
“I just got a message. They’re expecting us at the station in an hour.”
Grace turned away. “This is going to be hell.”
14
Friday
Macy was uncomfortable, cold, and in need of a bathroom. Surrounded by Bolton PD’s finest, she was hunkered down on a damp patch of earth thirty yards from a double-wide mobile home. The ground beneath the stand of pine trees was spongy and smelled of decay. Crusted-over snow clung to the shadows and a fierce wind blew through the valley. Overhead, crows cawed angrily as they crashed through the treetops and from somewhere inside the mobile home angry rock music was playing at full volume.
The access roads leading to the property belonging to Jordan Beech’s brother were blocked and several officers, who had surrounded the mobile home, were awaiting the signal to move in. Though there’d been no sign of Jordan Beech, his Bronco was parked in the driveway. Brad Hastings stood at Macy’s shoulder. They were all nervous. Jordan Beech was a convicted felon who’d served ten years in Oklahoma for assault with a deadly weapon and arson. Macy wasn’t sure why he’d fixated on Grace Adams, but the fact that he’d done time for arson had made everyone in the department take notice.
Detective Sergeant Brad Hastings checked his firearm. “Are we absolutely sure this is the property?”
Alisa nodded. “Jordan Beech’s brother is away working in the oil fields. Says he had no idea Jordan was staying here. Wanted to make sure we also arrested him for breaking and entering.”
“Brotherly love is a beautiful thing,” said Macy. She was feeling constricted in her Kevlar vest but that was nothing compared to the other officers, most of whom were decked out in full military gear. “The Bronco is registered in Jordan Beech’s name. I pulled his DMV photo. He’s definitely the guy from last night.”
Alisa tapped Macy on the shoulder.
“Is that him?” asked Alisa.
Jordan stepped out onto the front porch of the double-wide trailer and slammed the screen door shut behind him. He wore a knit cap that was pulled over his ears and a thick fleece jacket and carried a coffee cup. One of his hands was bandaged and the bridge of his nose was swollen and bruised. He opened a packet of cigarettes and held one to his lips. It took a few tries to get it lit.
Macy kept her voice low. “That’s him. It would be good if we could take him out in the open.”
“Do you hear that?” asked Brad.
“It sounds like a helicopter,” said Macy.
Alisa scanned the sky with a pair of binoculars. “It’s from a local news channel. I recognize the logo.”
“So much for the element of surprise,” said Brad.
Jordan stood on his front porch, the cigarette in one hand and the cup of coffee in the other. He wasn’t watching the helicopter. He was watching the trees. He flicked his cigarette onto the driveway and made a grab for the screen door, disappearing inside the trailer before the officers could move in. The helicopter came over the trees and circled close enough to make the mobile home’s windows rattle.
“Fuck,” said Macy. “He’s made us.”
Brad held up a megaphone. “Let’s see if we can reason with him.”
The branches above Macy’s head splintered as several shots were fired. She grabbed Alisa’s arm and pulled her to the ground.
“Was that us or him?” asked Macy.
Brad was standing behind a tree. “Definitely came from inside the trailer.”
He spoke into the megaphone. “Jordan Beech, this is Detective Sergeant Brad Hastings. I’m with the Bolton Police Department. Drop your weapon and come outside with your hands up.”
Alisa and Macy crawled forward on their stomachs and watched the front of the house. One of the windows was open, its screen broken and twisted outward. Two police officers wearing full protective gear and gas masks positioned themselves at the far end of the mobile home. Two more moved forward from the access road and ducked down behind a junked car. The helicopter swooped in and hovered above the mobile home. Debris whipped around the property. The tree branches clapped together. A cameraman wearing a harness leaned halfway out the helicopter’s open door.
“Those idiots are too close. Someone is going to get hurt,” said Macy.
More shots were fired. The Bronco’s windshield exploded. The car alarm was deafening. Gunfire raked the dirt a few feet in front of the spot where Macy and Alisa had taken cover.
Brad Hastings once again spoke into his megaphone.
“Jordan Beech, the property is surrounded. There is no way out. Come out with your hands up.”
The tree next to Brad’s head took a direct hit. He ducked down and crawled over to Macy and Alisa. He took out his radio and gave the order for officers to move in.
“That son of a bitch,” said Brad. He put his hand to the side of his head. “My ears will be ringing for weeks.”
Half a dozen officers in full protective gear gathered near the front of the house. The first in the line kicked open the front door. They all swarmed inside. Several shots were fired before Brad was given the all clear. He tossed the megaphone aside and stomped toward the house, where a couple of officers were waiting for him. He pointed to the news helicopter that had landed in a nearby field. He yelled even though they were standing right in front of him.
“I want you to go over there and find out what the hell those guys in the helicopter thought they were doing. And then I want you to arrest them.”
* * *
Even with the curtains wide open and the overhead lights turned on, the mobile home felt claustrophobic. Jordan Beech was sprawled out on the floor of the kitchenette. He had a gunshot wound to his right shoulder and was struggling to stay conscious, but that didn’t stop him from yelling at the officer who knelt next to him. The emergency sirens of an approaching ambulance and rock music drowned out his words.
Brad’s team had found three guns so far—a hunting rifle with a spotting scope, a .38 Special, and a 9mm Glock. None of the weapons were registered to Jordan Beech. There was a laptop on the coffee table. Alisa sat on the sofa staring at the screen.
“He has a taste for some serious porn,” she said.
“You’re logged in?” asked Macy.
“It was on when I got here.”
“Change the settings so we can get access without a password.”
Alisa started typing. “Will do.”
Brad came into the room and looked over Alisa’s shoulder.
“Check what he’s got on there about Grace Adams and Peter Granger,” said B
rad.
“Any of your guys get hurt?” asked Macy.
“Everyone is okay, which is a relief considering how it could have gone down.” Brad headed for the door. “I’m going to have a word with the assholes in that helicopter.”
Macy wandered into the only bedroom. An officer wearing latex gloves searched the drawers and cabinets while another took photographs.
Another officer found drugs hidden inside the toilet cistern.
He held up a sealed plastic container that was dripping wet. “Looks like we got Oxycontin and fentanyl,” he said.
“Any sign of the stolen paintings?” asked Macy.
He shook his head. “Nothing so far, but there are some outbuildings and a crawl space.”
“There are also a lot of farm buildings around here. If he has them, he could have hidden them anywhere.”
Macy checked the time. She wouldn’t get back to the station until 5 o’clock at the earliest. She went into the living room. Brad had already returned and he was fuming.
“I may have said a few things to a reporter I’ll regret. Hopefully, they didn’t get any of it on tape.”
“We found prescription painkillers stashed in the toilet cistern,” said Macy. “No sign of the missing artwork yet. Have Alisa check his search history for anything having to do with those paintings. I seriously doubt that this guy knows anything about art.”
“Tech guys will take over once we’re back at the station. I’m sure they’ll be thorough.”
“I need to get back to town. Grace Adams is waiting to be interviewed. Could you let me know what the paramedics say? I’ll need to question Jordan Beech as soon as possible.”
15
Friday
The interview room had a small window overlooking the forested area behind the police department’s main building. If not for the security lights strung out along a high chain-link fence, Grace would not have seen the trees. She’d had to call Steve to tell him that she wouldn’t be able to make it to the concert after all. Their short conversation had upset her more than she’d thought it would. He’d told her it was okay, but Grace felt the sort of understanding required wasn’t humanly possible. Her life was spinning out of control again and nothing she could say or do seemed to make a difference.
Silent Rain Page 19
