“Are you under arrest? Did Higgins say you had to go?”
“No. But I don’t have anything to hide! All I want is to get through this as quickly as possible so I can go home.”
“You should ask for a lawyer.”
“I don’t need a lawyer! I’ve told him what happened.”
Except for Holly showing up on site, Chloe thought. “What does he want to know?”
“He keeps asking where I was yesterday morning when I left the site. Over and over. Evidently someone heard me arguing with Yvonne when we were in Polperro House.”
Shit. “Who?”
“I don’t know.”
Chloe rubbed her forehead with her free hand. It could have been one of the interpreters. Or the maintenance man. Or a garden club volunteer, for all she knew.
“Chloe, I have a huge favor to ask. I don’t know when he’s going to release me, and Holly will get home at about two forty-five. Could you please go meet her? Maybe take her for a walk or something? I don’t want her to go inside and find a mess. I know it’s a lot to ask, but Holly seems to like you. I don’t know who else to call.”
This is a train wreck, Chloe thought. But … at the center was a little girl. “Of course I’ll go meet Holly.”
“Thank you.” Claudia sniffled. “If you need to get in, there’s a spare key beneath the blue flowerpot with the yellow chrysanthemums.”
After hanging up, Chloe went to the site director’s office. Still no Loren. For God’s sake, she thought, did he go home too? What was the matter with him? She wrote I had to leave for a family emergency on a slip of paper and taped it to his door. Truthful, in a way.
Then she walked around to the gift shop. It was empty except for Audrey, perched on her stool behind the sales and ticket counter. “Is everything okay?” Chloe asked. The shop looked tidy. “Did the cops search in here?”
“They did.” Her face wrinkled with distaste. “That was a first.”
“Did they find anything?”
“Not that I saw. But I had to wait outside.”
“Did they leave a mess?” Chloe surveyed the tidy room. “If so, you did a masterful job of straightening up.”
“Well, we like things clean and orderly,” Audrey said pertly. “They flipped through inventory on the shelves, and spent some time going through stock in storage. Looked in all the cupboards, that sort of thing. As soon as they left I straightened up.”
“Excellent,” Chloe said. “Audrey, there won’t be anyone in the offices, at least for a while. Loren appears to be out, and I have to leave unexpectedly.”
“No problem. I’ll listen for the outside phone line. Our school kids are gone, and with this drizzle, I don’t expect many other visitors. If Loren’s not back by four thirty I’ll close out the cash register and make the deposit. Seasonal workers aren’t supposed to, but I’ve done it before.”
“O-kay,” Chloe said. Clearly this veteran had things well in hand. “Great. Thanks.” She left Audrey to her domain.
Chloe got to Claudia’s house early, settled uneasily into a comfy wicker chair on the porch, and watched rain drip from the gutter. She wondered how much trouble Claudia was in. She wondered if the investigator would arrest Claudia, and what would happen to Holly if he did. She wondered if Holly would have a meltdown when she saw Chloe, or run away.
Chloe was well down the road to panic herself when she heard children’s voices. Two boys about Holly’s age turned onto the street. One was banging the other with a violin case. School was definitely out.
Holly appeared a minute or two behind them. Chloe was so used to seeing her in period attire that it took a moment to recognize her in jeans. She wore a yellow rain jacket, but the hood was down. Her dark braids hung over her shoulders. She stopped when she saw her company. Chloe waved. Looking uncertain, Holly walked slowly to the house.
“Hi, Holly,” Chloe said cheerfully. “I’m Chloe, remember? Your mom’s friend. She got called away this afternoon, and she asked me to meet you.”
Holly’s huge eyes glistened. She trembled. She shook her hands with agitation. After an obvious struggle, she choked out a question: “Is—she—coming back?”
“Oh sweetie, yes, of course.” The assurance popped out. Chloe hoped like crazy that she hadn’t spoken too quickly. “I thought we could take a walk while we wait for her. Maybe to the woods on Dark Hill? I don’t mind a little rain, do you? I think it’s okay if you leave your schoolbag here on the porch.”
Chloe zipped up her own jacket and walked down the porch steps. Please let Holly be okay, she thought fervently. Please.
She held her breath until she sensed Holly joining her. Chloe caught the girl’s eye and smiled. “This will be an adventure.”
Holly didn’t answer, but Chloe felt a small hand slide into hers. The gesture—half trusting, half needy—made her feel even worse.
Twenty-Three
“Do you want me to go over it again?” Roelke asked.
Michelle Zietz shook her head. “No. I got it.”
He gave her a steady look, trying to appear reassuring. “Just go in, make the buy, come back, and meet me here. I’ll be listening the whole time.”
“I know.” But the young woman hesitated, gnawing her lower lip.
“You remember your safe word?”
“I’m not an idiot!” she flared. She scowled out the window before muttering, “Thunder.”
“You say the word ‘thunder’ and half a dozen cops will be inside before you can turn around. The only difference between this buy and your previous buys is that you’ll be a whole lot safer today.”
She got out of his truck and swung into her car. She tossed the purse holding the money he’d given her on the passenger seat, started the engine, and drove away.
Roelke watched until she was out of sight. They’d met three blocks away from the drug house on Hackberry. He was dressed in civvies and he had two other guys out of uniform and three in blues already in place around the house.
This first buy would be the most challenging for Zietz. The desperate eagerness to get out of trouble she’d displayed after her arrest had given way to a Let’s get this over with edginess.
Roelke felt edgy too. He wanted to make Chief Naborski proud. And he really, really wanted to shut the dealers down.
The next five minutes passed very slowly. Roelke sat in his truck listening, both thumbs tapping an impatient beat on the steering wheel. What was Zietz doing? Had she lost her nerve? What the hell was taking so long?
Finally he heard her car door slam, a doorbell ring, a mutter of greeting. Zietz was inside.
The transaction went without a hitch. Fifteen minutes later he saw her Ford Fiesta pull up behind him. She parked, got out, walked to his truck. He tried to read her expression as she opened the passenger door and slid onto the seat. “Are you okay? It sounded like everything went according to plan.”
She took a deep breath, staring straight ahead. “Yeah. I bought the crack, I left.” She pulled a small plastic bag holding the ivory-colored lumps of crack from her purse and handed it over.
“Well done.” Roelke passed her a clipboard holding a blank pad. “Write down everything that happened, starting with meeting me here. Sign it and date it.”
She took the pad. The scratchy sound of hasty scribbling filled the cab. A car pulled into a nearby driveway and a boy in a Cub Scout uniform got out and ran toward the front door. Then Zietz handed the clipboard back to Roelke and started to get out of the truck.
“See you tomorrow,” he reminded her.
“I know.” She slammed the door.
Roelke scanned the statement—clear and concise. Yes. This thing wasn’t done yet, not by a long shot. But they’d gotten off to a promising start.
Chloe began having second thoughts about wandering Dark Hill as soon as she and
Holly began the climb. A misty gloom cloaked the wooded hillside. The sense of industry she had conjured on her first foray here was gone. Instead, all she could imagine was homesick miners huddled in leaking shelters, lonely and cold and discouraged.
Okay, she thought, this will not do. “I’ve wanted to explore over here all week, but haven’t had the chance,” she told Holly. “I’m counting on you to be my guide.”
Holly led her up the footpath through trees and brush as raindrops pattered softly down. When they reached the badger hole that Gerald and Loren were digging Chloe saw that, once again, the safety tape staked around the hole had been ripped up and tossed aside.
Who is doing this? she wondered, as a sliver of ice seemed to slide down her spine. The sensation of a hand brushing against her back returned. She cast an uneasy glance over her shoulder. Leaves trembled, as if someone unseen had just disappeared into the undergrowth.
It’s just the rain hitting them, she told herself. Still, she wanted to get out of there. “Come on, sweetie.” Skirting the hole, they continued on their way.
Holly took her tour guide responsibility to heart. She pointed out an oriole nest hanging from a limb. She knew where to find abandoned mining equipment, rusty and forlorn and almost covered with brambles. But Chloe felt relieved when they’d carefully picked their way back down the ravine and crossed Shake Rag Street.
At Holly and Claudia’s house, a lamp was glowing in the front window. Claudia opened the door before Holly and Chloe even reached the porch. Holly’s face lit with a joyful smile as Claudia scooped her up. “There’s my girl,” Claudia said, kissing her. “But you’re wet, and heavy too.” She let her daughter slide to her feet. “Go inside and change into dry clothes, alright?”
“Bye, Holly,” Chloe called. Holly waved before disappearing into the house.
“Thank God I had time to tidy up her room,” Claudia muttered. “Both of our bedrooms were taken apart, Chloe. In mine, everything—every book, every memento, every pair of underwear—had been handled and dumped on my bed. I feel violated.”
Chloe rubbed her arms. “I don’t blame you.”
“I got a lot put back together in the kitchen, and I just shut my bedroom door. Was Holly okay?”
“At first she was afraid you weren’t coming back. I reassured her, and we went walking on Dark Hill.” Chloe put a hand on her friend’s arm. “But I’ve been worried about you.”
Claudia’s usual Gibson Girl bun was slipping, and she shoved stray pins back into place. “After going over the same ground umpteen times, Investigator Higgins drove me home.”
“That will probably be the end of it, then. He found no reason to arrest you.”
“I don’t think I convinced him of anything.” Claudia shook her head, her eyes bleak. “What am I going to do, Chloe? I really think Higgins believes I had something to do with Yvonne’s death.”
“He can’t prove anything, because there’s nothing to prove,” Chloe said. “You’re innocent.”
“I am,” Claudia said stoutly, as if reminding herself. Then she paused. “But … ”
“But what?” Chloe’s tone was sharper than she’d intended.
“But if Higgins starts looking at Holly, I’ll take the blame.”
Chloe was tempted to put her fingers in her ears. “Claudia, don’t—”
“I’ll say it was an accident. I’ll say Yvonne slipped, and I panicked.”
“Stop!” Chloe hissed. “Just, stop.” She didn’t want to hear this. She didn’t want to wonder what she would do if Claudia confessed to a crime she hadn’t committed. Would she tell Investigator Higgins the truth? Or was protecting Holly from the legal system more important than anything else?
Chloe didn’t want to confront that moral quandary right now. “Surely Holly had nothing to do with Yvonne Miller’s death,” she said. Although right that moment, she wasn’t sure of anything.
Neither woman spoke for a moment. Then Claudia managed a tiny smile. “Forget it. I was just rambling.”
“Have you called your husband?” Chloe asked. “Let him know what’s going on? I’m sure his business trip is important, but supporting you in a crisis is important too.”
Claudia was already shaking her head. “No. Things between us are sticky enough without dumping this on him long-distance. I can handle it.”
Since Claudia clearly wasn’t going to budge, Chloe reluctantly said goodbye. There was a lot yet to do at the site.
At the office she called Tamsin, explaining that she’d be late. That meant missing, once again, the chance to visit Lowena, but it couldn’t be helped. It took another hour to make the place look somewhat presentable.
After locking up the building, and the main gate too, Chloe walked down to Shake Rag Street. The sun had set, and Dark Hill loomed black against the charcoal sky. Just as she was about to turn toward Tamsin’s place, a light blinked on the hill.
Chloe froze, rain dripping from the hood of her jacket. After a moment she saw the light again. It flickered, as if someone with a flashlight was walking behind trees. Then it abruptly disappeared.
What the hell? Chloe thought as she turned to walk to Tamsin’s place. Why would anyone be up there after dark on a rainy night?
Well after midnight, Roelke stood across the street from Libby’s house. A waning moon cast long shadows, and he kept to the darkness beside a tall lilac bush. He’d been there for two hours, and seen only a few passing cars. Shortly after he’d begun his vigil, a Palmyra cop car had slowed in front of Libby’s house, the driver taking a good look around before moving on. Roelke was grateful.
He had no reason to believe that Libby’s ex was planning to move flowerpots, or to leave another menacing “gift” on Libby’s front step. There’d been no sign of Dan Raymo’s Firebird. The only thing Roelke knew for certain was that he wanted to catch the SOB in stalker mode. He’d gone too far, and the Palmyra police couldn’t intervene unless Roelke could prove that Raymo was acting in a threatening manner.
Libby’s tired ranch house was dark, quiet. Dawn was still hours away. Roelke’s eyes felt gritty. His knees ached. He needed to move.
He hurried silently across the street to Libby’s place and slipped into the deeper shadows beside the side fence. He crept to the back yard and took a hard look around, alert for any slight movement, a whisper of footfall on grass. Nothing.
Roelke wasn’t afraid of the dark. But Libby’s back yard was a place for barbecues, and croquet with the kids, and relaxing with friends. The silence, the deep shadows, the reason he was here … his nerves were ratcheted tight.
He stood by the fence for some time, listening, watching. A fretful breeze rustled through the maple trees nearby. Somewhere in the distance a cat yowled, then went quiet. The night smelled damp, as if rain were coming. A cloud cloaked the moon, blurring the shadows.
Then he heard a distinct crack, as if someone farther back in the yard had stepped on a stick. He tensed, straining to see, to hear.
Then, a louder rustling. Every fine hair on his body rose. Someone was creeping along the back fence through Libby’s flower garden.
Roelke launched toward the sound, feet pounding the grass. Then he sensed movement behind him. As he turned his head, something flashed on the patio. A gunshot cracked the stillness.
The ground slammed into him before he realized he was falling. He twisted to his knees and snatched his handgun from its holster. Where was Raymo? Where? Ahead? Behind? Roelke couldn’t find a target.
Roelke’s heart thudded. His mouth tasted metallic. He was pretty sure he’d been shot, but the pumping adrenaline blocked the pain and he didn’t know where. He patted himself down with his free hand. It came away sticky-hot when he tested the left side of his belly.
Someone approached from the house, footsteps soft in the grass. Roelke pointed his gun at the shadow, but the a
drenaline was subsiding and a firecracker of pain exploded in his side. He wavered, managed to stay up on his knees.
The figure stopped a few feet away, arms stretched forward, pistol pointed at Roelke. Words came in a low, furious hiss. “You son of a bitch!”
An inarticulate groan escaped Roelke’s clenched teeth. Jesus Holy Christ.
Dan Raymo was not the shooter.
Chloe tiptoed from the guest room without turning on a light and settled into the antique rocker. She felt uneasy and hadn’t been able to sleep. She was worried about the threat to close Pendarvis. She was worried about Claudia, and the whole mess surrounding Yvonne Miller’s unexplained death.
And she was worried about Roelke. When they’d talked that evening he’d sounded tense, distracted. Things were still bad, he’d said, with Libby and her ex.
He’d also told her that the raid of the drug house was scheduled for Saturday, and that Adam had offered to bring Chloe back from Mineral Point when he returned from his weekend visit on Sunday. “You okay with that?”
“Sure,” Chloe had said. “Maybe I’ll help with the pasty dinner at Tamsin’s church Saturday night.” Honestly, though, she was disappointed that Roelke couldn’t pick her up on Friday evening.
Now her thoughts pinged from Claudia to Libby, from the unidentified skeleton to Yvonne Miller, from Holly to Mary Pascoe. And to Roelke, always back to Roelke. She wished they weren’t apart right now. He was struggling, and she was struggling, and the bed in Tamsin’s guest room felt empty.
“For God’s sake, Libby,” Roelke gasped. “It’s me!”
“ … What?” Libby slowly dropped to her knees. “Roelke? Oh God. Did I hit you? Oh my God!”
A second-story light appeared in the house next door. “Be quiet,” Roelke whispered harshly. “Don’t move.”
Mining for Justice Page 21
