by B. J Daniels
For so long it had only been about staying hidden, staying alive. Laney had made him forget all that. She’d made him hopeful. She’d made him want not only her, but also a life. He knew that even if Keller didn’t kill him first, he wouldn’t have a life after the trial.
He looked at the list in his hand. Chaz had written down all the items he’d returned—and to which houses.
Nick had overnighted the baseball bat to the crime lab in Missoula along with DNA samples from each of the men who’d been attacked. He’d seen enough weapons with dried blood on them. All he needed was verification that the blood was human. And if he could get a DNA match....
When the phone rang, he jumped.
“Deputy Sheriff Rogers,” he answered, surprised how easily he’d been able to play this role. Maybe it had been the years he’d spent undercover, pretending he was someone he wasn’t. Right now this role felt more real than his old life in California.
“This is Maximilian Roswell with the crime lab.”
Nick held his breath.
“That bat you sent us? Just as you suspected, the substance on it is definitely human blood.”
“Were you able to get a DNA sample from it?”
“As a matter of fact, it matched up with one of the other samples you sent us. A Curtis McAlheney’s.”
McAlheney’s nose had bled, splattering all over he’d said. Nick let out the breath he’d been holding and got off the line as quickly as possible. He called Chaz’s house, spoke with the boy’s aunt. Chaz and Prince were just outside in the yard, she assured him.
“Please make sure they stay there,” Nick said.
“Is that dog in trouble again?” the aunt asked, sounding more weary than upset.
“Not at all,” Nick said. “That’s a very smart dog. He might have just helped me solve one of my cases.”
Nick hung up and picked up his keys. What worried him was that one of those residents had recognized the bat but hadn’t claimed it, afraid of incriminating himself.
Nick couldn’t have the assailant thinking Chaz still had that bat. The last thing he wanted to do was put the kid in danger, although Prince had already done that with his thieving.
At the hardware store, Nick bought a baseball bat like the one the dog had stolen and a small can of dark reddish-brown paint. He took it back to his apartment, roughed up the bat on his concrete back step, then taking a rag he added just enough of the paint until the bat looked like the old one he’d gotten from Chaz.
Tossing the bat into his patrol car, he headed for Whitehorse. As he drove, he went over the list in his head that Chaz had made him. There was one house in that neighborhood that apparently the dog hadn’t taken anything from. At least, no one at that house had claimed any of the items.
And yet Nick knew for a fact that the dog had been in that house.
* * *
LANEY WAS TOO RESTLESS to hang around home. The place felt empty without Laci there. Laney had gotten a call that morning from her sister. Laci thought Maddie seemed to be doing better. The counseling was helping.
“Just a minute,” Laci had said. “Maddie wants to say hello.”
Maddie wanted to know if Bo had called. He hadn’t.
“I’m going over to the Evanses’ now as a matter of fact,” Laney had told her. “Is there a message you want me to give him?”
“No. That’s okay.”
Laney felt for her cousin. All she could do was hope that the counseling would make Maddie see what kind of man Bo Evans really was.
As Laney neared the Evanses’ house, she saw the ambulance pulling away, lights flashing. She pulled to the side of the road to let it pass, then hurriedly drove down to the house to see what had happened.
Violet answered the door looking as if she’d just woken up. She wore a muumuu, the fabric faded and worn, and fuzzy pink bunny slippers.
“I saw the ambulance,” Laney said.
Violet nodded. “Mother took too many of her pain pills.”
“Is she all right?” Laney asked.
“They pumped her stomach, but they wanted to take her to the hospital for observation.”
Laney stared at the woman. “They think she might have taken the pills on purpose?”
Bo came into the room from down the hall. He, too, looked as if he’d just gotten up although it was after eleven. He was wearing a wrinkled T-shirt and pajama bottoms, his feet bare.
“What are you telling her?” he demanded of his sister. “Mom didn’t try to kill herself. It was an accident. Her broken arm’s been bothering her. She just got confused about how many pills she’d taken.”
He gave Violet a dirty look as he turned and went into the kitchen.
Violet looked after him, no love in her gaze.
Laney wondered where Charlotte was, then remembered she hadn’t seen her car. The only one of the Evans offspring with a job, Charlotte must be at work. Charlotte was the shampoo girl at the Clip and Curl. She also was learning to do nails, Laney had heard.
“Well, I’m sorry to hear about your mother,” Laney said. More sorry than she wanted to admit. She’d hoped to talk to Arlene. She’d especially wanted Arlene to take the Laney and Nick “match” photo off her Web site. But she also had hoped to get copies of the photographs from the party to show to Nick.
In the kitchen, Bo was banging pots and pans as if searching for something.
“Your mother was going to give me copies of the photographs she took at Maddie’s and Bo’s party,” she fibbed to Violet. “I would be happy to pay for them.”
Violet looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “Geraldine dropped dead at that party.”
“Yes, I remember,” Laney said. “I promised your mother twenty for the copies but I’ll pay more if—”
Before Violet could answer, Bo came out. “How much more?” he demanded.
“Forty dollars,” Laney said, wincing at the greed she saw shining in his eyes.
“I don’t know why you’d want photographs from that party, the party from hell, but I can make you copies.”
Laney stood in the living room, Violet waiting as well. Neither spoke. Laney could hear Bo in a back room mumbling to himself as a printer whirred. At one point, she thought about sitting down, eyed the plastic-covered furniture and decided to remain standing.
When Bo came out with a couple dozen photographs, she gave him two twenty-dollar bills from her purse. He took them, stuffed it in his pocket and went back into the kitchen without a word.
Laney let herself out.
* * *
NICK PASSED THE AMBULANCE on the way to Old Town. He got on his radio and found out that Arlene Evans had overdosed on drugs and was being taken to the hospital. Turning around, he followed the ambulance back into Whitehorse.
Arlene was conscious, sitting up in bed, complaining to the nurse when he entered her room.
“How are you doing?” he asked her.
“I’m fine,” she snapped. “I don’t know why everyone is making such a fuss. I mixed up my pills. It could have happened to anyone.”
“I was on my way out to your house when I saw the ambulance,” Nick said. “I just wanted to check on you.”
Arlene softened a little. “That was nice of you. But it doesn’t make up for you arresting my son for something he didn’t do.”
Whatever. “Well, I can see that you’re going to be fine.” He started to turn from her bed to leave, when he caught a whiff of her perfume.
“What?” she demanded, no doubt seeing the look on his face.
“Your perfume. It’s familiar.”
“You like it?” she asked, smiling broadly. “It was my mother’s. I get compliments on it all the time. It’s my favorite. It reminds me of my mother. She loved lavender.”
&nbs
p; * * *
ON THE WAY OUT TO THE EVANS house, Nick debated what he was about to do. It was a gamble. A risk he wasn’t sure he should take. But it was Saturday afternoon. And he was determined to tie up some loose ends before he left.
He thought about Laney, about saying goodbye. He would do that tomorrow night. She wouldn’t know it was goodbye though.
The thought that he would probably never see her again devastated him. He’d considered canceling dinner, knowing seeing her again would only make it that much harder to say goodbye. Selfishly he wanted that last evening with her.
Just as he had to take this gamble tonight, he thought, as he parked in front of the Evans house, and taking the baseball bat, climbed out, noting that all three Evans offspring appeared to be home since it was still early evening.
In the distance, Nick could make out a tractor in a field, the silhouette of a man hunched over the wheel, the tractor dragging something that stirred up dust as the driver inched across the horizon.
At his knock, Violet peered at Nick through the screen. In the background, he could hear loud music and Bo’s souped-up car was parked out front.
“I was hoping your mother was home,” Nick said, lying through his teeth.
“She’s at the hospital,” Violet said.
“I hope it’s nothing serious.”
“No.” She glanced from Nick to the bat at his side.
“Mind if I come in?” he asked, raising his voice.
Without a word, she pushed open the screen door and motioned him inside. He noticed she was wearing what looked like the dresses his great-aunt wore. On Violet’s feet were furry bunny slippers.
Past her on the plastic couch was Charlotte. She was wearing a crop top and short shorts. She had her legs tucked under herself and she was chewing on the end of a lock of her hair as she watched something on television.
“Did you want to see Bo?” Violet asked.
Nick noted that the music had stopped. “I thought one of you could help me. That new boy in the neighborhood has a dog that picks up things,” he said over the sound of the television. Loud enough that Bo would be able to hear down the hall. “I thought this might belong to one of you.” He held up the bat.
As expected, Bo’s curiosity was peaked at what Nick was offering. He came out of his room and down the hall, looking disheveled and half-asleep.
“Where the hell did you get my old bat?” he demanded.
“This is yours?” Nick asked.
Bo held out a hand. Nick slapped the bat into Bo’s palm. “Hell, yes, it’s mine. I wondered what happened to it.”
“Has it been missing long?” Nick asked.
“Long enough,” Bo said. “How did some dog get it?”
Nick shrugged. “I wasn’t even sure it was yours. The boy brought it around. I thought he showed it to you and you said it wasn’t yours.”
Bo shot a look at Violet. “Did some kid bring this bat by here and you told him it wasn’t mine?”
“How was I to know it was your bat?” Violet demanded. “Charlotte said yours got broken.”
Bo swung around to glare at his youngest sister.
“I said I thought it had.” Charlotte shrugged. “It’s old and icky, why do you want it anyway?”
Bo was shaking his head and swinging the bat, clearly angry.
“Well, you have it back now,” Nick said and turned to leave, glancing at Charlotte. She had stopped chewing on her hair. She dragged her gaze away from the television. He saw the tension in her expression. Was she worried that he was going to tell Bo that she was the one who’d let the dog into the house? She swung her gaze back at the television.
“Tell your mother I stopped by,” Nick said.
“You tell that kid to keep his damn dog away from my house!” Bo called as Nick walked out to his patrol car and climbed in. He was shaking inside. Partly from fear he’d just messed up big-time. And partly from the bad vibes he’d felt inside the house. Add to that the faint hint of lavender and it had the makings of a deadly potion.
* * *
THERE WAS ONLY ONE LIVE BAND in town Saturday night at one of the four bars.
Nick staked out the bar with the band, finding himself a place where he could watch the back of the building without being seen.
The night was cool and very dark, and he was counting on the person with the bat making an appearance. Unless the assailant realized Nick had returned the wrong bat. Or unless Nick had taken the bat to the wrong house.
There were too many variables. Too much chance that he was way off base.
He tried not to second-guess himself as the hours went by. He knew that the men who’d been attacked had all left by the back door of the bar before closing. He was betting they had followed someone out. Or had been lured out.
He tried to concentrate on the back door, on who would come through it before the night was over. But his mind kept going to Laney and dinner tomorrow night.
Then he would be gone. He already had a story ready to tell the sheriff’s department. He would be returning home to take care of a sick relative.
Just returning to the state of California would be dangerous. Standing up in court to testify against Zak Keller would be a death warrant. That was if he even made it as far as the courtroom. Keller had friends who would die to protect him—and the truth from coming out.
No, Nick thought with a rueful smile, his life wasn’t worth squat. Even a bookie wouldn’t take odds on him coming out of this alive. But if he didn’t testify, then Keller would go free. And if that happened, Nick was one dead SOB. Keller would hunt him down like a rabid dog even if it took the rest of his life.
His cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He swore under his breath as he heard the back door of the bar open. Music spilled out, a lot of bass guitar and drums. The phone vibrated again. The door closed with a swish, taking the music with it.
Just before the door shut, he saw the woman in the light spilling out. She wore a blue dress. He watched her walk to her car. She hesitated, standing in the darkness as if listening before she opened her car door.
His cell phone quit vibrating. He waited, afraid to breathe as she slid behind the wheel. She didn’t start the car. Instead, she seemed to be watching the back door of the bar as if expecting someone.
Minutes ticked by. He saw her lean her head on the steering wheel. He could almost feel her disappointment, her heartbreak, as he watched Violet Evans finally start her car and pull away.
Nick swore under his breath. He’d been so sure that tonight was the night. And he’d had his money on Violet. The woman seemed to have no luck with men and her mother was always trying to push her off on some poor soul.
He could see where Violet might have a bad attitude when it came to men. She might take some pleasure in beating the crap out of them with a baseball bat after they’d disappointed her.
But he’d been wrong. Not about the bat belonging in that house; he’d been sure of it. Nick just didn’t believe Bo had been the one using the bat. Nick could see Arlene Evans beating up men. Except, tonight she was in the hospital. Maybe that was why nothing was happening here.
Nick swore again. His patrol car was parked a few blocks over. He turned to leave when the back door of the bar opened again. He quickly melted back into the shadows.
A man stuck his head out, looked around, hesitating as if checking to make sure the coast was clear. He stepped out tentatively, glancing around, hitched up his pants and started toward an old brown pickup parked at the far end of the lot.
The darkness was complete. Nick couldn’t put a name to the man, but he suspected it was the one Violet had been waiting for. The man who’d stood her up.
Just as the man neared his pickup, Nick spotted movement coming out of the dark alley. The figure came up fast b
ehind the man. Nick didn’t even see the swing of the bat, but he heard the sound of it as the bat connected with the man’s back. The man let out an ufft sound and sprawled facedown in the dirt. The figure, wearing a black hooded cloak, moved quickly toward the man.
“What the hell.” Nick was running, his weapon drawn. He covered the distance between him and the scene at a sprint.
The dark figure wound up for another whack with the bat. Nick grabbed the bat and wrenched it free, shoving the barrel end of the pistol into the back of the assailant as he yelled, “Police! Freeze!”
Nick dropped the bat and reached for his flashlight. He’d recognized the black cloak. It was just like the one Violet had worn at Geraldine Shaw’s funeral. He jerked the hood down and, stepping around, shoved the light into the woman’s face.
Charlotte Evans blinked blindly. He lowered the beam to the ground in shock.
Charlotte focused her gaze on him and smiled. “I had a feeling that I shouldn’t come into town tonight.”
* * *
IT WAS THE WEE HOURS of morning by the time Nick got Charlotte Evans booked and locked up.
He’d read her her rights, warning her not to say anything she would regret.
“I don’t regret anything,” she said. “They all deserved it.” She saw that he didn’t get it. “Men like that.” She shook her head. “They are nice to me because I’m pretty.” Her expression turned sour. “But I hated the way they were with my sister. They thought they could treat her any way they wanted just because she isn’t pretty. That’s not right. Someone needed to do something.”
He had to call her mother, wake Arlene up at the hospital and get cussed out for arresting her daughter. Nick doubted Charlotte would spend more than a night in jail. He knew she would never get to trial.
First off, the assaulted men wouldn’t press charges. Not against a seventeen-year-old girl. Especially not after word got out why she’d done what she had. Charlotte Evans would skate.
But Nick had a bad feeling that it wouldn’t be the last the people of Montana heard of Charlotte Evans. He’d seen the way she’d swung that bat. It gave him chills to think she’d be out on the street again.
