There’s a slight hesitation before he answers. “I think I’ll just stick to updates over the phone for now. If things heat up, I’ll make the trip.”
Macy takes a left, heading south on Route 93. It’s not yet three and it’s already growing dark. She needs to get something to eat before heading over to Toby Larson’s used car dealership.
“Macy,” he says, softening his tone. “Are you okay?”
“You know me, Ray. I’m always fine.”
“Well, if you’re not, you sure put on one hell of an act.”
“I’m going to go now, Ray,” she says, hanging up before he has a chance to say anything else.
*
A billboard advertising Larson’s Used Cars hangs frozen in the air above Collier. At least twenty feet tall in his cowboy boots, a deeply tanned Toby Larson wears no more than the boots, a cowboy hat, a smile, and a carefully placed price tag. Macy can’t help but think that he looks cold. Toby steps outside to greet her and he still wears a cowboy hat and a smile, but is otherwise, thankfully, fully clothed.
He takes Macy’s hand and delivers a generous smile. “Hello, Ms. Greeley. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Macy tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear and lets him guide her into the showroom. Across from the cars on display a blond-haired woman sits at a desk behind a glass partition.
“Is that your wife, Pamela Larson?”
Pamela looks up from her desk and Toby gives her a wave. “Yes, that’s my Pamela.”
“I didn’t realize she worked here.”
“She doesn’t really work all that much. I think she just comes in to keep an eye on me.”
“It saves me having to track her down.”
His tan fades. “Why do you want to speak to Pamela?”
Macy gestures toward an office with his name on the door. “We should probably continue this conversation somewhere private.”
Toby’s office is decorated with brown leather chairs and dark wood paneling. A stag’s head and several fish mounted onto frames hang on the wall above his desk. The leather creaks when Macy sits down. Her feet are so swollen she’s tempted to ask Toby for something to prop them on.
Toby opens the door to a small refrigerator. “What can I get you, Ms. Greeley? You look like a fan of diet soda.”
“I’m not going to lie.”
Toby sits across from her and pours her drink into a glass, complete with ice cubes and a slice of lemon. Toby is smartly dressed in nicely tailored slacks and wears a cashmere sweater over a shirt and tie. His gray hair is combed back from his face, further sharpening his features.
Macy’s eyes linger on the stag. “Do you hunt, Mr. Larson?”
“I’ve hunted all my life. Fished as well.”
Macy slips a notebook out of her bag and jots a few lines while Toby fidgets in his chair.
“Where were you on Tuesday morning between the hours of ten and noon?”
“I took the morning off. Monday evening was the annual Chamber of Commerce dinner. I overdid it as usual.”
“Can anyone vouch for your whereabouts?”
“Only my two Labradors.”
“When was the last time you were in touch with Leanne Adams?”
“I’ve not heard from Leanne in eleven years.”
“I need to ask you some questions about your relationship with her.”
“I’m not sure there’s much left to tell.”
“Grace Adams was born around the time you and Leanne were seeing each other. Have you ever given the idea that you might be her father much thought?”
Toby raises an eyebrow. “Wow, you get straight to it. I thought you guys liked to start off gentle.”
“Are you going to answer the question?”
He holds his hands together, only fingertips touching. “When I asked Leanne that same question, she told me I wasn’t good enough to be Grace’s father. According to her, the worthy gentleman was a trucker from Wisconsin.”
“It doesn’t sound like there was a lot of love between you.”
“We drank a lot. There were times it was volatile.”
“Did it upset you that Leanne was seeing other men?”
“Neither one of us were faithful. Hell, I was married. I couldn’t exactly complain.”
“But at some point you both committed to the relationship. You decided to leave Collier together. It must have been a blow when Leanne took off on her own.”
“I was angry, but eleven years is a long time. I’ve moved on.”
“What happened the night she left?”
“I packed my bags as planned and said good-bye to Pamela.” Toby peers over Macy’s head toward the offices on the other side of the showroom. “I expected my wife to welcome my departure, but it seems that I made a gross miscalculation. I failed to factor in her pride. She hid my car keys. We live pretty far out of town so I was stuck. Leanne finally called me at around midnight. She was in tears. She’d only tell me that she’d done something stupid and had to get out of town fast.”
“Did she tell you that she’d left Grace behind?”
“She didn’t say a word. That really upset me. It was one thing to treat me with such callous disregard but Grace was only seven at the time. I don’t know how anyone could do such a thing.”
“Did you go looking for Leanne?”
“I went out to the truck stop first thing in the morning. Her car was gone. I pounded on the door of her trailer but nobody answered. I honestly thought she took Grace with her. I didn’t know that poor child was locked inside.”
“How well did you know Arnold Lamm?”
“We were friendly but never close. He doesn’t hunt, but we’ve been known to go fishing together, Chamber of Commerce meetings, that type of thing.”
“Any business dealings?”
“Occasionally I’d rent out vans to his company when they were transporting smaller loads. I always seem to have a few on the lot. Easy money.”
“Do you have records?”
“It’s been a while but I’m sure they’re in a filing cabinet somewhere. I’ll have my secretary have a look.”
“I’d appreciate it if you could start looking now.”
Toby picks up the phone on his desk. “Was Arnold involved in this sex trafficking ring you’ve uncovered?”
“I really can’t comment.”
Toby raises an eyebrow. “That means he probably was.” He puts down the phone and stands. “My secretary isn’t at her desk. If you can wait a few minutes, I’ll have a poke around and see what I can find.”
Macy picks up her bag and coat. “In that case, I’m going to take a stroll across the showroom and have a chat with your wife.”
“Better you than me.”
Macy stops at the door. “Would you be willing to submit a DNA sample? We’d also like to take your fingerprints.”
“Am I really a suspect?”
“At this point, I can’t rule you out. You don’t have an alibi for the morning Leanne was killed and you have a history with the victim. It’s enough to get a court order.”
“There’s no need. I’ve nothing to hide.”
“Someone will be here in the next hour. Meanwhile, if you could find those files?”
Macy taps on the window to Pamela Larson’s office. Pamela’s eyes slide in her direction. She frowns before stubbing out her cigarette in the ashtray and inviting her in.
Macy introduces herself. “I’m sorry to intrude but I’d like to have a quick word with you?”
“I suppose it’s your job to stick your nose into other people’s business.”
“Only when their business is especially interesting.”
Pamela starts to gather some papers off her desk. “I have an appointment to get to.”
“Mrs. Larson, you can speak to me now and be a little late for your appointment or come down to the sheriff’s office and miss it altogether. Your choice.”
Pamela looks at her watch. “You have five minutes.�
��
“Oh, I think you’ll find I have more than that,” Macy says, pulling out the empty chair and sitting down. “On the morning Leanne was murdered several witnesses are willing to testify you were at your health club.”
Pamela lights another cigarette and eyes Macy through a cloud of smoke. “I had no idea I was a suspect. It’s such a relief to know I’ve been exonerated without having to lift a finger.”
“Oh, you’re not off the hook yet. You could have paid someone to murder Leanne. You have both money and motivation.”
Pamela taps some ash into an ashtray and tilts her head. “But how was I to know Leanne was coming back to Collier?”
“That’s what I’m going to find out.”
“I’m sure I’ll be the first to know if you do.”
“I understand you and Leanne were classmates in high school.”
“We were actually best friends in high school, although it’s difficult to believe that was ever the case.”
“Why did you fall out?”
“We fell out over a man.”
“Toby?”
“No, not Toby. Not that time, anyway. This was a college boy we both had our eye on.” She frowns. “I lost that battle.”
Macy glances around the office. There’s an expensive-looking bouquet of roses in the vase on the desk. She reaches out and touches a petal. It is soft against her fingertips. These weren’t stolen from a bucket in the entryway of a mini-market.
“You may have lost that battle but I’d say you won the war.”
Pamela sits back in her chair but says nothing.
“How well did you know Arnold Lamm?”
“Fairly well. He was the college boy Leanne and I fell out over. At the time he and Elizabeth were already engaged.” She pauses. “Does that shock you?”
“I have to admit that it does. I take it Elizabeth found out.”
“Oh, I made sure of that. Elizabeth forgave Arnold but never spoke to Leanne again.”
There’s a soft knock at the door and they both look up. Toby stands holding a few sheets of paper.
“I hope you don’t mind. I made photocopies of the invoices. I’d like to keep hold of the originals.”
Pamela stubs out her cigarette. “Detective Greeley, it’s been nice chatting with you but I really have to go now.”
Toby looks at his watch. “Pamela, you said you’d cover the phones the rest of the day. Justine has just gone off to visit her father in Billings.”
Pamela puts her coat back on the hook. “You really need to hire a temporary secretary.”
“It’s only for one day. She’ll be back the day after tomorrow.”
“I hope your husband doesn’t treat you like this.”
“I wouldn’t know. I don’t have one.”
Pamela eyes her approvingly. “You know what? I think I’ve just raised my estimation of you.”
Macy traces her eyes over the invoices. “Are you sure this is all?”
“There may be more but Justine’s filing system has evolved over the years into something rather cryptic.”
Pamela settles back into her chair. “We think she does it on purpose. It’s made it impossible to fire her.”
15
Grace peeks out the front window of the small apartment she now shares with her aunt and watches Macy’s patrol car pull into a parking space right outside the front door.
Grace looks over her shoulder and calls to her aunt. “Macy is here. Are you ready to go?”
Elizabeth pokes her head around the corner. She’s still wearing a dressing gown. “I’m running late. Invite her in and give her some coffee.”
The bell rings and Grace swings open the door and stares. Dustin stands in front of her, holding his hat in his hands. Grace almost shuts the door in his face but stops. Macy is not more than ten feet away. She is sitting in her car speaking on her phone. She looks up and waves at Grace before turning her attention back to the conversation she’s having.
Grace barely lifts her eyes to look at Dustin.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” he asks.
Grace checks Macy again. She’s still on the phone. Grace backs away from the door and lets Dustin in.
“Is your aunt ready to go?”
Grace stutters. “She’ll be here any minute.”
“Are you okay?” he asks, reaching for her.
Grace stands perfectly still and waits for Dustin to stop holding her. Her arms are pinned to her sides and his body is pressed up against hers. Her face is flushed from heat and rising anger. He’s held on long enough. She tells him very quietly to let go.
He rubs her back with his hands and speaks in a whisper. “I thought you’d forgiven me. Why haven’t you called?”
Grace pulls away. “You know why.”
He holds her at arms’ length and looks around the room. “What’s going on?”
“You need to leave.”
“Why? What have I done?”
“I saw what you did in my bedroom.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You said you’d changed.”
“I have.”
“You wrote on my wall.”
“Grace, I’ve never set foot in your bedroom.”
“It was a passage from the poem you gave me. Who else would have done it?”
“I swear I didn’t do it.”
“Then who did?”
“I don’t know.”
“All the letters you wrote to me are gone. My sketchbook is missing.”
Dustin puts his hand over his mouth. “Someone took my letters?”
In the back of the apartment a door opens and shuts. For a brief second Grace hears the low drone of the television set coming from her aunt’s bedroom.
“You have to go.”
“I swear on my life, Grace. I didn’t do this. What I wrote to you was private. I would never hurt you. I love you.”
Grace looks down at the floor. “I don’t know if I can trust you anymore.”
Dustin stands in front of her with his head bent. “I’ll get your sketchbook back, I promise.”
“Just how are you going to do that?”
He looks away. “I don’t know yet.”
Grace hears footsteps and moves into the kitchenette. She opens the door to the refrigerator just as her aunt enters the room. The cold air feels good on her face.
“Oh, hello, Dustin. How long have you been here?”
“I just arrived. Are you sure you’re up to going back to the house?”
“I have to be, don’t I? Grace and I might be living here in town for a while. We need a few things.” She pauses. “Grace, what are you looking for in the refrigerator? You can’t be hungry again. We just ate.”
Grace squeezes her eyes shut and tries to keep her voice even. “I’m warm.”
“Then take off that ridiculous hat. I don’t know why you insist on wearing that ugly thing all the time.”
Grace shuts the refrigerator door and pulls Jared’s hat from her head. She doesn’t look at her aunt when she speaks. “When are we leaving?”
Elizabeth checks the time. “Any minute. Martha Nielson said she’d come along and give us a hand as well.”
*
Grace’s home on Summit Road looks as if it’s aged years in the days since she’s been away. In front there’s a bowl of clear ground where the snow has been trampled down by footsteps. At the sides the snow level rises up undisturbed, reaching the lower sills of the ground-floor windows. The big oak door hangs open. Macy and Warren are on the threshold speaking to Elizabeth and Martha Nielson. Dustin Ash stands just behind them. Grace stands back, keeping an eye on things. Dustin’s eyes dart away when she catches him staring. The front door swings shut and Grace walks toward the garage.
There are three patrol cars parked in the driveway and a couple officers lean against one of the vehicles chatting to one another. One of them tips his hat as Grace walks by and she feels blood rush to her
face as she stumbles over saying a simple hello. The driveway has been cleared but there’s still a thin layer of ice. She inspects the surface and wonders how difficult it will be to traverse. She’s not used to driving in winter. During the summer she drove for days on end while her uncle Arnold dozed in the passenger seat. They’d set up the tent and her uncle would spend his days fishing while Grace sat in the shade filling her sketchbooks.
There’s a well-worn path going around the back of the garage. Grace has heard that people have been coming to see where her mother was killed. She imagines them sitting among the trees at night watching out for Leanne’s ghost. Yellow crime-scene tape is draped across the door to the garage like bunting. Grace pulls it away and the brittle plastic snaps in the cold. Using the remote control on the key ring, she opens the door. It groans but gives, swinging in a wide arc. The bay is wide enough for three cars but there’s only her uncle’s truck, a drift boat, and his workspace. She trails her gloved hand across the bed of the truck as she walks. Custom built—her uncle Arnold used to go over the specifications again and again. When he had friends over playing darts and drinking beer he’d always gotten around to bragging about it.
“Of course, it’s a V8,” he’d slur drunkenly. “It’s a Ford F-250 extended cab. Custom built, for God’s sake.” He’d stagger around, bottle in one hand and pointing out the truck’s features with the other. “Mint condition.”
One particular summer evening, her uncle Arnold went even further.
“Mint condition,” he said, lopsided grin stuck to his face. “Just like my Gracie here. She’s mint.” He narrowed his eyes at his friends and jabbed a finger toward his niece. “And she’s gonna stay that way.”
Grace gets to the front of the truck and plugs in the block heater. It’s going to take at least two hours before the engine is warm enough to try starting it up. She glances at the side door that leads into the kitchen and thinks of how one small decision can change everything. If she’d stayed at the house instead of going off to sulk, Walter Nielson would have left her alone and Dustin wouldn’t have come to her rescue. After that evening things between her and Dustin changed. It started with a secret. After he calmed her down and dried her eyes, he made her promise never to tell anyone about what happened. I’ll deal with Walter, he said. I’ll make sure he never touches you again.
Bone Dust White Page 16
