“We’ll need more than that.”
“His wife happens to be Pamela Larson’s daughter.”
Ray puffs out his cheeks. “Collier is a small town.”
“Too small.”
“Any other employees at Cross Border Trucking stand out?”
“Walter Nielson worked for Arnold for years and was a close family friend. He was murdered about four years ago. It might be related. Scott Pearce is another name that has been thrown around. He wasn’t part of Arnold Lamm’s inner circle but he’s serving time for armed robbery. Neither of them could have killed Leanne but they might have been involved in the trafficking.”
“Hate to break it to you, but Scott Pearce was released early.”
“Why wasn’t I informed?”
“I’m telling you now.”
“How long has he been out?”
“Two weeks. He’s registered at a halfway house in Helena. I’ll handle keeping tabs on him from my end.”
“You should bring him in for questioning.”
“From what we’ve found at the meth house I’d say the sex trafficking operation was disbanded years ago. If Scott Pearce was involved, arresting him is going to have to wait until we have something that ties him to it. Our first priority is going after whoever murdered Molly Parks and has been abusing these girls. I don’t want to spook the guy by showing our hand too early.” He points to the next name on the list of known associates. “Why is Toby Larson’s name here?”
“He was close to Leanne and he’s rumored to be Grace’s father.”
“What does he have to say about that?”
“He asked Leanne years ago. She told him he wasn’t good enough to be Grace’s father.” She leans back. “I can’t rule him out as a suspect in her murder. Leanne broke his heart when she left town. He seems quite resigned to what happened, but for all we know he’s held it against her for the past eleven years.”
“It seems very unlikely. Now that we’ve found the house where the girls were kept it’s more likely Leanne’s murder is connected to the trafficking ring.”
“Toby Larson went fishing with Arnold and on occasion loaned his company vans off his used car lot.” Macy picks up a piece of toast and points it at Ray. “You have to keep in mind that we found no physical evidence on Leanne Adams. Her killer could be anyone. Meanwhile, Molly’s killer left us a trail of DNA and fingerprints. He was at the back gate, in Grace’s room, and in the basement at the meth house. Brady Monroe’s ski mask was found sitting on the seat of his car and instead of dumping it, he kept the gun he stole off of Gareth. I’m seeing very different levels of control.”
“You said Brady Monroe wasn’t working alone.”
“That’s what I’m thinking. It would explain what we found up at the house on Summit Road. One of them goes up to Grace’s room and creates a shrine while someone else cleans out the office. Brady Monroe was deteriorating fast, which is probably why he messed up so badly at the hospital. I don’t see how he would have managed a break-in, the message left on the wall, and a thorough search of Arnold Lamm’s office all on his own. He may have killed Leanne Adams though. Grace thought it was the same type of ski mask. The crime scene was a mess. The killer may not have been careful but he certainly was lucky.”
“How is Sam Fuller? Have you managed to question him?”
“He’s developed an infection in his lungs. I had Warren speak to him about what happened. He didn’t add anything to what we knew already.”
“I checked out that photographer who worked with Grace for the feature article. He’s been in Mexico for the past week and a half. According to his boss he’s not really an asshole, just a frustrated artist.”
“Must have been a bit of a letdown having to work for the Collier Gazette. Any connection to Leanne Adams?”
“Nothing that we can find, and he hasn’t got a record. Maybe they had an affair. It wouldn’t have been out of character for her to sleep with the guy.”
An army truck full of young soldiers pulls up outside and both of them watch the recruits spill out onto the parking lot. They’re probably from the training base that’s located on the southern end of the Flathead Valley. One of them pulls a face at Macy when he catches her staring at him. She smiles and looks away.
“How are your daughters? I hope Taylor is doing better.”
He purses his lips. “She’s back in the hospital.”
“Is she not eating again?”
“No, she’s self-harming this time.”
“Christ, when did that start?”
“It’s early days. We’re still trying to figure it out.” Ray rakes his hands through his hair and grimaces. “Jessica knows about us.”
Macy puts down her fork very gently and wipes her mouth with her napkin. She’s not seen Ray’s wife Jessica for nearly two years. They’d been friendly but were never friends.
He looks away. “She wants you to be transferred to another office.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“I told her that.”
“How’d she find out?”
Ray spins a pencil around the tabletop with his finger. “I never threw away our photos. I never erased our e-mails. Maybe I should have, but I didn’t. Jessica found them.”
“That wasn’t very smart.”
“No. No, it wasn’t.” He glances down at her belly and Macy can tell he’s trying not to cry when he asks. “You need to tell me the truth, Macy. Is the baby mine?”
17
Jared’s head is so sore he can’t lift it from the pillow. Keeping his eyes shut is the only thing that feels right. He sleeps some more, waking up when his dogs jump into bed with him. They’re growling low and barking in short bursts. He takes hold of the closest one and scratches its ears. Its hair smells of wood smoke. The phone has been ringing intermittently and someone has been coming to the door on a regular basis. He’s not answered either. He waits quietly until he hears the resigned crunch of wheels pass out of the driveway. Jared doesn’t know if these visits are daily, hourly, or weekly. He’s lost track of time. He hasn’t bathed. He’s not eaten. At the hospital they’d prescribed tranquilizers and sent him home. He thinks it’s been two days. He digs his head into the pillow and scratches the coarse hairs on his cheeks.
Jared lights a cigarette and checks his pack. He only has three left and then he’ll be forced to leave the house. Very gently he stubs out his half-smoked cigarette and leaves it in the ashtray. He thinks he can slink unnoticed into Trina’s store. If there’s anyone in town who will understand, it’s Trina. She’ll leave him in peace and fill up his basket with cigarettes and whiskey and hand him his usual breakfast burrito. He figures he can be back home in half an hour if he avoids all conversation.
He leans out from the bed and checks the time. It’s nearly two. He scrolls through the messages on his cell phone. There’s still nothing from Hayley. Her silence is getting to him. Brian is keeping a close eye on her, but he’s got to work, he’s got to sleep, he’s got to take a shit.
Fucking Hayley.
Wrapped in blankets, Jared heads for the living room, pushing his dogs to the side when they refuse to make room for him on the sofa. Comforted by their presence, he’s taken to letting them stay inside the house all the time. Long wisps of brown and white dog hair cling to his blankets like lake flies on window screens. His dogs barely lift their heads before scratching out another nest and hunkering back down into the recesses of the sofa. He picks up the television remote from the coffee table and switches on the news. He grows more anxious with each new disclosure.
“This is Connie Evans reporting live at the scene of what police are describing as a house of horrors.”
The reporter stands on a road in front of what appears to be a house but it’s tented over. In the background he can see a forensic unit gathered on the front lawn.
“The investigation is ongoing but details are slowly emerging. It appears that with the help of others, Brady Monroe ran
both a methamphetamine lab and sex trafficking operation out of this modest home just north of Collier. The police are linking this house to the grim discovery of four dead Eastern European women in a roadside picnic area eleven years ago.”
They run old news footage from when the bodies were found. A younger version of Macy walks through a parking lot and ducks under a yellow ribbon of crime-scene tape. In the foreground Ray Davidson, now the chief of state police, fields questions from reporters. Following a brief summary the news report returns to Connie Evans and the house of horrors.
“Authorities are unwilling to comment on how this house is tied into the recent murder of Leanne Adams but public outrage is growing with each new disclosure.”
Grabbing a down-to-the-dregs bottle of whiskey off the coffee table, Jared heads for the bathroom. His gray face stares back at him from the mirror but all he sees is Brady Monroe. Jared is not ungrateful. He knows damn well the only real difference between him and Brady is a decent dental plan. A couple of pills in hand, he opens the whiskey. It doesn’t taste good but he drinks it anyway, popping the pills in his mouth and washing them down together. The capsules free fall before sinking into the lining of his stomach where they burn like cinders. Seconds later it’s all coming back up again. He leans against the toilet and closes his eyes but all he can see is Hayley curled up and barely conscious on his bathroom floor. Rocking back and forth, he tries hard not to cry.
Someone bangs on his front door and he sits perfectly still, hoping they’ll give up like the others have. He hears a key turning in the lock and staggers to his feet. He grips the side of the sink and waits.
Macy’s voice fills the house. “Don’t shoot. I have pizza.”
The front door shuts and Jared waits for his dogs to start barking but nothing happens. He yells through the half-open door. “Who gave you keys to my house?”
Macy’s face appears right in front of him. “They were exactly where I hid them four years ago.”
Jared draws the door shut. “Where’s that?”
“I’m not telling. They might come in handy again.”
“I’m just getting in the shower,” he says, pulling off his sweatshirt and throwing it into the laundry bin. He rubs his beard and decides not to shave. “What day is it, anyway?”
“It’s Saturday, the third of December. Time to face the world.”
Jared comes in the living room and the television is still tuned in to the local news. Macy has her feet propped up on the coffee table and a box of pizza sits on her lap. It’s already half finished. The dogs are lying next to her on the floor, seemingly unfazed by her presence.
“Hey, are you going to save me some?”
“This one is mine. Yours is on the kitchen counter.”
Jared doesn’t say much while he’s eating so Macy does most of the talking, filling him in on everything he’s missed in the two days he’s been in bed. He points to a photo of Grace, which once again fills the television screen.
“It’s her birthday today.”
“Whose?”
“Grace’s. I told her I’d get her a cake.”
“You hardly know her.”
“I thought it would make her happy.”
“You’ve not changed at all, have you?”
“What do you mean?”
“You have this need to make everyone around you feel loved even if you don’t have the feelings to back it up.” Macy closes the empty pizza box and puts it aside. “When we were together you were so affectionate and caring. You’d listen. You’d hold my hand. I thought I’d woken up in an alternative universe.”
“And why was that a problem?”
“It was a problem because your heart wasn’t really in it. Every time I left your house it felt like I slipped off a cliff or something. I wouldn’t get a phone call for weeks and then you’d be asking to see me and telling me how much you were missing me.”
“You never said anything.”
“Actually, I did, but it kept happening so I gave up. I either had to accept it or go nuts.” She wipes her mouth with a paper towel and takes a sip of her drink.
“I’m sorry.”
“Do you remember when we split up?”
“It wasn’t my finest hour.”
“You went all textbook asshole on me. It was like nothing intimate had ever passed between us. You arranged to meet at a busy restaurant in Helena. You chose a table right in the middle of the room. You actually moved the chairs so there was a safe distance between us.”
“You had a gun in your purse.”
“You were right to be cautious.”
“You must have known what was coming.”
“Of course I knew. You’d been AWOL for nearly a month.”
“I was such an asshole.”
“I’m not going to say otherwise.”
“But you should have said something then.”
“Oh, come on. You weren’t even brave enough to dump me. I had to prompt you. Besides, I was so angry I could barely speak.”
“Now’s your chance.”
“It’s too late.”
“It’s never too late.”
She raises her voice. “What do you think I was doing when you weren’t around?”
“To tell you the truth, I didn’t give it much thought.”
“Well,” she says, narrowing her eyes, “I was fine. I saw other guys. I kept busy. Do you remember that law enforcement convention I went to in Vegas?”
Jared nods.
“I almost got married that week.”
“What?”
“You know you’re going to blow it with Lexxie, don’t you?”
“You almost married someone else while we were dating?”
“Do you think she’s sitting around waiting while you’re out with Hayley?”
Jared can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Lexxie isn’t anything like you.”
“You keep telling yourself that.”
“Please don’t tell me you just came here to harass me?”
Macy struggles to get up from the sofa. “I came because it’s time for you to get your ass out of bed.”
Jared waves a piece of pizza in the air between them. “Admit it. You still love me.”
She laughs and tells him he wishes that were true, but seconds later her smile is gone. “When are you seeing Grace?”
“After what you’ve told me, maybe I shouldn’t.”
“She needs someone she can trust. She may confide in you.”
“You think she knows more than she’s letting on.”
“I’m not sure, but something is going on.”
“Why isn’t she saying anything?”
“I think she’s scared.” When Macy glances up at the television, pictures of the four dead girls fill the screen. “And I don’t think this is the first time Grace has come across these guys.”
Jared closes his eyes. “Sometimes I think I should call up my parents once a day and thank them for giving me a happy childhood.”
“I know what you mean.” Macy picks up her phone and reads a text message. “They’ve found where Leanne has been living for the past few years. Do you feel like going on a road trip up to Canada tomorrow morning?”
“Where in Canada?”
“Some place called Finley.”
“It’s just over the border. I’ve seen the exit signs but I’ve never stopped there.”
“So what do you think? I could use the company and it would be good for you to get out of here.”
“They’ve given me three weeks off work so I’ve got nothing better to do.”
“If I had three weeks off, I wouldn’t stop at Finley. I’d keep driving.”
*
The Sugar Plum Fairies is the only bakery in Old Town. Inside, everything from the trim, to the picture frames, to the delicate writing on the name tags is pink. The three women who’ve run the place since it opened more than a dozen years earlier are as round as they are tall. Their well-pressed aprons a
nd white uniforms are filled to bursting. Hairnets stretch tight over strawberry-blond hair that is scraped back into buns. They all wear white shoes with thick soles. They all have cherubic cheeks and eyes of cornflower blue. Except for their ages and names they could be triplets. How this could be so is a mystery because the three women aren’t even related.
Jared enters the bakery and the Sugar Plum Fairies approach the counter like they’re approaching the bench in a court of law.
“Oh, Jared,” says Beth, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel draped from the tie of her apron. “We heard what happened. It must have been awful.”
“Awful,” echoes Lynn.
“You poor thing,” adds Jessica.
Beth lowers her voice. “We were just talking about it.”
Lynn leans in. “It’s all anyone is talking about.”
“That and what happened to Leanne Adams.” Jessica shivers, rubbing away the goose bumps on her arms along with the baking flour.
Beth raises her voice. “After watching the news we’re afraid to go out. They’re saying her killer is wanted for sex trafficking.”
Lynn frowns. “The world today.”
“It’s a scary place,” finishes Jessica.
Silence follows. Jared peers over them into the kitchen. The rows of cupcakes laid out on a metal slab catch his eye.
Beth hands Jared one of the cupcakes and changes the subject. “How’s your mother?”
Feeling on safer ground, Jared thanks her before dropping his gaze to the display case. Behind glass, ready-made cakes are lined up in neat rows. “She’s fine, but my dad is kind of bored. Misses his workshop.”
Beth laughs and the other women laugh with her. “More like he misses his buddies at Murphy’s Tavern.”
At the thought of his father, Jared manages a fleeting smile. “I imagine you’re right.”
The least gossipy of the three shuffles up closer to the counter. Lynn has been a friend of Jared’s mom since time began. “What can we do for you today?”
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