“That book is fiction,” Phyllis said.
“Yeah, but it’s based on you and Gramps. Anyway, I’ve read enough about the real cases to know you don’t back off just because somebody tells you to. You keep poking into things until you figure out the truth.”
Phyllis saw such desperate hope in the girl’s eyes that she couldn’t do anything except nod. “There are a few questions that are nagging at me,” she admitted. “Nothing in the way of actual evidence, mind you, just things that seem a little . . . off-kilter. Things I’d like to know more about.”
Ronnie nodded. “That’s what it’s going to take to clear his name. Those detectives have made up their minds that Chase is guilty, so the only things they’ll look for are the ones they think will make their case. They’re not even trying to find out what really happened anymore.”
“We don’t know that,” Phyllis said. However, she had a feeling that Ronnie was right, that Appleton and his partner had zeroed in on Chase to the point they weren’t considering anyone else as a serious suspect.
“So what do we do?” Ronnie asked. “How do we go about finding the real killer?”
“We don’t do anything. I’m sure you have schoolwork to get caught up on this weekend. The best thing you can do as a student is to use your time wisely.”
Ronnie flung out her hands and said, “How do you expect me to concentrate on something like school when Chase is in so much trouble?”
“Chase isn’t your responsibility. Your grades are.” Ronnie looked like she was going to argue, so Phyllis went on, “But there is one thing you can do. People of your generation seem to be able to find out almost anything about anybody. I’m guessing that you know where Chase lives.”
“What, you think I’m some kind of stalker or something?” Ronnie tried to sound offended by what Phyllis had suggested, but she didn’t pull it off very well. After a moment she sighed and admitted, “Well, yeah, I do.”
“Tell me.”
“Are you going to go see him?” Eagerness leaped back into Ronnie’s voice as she asked the question.
“I need to talk to him. And before you even ask, no, you can’t come with me.”
“Why not? I want him to know it was my idea for you to help him.”
“I think the young man is probably smart enough to figure that out on his own,” Phyllis said. “Just give me his address.”
“I don’t know the actual address. But he has his own apartment, and I can tell you how to find the place and which apartment is his.”
“Because you’ve spied on him.”
“I wouldn’t call it spying, exactly . . .”
Phyllis brushed aside that protest, and Ronnie told her how to find Chase’s apartment. Then the girl asked, “You’re not going by yourself, are you?”
“Why would you worry about that if you’re so convinced he’s innocent?”
“He is innocent. I’m not worried about Chase.” Ronnie caught her lower lip between her teeth and chewed at it for a second before she continued, “It’s those guys who hang around with him. I’ve seen them there at his place a few times. They’re the ones I don’t trust. Alan Riley and Jason Duncan.”
Phyllis filed that information away in her head. She had known the boys’ last names, but not their first names.
“I’ll wait until your grandfather gets home,” she said.
“I have Chase’s phone number, too, if you want to call him first.”
Phyllis shook her head. “No, I’d rather that he didn’t know we’re coming.”
An idea had formed in her head, starting out as a vague notion but gradually taking on more shape as she thought about it, and she believed the best way to confirm it would be to confront Chase Hamilton with her theory without any warning.
And if she was right, it might well change everything she had believed about the case.
Chapter 25
Sam got back from the lumber yard a short time later. Phyllis heard the garage door go up and went out there to see him carrying in several boards.
“Can I give you a hand with those?” she asked.
“Naw, I got ’em. I’m gonna lean ’em over there in the corner until I get a chance to cut ’em, if that’s all right.”
“Of course it is. More shelves?”
“Yeah. You know the old sayin’: You can’t have too many books, you just don’t have enough shelves.”
“You’re the only one I’ve ever heard say that,” Phyllis pointed out.
“Well, I’m old, so it’s an old sayin’.”
When he had placed all the boards in the corner, she said, “There’s something you can do to help me, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course not. You know I’ll do anything in my power for you. What do you need?”
“I want you to go with me to see Chase Hamilton.”
Sam’s bushy eyebrows drew down. “You’re gonna go see that kid? How come?” He held up a hand to stop her before she could answer. “You’re gonna do like Ronnie asked and try to solve the case.”
“She’s miserable with worry over that boy, Sam.”
“Worry that I’m not convinced he deserves.” Sam propped a hip on the front fender of Phyllis’s Lincoln and crossed his arms. “Has she been workin’ on you today, tryin’ to make you feel sorry for her so you’ll help Chase?”
“Not really. But Mike stopped by this morning.”
“To ask you to stay out of it, I imagine.”
“To let me know that Victor Appleton doesn’t want me poking around in the case.” Phyllis shrugged. “But why should this case be any different than all the others?”
A short bark of laughter came from Sam. “Mike should know by now he can’t make you do anything. Tellin’ you not to do something is liable to just make you more determined. I figured that out a long time ago. It’s easier for me to help you do whatever it is, so you’re liable to be safer.”
“And that’s exactly why I want you to go with me to Chase’s apartment,” Phyllis said.
“With that boy’s background, I’d worry about him, too.”
Phyllis shook her head. “Like I’ve told Ronnie—and you—I don’t believe that Chase is a murderer. I don’t think I have anything to fear from him. But there’s no getting around the fact that he’s been known to associate with some unsavory characters.”
Sam grunted. “I guess you’re bound and determined to go talk to him?”
“I am.”
“Then I’m comin’ with you, all right. When did you want to go?”
“Now is all right with me. I realize it’s nearly lunchtime . . .”
“That’s all right. When we’re done, we’ll go to that Chinese buffet. Haven’t been there in a while. Sound like a good idea?”
“It’s definitely a plan,” Phyllis said. “Let me go get my purse and tell Carolyn we won’t be here for lunch.”
“We can take my pickup, since it’s parked in the driveway.”
That was fine with Phyllis, and a few minutes later, they were on their way.
Chase lived in an apartment complex just off Santa Fe Drive, not far from the hospital and medical district. Holland Lake Park, the scene of another murder that had involved Phyllis, lay in the other direction. Phyllis had no trouble giving Sam directions to where they were going, and they arrived less than fifteen minutes after leaving the house.
“You know, he may not be home,” Sam said as he parked in the complex’s lot.
“He may not be, but we can always come back later if we need to. Ronnie gave me his number, but I didn’t want to call him.”
“So Ronnie knows where he lives, and she’s got his phone number.” Sam shook his head. “The girl’s been sneakin’ around spyin’ on him. How’s she even been doin’ that? She doesn’t have a car.”
“I’m sure she has friends who might help her out,” Phyllis said.
“Yeah, teenage girls are always suckers for some romantic yarn. Ronnie probably made it sound like she and Chase wer
e Romeo and Juliet.”
“I don’t doubt it for a second. That should be Chase’s apartment on the second floor, three down from the south end.”
They got out of the pickup and climbed the stairs. Phyllis took a good look around. She heard children shouting in play somewhere, and a TV was playing, but she didn’t see anyone. There was no sign of Alan Riley or Jason Duncan, but they could be in Chase’s apartment.
There was only one way to find out. They stopped in front of Chase’s door. Sam raised his hand and looked at Phyllis. She nodded. He rapped his knuckles sharply against the panel.
The door stayed closed. No response came from inside.
“Not here?” Sam said.
“Try again,” Phyllis told him. She could see that there was a peephole built into the door. Chase might be inside looking at them right now, trying to figure out if he wanted to answer or not. She put a determined expression on her face. She wanted him to realize that they weren’t going to go away any time soon.
Sam knocked again, a little harder and louder. A moment later, Phyllis heard a chain lock being taken loose. The door opened a few inches. Chase looked out. He was dressed in a sweatshirt and jeans.
“Mrs. Newsom,” he said. “Mr. Fletcher. What are you doing here?”
“I’d like to talk to you, Chase,” Phyllis said. “It’s important.”
He shook his head. “I don’t have anything to say. I’ve told both of you, you don’t have to worry about me and Ronnie. There’s nothing going on, and there won’t be anything going on.”
“It’s not about Ronnie. It’s about you.”
“No offense, but my life’s not any of your business.” He started to close the door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me—”
“Are you alone, Chase?”
Evidently, that question took him by surprise, because he stopped with the door still open and frowned. “What do you mean, am I alone?”
“Your friends Alan and Jason aren’t here?”
Chase’s frown deepened. “Why do you care about them?”
Phyllis lowered her voice. “I don’t want to say the wrong thing where they could hear it.”
“What the—What are you talking about, Mrs. Newsom?”
Phyllis knew she had to run the risk. She said, “I don’t want them to find out that you’re actually an undercover police officer.”
It was a toss-up which of the men looked more shocked as they stared at her. But Chase didn’t deny what she had just said. Instead, after a moment he stepped back, opened the door wider, and said in a taut voice, “Please, come in.”
Phyllis did so, with Sam following close behind her. She looked around. The apartment’s living room was cluttered, even messy, but no more so than anyone would expect from a nineteen-year-old young man living alone.
Although she suspected that in reality, Chase was at least a few years older than nineteen . . .
He closed the door, turned to look at his visitors, and shook his head. “What in the world would make you say such a crazy thing as that, Mrs. Newsom?”
“It would explain a great many things,” Phyllis said. “For example, why you were arrested in Pennsylvania with the other leaders of that drug ring, but the charges against you were dismissed mysteriously.”
“Nothing mysterious about it. The cops couldn’t make the case, and the DA decided not to go ahead with it. Happens all the time. So they turned me loose.”
“The way they let you go last night after leading you out of the school in handcuffs, in front of everyone at the dance? I know you were out of the sheriff’s department almost as soon as you went in there, because you’d already told Victor Appleton and the other investigator who you really are when they questioned you in that classroom.”
That was mostly a guess on Phyllis’s part, but she thought it was a good one. Besides, she had seen the look in Chase’s eyes when she had thrown her idea out there. He had been shocked and more than a little alarmed, and if he really wasn’t working undercover, he would have just laughed and told her she was crazy without ever inviting them in.
“You’ve got this all wrong,” he said.
“Do I? You’ve been careful to keep Ronnie at arm’s length because she’s underage and you’re a grown man. But when you were attracted to Amber Trahearne, you were willing to act on that.”
“Lots of high school guys have fooled around with female teachers. You know that.”
“That’s true,” Phyllis said. “But once I thought about it, I realized you’re more well-spoken than most high school boys I’ve known. You let your guard down when we were talking in the hall that day, when you told me about everything that happened with Ronnie in Pennsylvania and how she reacted to it. You were talking like one adult to another. And it would explain why I’m convinced you didn’t kill Ray Brooks. It’s your job to uphold the law, not break it.”
“You’re reading an awful lot into some feelings.”
“Of course I am,” Phyllis said. “That’s what tells you more about people than anything else. You’re bound to know that if you’re working undercover.”
“I’m not . . . Oh, hell!” Chase blew out a breath, stared at her, shook his head, and then sighed again.
“Who knows about it?” Phyllis said. “Sheriff Haney, I’m sure. And probably Tom Shula, since you’re working in his school. But I’m betting that was all, until you told Detective Appleton last night.”
“I didn’t tell Appleton,” Chase snapped. “Shula did.” He rolled his eyes, evidently disgusted with himself. “And now I’ve just admitted it, haven’t I?”
Sam said, “You never had a chance, son. Once she believes she’s figured somethin’ out, she locks onto it like a pit bull.”
“Months of effort almost turned out to be a total waste when Shula blew my cover like that. If I’d had a chance to talk to him first, I would have told him to keep quiet. I never would have told Appleton. I would have let them arrest me and hold me until some public defender arranged bail. But he thought he was helping me out, I guess.” Chase laughed. “The funny thing is, just because I’m on the job doesn’t mean Appleton’s convinced I’m innocent. When they kicked me last night, he told me that if I killed Brooks, he’s going to nail me for it.”
“But you didn’t kill him, did you?” Phyllis said.
“No. Why would I? Because he’s a jerk and he caused trouble about me being with Amber? There’s all kinds of jerks in the world. I wouldn’t risk all my work to bring down the drug operation at Courtland just to get even with one of them.”
“Then that is what you’re doing? Trying to put the drug dealers out of business?”
“Yeah.” Chase waved toward a sofa. “You might as well sit down. I guess since you figured out most of it, you deserve to hear the rest of it.”
Sam moved aside some clothes that were piled on the sofa, and he and Phyllis sat. Chase went around a counter into the apartment’s kitchen/dining room and picked up a chair. He brought it back with him, turned it around, and straddled it.
“My name really is Chase Hamilton,” he said. “I’m twenty-three. The department up in Pennsylvania recruited me right out of the academy to go into the high school Ronnie attended. Everything I told you about what happened with her and those bullies was true.”
“So you really did just want to help her?”
“Yeah. Sort of against my better judgment, I might add. But I couldn’t help it. I felt sorry for her.”
Sam said, “I appreciate you stickin’ up for her, son.”
“Well, I might not have if I’d known everything it was going to lead to . . . Nah, who am I kidding? I would have.” Chase paused and took a breath. “But then it was all over—the operation up there, I mean—and I figured I’d never see her again. Everything went so well, the department wanted me to get out of town for a while, so maybe they could use me again. I remembered Ronnie talking about Texas and figured that was far enough away. My chief worked out a deal with the chief in Fort Worth f
or me to come down here for a while. Then Sheriff Haney asked for the loan of somebody who could go undercover at Courtland . . . and I guess you know the rest of it.”
“Does Amber know who you really are?” Sam asked.
“Good Lord, no. That was never planned. It just sort of . . . happened. And it was a stupid mistake on my part, too. I’ve already told her it can’t go on. Something like that could get us both fired.”
Phyllis said, “It may cost her her job anyway, if the rumors get around.”
Chase shrugged. “There are always rumors. We were careful. Nobody can prove anything. Not even you saw anything that’s actually incriminating, Mrs. Newsom.”
“I suppose that’s true,” Phyllis admitted. “As long as you and Amber both deny that there’s anything going on between you, the school district won’t be able to fire her.”
An uneasy silence hung over the room for a moment. Then Chase asked, “So what happens now? What are the two of you going to do?”
“About your undercover assignment?” Phyllis shook her head. “Nothing. That’s not really any of our business.”
“I’m glad you can see that much, anyway.”
Sam said, “As long as you steer clear of Ronnie. I don’t want her gettin’ mixed up in anything dangerous.”
“Believe me, Mr. Fletcher, neither do I,” Chase said. “And you don’t have to worry about anything happening between me and her. I mean . . . she’s sixteen years old.”
“Yeah. You’d do well to remember that.”
Chase looked at Phyllis again and said, “But that still leaves Ray Brooks’s murder. That could foul everything up.”
“I don’t see how,” Phyllis said. “Everyone saw you being taken out of the school in handcuffs. By now the whole student body will know that you’re the leading suspect in the murder. I would think that would give you more . . . What do they call it? Street cred? . . . than just about anything else.”
Chase shook his head. “Riley and Duncan won’t want to attract that much attention. They’ll drop me now. Another week or two and I would have had all the others who are involved and the evidence needed to bust them. Now that’s not going to happen unless Brooks’s murder is solved.”
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