by B. J Daniels
“You know that woman was in here the other night with some guy,” the bartender said.
Always skeptical, Jack asked, “You remember her, huh?”
“Can’t help but remember her. She was with this really good-looking guy.” Denny. “But the only reason I remember her was the fight she got into with him.”
The blood pounded in Jack’s ears. “Do you know what they were fighting about?”
She laughed. “Probably the usual. Another man. I only caught the worst of it and it sounded like she’d done something to really tick him off. He kept saying, ‘How could you do something like that to me? What the hell did you think was going to happen when I found out? I could kill you with my bare hands for doing this to me.’”
Jack felt sick. He left a large tip and stumbled out into the spring afternoon, afraid Denny wouldn’t show back at Al and Vic’s, let alone bring him Karen’s location. And it was less than twenty minutes until the second meeting.
Jack tried to put the picture together. Liz and Denny. The married woman Denny had been seeing on the sly? Didn’t seem likely since Liz supposedly had only been in town a week. But Columbia Falls wasn’t that far away. They could have been meeting for some time.
Add to that, the fight at the bar. Over another man? Liz’s secret lover? The woman had more secrets than the CIA. Then Denny gets wind of it and blows. The next thing you know Liz is dead. Jack didn’t like the way it all fell into chronological order.
The question was how long did the secret lover stay in Liz’s room? What if he’d left quickly and Denny had been waiting in the wings? There were thirty-five minutes between the moment when Karen had seen Liz open the hotel-room door to the mystery man until the time when Liz was murdered. A lot could happen in thirty-five minutes.
Too much. Had Denny been the one who called Karen after Liz was dead? Had he been the one to find Liz’s latte-shop napkin with Karen’s number on it? It had been Denny’s idea for Karen to put the newspaper ad in the personals column, knowing Karen would be risking her life.
With a terrible sense of foreboding, Jack went back to the first bar to wait for Denny, praying his friend would show. Praying he was wrong and that there was another explanation.
DENNY DIDN’T SHOW when he was supposed to. Jack was sipping a beer, growing more anxious, when a news special flashed on the television.
“Could you turn that up?” he asked the bartender.
“Dr. Carl Vandermullen had been picked up for questioning by police and released, following the murder of his ex-wife Liz Jones,” the newsman said. “Their divorce was finalized just twenty-four hours before Jones was found murdered at the Hotel Carlton. Dr. Vandermullen refused to comment except to say his ex-wife’s death was a great loss and he hopes the police apprehend the killer soon.”
Baxter had obviously used kid gloves on the doctor.
Regular programming resumed and Jack looked again at his watch, growing more anxious as the clock ticked away each minute. The second meeting was to go off in less than ten minutes. But Denny had no reason to be there. He’d been taken off the case. And he knew Karen wasn’t going to be there.
So where was Denny? Had he found Karen’s hiding place and gone there instead? Had Jack just enlisted the killer to find Karen?
Denny walked in just as Jack was getting ready to leave.
“Baxter’s got her locked up tighter than hell and no one is talking, and I mean no—” Denny stopped in midstep, midsentence. “What is it?”
“Dammit, Denny,” Jack cursed. “I know about the fight you had with Liz the night you met her for a drink, just two days before she was killed.”
“Don’t do this, old buddy.”
“Where’s Karen?” he demanded.
“I don’t know.” Denny glared at him, anger in his dark eyes. “I told you. I couldn’t get squat.”
Jack shook his head. “I need to know the truth, Denny. Now. No more bull.”
“I already told you I didn’t have anything to do with Liz’s death. I want her killer caught as much as you do. More.” He looked away, then motioned to the bartender that he was going in the back and didn’t want to be bothered.
“Get a clue,” Denny said the moment they were seated at the farthest table in the back. “Why do you think I called you Saturday morning and told you it was urgent that you come to the Carlton?”
“A stupid practical joke.” Except it seemed all wrong considering what he now knew about Denny and Liz.
“Would I have wanted you on this case if I’d killed Liz?” Denny demanded. “Look, Jack, you’re the best cop I know. That’s why I need you.”
“Need me?”
“To help find this guy.”
“Then why have you been trying so hard to get rid of me?”
“Because I know you. You do just the opposite of what anyone tells you to. If I’d have acted like I wanted you on this case, you’d be up in the mountains right now. Fortunately for me, you’re stubborn as hell and you met Karen Sutton.”
Maybe fortunate for Denny, Jack’s meeting Karen, but Jack wasn’t so sure it was fortunate for him. But he’d definitely gotten involved.
“Why?”
“I want Liz’s killer,” Denny said, his words hard, the humor of a moment ago long gone.
Jack didn’t like the vengeful look in his partner’s eyes, but it definitely confirmed what he’d suspected. “She was your first love, the one you told me about.”
Denny put his elbows on the table and cupped his face in his hands. He looked tired and incredibly sad. “It was like what you said happened with you when you first saw Karen. Zap. I never thought I would ever love anyone the way I loved Liz.”
Jack waited, sensing more to Denny’s story. A whole lot more.
“I get this call from her last week,” Denny began slowly. “After all these years, she calls me out of the blue. Just hearing her voice—” He shook his head and looked out across the bar. “She says she needs to talk to me. So I meet her at The Oxford. She probably figures it’s someplace her doctor husband doesn’t frequent.”
Denny took a breath and let it out slowly. “I’d heard she’d married Vandermullen so I figure she either wants to rub it in about marrying a successful doctor, every girl’s dream, or she’s got marital problems and just wants a familiar shoulder to cry on and that’s why she wants to see me.” He scrubbed his hands over his face. “Then she drops the bombshell.”
Jack stared at his friend, holding his breath, afraid to move a muscle. God, don’t let him tell me he killed her. For any reason.
Denny’s next words were so unexpected that Jack thought he’d heard wrong. “She told me we had a daughter.” He shot a look at Jack. “Liz was pregnant when she broke up with me. Said she didn’t know it at the time. She left town. Gave the baby up for adoption.”
Jack didn’t know what to say. Couldn’t find any words for a few moments. He could see how hard the news had hit Denny. Much harder than Jack would’ve ever imagined.
“Why tell you now, after all these years?” he asked finally.
“She’d been trying to find our daughter and had reason to believe she’d been adopted by a family in Missoula. She wanted my help. The adoption had been handled illegally.”
Jack dreaded to think what kind of help Liz had solicited. “What did you do?”
Denny let out a bitter laugh. “Nothing. We got into a huge fight, as you know. I threatened to throttle her for keeping this from me. I was so angry—” he shook his head “—I just couldn’t deal with it. It was bad enough that she’d torn out my heart when she dumped me, but this— I stormed out of the bar, trying to cool off. Liz left and I…followed her.”
Jack didn’t like the hole Denny was digging for himself. No wonder his friend hadn’t told him or anyone else about this.
“I just had this feeling that she was lying to me about something. I couldn’t put my finger on it.”
“You didn’t believe you’d had a child with her?”
Jack asked.
“That was the only thing I did believe,” he said. “Everything else about the story just didn’t ring true, you know?”
Jack knew. Maybe that’s why they’d become cops. Cynics with a sixth sense for bullpuck. And a need for justice.
“I followed her to the cemetery,” he said. “I watched her from a distance as she knelt by a grave. She looked like she was crying. After she left, I went over to where she’d been kneeling and shone my flashlight on the gravestone.” Denny swallowed, his eyes hardening.
Jack held his breath.
“It was the grave of a baby girl who’d died at birth on March 11, 1984. The same day Liz said our baby had been born. The baby’s name was Joanna Kay.”
Named after her father, Jack thought with a start. Johnny K. The name Liz had known Denny by. “I’m sorry,” Jack said, not knowing what else to say.
Denny shook his head. “Liz had buried her in the Missoula City Cemetery, right there between Interstate 90 and the railroad tracks, just blocks from where I was raised, on the wrong side. Ironic, huh?”
The bitterness in his voice couldn’t cloak the horrible hurt. To find out he’d fathered a child and only hours later learn that the baby had died at birth. Why had Liz done this to him?
“You realize that all of this only gives you more of a motive for killing her,” Jack said, still a cop.
Denny smiled and nodded. “If I could have found her that night—”
Jack realized Liz seemed to have that effect on men. She made them want to kill her. Only now one of them had.
“Why would she tell me that she was searching for our daughter then go to her grave?” Denny said.
Jack shook his head. He’d never understood women. “Maybe she wanted to hurt you.”
Denny let out a snort. “Well, she succeeded.”
“But you still want to find her killer?” he said, a little surprised.
“Oh, yeah,” Denny said. “Whoever killed her, killed any chance I had of learning the truth about my daughter.”
“Then that night at The Oxford was the last time you saw Liz alive?”
Denny lit a cigarette, taking his time. “I saw her again. I followed her to the Carlton Saturday night, determined to get the truth out of her about my kid.”
Jack groaned.
“Afraid so, old buddy. But I never talked to her. I ran into someone I knew and figured I could take it up with Liz later. I was wrong.”
CHAPTER TEN
Getting away proved easier than Karen had anticipated. She guessed it was partly her face. Her father used to say she had the face of an angel. Her mother used to add, “But the mischief of the devil in her.”
Whatever it had been, she was now clambering down the fire escape.
She had only minutes to get across the river to the carousel. Not nearly enough time to find a good place to see and not be seen, but she’d have to wing it.
She knew she was taking her life in her hands and that if she was caught again by Baxter and his men, he would definitely demand the psychiatric evaluation. Only this time she wasn’t so sure she could convince the doctor she didn’t have a death wish.
But it was a wish to live that sent her racing toward the city’s carousel. As she ran, she had the feeling that she was being watched. At least her paranoia was still alive and well. Except it wasn’t paranoia when someone really was trying to kill you, right?
With the sun low, it was almost cold out. She wondered where Jack was. If he still had a job. If she’d ever see him again. The thought made her falter. Of course, she’d see him again. Destiny had brought them together, hadn’t it? Then destiny would bring them together again. If it was destiny. Shoot, dumb luck would be all right, too. Just so she got to see him again.
The carousel was housed in a carriage house beside the Clark Fork River. Only a few cars were in the lot since it was almost closing time for the ride. She could hear the band organ playing and see the colorful horses.
She wondered if the person who’d answered her ad was already inside. It seemed an odd place to meet. Too public and yet not public enough—especially if she was expected to ride on the revolving carousel.
She crossed the bridge and started down the stairs to river level, the carousel in sight. She hadn’t descended but a few steps when she saw him. He was sitting in a car, not the large, dark sedan from before, but a smaller blue one parked under the Higgins Street bridge. He appeared to be watching the carousel.
Her heart banged against her ribs. She fought to catch her breath. She couldn’t let him get away. Not this time. Frantically she looked around for a phone booth and spotted one past the carousel to the west. She would still be able to see the man from the phone booth as well as the hotel across the river and the bridge, just in case her two guards had discovered she was missing and were already looking for her.
She took the stairs at a run and, keeping to the shade of the buildings, hurried to the phone booth. She started to dial 911, then stopped herself. She didn’t trust the police. Not after Baxter had had her locked up for her own good. She dialed Jack’s cell-phone number instead, praying he’d answer. Praying he wasn’t in jail. Or worse—
She opened the phone booth door to let air in, feeling a little claustrophobic, turning her back to the man in the car as Jack answered.
“Jack!” she cried, ecstatic to hear his voice. “Jack, I found him!”
“Karen? Where are you?”
“In a phone booth by the carousel.”
“How did you get away from the men guarding you? Never mind, it doesn’t matter.”
“Jack, I can see him. He’s sitting in a car under the Higgins Street brid—”
The explosion drowned out everything, setting the sky on fire. Bricks and dust and flames showered down like fireworks across the river. For a few seconds Karen could only stare in disbelief.
“Karen? Karen? Are you still there?”
“The hotel, Jack, it blew up.” No, not the hotel. Just the top floor. “Jack, the floor of the old hotel where they’d been keeping me. It just blew up.”
She heard Jack swear. “Karen, I’m on my way. I’m just a few minutes away. Stay on the line with me.”
She turned then to look back at the car under the bridge. The navy blue car hadn’t moved. But the man who’d been behind the wheel was gone. “Jack, he’s—” She heard the crunch of gravel behind her and turned just in time to see the man from Liz’s hotel room. In that instant, she realized what it was about him that had made her recognize him the second time at the hotel and again in the car. “Oh, God, Jack, it’s—”
The blow to her head radiated pain, then stars, then blackness.
JACK TURNED ON his lights and siren, knowing that Captain Baxter would hear about this and he’d be fired if not thrown in jail. He didn’t give a damn. He had to get to Karen, and fast.
Karen had said she could see the man. Jack assumed she meant the man she’d witnessed with Liz at the Carlton the night of the murder. Sitting in a car under the Higgins Street bridge. Then something had exploded. The hotel where Baxter had hidden Karen. How could that be? And then the man was gone, Karen said.
But it was her last words that Jack couldn’t get out of his head. “Oh, God, Jack, it’s—”
It’s what? And why had she stopped talking and the phone gone dead as if someone had hung it up?
He floored the Jeep around a corner just missing a UPS truck. Hadn’t he known something was wrong? The second letter. It had only been a diversion, while the killer’s real target was the hotel and Karen.
Karen said the floor she’d been on at the hotel had blown up. The killer had known where she was. Jack wondered how she could have gotten away. Not that he cared. He didn’t question the gods of fate. Especially this time.
But had she walked into another trap the killer had set for her?
Just let her be safe.
The Jeep screamed around a corner. Just let her be safe. He repeated it in his head
. A mantra. If he’d owned a rabbit’s foot he’d be clutching it right now. He felt as if his entire future hinged on the next few minutes.
The Jeep roared under the Higgins Street bridge and screeched to a stop in clear view of the carousel and the phone booth. Across the river, black smoke boiled up from the top of some old brick hotel. He could hear the cry of sirens and smell the smoke, but all he cared about right now was the phone booth and the small crowd gathered around it.
He leaped out of the Jeep and ran toward the crowd, propelled by a fear that had his heart lodged in his throat.
The people parted to let him through and he saw her. She sat in the corner on the concrete floor, supported by the walls, her head tilted to one side, her eyes closed. She looked as if she’d fainted and simply slid down the phone-booth wall.
He started to flash his badge but remembered he didn’t have it. “I’m a police officer. Did anyone see what happened to her?” He could hear the band organ playing at the carousel. What had happened to all the cops who were supposed to be covering this stakeout?
“She was like that when I saw her,” someone said.
Jack knelt down beside Karen and felt for a pulse. Strong and steady. Just like her, he thought with overwhelming relief. He felt her forehead. Cool and dry. That’s when he noticed a bump the size of a golf ball on the side of her skull.
“Someone call an ambulance,” he ordered.
“Already did. It’s on its way,” a voice from the onlookers informed him.
“I think she must have fallen and hit her head,” someone else outside the booth said.
Jack doubted that. But he did think she’d been struck. By the killer?
A moment later Jack heard the sound of an ambulance drawing closer. Karen stirred in his arms. Her eyelids fluttered against her pale skin and he noticed how light her freckles were. She needed some sunshine on her face, he thought, and immediately thought of the ski lodge. He’d take her there. Take care of her.
