Looking Through Darkness

by Aimée Thurlo

  Leigh Ann stared at the woman, hating the attention she was giving Melvin and the way he was eating it up.

  “Truth is, I’d heard you moved out,” Melvin said.

  “Kath told you that, right?”

  “Come to think of it, she did,” Melvin said, and laughed.

  Leigh Ann suddenly wondered if Melvin had volunteered to come because he’d hoped to run into Jenny. Not that she had any claim on Melvin, but until that very moment, she’d never even considered the possibility that there were other women in his life. At the trading post, she was the only guide he would accept.

  Theirs was the best of friendships, one with no demands or expectations. There was much she didn’t know about Melvin, and she’d wondered, since they’d met, if he was still burdened by the memories of the accident that had cost him his sight. Something was keeping him from speaking of his past, at least in any detail.

  “This is my friend Leigh Ann, Jenny,” Melvin said.

  The young woman gave her a dismissive look. “Oh, yeah, hi, Lena.”

  “It’s Leigh Ann,” she hissed.

  The young woman nodded, and moved closer to Melvin. “I’m so glad you came by tonight. It’s been such a long time.”

  Leigh Ann wanted to shake her until she rattled, but managed a thin smile instead. “You two can catch up later,” she said. “Right now, I need some help. My late husband rented storage space here, but I didn’t find the paperwork until yesterday. According to this receipt, he was paid up for a year, but he’s passed on and the rental payment is past due. I need to pay you for those extra months and retrieve whatever’s inside.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” Jenny said automatically, then glanced at Melvin again. “You’re always ready to lend a hand, Melvin. That’s so sweet.”

  Leigh Ann glared at the girl. It was hard to imagine the possibility that there could be anything between her and Melvin. Maybe Jenny was being her namesake—a female ass.

  “Do you have the locker number, ma’am?” Jenny asked, glancing back at Leigh Ann. “We usually don’t close out unclaimed lockers right away unless we run out of space, so maybe you’ll get lucky and everything will still be there.”

  Leigh Ann read it off the receipt.

  Jenny stepped over to the computer keyboard and typed for a few seconds. “Compartment eighty-four C? You sure?”

  “Yes, that’s what it says here,” Leigh Ann said, holding up the receipt.

  “Sorry. That storage unit was closed out on October eleventh, almost eighteen months ago. The customer was given a prorated refund. We rented the unit again a few weeks later and that client is still using the compartment.”

  “Check again,” Leigh Ann said crossly. “That can’t be right. My husband died on October ninth, two days before that date. Dead people rarely come by to pick up their stuff.”

  “Ma’am,” she said again, making Leigh Ann painfully aware of the difference in their ages, “this is all I have to go by.” She turned the computer screen around so Leigh Ann could see it.

  “Looks like someone passed themselves off as my husband,” Leigh Ann said, reaching the only logical conclusion.

  “Ma’am, that’s not possible. No one can get into the storage units without using their personal key. We don’t keep duplicates for security reasons. It’s on our rental contract.” She pointed toward a large sign on the wall that detailed the basic agreement. “If we’d had a break-in at around the time, that would explain it, but we haven’t had any problems here, like, in forever.”

  Which begged the question how long was “forever” to someone her age, but Leigh Ann held her tongue. This wasn’t the time to lose it.

  “Also every time a unit is unlocked, especially on the night shift, an employee of the facility has to be present. It’s an extra security measure. We don’t allow people to just wander around back there. If the attendant accompanying your husband had noticed anything suspicious, like he was trying to pick the lock or use bolt cutters, he or she would have called the cops.”

  “If your dates are accurate, it couldn’t have been my husband,” Leigh Ann said flatly. “I notice your contract mentions security cameras. Can I see the video for that date and time?”

  “Oh, of course!” she said, but after a beat, added, “Oh, wait, it’s long gone. The DVDs are recorded over every few months. That helps keep down the costs to our customers.”

  “What about your personnel records then? Any idea which staff member was on duty at that time?” Melvin asked. “Kath was working here back then, wasn’t she?”

  Leigh Ann glanced at Melvin, and realized that she was getting so upset she hadn’t even thought to ask that.

  Jenny looked at the display again. “Yeah, but the person on duty that night was a guy named Joey Smart. See his name on the receipt? Your husband—” she started, then seeing the look on Leigh Ann face, amended it, “the person who said he was your husband must have fit the description, because we take a photo copy of the renter’s driver’s license and compare it with the customer’s face before we let them access any units.”

  Leigh Ann stared at her in surprise, then after a beat added, “And no one here has a duplicate key to the renter’s padlock?”

  “No. Every renter has to have their own key and know the number of the unit. We don’t give that information out.”

  “Joey Smart … The name sounds familiar,” Melvin said, interrupting. “Wait a sec. Is that the same guy I heard about on the news? He identified his neighbor, an elderly lady with short hair, as the serial killer he’d seen on a reality TV crime show the night before?”

  “Yeah, that’s him,” Jenny said, laughing. “He apologized to avoid a lawsuit, but picked up the nickname ‘Not Smart’ along the way. Then he got into a fight here with a customer and was fired.”

  “So we’re not dealing with a genius,” Leigh Ann said softly.

  “At least Kurt and the person impersonating him were probably both males,” Melvin said.

  “That doesn’t narrow the field much. Do you have any idea where we can find Joey now?” Leigh Ann asked. “Maybe you have a forwarding address?”

  “No we don’t, sorry. After he got fired I heard he moved to Mississippi. I don’t know where.”

  Leigh Ann led Melvin back to the Jeep and opened the passenger’s side door for him. “There’s no way Kurt would have told anyone about the storage unit or willingly surrendered the key. He was paranoid and determined not to get caught—case in point, the shotgun in the attic,” she said.

  “Maybe he left the key someplace, like his desk, and someone stole it.”

  “I doubt it. Kurt was really careful and kept everything on two rings—the house keys, car, post office box, business, on one, which he always carried, and the garage cabinet keys on the other, which were usually in a kitchen drawer. I’m certain Kurt kept the padlock key with those in his pocket.”

  “But it wasn’t there when you got his personal effects from the police?”

  “Not that I recall,” she said, pulling out into the street.

  “Are you’re thinking he was murdered by his partners?” Melvin asked.

  “Who else had a motive? Maybe one or the other found out he’d been creating phony accounts and embezzling money. They squared off and things got out of hand.”

  “You’re thinking manslaughter as opposed to premeditated murder?”

  “I suppose it could be either,” she said slowly, having time to think now that they were at a stoplight. “But Kurt wouldn’t have willingly told either of them about the storage space … unless he was bargaining for his life. That points to premeditation.”

  “Sure does. Do either of the partners resemble Kurt enough to pass for him at the storage place?”

  She shrugged as they continued down the road. Traffic was light, with only a few cars out at the moment. “Wayne Hurley is about the same size and build as Kurt. He’d be a good match except for eye and hair color. Wayne has short, light brown hair, and Kur
t’s was longer and dark.”

  “Sunglasses, a wig, or a cap might have fooled ‘Not Smart,’ especially because he was working the late shift and may have been tired and inattentive.”

  “You may be on to something there. It’s been my experience that nobody’s security is as good as their company slogan,” Leigh Ann said.

  “Now we have a theory, but no way to prove it,” he replied. “You’re going to have to think hard about your next move, Leigh Ann. If you start asking questions, you’re bound to make enemies. Kurt was killed, and you could be next.”

  “I hear you,” she said, checking the rearview mirror.

  “But you’re not going to let it go, are you,” Melvin said.

  She smiled, noting that it hadn’t been a question. “How do you do that? Nobody’s ever been able to read me as easily as you do.”

  “I listen to you—not just to your words, but to what’s in your heart when you speak.”

  A delicious sense of awareness rippled over her, making her feel bare and exposed. Realizing the danger, she pushed the feeling back. She had to remain more guarded around Melvin. Neither of them was ready to advance their relationship beyond friendship—not yet.

  “Where to now?” he asked.

  “You’re going home. It’s getting late.”

  “The road to my place is hard to travel at night. There are no lights around. Remember to go slow and look for potholes.”

  “My Jeep doesn’t have a problem with off-road, and there’s a full moon tonight,” she said. “Don’t worry. I won’t get lost or wander off course.”

  “It’s a rough ride no matter how you slice it,” he warned. “You might consider spending the night and leaving tomorrow at first light.”

  Her heart jumped to her throat and for a moment she couldn’t answer.

  “I can’t do that,” she said at last. “It’ll get … complicated.”

  “You can have the guest bedroom—or sleep with me.” Guided by her warmth, he touched her arm and traced a lazy pattern over her skin. “I could make it a night you’d never forget.”

  She shivered, and aware of it, he smiled. “You’re denying something we’ve both thought about and want.”

  “Maybe so, but intimacy requires more than either of us is ready to surrender, Melvin. There’s a line you and I have never crossed—things we’ve each chosen to keep private. We both need and want those barriers there.”

  He nodded slowly. “Respecting that balance is what allows us to be such good friends.”

  “And that’s something worth protecting.”

  After a brief silence, Leigh Ann changed the conversation, wanting to lead her own thoughts back onto safer ground. “Have you decided what you’ll be sculpting next?”

  He shook his head. “It’ll come to me in its own time. I can’t force it.”

  As Leigh Ann glanced back in the rearview mirror, she saw the same car she’d seen behind them earlier at the first stoplight past the storage place.

  It was probably just someone else driving to the Rez. There was only one major highway heading west out of the city. After another quarter mile, the car turned onto a residential street and she gave it no further thought.

  — FOUR —

  It was noon on Sunday and although the trading post was closed for business, Jo and Samantha Allison, Sam for short, were there, configuring and tweaking the computer software.

  “Are you sure working on Sundays isn’t going to create a big problem between you and Esther?” Jo asked, finishing the sandwich she’d taken from the deli bar.

  “Grandmother hates it when I work on what she calls the Lord’s day,” the half-Navajo girl answered, sipping an oversized cola, “but I’m not a practicing Christian. I’m more into math, science, and technology,” she said, focusing on the monitor for Jo’s desktop computer. The blue upload progress bar was moving, but slowly.

  At twenty-one, Samantha was the quintessential computer geek, hoping to gain real-world business experience by working at The Outpost. Jo had hired her to adapt and configure some new software. The Outpost had unique, individualized contracts with local artists—sculptors, potters, jewelry makers, and more. Sam’s tweaks had made it possible for Jo to keep a continual tally on all merchandise under consignment as well as the specifics of each agreement. A database stored all the information Jo needed to reorder or commission new stock. What made it almost perfect was that Sam had set things up so that the pertinent data was automatically transferred to the store’s tax accounting software.

  “Your car’s not outside,” Jo said, casually glancing out. “Is it still at the shop?”

  “Yeah, I’ll get it back tomorrow. It needed transmission work. Jack Colburn dropped me off earlier. Which reminds me, Jack wanted me to ask you if he could deliver the bales of bedding straw later this afternoon instead of on Monday. If you’re okay with that, he said he would stack it himself. I should be through by then though, so I can help him.”

  “That’s fine,” Jo said. She wasn’t planning to stay long at The Outpost; in fact if she hadn’t felt it necessary to get this computer work finished, she wouldn’t have come in at all. As soon as she could get away, she wanted to check on Rudy. He’d spent the night at the hospital, and if the doctor released him today as planned she wanted to be on hand to offer him and Victoria a ride home.

  “Oh—and can he put up a notice on our bulletin board?”

  Jo glanced back at Sam, realizing that she had tuned out the young woman’s last few sentences. “I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

  “The bulletin board. Jack wants to expand the number of free riding and grooming classes he offers to children of military veterans. His Saturday classes are jammed, so he’s going to start teaching Sunday afternoons, too. He wanted to place a notice on our bulletin board to help get the word out.”

  “No problem at all. He’s really doing a great job. I’ve heard some of the moms and dads bragging about how much their kids have learned from Jack.”

  “Jack’s a natural, being the son of a big rodeo cowboy. Since he’s also half Navajo and remembers all the traditional stories his mom taught him, the kids think he’s really cool. Of course they’re a little surprised at first by his prosthetic arm, but after a while, they don’t even notice it.”

  Hearing the way Sam’s tone of voice changed when she spoke of Jack, Jo smiled. “You got a thing for him?”

  Sam smiled. “Yeah. Not that he’d ever notice.”

  “So you two aren’t dating?”

  “Nah, I help him with the horses and the kids when I can, but that’s about it.” She shrugged. “That’s okay. I don’t plan to stick around the Rez much longer. There’s really not that much work available around here for a computer tech—at least right now.”

  “That’ll change—sooner rather than later.”

  “Maybe, but I have to be ready to go wherever the work is, and although it’ll be hard to leave, it’ll be exciting, too. A new adventure might be out there waiting for me.”

  “You sound just like Ben did when he graduated high school,” Jo said, remembering.

  “He joined the army and has seen the world. Europe, the Persian Gulf, the Middle East. Afghanistan … Now there’s an adventure,” Sam said wistfully. “Testing your limits … finding out about yourself…”

  “More than you want, sometimes,” Jo said quietly.

  “Yeah, it can be like that, too. When you test yourself, you don’t always get the answers you want, but look at Jack. He served in the army, fought the enemy, and like Ben, became stronger for it.”

  “Is that what you want—to join the military?”

  “No, I’m not a fighter—not the gun-carrying kind anyway. Jack needed the structure and discipline of the military to find himself, but I’m after something different. I don’t have a big college degree, just a lot of good course work. I’m good with computers, though, and I love math. What I need now is some experience and the contacts to eventually build a busines
s of my own. I want to be the go-to IT source in the Four Corners.”

  Jo smiled. Although they were only seven years apart, Samantha seemed more like a teenager than a woman to her. Sam had been sheltered and protected all her life. Jo, on the other hand, had cared for herself and her shattered family for as far back as she could remember.

  “Have you heard from Ben lately?” Sam asked. “Grandma says he usually calls via Skype on Thursdays and that you were disappointed last week when you didn’t hear from him.”

  That was one of the reasons she’d come in early today. Sometimes when Ben couldn’t contact her during the week, he would call on Sundays instead, but so far she hadn’t heard from him. No email, no call.

  As Sam’s focus shifted back to the computer, they suddenly heard a loud thump, followed by breaking glass, coming from the back.

  Sam jumped up and ran to the rear window. “Nobody’s out there. I thought maybe Jack had come back early and run into something.”

  Jo stepped into the hall and looked across the interior of the store toward the front parking lot. A dark-colored truck was speeding up the drive in a cloud of dust. “The driver must have circled the building. I wonder what he did? It’s easy to see that we aren’t open for business today…”

  “Let me grab the baseball bat and go out with you,” Sam said.

  Jo continued to look outside, but didn’t see anyone. “No, Sam, stay put. I’ll step out onto the loading dock and check my truck and the trading post’s vehicles. If you hear me yell, call 911.”

  “Don’t go out there alone, Jo. Let me go with you. I can fight. I grew up with three brothers.”

  Jo chuckled. “Okay, but bring your cell phone.”

  Once they stepped onto the loading dock, it was easy to see what had happened. A glass jar filled with blood red paint had been thrown against the overhead door. The jar had shattered, creating a big splatter that was tricking down in rivulets and scattering shards and chunks of glass everywhere.

  Jo glanced around and breathed a sigh of relief as she saw that her car and the store’s van were untouched.