Pete picked up the photo and squinted at it, pulling it close enough that his nose almost touched the surface. “Pretty hard to tell,” he mumbled. “When was this taken?”
“Fifty years ago.” Ricki said, as Pete passed the photo along. As it slowly went around the table, she could feel the interest of the group slipping away. “Maybe this one is a little better?” She slid the picture of Graham standing in front of his house over to Pete, who gave it the same close-up scrutiny as the first one.
“Nope. Still hard to see a face, but can’t say I recognize him.” He looked over at Ricki. “Don’t know that house either. This wasn’t taken somewhere in the Bay, was it?”
“No. But close by.”
Pete rubbed a hand against his chin. “You need someone who’s been here longer than I have.” He glanced around the table. “Longer than any of us here, for that matter. Have you asked Ray?”
“Yes.” Ricki let the single word stand, not wanting to hand out the additional information that Ray hadn’t recognized anyone in the pictures either.
The head of the male gossip circle gave a huge, theatrical sigh. “I don’t know who else you could ask, then. Not too many are still around who were here fifty years ago.”
Not quite ready to admit defeat yet, Ricki’s eyes narrowed in thought. The six men might not remember a ranger who passed them in the street, but a car was a whole different ball game.
“He had a car. An Aston Martin. White with silver trim.”
“I remember that.”
Ricki immediately turned to the man on her right. Mike grinned back at her, showing several wide gaps in his teeth. He made a modest living carving small figurines from wood he scavenged in the forest and had been part of Pete’s loyal posse ever since she could remember.
“I remember that car,” he repeated, the words creating a whistle through the spaces in between his teeth. “Flashy. Good-looking.” He blinked as if an idea had just landed somewhere in his head. He turned wide eyes on Pete. “I used to wonder how that ranger could afford a car like that. Now isn’t that something to recall after all these years?”
Something, all right, Ricki thought. But she wasn’t sure just what, since she already had it confirmed by his sister that Graham owned the car. “Do you remember the last time you saw that car?”
Mike instantly shook his head, the crack from his neck bones traveling across the table. “Naw. I just remember seeing it driving through town, that’s all. Didn’t see it come into town, or notice it parked anywhere. Only driving through.” He gave her an apologetic smile. “Sometimes it was going one way, sometimes the other.”
“Which town?” Ricki asked. When Mike stared at her as if she were speaking a foreign language, she added, “Brewer, Edington, or Massey? Which town did you see it in?”
“Here in Brewer,” Mike said. “It was right here. He might have driven it through Edington to get here, but this is where I saw it.”
Ricki pondered that for a long moment. According to Mike, Graham would have had to drive past the turnoff for Massey, where his body was found, and through Edington to get to Brewer, which was the town farthest away from Port Angeles. It could mean Graham had come here on business, or regularly visited someone in Brewer, or maybe he’d been headed for the back access road into the park, which was a few miles past the city limits.
The thought had her turning slightly in her chair so she could look around the room. Carl Evans was sitting alone at a table, exactly where she’d passed him on her way to the bar. He was still reading a book and showing no reaction to the jumble of conversations going on around him. The hardware store he used to own had been just past the outskirts of Brewer, and only a mile or so from the access road into the park.
She turned back around and smiled at Pete and then made sure to include the rest of his group. “Thanks for taking a look at the pictures and letting me know about the car. It’s a big help.”
Mike’s wrinkled features lit up, while Pete slid the two pictures back her way. “No problem, Ricki.” When she started to rise, he held her back by reaching across the table and clamping bony fingers around her wrist. “I wanted to ask a question.” His gaze shifted from her to Anchorman, who was still leaning against the wall. “Or more to your sidekick over there. How’s it going, Anchorman?”
“Can’t complain,” Anchorman said easily. “What can I do for you, Pete?”
“Some reason you’re running shotgun tonight instead of the chief?”
Ricki let out an exasperated snort, which both men ignored.
“Nothing exciting. The chief wasn’t available tonight, is all.” Anchorman grinned. “He’s cooling his heels at a council meeting.”
“Okay,” Pete said. He cocked his head to the side and winked. “Wanted to check before I let you know that Merlin is wandering about here tonight. She asked about you.”
Keeping an eye on Carl Evans to be sure he didn’t decide to leave before she could talk to him, Ricki sat down again and smiled at Pete. “And who is Merlin? I don’t believe I’ve met her.”
Pete chuckled and winked again at the glare from Anchorman. “You probably haven’t since you were pretty busy last month when she moved here. Came from somewhere in the Midwest.”
“Kansas,” Mike chimed in, then reddened slightly at Ricki’s raised eyebrow. “She bought one of my carvings, and we got to talking. She’s former military. Like Anchorman.”
Ricki grinned. “Really? Sounds like the two of them would have a lot to talk about.” She looked over at Pete. “And you say she was asking about him?”
Pete nodded, clearly enjoying the spotlight. “She sure was. She was an army ranger, he was a marine sniper, so both of them were part of an elite unit. I’d say the two of them are a good match.”
“So would I.” Ricki stood up and pushed back from the table before giving Anchorman an angelic smile. “Why don’t you sit right down, then one of the guys can let Merlin know you’re around.” She pointed across the room. “I’ll be right over there talking to Carl, so you can see me just fine from here.”
While the other men, who had stood up when she had, pretty much forced Anchorman into her vacated chair, Ricki made her way across the room, a wide grin on her face. Some former female army ranger named Merlin? Like the magician? It would take a magic act to get Anchorman in line, but wasn’t that an interesting thought?
When she stopped by his table, Carl looked up, adjusting his glasses as he peered at her from behind their thick lenses. “Richelle James.” Ever since she was a little girl accompanying her dad on a weekend run to the only hardware store in town, Carl had never given in and used her nickname. “I haven’t seen you in a while. How’s your mother doing?”
“Fine,” Ricki lied. She knew Carl was asking out of genuine interest since he and her father had been friends, bonding over a variety of do-it-yourself projects, but she didn’t want to get into long explanations about her mom. “Do you mind if I sit down?”
Carl politely gestured to the empty chair across from him, setting his book aside as Ricki sat down and set the photos on the table. He gave them a cursory glance before turning his gaze back to her. Rail thin, with blue eyes and plain square-framed glasses perched on a long, pointed nose, Curt folded his hands in front of him and stretched his narrow lips into a smile. “Have you recovered from your injuries?”
She held up her bandaged wrist. “This was the worst of it for me. I wish I could say that about everyone involved in the accident.”
“Yes.” Carl’s features settled into sober lines. “I heard about that. A stray gunshot, wasn’t it?” When she only smiled, he stared back at her. “Or was it not a stray shot after all?” He adjusted his glasses on his nose. “Deliberate, perhaps?”
“The jury is still out on that.” Ricki pushed the pictures toward him. “I’d like your help in identifying anyone you might recognize in these pictures.”
“Certainly,” he said without even a glance in their direction. “But I wan
ted to ask about your injuries when you chased that killer into the mountains. I understand you went after him by yourself?”
Now why does everyone have to harp on that? she wondered. It isn’t as if I had a lot of choices at the time.
“No serious injuries,” Ricki said, ignoring his comment about her not having any backup.
Carl cleared his throat and looked at a point somewhere over her head. “Yes. Well. That’s good. I was worried when I heard about it.” His eyes cut over to where Pete and his ever-present group were sitting. “Of course, it’s hard to tell what’s the truth and what isn’t sometimes.”
“Mostly the stories are way overblown,” Ricki said before pushing the photos another inch closer. “I’d appreciate it if you took a look at those.”
The former store owner picked up the pictures and carefully studied them. “The quality isn’t very good. Is this about the bodies found in the old lighthouse?”
“Persons of interest,” Ricki said, sticking to the same explanation she’d given Pete. “I’m looking to see if someone in town remembers one of these guys, or maybe talked to him. Or maybe remembers talking to a ranger driving a white Aston Martin with silver trim.”
He set the pictures aside and refolded his hands, looking down at them. “I remember seeing that car a time or two. About fifty years ago now. Haven’t seen one like it since then.” He looked up and smiled. “At least not around here.” He nodded at the pictures. “There was a ranger driving that car, a couple of my customers mentioned it. Seemed like a pretty expensive car on a ranger’s pay.”
“He came from money,” Ricki said. “So he never stopped in at the store?”
“Him?” Carl shook his head. “No. Not him. But the other ranger who was looking for him did. A very nice man. Very polite.”
Ricki went still. “Another ranger was looking for him?”
“Yes. I remember because it was a slow day, and I was trying to get my taxes done when he walked in and interrupted me. He asked about the car, and I told him that I had seen it, usually in town. But the Friday before, I’d been locking up when it went past. He was flying pretty good down the highway. It was dark, but he was moving fast and that white car was hard to miss.”
“About what time was that, Carl? Do you remember?”
“Around eight, I guess. The store closed at seven sharp, and it always took me about an hour to get everything done.” A tiny smile played around his mouth. “Don’t know that I can tell you much more than that.”
“Did this ranger friend give you his name?” Ricki asked.
Carl’s tiny smile disappeared. “Now, Richelle, that was a long time ago, and I’m afraid the car was more memorable than that ranger. If he did, I sure don’t remember it.”
Ricki hadn’t expected him to, but she’d had to ask. “Did he tell you why he was looking for his friend?”
“He didn’t show up for work, as I recall, but his friend thought he’d just gotten the schedule mixed up.” Carl’s thin shoulders lifted in a shrug. “He didn’t stay long. Since he didn’t look like he was going to buy anything, I told him I needed to finish up my taxes, and he just left.” He pushed the pictures back toward her. “I heard your jeep needs a lot of work.”
“More like a eulogy,” Ricki said, gathering up the pictures and tucking them beneath her jacket. “I haven’t been over to see it yet, but Charlie gave me a pretty dismal report.”
“Well, that’s why I mentioned it. I figured you’d be over to see Charlie, so you should ask him about the pictures.”
She knew she owed a visit to the garage where her jeep had been towed but hadn’t had the time yet. And as far as Charlie looking at the pictures, she didn’t think that would do any good. “I don’t think Charlie would even have been in school yet when these were taken.”
Now Carl did manage a real smile. “No. No, he surely wouldn’t have been. But before he took over his dad’s garage, he wanted to be a photographer. Built a kind of darkroom in the back. I bet he could blow those pictures up so you could get a better look at the faces.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“Call me as soon as you get this.” Ricki ended the message and stuck the phone into her back pocket.
She’d already made her regular morning call to Eddie, to be sure he was up and getting started on his day. With Bear’s overnight guest gone, he’d spent the night at his father’s place. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust her ex to roust their now-on-summer-vacation son out of bed at a decent hour, but it was never a bad idea to give them both a reminder to get up and get going after an evening undoubtedly spent playing video games.
Eddie intended to come home and spend the day in his bot garage, doing some minor adjustments on the science fair entry. The final message had been for Clay. She’d called him last night, but he hadn’t picked up, or tagged her back with a call. And he hadn’t answered when she’d called him just now, either.
Wondering if he was annoyed with her over something she had no idea about, or if the council meeting had not gone well for some reason she couldn’t even come up with, she walked over to the kitchen counter and picked up her gun. Since she still couldn’t get it into the harness with her broken wrist, she stuck her weapon into the holster clipped to her belt at the small of her back. The gun wasn’t loaded, but at least it was close enough she could get at it. She’d already slipped a small tin box of bullets into the pocket of her jacket. Given her current handicap, that was the best she could do.
With nothing else to keep her inside the cabin, and Corby sitting impatiently by the front door, his tail thumping loudly against the wooden floor, she decided to wait outside for her ride. The minute she opened the door, the big dog leaped out and disappeared into the trees, making Ricki grin. Corby was very particular about his bathroom habits, the number-one rule being that no one could watch him go.
She was only halfway across the drive when she heard the distinct crunch of tires on gravel. A few seconds later, the light-colored SUV came into view, rolling to a gentle stop behind Clay’s pickup truck.
Ricki walked over to the car and climbed in. She snapped her seat belt into place before looking over at Dan.
“Ready?” He made a show of adjusting the rearview mirror, looking everywhere but at his passenger.
“Not quite,” Ricki said. She turned in the seat until she was facing him, while he put his hands back on the steering wheel and stared straight ahead. Seeing the stiffness in his back and shoulders, she felt a small twinge of guilt, balanced out with the same amount of exasperation. Catching him with Marcie at the diner wasn’t that big a deal. It wasn’t as if she’d walked in and found them in some kind of contorted, compromising position. Now her own shoulders hunched at the mental picture of the two of them in a messy lip-lock—an image she immediately banished from her mind.
“Look, I’m sorry. I don’t have a problem with you seeing Marcie. It just took me by surprise, is all.”
Dan visibly relaxed and turned his head enough to give her a cautious look. “Really? You’re okay with it?”
Thinking “okay” was about all she was, Ricki managed a nod. “Marcie is family to me. So I tend to be a little overprotective, I guess.”
His shoulders dropped another inch. “I can understand that. But she is old enough to decide who she wants to date.”
“So she told me,” Ricki said dryly. “And if she has to date someone, you’re as good as anyone else in town.”
“Gee. Thanks.” Dan laughed, which drew a reluctant smile from Ricki. “Not the highest compliment I’ve ever had, but I’ll take it.”
“That’s good,” Ricki said. “Because that’s all the compliments I’m giving out this morning.” She settled herself more comfortably in the seat, finding a spot where her gun didn’t dig into her back. “Of course, it goes without saying that if you hurt her, I will shoot you.” She held a hand up and pretended to be studying her nails. “So will Anchorman.”
“Understood.” Dan nodded as he pr
essed the ignition button and the car’s engine roared to life. “Where are we headed this morning?”
“Charlie’s garage. Take a right at the main road and I’ll give you directions from there.” Ricki propped an elbow on the armrest as Dan did a neat three-point turn and headed back down the driveway. “I got a suggestion last night that he might be able to blow up the pictures, so I don’t have to make a trip into Olympia to get it done.” She lifted a hand to stifle a yawn. Sleep had been in short supply last night. She hadn’t finished her report to Hamilton until after midnight and then forced herself out of bed at 6 a.m. to take a quick run before making her daily call to her son. “My jeep is there too, and I need to take a look at it.”
He cut her a sideways glance. “Are you sure you’re ready to do that? You seemed pretty attached to that thing.”
“It was a pain in my ass, but it got the job done. Well, usually.” She sighed. “And it didn’t come with a car payment, which was its best feature.” She pointed at a road up ahead, jutting out from the right. “Take that next turn. Charlie’s shop is down that way.”
A few minutes later, Dan pulled up in front of a one-bay garage just as Charlie was flipping over the “Open” sign in the office window. Still sporting the handsome features of his younger years, only a little rounder and softer with age, Charlie waved at Ricki through the window, then gestured for her to come inside.
She exited the vehicle and walked over to the door with Dan following behind her. Charlie’s only work area, besides the large open bay, was crowded with stacks of paper mixed in with boxes of parts and wadded-up rags. The whole place exuded a pungent odor of oil and gasoline, combined with burnt coffee. Charlie stepped around the counter that held a cash register and an old laptop, holding his hand out to Dan.
“Hi. Glad to see you again.” The friendly mechanic turned to Ricki and gave her a gentle pat on her shoulder. “I’d shake your hand too, but it might get a little awkward with that wrist and all. TK was in a few days ago, and he said your injuries from the accident were no big deal.”
One Last Scream (Special Agent Ricki James Book 2) Page 21
