Текст книги "In Close"

Автор книги: Brenda Novak

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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 13 страниц) [доступный отрывок для чтения: 5 страниц]

Claire swallowed hard. “I don’t understand. There must be a reason you’d say she was out of school and keep saying it.”

“Yes. And if you’re going to pursue this, you need to know what it is.”

Whatever “it” was sounded pretty ominous. She took a shaky breath. “I’m listening.”

“It wasn’t your mother who was…involved in some way with Joe Kenyon.”

“Who was it?” Claire could barely make herself heard, but she must’ve spoken loudly enough because he responded with the name she’d suddenly guessed he was going to say.

“Leanne.”

“That can’t be true,” she said. “Leanne was only thirteen at the time. If…if Joe was molesting her, he should’ve been punished. Why would you lie to keep what he did a secret?”

“Because he didn’t molest her. What happened wasn’t his fault.”

Claire stared at the carpet, studying the large flowers as if tracing them on paper. “That doesn’t make sense. He was at least seventeen to eighteen years older than she was.”

“But she had a thing for him. You remember Katie, don’t you?”

How could she forget Katie? Her sister’s best friend had been almost as hard to put up with as Leanne. “Of course. She lived next door to Joe until her family moved during her and Leanne’s junior year.”

“That’s right. I guess—” his words fell off but he seemed to marshal the resolve to continue “—I guess Leanne was coming on to him.”

Sickened, Claire covered her mouth and spoke through her fingers. “How does a thirteen-year-old girl come on to a thirtysomething man?”

“I can’t talk about it. I…won’t talk about it. It’s too upsetting to me, and I’d rather keep the unflattering details private, for your sister’s sake. To be fair to her, that was a long time ago, and…and sometimes girls get themselves mixed up in stuff like that when they’re discovering their sexuality. Or so I’m told,” he added in a mumble.

Claire had never even been tempted to come on to a man nearly two decades older, but…she decided to give her sister the benefit of the doubt.

“Just know that she was young and confused and tried to…entice him,” he went on.

“And you’re sure he—” Her throat closed up. After swallowing, she began again. “Did he act on what she offered him?”

“No.”

“He might have done more than you think. Maybe that’s what instigated…her interest.”

“He had proof when he called us, Claire.”

Claire couldn’t help thinking of Leanne in that nightgown. She’d assumed her sister’s promiscuity stemmed from the accident, but this made her wonder if it’d started at a much earlier age. “What kind of proof?”

“A video she made for him.”

Gross… Claire couldn’t bear to think about it. But she still needed the answers she’d been searching for from the beginning. “So…what does Leanne’s being out of school on the day Mom went missing have to do with any of this?”

“It was that morning Joe contacted us with the…news. Your mother was so upset when she heard it, she called me in tears. I’d dropped her off after having a cup of coffee and a doughnut with her, had just arrived at the gun shop, so I asked her to wait until I could get off work, told her we’d deal with it then. I couldn’t leave. I had nobody to watch the store. Walt was out of town and depending on me, and Don Salter, who could’ve replaced me, wouldn’t answer his phone.” He took a moment to gather his thoughts or his emotions or both before continuing. “But apparently she couldn’t wait. She marched down and signed Leanne out of school so she could talk to her before you were home.”

“And what did Leanne have to say?”

“She denied the whole thing. So Alana took her over to Joe’s, and he showed them the tape.”

That was why Leanne had never mentioned being out of school. She didn’t want to admit she’d made a pornographic video at thirteen, which she used to solicit a married man. Claire also understood why Tug had kept quiet all these years. But how had Joe and that tape and Leanne’s behavior affected the investigation into Alana’s disappearance? It must have hampered the sheriff’s ability to do a thorough job with everyone being careful not to say too much about the day in question.

“Why hasn’t Joe told anyone?” Claire asked. “Like one of the investigators you hired?”

“Because he’s a good man.”

If what she was hearing was true, Claire had to agree. He’d tolerated a lot of talk, been convicted of committing adultery with her mother in the court of public opinion, and yet he’d never stepped forward to point a finger at Leanne. That certainly changed how she thought of him.

Now she could explain some of those “inconsistencies” listed in that file. But what did that have to do with her mother’s disappearance? Or were the incident with Joe and the kidnapping two separate items?

“So…Mom took her back to school?” Claire remembered there being some confusion about that in what she’d read.

“No. She was crying too hard. She’d had a terrible fight with Leanne. You can imagine what it must’ve been like after they left Joe’s. So I closed up and took Leanne back to school for her. I thought it might help your mother to have some time alone.”

“When was that?”

“I can’t remember exactly. About one o’clock, I think.”

But the log said Leanne hadn’t signed in until two. “And Mom was…”

“At the house. That’s where I left her.”

“And she was fine?”

“As fine as could be expected, under the circumstances.”

That meant Alana had gone missing between one and three-thirty, when she and Leanne got home. “That’s why you were so worried when I called that day.”

“Yes. I was worried before you called.”

This made sense, but what about the previous sightings of her car at Joe’s house—if those reports were true? “Thanks for telling me.”

He lowered his voice. “What are you going to do with the information? Roni, even Joe’s wife—they don’t know, Claire. I don’t want it coming out. It would really hurt Leanne and could cause problems for Joe.”

Obviously, he felt that being honest with her had betrayed her sister. They’d always been close. “Nothing. For now,” she told him.

“Leanne’s your sister.” The caution in his tone suggested she should protect the secret as well as he had. But if everyone was protecting this secret or that secret, how would the sheriff’s department ever get to the bottom of what had gone wrong?

Claire felt she owed Leanne a lot. They were sisters, as her stepfather had just pointed out. She understood how the slightest upset could throw Leanne into a tail-spin, especially since the accident. But did those considerations outweigh the hope that full disclosure and absolute honesty might bring Alana back—or catch the man who killed her?

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9

Claire frowned at the steak on the plate in front of her. “I told you. I already had dinner.”

Isaac folded his arms and leaned against the counter. The plastic containers he’d taken from the refrigerator were still strewn across the counter as if he thought she might want seconds. But as good as the food looked—there were sweet potatoes and asparagus to go with the steak—she couldn’t possibly eat more than he’d served her.

“You’re the reason I cooked extra,” he said with a wink.

She arched her eyebrows at him. “Don’t act like I stood you up. I told you I wasn’t coming.”

“You’re here now.”

Because it hadn’t occurred to her that caller ID would identify the pay phone at the Kicking Horse Saloon. Or that he’d get out of bed to look for her in the middle of the night. “I don’t understand why it matters to you whether I eat.”

“You mean I’m such a hard-hearted bastard I don’t mind watching you waste away?”

“I’m not wasting away.”

“You won’t if you eat.” He motioned to her plate. “Dig in.”

“Fine.” Too tired to argue, Claire shoveled a bite of sweet potato into her mouth. She should’ve stayed home tonight. She hadn’t expected her date with Rusty to be exciting, but neither had she expected it to fail quite as badly as it did. “It feels weird to be sitting in the kitchen where I lived as a child,” she said.

He poured a glass of cranberry juice and put it on the table beside her. “Oh, yeah? Do you like what I’ve done with the place?”

Obviously, he was joking. It was well-maintained, but he hadn’t changed a single thing since he moved in three years ago and neither had the people who’d owned it before him. “I wouldn’t plan on hiring out as a decorator if I were you.”

He shrugged. “Maybe someday I’ll remodel.”

He’d done a lot with the shack he’d inherited from Tippy. It was small but well-kept and in such a beautiful setting he’d stayed there much longer than anyone had expected. That was where she’d always visited him before, where she’d always pictured him even after he bought this place.

“What made you give up Tippy’s house on the lake?” she asked.

“Mostly the size. I needed more room and this gave me a different view and even more privacy.”

“The pictures you’ve hung make it a nice bachelor’s pad.” Mostly wildlife photos he’d taken himself, they added a masculine touch. “It’s easy to tell you like what you do.” Her gaze lingered on a framed print of a hippopotamus submerged in a swampy river with just his eyes, ears and nostrils showing. “I think it’s great how much you love your work. You’re the perfect kind of guy for it.”

He poured himself some juice. “What kind of guy does it take?”

“Someone who likes to ramble, who feels most at home when he’s on the road. Or in the wilderness, as the case may be.” She wished he’d start putting the rest of the food away and stop watching her. His presence was forcing her to eat more than she wanted. “Have you had any close encounters since that bear attack—other than with the tree that nearly wiped you out last night?”

He finished his juice and rinsed the glass. “I got a strange spider bite in Kenya a few months ago.” He spoke over his shoulder. “Made my hand swell up to three times its size.” He showed her the scar.

“Do you know the kind of spider it was?”

“No. It didn’t happen while I was shooting. It happened while I was sleeping.”

“Were you someplace you could get medical help?”

“Not really. One of the guys I was traveling with lanced it and sucked out the poison.”

“That must’ve been fun.” She nibbled on her asparagus. “What’s your favorite place you’ve ever been?”

He leaned against the counter. “You mean besides here?”

“You like Pineview?”

“Don’t you?”

“It’s okay.” She drank a sip of her own juice. “But I’m leaving here someday.”

“When?”

“As soon as I figure out what happened to my mom and feel Leanne will be fine on her own.”

He crossed his feet. “Where do you want to go?”

She thought of all the exotic places he’d been and felt like a country bumpkin by comparison. She’d never left Montana. “I don’t know. Someplace far away and metropolitan. Maybe Los Angeles or New York.”

“You’ve lived in a small town all your life. You don’t think that’d be lonely?”

She was already lonely. She doubted it could get much worse. At least she’d have the promise of something new and different around the next corner. “It’d be nice to have a change of pace, a chance to meet new people.”

“You seemed to like it here when David was alive.”

“It felt different then.”

“In what way?”

“Lots of ways.”

“Such as?”

“I assumed we’d have a family. This would be a great place to raise kids, but if I’m going to be single I’d rather be somewhere with more…possibility.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets. “There’s no one in Pineview you’d like to date?”

“No.”

His lips pursed. “It’s getting easier and easier to see why you came here last night.”

She owed him an apology for that. He hadn’t invited her. And he’d hurt himself trying to help her. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have kept you up.”

His voice held a wry note when he responded. “I didn’t mind.”

“I’m glad.” But if that was true, why had he stopped short of making love to her? She wanted to ask but knew it was territory they’d be wise to avoid. “Thanks for dinner, but…I’d better get going.”

Although he took her plate, he didn’t turn toward the sink. “You’re not staying?”

A tremor of desire passed through her, as strong as ever. But she knew she’d be a fool to continue what she’d started last night. She was only making it harder to fall in love with someone else, someone who might actually be right for her. “No, um, not tonight.” She got up and edged toward the door. “But I appreciate dinner.”

He set her plate on the counter. “You didn’t eat much.”

“But it was good.” At least, she assumed it was. Everything tasted like cardboard these days.

When he came over to her, she forced herself not to back away. She wouldn’t look up, had no idea what he was thinking, but it was impossible not to shiver when he slid his hand down her arm.

“You didn’t enjoy yourself last night?” he murmured.

Her eyes lifted, seemingly of their own volition, and locked with his. He was so close. All she had to do was rise on tiptoe, and he’d kiss her.

She almost did it. But fulfilling her desire wasn’t worth the regret she’d struggle with tomorrow—she knew because of what she’d dealt with today.

“It was fine, er, generous of you to, ah, accommodate me, since you weren’t interested yourself. It’s just…I’m a little lost right now. I think I need to figure out who I am without David, and where I’m going with my life, before I start sleeping around too much.” She gave him a wry smile to indicate that she was joking about the sleeping-around part. “But if I ever decide to play fast and loose again, you’ll be the first person I call.”

“No one can make love like I can.” He wore an inscrutable expression when he repeated her words from their night together, but she’d made the right decision this time. She had to heal, become whole, before she could manage any kind of relationship, particularly with someone who could wield as much power over her as Isaac Morgan.

“True.” She clicked her tongue. “Just one of the many reasons all the ladies line up at your door.”

“What’s another?”

Reaching for the unobtainable came to mind, but she didn’t say that. “You know how to grill a steak.”

“You ate two bites of it.”

“That doesn’t mean it wasn’t good.”

“Now that you’re impervious to my appeal and my cooking, you might as well stay over,” he said. “I don’t have an extra bedroom. One’s my office and the other’s a darkroom. But the couch is free. At least you won’t be alone.”

It was an appealing offer. One she wanted to accept, especially when she thought of returning home and facing the pictures of her and David on the walls. Or Leanne and the growing concern that she was drinking too much. Or the mystery shrouding her mother’s disappearance.

Her problems seemed insurmountable.

Because she was too tired, she told herself. Why not check out of regular life for a little while?

“That sounds good.” She briefly touched his chest in thanks. “Maybe we’ll be better friends than we were lovers, huh?”

She could tell she’d surprised him. He’d probably never had a woman over who’d opted to sleep alone.

“That’s what you want? To be friends?”

She thought about it for a second, then nodded. “Yeah. I could use a friend right now.”

He lowered his eyes. She suspected he was looking at the monkey bite he’d given her, which burned as if his mouth was still latched onto her skin. “I’ll get you some bedding.”

Generous of you to accommodate me, since you weren’t interested yourself.

Isaac almost laughed aloud when he remembered that line. Maybe he’d lost interest in other women—for months, he hadn’t paid any attention to who or what was available—but he definitely hadn’t lost interest in Claire.

She had no clue what she did to him, but he wasn’t about to let on. She was right when she said she was a little lost. The weight loss told him that much. If he really cared about her, he’d be the friend she needed and leave it at that. He had far less chance of letting her down as a friend than he did as a lover. There were still times when he felt he had to head out into the wilderness, to be alone for extended periods. He couldn’t imagine how that would go over if he ever entered a committed relationship. He just wasn’t cut out to be the kind of steady, reliable man David was.

Claire needed another David. She didn’t need him.

But it wasn’t easy to have her so close and not take her to bed. He should’ve made love to her last night while he had the chance. Then maybe he wouldn’t be staring at the ceiling now. He’d wanted to, but he’d been too stung, too disappointed that she hadn’t come for the reasons he’d wished…?.

The shower went on, which only made matters worse. He’d given her a towel, told her she could make herself at home, but picturing the water rolling over her naked body was driving him crazy. The shower used to be one of their favorite places to make love.

Actually, he couldn’t remember a place they hadn’t liked.

The phone rang. Surprised that he’d be getting a call so late, he checked the clock—1:20—as he reached for the handset. Was it someone looking for Claire?

Caller ID read Restricted.

“Hello?”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing blindsiding Leland with that bullshit about David’s death not being an accident?”

His caller hadn’t bothered to identify himself, but Isaac recognized the voice. Rusty Clegg.

“What business of it is yours whether or not I call Leland about anything?” he responded. “It’s not as if I have anything to say to you.”

“It’s my business if it concerns David. You hardly even knew him.”

“I knew him well enough. Anyway, what does that have to do with whether or not his death was an accident?”

“It makes me wonder why you’re even getting involved.”

“And that makes me wonder why you’re so upset that I raised the question. Did I hit too close to the truth, Rusty? Do you know something you should’ve told the sheriff?”

“I work for the sheriff, damn it. And if there’d been the slightest chance that David’s death was anything but an accident, I would’ve jumped all over it.”

“Then you know he was investigating Alana O’Toole’s disappearance.”

There was a moment of silence. “That’s bullshit. David wasn’t doing any such thing.”

“You sure about that?”

“If he was, he would’ve mentioned it to me—not only because we were friends but because I was already working for the sheriff’s department. I’m the person he would’ve gone to for help.”

“Maybe he didn’t trust you.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Adrenaline had vanquished any sleepiness Isaac had begun to feel. He got out of bed to pace. “Either that, or he didn’t have a lot of confidence in your ability, because he was investigating. And that’s a fact.”

“I don’t see how you could know anything about it. You weren’t even in town when he died.”

But he’d heard the news and flown back to attend the funeral. The whole town had turned out on that rainy day. Isaac would never forget hovering at the edge of the cemetery, wanting to comfort Claire as she stood crying under that umbrella long after everyone had left. He hadn’t let himself go anywhere close. Since he still cared about her it’d seemed too self-serving to sidle up to the grieving widow. But he hadn’t been able to leave until she did. “I didn’t realize you kept such close track of my whereabouts, Rusty.”

“I notice you.”

“Because…”

“Because I’ve never liked you much, okay? And neither did David. He knew you wanted his wife. Don’t think he didn’t.”

Isaac could’ve had his wife before she married David. He was pretty sure he could have Claire now. She’d been in his bed last night, hadn’t she? Getting her wasn’t the problem; doing right by her was. There was a magnetism between them that had been there for a long time.

Maybe others could feel that chemistry, too. Maybe that was the real problem. “Is there a reason my call to Leland upset you, Rusty?”

“It’s just not the kind of message I want on my answering machine when I get home after a long day. If David was murdered, I would’ve done something about it.”

“So you’ve at least considered the possibility.”

“No! Why would I? It was an accident, pure and simple. I was there that day, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“And there’s no way you could’ve gotten it wrong.”

“Absolutely not! The hunter who hit him felt terrible. Can you imagine what that would be like?”

He could imagine it. Lord knew he’d made enough of his own mistakes to understand the pain of regret. But he could also imagine a scenario where someone used the cover of hunting season to commit the perfect murder. “Did anyone check the caliber of the bullet? Trace it back to that hunter’s rifle?”

“Of course. We did our homework.”

“What was the hunter’s name? Where was he from?”

“I’m not giving you that information. He was just some guy from out of state who thought he was shooting at a bear, okay? Don’t start anything and get Claire all upset. She’s still recovering from David’s death.”

Isaac tensed as he remembered finding Claire walking along the side of the road. “If you care so much about her, why’d you leave her stranded at the Kicking Horse tonight?”

Isaac had told himself he wouldn’t mention it. It was better if he and Claire kept what they felt for each other on the down low. They’d have more privacy that way. But he was angry at Rusty for being stupid enough to let her walk alone so late at night, especially after the incident at Alana’s studio. Rusty was a sheriff’s deputy, for Christ’s sake. He, of all people, should have been more cautious.

There was another long silence. “I went back, looking for her. Spent over an hour driving up and down every street between the Kicking Horse and her place, but I couldn’t find her. What, did she call you for a ride? Is that how you know?” She had called him. She hadn’t said anything, but he’d known it was her, even though he’d had other women contact him from the same pay phone. Hayley Peters was one of them. She called whenever she got enough alcohol in her to lower her inhibitions. But he’d been expecting to hear from Claire all evening. So he’d taken the chance it was her and not Hayley, and he’d been right. “I happened to be driving by, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to leave her stranded.”

Rusty cursed, sighed and cursed again. “That was a mistake. I was…upset. Was she okay when you found her?”

“She was fine, no thanks to you.”

“I’ve tried to call and apologize. She won’t pick up.”

“I’m sure she’s asleep by now.” He wished that was the case. Then he could quit obsessing about her having a shower in his bathroom.

“I shouldn’t have reacted like I did. Of course she wants to take things slow.”

“You think she’s interested in you?”

“Why not? I care about her.”

“You have a funny way of showing it.”

He bristled again. “What happened tonight is none of your business. And neither is whatever happened to David.”

Isaac wasn’t willing to accept that. He had confidence in Myles King; Myles was a damn good sheriff. But as far as Isaac was concerned, Rusty wasn’t much of a deputy, and it was Rusty who’d been with David, not Myles. “Did you check to see if the hunter had any ties to anyone here in Pineview?”

“Why would I do that? It was an accident! Besides, who in Pineview had anything against David? And how would anyone here find, let alone hire, someone to kill for them?”

It was called the internet. Or friends of friends of friends. Montana had more than its share of gun lovers. And gun lovers had contacts regular people did not. Maybe killing for hire didn’t happen often, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t happen. If someone didn’t want David delving into Alana’s disappearance, the chances of taking a bullet from a hired assassin were as high as getting shot by a random hunter. Rusty was letting his familiarity with this place and its people influence him too much. If whoever killed Alana—supposing she was killed—felt they were about to be exposed, they could easily decide to act again.

But confronting Rusty wasn’t working. Isaac decided it might be smarter to pretend he was backing off. Perhaps then Rusty would relax and lower his defenses. “Yeah, you’re right. That’d be a stretch. Forget I said anything.”

He hesitated. “That’s it?”

“That’s it. Except…”

“What?” He sounded leery.

“How did you know which hunter shot David? Did he come forward on his own?”

“No. He couldn’t find a downed bear, thought he’d missed his shot and was leaving the area. We tracked him ourselves.” Rusty was as defensive as ever, but at least he was answering a few questions—probably because he felt that being able to identify the shooter proved he was as competent at his job as he wanted to appear.

“And what’d the guy say when you found him?”

“He was shocked, said he was sorry. He’d just killed one of my best friends. What do you think he’d say?”

“Did he attend the funeral?”

“No, he felt that might be too upsetting to the community. But he sent Claire some flowers along with a hefty check to pay for David’s funeral. Said it was the least he could do.”

That meant Claire knew who he was. Maybe she had his contact information. “That is the least he could do.” And it would make his remorse seem all the more sincere.

“Now I have a question for you,” Rusty said.

Isaac tensed.

“Why are you bringing this up now? I mean, it’s been over a year since David died. If you thought he was investigating Alana’s disappearance and that’s what got him killed, why’d you wait so long to mention it?”

“I think you already know the answer to that.”

“You just found out.”

Isaac didn’t confirm it. The truth was obvious enough.

“Does this have anything to do with what happened to Claire last night at the studio?” he asked.

“You’re the sheriff’s deputy. You tell me.” Isaac was done with Rusty. He wasn’t going to learn any more from him, so he disconnected.

When he pivoted to return the phone to its base, he saw Claire standing in his doorway wearing one towel wrapped around her head and another around her body.

“What was that all about?” she asked, but judging by the stark expression on her face, she knew. He’d become so involved in the conversation he wasn’t sure exactly when the shower had gone off or how long she’d been listening, but she’d heard enough.

Isaac shoved a hand through his hair. He should’ve talked to her about this when he went to her house with those files. Or gone to greater lengths to keep his suspicions a secret. This wasn’t how he’d wanted the question to be raised. But now that she knew what he believed…there wasn’t any way to take it back. “Surely you’ve asked yourself whether or not David’s death was the accident you’ve been told it was.”

Her knuckles whitened as she clung to the towel she held closed at her bustline. “You think Les Weaver killed him on purpose?”

“That was the hunter’s name?” It was silly, even childish, for Rusty to refuse to answer; of course there’d be others who would know. It would’ve been in the papers, had Isaac been around to read them. He’d probably heard the name, just couldn’t remember. At that time, he’d been trying his best to ignore the whole situation, to ignore the fact that Claire was suddenly available again.

“Yes.”

“You read those files you found at the studio. Do you think it’s possible?”

Her teeth sank into her lower lip. “I don’t know. I had a plausible explanation for his death, so I focused on what those files might tell me about my mother. I could totally see David trying to uncover the truth for me. He was that kind of guy, so nice I can’t believe anyone would want to harm him.”

Isaac was feeling worse by the minute. What if he was wrong about David? He had no proof; he was the first to acknowledge that. And now, because of him, Claire had to deal with a very painful possibility, maybe for no reason at all. “I’m guessing it had nothing to do with want. Maybe he was getting close to information that was threatening someone. Maybe whoever it was felt forced.”

“But Les was from out of town.”

“A hired gun?”

She sagged against the door frame. “But…Weaver sent me money for the funeral expenses.”

“He’d be stupid not to make it look good.”

“Wouldn’t the sheriff’s department have checked him out?”

“They did, a little. They just didn’t dig deep. Think about it. Until last summer, when we had our first murder, nothing that violent had ever happened here. Other than your mother’s disappearance, which was an old mystery by the time Myles became sheriff, he hadn’t dealt with any crime more serious than a speeding ticket since he took over for Sheriff Meade. On top of that, he’d lost his wife to a protracted battle with cancer, was raising his daughter on his own and adjusting to being a single father. My guess? He was taking everything at face value, expecting this place to be as safe and uncomplicated as he’d been told. Plus, David was shot so long after Alana’s disappearance Myles might not have realized there could be a connection. For one thing, he doesn’t seem to be aware that David was looking into her case.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Rusty wasn’t even aware of it.”

She frowned. “Then who gave David a copy of those files?”

“I have no idea.”

Fresh resolve seemed to stiffen her spine. “If someone killed David, it has to be the same someone who kidnapped my mother.”

“If is the key word here. I could be way off base. That’s why I didn’t mention it to you before. Judging by what I got from those files, David wasn’t only determined to get to the truth, he was pressing people for answers, revealing inconsistencies in various interviews that suggested Alana didn’t leave on her own. Then everything came to a very convenient stop with his death. It seems too…coincidental, given his progress. But that’s all I’ve got to go on. You understand this is merely conjecture on my part, right?”

“Something connects the two. I—”

His phone interrupted her, and he leaned over to check caller ID. Restricted. “It’s Rusty again.” What were the chances it’d be anyone else?

She leaned against the wall as he answered.

“She’s there with you, isn’t she,” Rusty snapped.

He’d obviously been to Claire’s place—and concluded that she wasn’t home sleeping. “She who?”

“Quit playing games. You know who I mean. Are you filling her head with that bullshit about David being killed just so you can get close enough to get inside her pants?”

“I think you need to hang up, Rusty. What you’re asking doesn’t concern you.”