Текст книги "The Survivors Club"

Автор книги: J. Black

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 15 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

CHAPTER 44

By the time Tess reached Phoenix, it was getting late. She’d called ahead and the cold case detective, a tall rawboned woman named Jenny Searles, came out to greet her. She led the way down the hallway to the office she shared with two other detectives, both immersed in their own cases at their desks.

Searles had a file on her desk, marked Karen Poole.

Karen Poole’s murder book.

Searles said, “Couple of things, so you won’t get pissed off at me. This is a cold case, and as often happens, it looks like a few things are either missing or incomplete. There was a big reorganization of the file room seven or eight years ago, and a lot of stuff ended up being misplaced.”

Tess nodded. She’d worked in a cold case unit years ago in Albuquerque, and sometimes a cold case was like a piece of paper torn to bits. You had to paste together the story as best you could. “Thanks for the warning.”

“No problem.”

The first page carried the details of the shooting. Karen Poole, along with the clerk, was killed. Karen had been standing by the counter of the Pit Stop convenience store, talking to the young man behind the counter. It was just before shift change at twelve midnight. She was shot at point-blank range. The young man, a kid with dishwater-blond hair and a stud through his eyebrow, had fallen behind the counter, shot through the eye. The killer had managed to get him to open the cash register and took what little money was there.

Tess watched and rewatched the surveillance tape. The man who entered the store wore a black ski mask and a hoodie. The sweatshirt he wore either made him look bulky or he was heavyset. Under the ski mask his head looked substantial, and from the way he moved, Tess thought he was older—pushing forty. Definitely not a kid.

Tess asked Searles, “Have you made any progress on this case?”

“Unfortunately, no. The only witnesses are dead. And the guy must have run off to a car parked nearby.”

“Anything unusual?”

“No. Except usually the robberies are committed by younger males.”

She saw no nervousness. No panic. No hesitation.

He was good with a weapon. Just from the trajectory, just from the way he killed.

“How much money was there in the drawer?”

“Twenty dollars.”

Tess went back and forth through the report. It looked an awful lot like Karen Poole had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. There was just too much evidence that this was a convenience store holdup.

But she didn’t believe that.

Tess had already formed an opinion, already thought the shooter was Wade Poole. Everything she’d learned about him pointed to that. But the evidence just wasn’t there. There didn’t seem to be a way to orchestrate it. No way to make it happen. Too many variables.

Tess said, “So what do you think?”

“The guy’s a good shot.”

The image was grainy and dark. The man had walked out the door to the right, money stuffed into the pocket of his hoodie. To the right along the walkway and out of view. Gone.

“Can we look at it again?”

“Sure.”

Tess watched it three times.

“Can we go back?”

“Sure.”

“There.”

Detective Searles stopped the tape. There was a lot of static, everything frozen, gray and black, blurry image, the greenish light of a car going by, headlights hitting the wall.

“What does that look like to you?”

“His hand?”

“Yes.”

“He’s wearing gloves.”

“Yes, he is. But there. You can see the outline of a ring. On his right hand.”

“Looks like some kind of man’s ring. Biggest ring I’ve ever seen.”

The ring was bulky and square, stretching the leather glove.

Tess had seen a clunky ring like that before. She’d seen it on the third finger of the right hand of the cheerful rancher type she’d met at Jaimie Wolfe’s place.

How he’d grinned and looked around at the stable yard, at the riding ring, and the barn. “Name’s Barnes,” he’d told her.

She saw him reach down to lift a potted plant off its saucer, exposing the key to the house. Saw the clunky ring sparkle in the sunlight as he twisted the key in the doorknob, all the while making small talk. She remembered asking him for his contact information so she could talk to him later, and how he’d put her off by asking her to give him her card.

“I’ll copy you on the file and the tape,” Jenny Searles was saying. “The detective on the original case is Sol Green. I think his number’s still good.”

“Thanks.”

“I’ll walk you out.”

“Great,” Tess said. But she hardly registered the walk back out to the front doors of the station.

She was still back at Jaimie’s ranch, watching Wade Poole let the dogs inside the house as he gave her the biggest snow job ever.

Tess called Sol Green’s number but got no reply. She checked in to a Red Roof Inn off the freeway—on her dime—and called Bonny at home.

“Where are you again?”

“I’m in Phoenix.”

She ran it down for him.

“Any progress?”

“I don’t know. I thought while I was here I would see what I could find out about Pat Schofield’s sister’s homicide.”

“What’s that got to do with it? How long ago was she killed?”

“Eleven years ago.”

“I don’t see what you’re looking for.”

“I don’t, either. It’s probably nothing. But Pat Scofield, George Hanley’s daughter, ran into Wade Poole, Karen’s husband. She’s afraid of him, and thinks Karen was a victim of domestic violence.”

“That’s not your case. What’s it look like?”

“It lookslike a simple robbery-homicide. A holdup.”

“Then why are you still there?”

“I’m sleepy, and I don’t want to make the drive.”

A pause.

Tess wondered, in that moment, if she’d just driven over the line.

“Good enough,” Bonny said at last. “Keep me posted.”

The next morning Tess called Danny, who was awake and on his way in to work. “Do you have the Scofields’ number?”

“No, but it’s in the file.”

“Will you text me?”

“Sure.”

“How’s Elena?”

“Perfect. Although you’d be amazed how such a puny little thing can make such noise. We’re in for a long long year.”

More than a year, Tess thought.

Tess called Sol Green again. This time he answered—on the first ring. “I was just about to call you.”

Tess asked if she could come by and talk to him. He gave her directions to an older section of Phoenix. Brick ranch houses, lots of large trees and lawns—something you didn’t see in new sections.

Sol Green and his wife were just finishing breakfast when Tess showed up.

They insisted she have breakfast.

Tess asked him a number of questions about the homicide. His wife at that point took the dishes to the sink and rinsed them, as if shutting out what they were saying, then came over and kissed him on the cheek and said, “I’m going to the store.”

“Okay, hon.”

He leveled his worn eyes on Tess. “So what do you want to know?”

Tess was on the freeway by ten a.m. She’d already put in a call to Bonny, telling him what she’d learned from Sol Green. “Bottom line, Wade Poole knew where Karen would be that night, because she was waiting for her nephew to get off work.”

“Her nephew?”

“The other victim, David Molroney. He was her nephew—which was not in the cold case file.”

She’d learned this from Sol Green.

Tess explained that Karen had been married before she married Wade Poole and was on good terms with David, her nephew from that marriage. In fact, she thought of him as a son. His car was in the shop that week, and while he could get a ride to the store, she agreed to pick him up while his car was in the shop. She did it for a week.

“Sol Green told me they looked at Poole, but he had friends who vouched for him—he was at a bowling alley. Said he cooperated. Everything pointed to a random shooting.”

Bonny whistled.

Tess said, “He wanted to get rid of her, so he made it look like a robbery.”

“Audacious.”

Tess told Bonny about her meeting with Dave Barnes a.k.a. Wade Poole at Jaimie Wolfe’s place. Remembering how he’d smiled and looked around the barnyard and picked himself out a nice, unmemorable name. Remembering the chunky ring on his finger. “He was good, Bonny. He was just your friendly neighborhood rancher type looking after a friend’s property.”

She saw his face now: open, honest, affable. A sunny personality.

Only a psychopath could pull that off.

Bonny said, “Jesus.”

Driving back, Tess superimposed the image of the man she’d met at Jaimie’s over the hooded figure at the convenience store. Fortunately, she could run the tape back in her head exactly as she’d seen it on the video recorder.

Tess recognized his movements.

Subtle things.

The man had always been in control. He knew how to get the upper hand from the beginning—like a good cop would.

And then, there were the gloves, and the bulky ring hidden underneath one of them.

CHAPTER 45

After chores were done, after calling to cancel lessons yet again, Jaimie heard the phone ring in the house.

She was hopeful. Maybe someone had found Adele.

As she walked to the house, she thought for the hundredth time that something might have scared Adele. Dogs did run away. If so, she hoped Adele would find her way back. She’d taken Adele as a trophy, but already loved her like one of her own. The idea of Adele out there on her own, lost, hungry, maybe even hurt—was unbearable. Every time the phone rang, she hoped it was someone looking for a reward—she’d gladly pay a hundred dollars. Two hundred, even, if she could just get Adele back.

She was still in shock over Chad’s death. She felt as if she’d been beaten around the head. And Michael—she sensed that something was going on with him. Michael, the rock of the family. She sensed that he was holding something back. She sensed that he was scared.

Everything going to shit.

She got to the phone just before the recorder came on. “Hello?”

“Listen carefully.”

It had to be a prank. Whoever it was had been sucking on helium. “Michael, is that you? Because it’s not very fun—”

“I have your dog.”

“What? Who are you?”

“A friend. I found your dog on the road. She’s got a collar and tags, and the tag says ‘Bandit.’ That’s your dog, isn’t it?”

The weird Donald Duck voice, high-pitched and thin as a thread. She heard whoever it was pause, suck on something, and then he piped: “I want a reward.”

“I offered a reward. One hundred dollars—it’s all yours.”

“Good.”

“Why don’t you bring her here and I’ll write you a check.”

“No check—cash. I don’t trust the DeKoven family.”

That high Donald Duck voice.

“Okay, bring her here. When are you coming?”

“No, you meet me.”

“Meet you?” That didn’t sound like a good idea. Fear began to thrum in her stomach, in her heart. Was this a crank call? “No, you come here.”

“What a shame.”

“What do you mean, what a shame?”

“Poor doggie. Looks like Bandit is gonna go to heaven.” And the caller hung up.

Jaimie succumbed to panic. She’d blown it! Now this monster would kill Adele. She tried to find the number on the readout, but it was blocked. There was no place to call. How’d they do that? She had to talk to him—had to. The motherfucking bastard was going to kill her dog!

She sat there, trembling. Unable to move, unable to think.

The phone rang again. Jaimie stumbled to her feet and snatched it up. “Who’s this?”

Helium Man said, “I’ll give you one more chance.”

CHAPTER 46

Tess and Danny were once again in the Scofield kitchen. This time the subject was all about Wade Poole.

“So it washim,” Pat Scofield said, after heating up a plate of tamales. “You want one? They’re homemade—Bert made them.”

“Thanks,” Danny said. They each took one, doled out on dinner roll plates.

“Let’s go out onto the patio,” Pat said. “It’s so nice out there, even though it’s sweater weather.”

Pat said, “I saw him again. I was sure it was him, but Bert said it was my imagination. Even though he wasn’t there.” She shot him a resentful look.

Tess let Danny take this. She thought that he and Pat had a better relationship, for whatever reason. Bert looked put out, discounting his wife as usual.

“Can you tell me where you saw him?” Danny said, his voice quiet and gentle.

“Well, I was at the Safeway. And he was in line in the checkout—two people ahead of me.”

“Do you think he saw you?”

“He looked back. He tried to hide it, but I’m pretty sure I saw surprise on his face.”

“Did he say anything to you?”

“No.”

“Did you say anything to him?”

“I wouldn’t give him the time of day.”

“So what did he do then?”

“He just turned around and stacked his groceries on the conveyer belt. Like he never even saw me.”

“So you think he recognized you.”

“Oh, he recognized me all right. How do you not recognize your dead wife’s sister?”

“Did he react in any way?”

“You could tell he wasn’t going to. He thinks he got away with how he treated my sister, but he knew my feelings about him.”

“What happened next?”

“He left. I was still in line—I couldn’t exactly follow him out! But I watched him go, you better believe I did.”

“What did you see?”

“I saw him go out the sliding doors, you could see through them, and walk into the parking lot with his groceries.”

“Did you see him get into a car?”

“No. The person in front of me only had four or five items and I was putting things on the belt.”

“So you didn’t see what he was driving.”

“No.”

Danny looked at Tess. “Thank you, ma’am. I appreciate—”

“But I did see the truck when he drove by that couple of times. What you’d call cruising.”

“Can you describe the truck?”

“It was white.”

“Anything else?”

“I don’t know anything about trucks. Sorry.”

Danny looked at his notes. “Can you tell me about your sister’s nephew from her first marriage? His name was David, right?”

“Yes.

“She really liked him. But you have to understand, I wish she’d never met him. If she hadn’t, she would have never—” Pat’s fingers abruptly went to her mouth and her eyes grew wide. She looked at Tess.

She’d made the connection. After all these years.

Tess could see she was flailing. Her eyes were glassy as she looked from Tess to Danny and back again.

Danny hunkered down so he could look in to her eyes. “Are you all right?”

“I…” She glanced around, focused on her husband.

Tess noticed the stubborn look on Bert’s face. Had he thought the same thing at one time, but then discarded it as impossible? Tess had no way of knowing.

Danny said, “Do you think that is possible? That she was killed on purpose?”

“By someone, do you mean Wade?” demanded Bert Scofield. “Because that’s the most ridiculous thing I ever heard of.”

Tess thought that the idea must have crossed his mind before.

Pat said, “You didn’t see the way he had her under his thumb. There’s a mean side to him, as I keep telling you, but you won’t listen and neither would Dad.”

Danny shot a look at Tess. Tess said to Bert, “Would you mind—I like those tamales so much. I’m wondering if you can give me the recipe.”

“Sure.” He led her back into the kitchen. He reached into the cupboard and plunked down a bag of blue corn and husks for the wrapping. “It’s pretty straightforward.”

“Could you write it down for me? I’d really appreciate it.”

“Sure.” His voice was gruff. He grabbed a tablet that had been affixed to the refrigerator and got a pen from the kitchen drawer. “You’re not fooling me. You just wanted me out of there.”

“Yes, that’s right. But I do want the recipe.”

“Fine. But what you have to understand is, Pat’s always been, well, a conspiracy theorist. She’s been convinced from day one that Wade killed Karen. Although thankfully, she never said it in public. I don’t want to get sued.”

“Is Wade the suing type?”

“Who knows? But if you want my opinion, I think she’s imagining things.”

“But you do admit he’d know where she was at twelve o’clock that night.”

“Sure. But that doesn’t mean he’d do anything. Look, I know people. I work in business. He and I used to go on hunting trips together, and you get to know a guy. I don’t believe it, and I’ll tell you another thing, her dad thought he was a good guy. They worked together for fifteen years. George was his mentor. They were like that.” He crossed his fingers.

“You sound convinced.”

“I know people. Wade’s one of the nicest people you’d ever want to meet. Karen was…she was difficult. Her first marriage ended, but she got attached to that kid, Dave. Couldn’t let it go. No relation, but she was always humoring him. You ask me, she had a crush on the kid. You know, like those schoolteachers?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know, older women and kids barely out of high school. Or even in high school. She was a teacher herself. So…it’s not a leap to think that she might have had a crush on the kid. Going out there at midnight to pick him up when his car was in the shop? You asked me and I’m telling you what I really think: she was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Tess heard footsteps behind her—Danny. “Hey, thank you!” he said to Bert. “We’ve taken up enough of your time, so we’ll be going.”

“Yeah, well.” Bert glared at Danny. “Maybe you should spend more time on solving my father-in-law’s murder instead of going on wild goose chases.”

“Hey, you might be right,” Danny said. He held out a hand. “We’ll do our best to find out who killed him. It’s important to us.”

“Yeah,” Bert grumbled. “‘Your call’s important to us.’”

Tess grinned at Danny.

Outside, Tess said, “What do you think?”

“I think ol’ Wade is one hell of a con man.”

“Pat’s instincts are right,” Tess said. “But I can see how the guy can charm the pants off anyone.” She thought of the open, friendly face. The guy looked and acted like a big friendly dog. Like he’d bear hug you at any moment. “He’s good.”

Helium Man—that’s how Jaimie thought of the son of a bitch—told her to take Harshaw Road out to Mowry, an old ghost town down near the Arizona-Mexico border. It was a remote area, and few tourists made it there. She was to bring a “reward”—ten thousand dollars in cash. He’d wait until she showed up with the money and left it at a prearranged spot, marked by one of those flags on wires they used for cable markers. She was to call him at a certain number when she’d done it. Once he had the money, he’d direct her to where she would find Adele.

Not that she trusted him. But what else could she do?

She knew he was serious, because he called the dog “Adele.” So he knew somethingabout George Hanley’s dog, and he knew she’d adopted her.

This scared Jaimie to the core. She entertained the idea of not playing along, letting him keep her, but he’d anticipated that, too.

He’d told her, graphically, what he would do to Adele, and how long it would take to kill her. He told her he’d cook her on a spit.

She knew he was telling the truth.

“Why are you doing this?” she demanded. “Why hurt an innocent dog?”

His answer: “I know what you did.”

Jaimie could access the money. No problem with that. Briefly, she thought about calling Michael. But she knew what he’d say. She knew he’d tell her not to do it. And she had to do it. Adele was hers. Adele was more than just a dog—she was the embodiment of what they’d done. Everyone else had gotten a tribute, a prize, except for her. Even Chad, and he didn’t even know why. Just for buying the cougar, he had been given a surfboard, stolen out of Peter Farley’s house. But what did she get? Nothing. So she took her own tribute, her own prize. George Hanley was going to be hers. She’dfound him, she’dtargeted him. So what if she couldn’t do anything for at least a year?

He was hers, and she’d been cheated out of it.

She tried to tune out the fear she felt. But her mind kept going back to one question: Who would know about the Survivors Club?

Whoever it was, was male. She was pretty sure of that. Even if he disguised his voice with the helium.

But was she really that sure? Couldn’t it be the woman cop?

Was this a trick? Was she trying to lure her out there? Maybe she shouldtalk to Michael.

She needed to get the ten thousand out, though. That would take time. But if this wasfor real, Jaimie was not going to let whoever it was kill Adele.

She loved Adele.

Jaimie would go and take out the money, first. Then, if she needed to meet this person, if this was really on the up-and-up and somebody had figured this out and it wasn’t the Patagonia cop and if it wasn’t the Tucson cop, then she would go out there.

She ran out to the truck. The hand holding the car alarm button shook so badly she missed the first time. Then she was in the truck and taking off for Wells Fargo.

“Now what?” Danny asked Tess as they drove back to the sheriff’s office.

“I have no idea.”

“It’s confusing, that’s for sure. So what are we thinking here? You really think he killed his wife?”

“It would be hard to prove.”

“Yeah, but what do you think?”

Tess said, “I do. I think he killed Karen, and I think that her nephew was collateral damage.”

“Why, you think?”

Tess stared out at the blacktop winding through the golden hills. The sun baking the windshield, even though it was only April. “He was tired of her? He wanted to be rid of her?”

“Wouldn’t divorce be easier?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe he liked killing her. Maybe he liked getting away with it—you know, like that guy—”

“Drew Peterson?” Danny said.

“He reminds me of that guy. And don’t forget, Karen was five months pregnant.”

Danny whistled. “You think he didn’t want a kid?”

“Who knows?”

“Damn, I can’t imagine that. If that’s true, I want to kill that motherfucker.”

Tess could feel the violence in her usually easygoing partner. Coiled up, ready to strike. The new father—protective.

He darted a glance at her. “What do you think?”

“What do youthink?”

“I think he did it. Maybe because of the kid.”

Tess could see Danny’s knuckles white on the steering wheel. She said, “What about George Hanley? Do you think he killed him, too?”

“If he’s a killer, he might get off on it. First the daughter, then come back and finish off the dad. But why now?”

Tess agreed. “There was a long time between the two killings.”

“Yeah. Maybe George had figured it out about his daughter.”

Tess could see that. “You think maybe George contacted him?”

“What, and told him to come clean? How dumb is that?”

“I don’t think George would be that foolish.”

“Me either,” Danny said.

When they got in, they went straight to Bonny. They shut the door and went through it, piece by piece.

At the end of it, Bonny said, “What about Steve Barkman? You think Poole’s good for him, too?”

Tess and Danny looked at each other.

Tess said, “Could be. We’re also looking at Michael DeKoven for Hanley.”

Bonny leaned back. “You saying you think two people could have killed him. And neither one of them is a cartel?”

Danny said, “Might as well throw in the Zetas, Sinaloas, and Alacráns. Hey, it’s a party!”

“Jesus,” Bonny said. “George Hanley couldn’t buy a break.” He looked at Tess and then at Danny. “So who killed Hanley? That’s your case. That’s who you two should care about.”

Tess looked at Danny.

Danny looked at Tess.

“If you had to bet. DeKoven, or Poole?”

She leaned forward. “I could be wrong, but I think it was Poole.”

“The question is,” Danny said, “how do we find him?”

He’d shopped at the Safeway in Continental, so he might be in the Green Valley area. All they had was the description of a white truck—Pat didn’t know one truck from another—but fortunately, Tess knew everything about the truck except for its license plate.

That was because the truck had been muddy up to the wheel wells. She didn’t see the rear of the truck, but she guessed that he’d either muddied the plate or switched plates. What Tess did know was what he looked like, how he moved, how he talked. That broad red face, that friendly smile—open as the outdoors. He probably would continue to play the good old boy; he fit it so well. The other thing she had to go on was that he had been on Jaimie’s property at least once before, because he knew where she hid the key to her house. He had a sociopath’s easy way of lying—completely believable.

Tess wondered what he had been doing in Jaimie’s house.

She called Danny. After chatting about Elena—“She smiles at me!”—and how well Theresa was doing and the family’s participation, his brother surprising them with a homemade cradle—Danny listened to her theory. “So how are we gonna find this guy?”

“I have no idea. We have an Attempt to Locate out there, but unfortunately, there’s not much to go on. Wish I’d seen his license plate.” She thought about it. “If we’re right, he met up with George Hanley at Credo.”

“Which meant George went out especially to meet him. In the late afternoon when no one was around.”

“We need to get a photo of him. I’m sure there’s one from when he worked homicide in Phoenix.”

“Or his California DL.”

A half hour later they had a five-year-old picture of Wade Poole. A half hour after that, Tess drove out see Peter Deuteronomy.

This time the dog must have been inside. When Peter saw her he came out without his rifle. Tess was clearly making progress.

“Peter!” she called from her car, which she had once again parked diagonally so that the engine block was between him and herself. She’d opened the door and stood behind it. Better safe than sorry.

“What do you want now?”

“I want to ask you something about your friend George Hanley.”

“I don’t tattle on my friends. So you’d better go away.”

“Tell you what.” Tess rose and walked out from behind the car door and stood there so he could see her hands were away from her weapon. Just in case. “I think a bad guy killed George. The thumb drive you gave me showed that he was investigating someone, and that’s who I think killed George. You do want to help find George’s killer, right?”

“Hardly knew him.”

“But he trusted you. He gave you the thumb drive. He entrusted you with it.”

Peter canted his head, thinking.

“Just let me show you these photos, and if you see anyone familiar, you let me know. That’s all I’m asking.”

“Okay. But you can’t make me testify to anything! I will not set foot in a United States court. They’re liars and beggars!”

“You won’t have to testify,” Tess lied. She reached for the small poster board with six photos. “I’m just pulling out these pictures. Is that okay?”

“What do you take me for? Of course it’s okay. What do you think? I’m paranoid?”

Tess eased the poster board out and walked toward him, held it out.

He looked at it for one instant and said, “The fourth one, second row.”

Tess hid her triumph. “You’ve seen him before?”

“Saw him maybe two weeks ago.”

“Can you tell me where?”

“I saw him down in Credo. I think he was on a scouting mission.”

“A scouting mission?”

“I saw him from the road. I heard a noise—I’ve got really good ears, you gotta have good ears out here. And there he was, sneaking around. I noticed he had a rifle, and I keep track of stuff like that because I was meeting my—” He stopped. “What I noticed, see, was he had an AK-47, like the Mexicans do, only he’s Anglo. He went over to a tree and he fooled around some, and when he came back away from the tree he wasn’t carrying the rifle.”

“Do you mean he put it in the tree?”

He gave her a look that intimated she was completely clueless.

“Of course he put it in the tree.”

“You saw him put the rifle in the tree?”

“No, but he fooled around, you know, like maybe he had duct tape or something, and hid the rifle. Like they do. You know. They do it all the time down here—it’s their cache. Scared me—there are white guys who run with these people but all of them are bad guys, ’cept for a few. I keep my eyes and ears open but my mouth closed.” He pulled an invisible zipper across his mouth. “Live and let live, that’s my motto.”

And preserve your pot connection, Tess thought. “Which tree?”

“One of the oaks. They give a lot of shade, and it’s easy to hide stuff.”

“Whereabouts? In relation to the cabins?”

“Not too far from the one farthest from the road. The one at the end—on the little hill.”

The cabin where George Hanley died. Tess asked, “Which way from the cabin?”

“Down by that little dry creek. There’s an oak there.”

Tess remembered it. “How long ago was this?”

“I’m not sure. Before what happened to George. I just assumed it was somebody doing something—you know, drug running, gunrunning, people running, that kind of thing. No way I was gonna poke my nose in that hornet’s nest.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this the first time we met?”

He shrugged. “Didn’t connect it.”

“So you saw him as you were driving by?”

“ Walkingby, and you better believe I kept on going. Eyes forward, you know what I mean? You want to keep your eyes open and your mouth shut around here.”

“You weren’t driving your truck?”

“Didn’t you hear me the first time? I was walking. Made sure he didn’t see me, either.”

“You just went for a walk?”

He looked at her, defiant. “Uh-huh. Just a walk.”

“Look, I’m gonna be straight with you. I don’t care what you do or whom you do it with. I just want to make sure what you’re telling me is accurate. All I care about is George Hanley and finding the guy who killed him.”

“Well, that guy is him.” He tapped the paper with Poole’s likeness.

“Sounds like he was pretty far away.”

“I have twenty/ten vision. I was a sniper in the army.”

“Did he see you?”

“I don’t think so. It was getting dark.”

“Did you see a vehicle?”

“Nope. My guess is he left it way up or down the road, since he was sneaking around like that. I’ve seen stuff like that before.”

“Did you ever see George Hanley meet someone out there?”

“Only during daytime hours. I don’t walk down that road every night, though. Just once in a while.”

“Thanks,” Tess said. “You’ve helped a lot.”

“That’s good. Just being the Good Samaritan.”

Tess drove down to the Credo gate. She didn’t have a key to the padlock, but it was easy to slip through the four-strand wire farther down.

She walked to the cabin where George Hanley had been killed and then continued on down to the creek and the oak. The oak scattered deep shade on the mosaic of white stones and riverbed. There was a fork in the oak low down, and another place where more branches diverged. She spotted a small patch of duct tape hanging from the higher crook in the tree.

Fingerprints, maybe.

To get a job in law enforcement, you had to be fingerprinted. Wade Poole had been a homicide cop. His fingerprints would be on AFIS. She always carried latex gloves and evidence bags in a case in the back of the Tahoe. She went back to the Tahoe, donned gloves, and brought one of the larger bags. She also carried a knife. Back at the oak, Tess photographed the duct tape, then carefully peeled it off. Gingerly, she dropped the duct tape into the evidence bag, and back at the truck, she marked it.