Sidetracked-Kobo (8 page)

The detective sighed again. “Okay, then. Let me tell you how it went.”

Fine. Since he knew so much.

“You got off the bus at 3:20. Went into your house two to three minutes later. Your mom was there. You got into an argument somewhere upstairs. Maybe you stormed into your room. Your mom followed. Like you just said, the hammer was still there from when you used it to hang the picture. You picked it up, threatened your mom—”

“Are you crazy?”

“She ran into her room. You followed. You started hitting her. And you just lost it. You hit her again. And again. Soon she went down by the side of her bed. And you kept on hitting.”

Laura’s breaths came hard, her chest rising and falling. This guy was
out of his mind.

“Suddenly—it was over. Your mom wasn’t moving. And you panicked. You hadn’t meant to do this. Now you had to figure out what to do. You ran into your room, still holding the hammer. Looked down at your shoes and saw they had blood on them. You stopped and took them off. Hid them in your closet under a pile of clothes, along with the hammer. But you had to replace your shoes, so you put on the blue pair. Then you called 9-1-1.”

Was the room moving? Or was it just her head? Laura tried to talk, but nothing came out.

“Isn’t that what happened, Laura?”

She shook her head. Shook it and shook it until her teeth rattled. Who was this man to say such things? To even
think
them? She wanted to strangle him right here. Wanted to punch his teeth in. Her hands trembled. Her body felt like Jello. Somehow she got her legs under her, pushed back her chair. She stood, swaying. Planted her hands on the table. Laura leaned forward, looking the detective in the eye. “Don’t. You.
Ever.
Say those things again. Don’t. You.
Ever
. Talk to me again. Because I can
promise
you—I will never talk to you!”

She flung her chair aside and stomped to the door. Yanked it open, barged out, and slammed it behind her.

She couldn’t breathe.

Laura threw wild looks up and down the hall. Which way? Where was her dad? She needed him
now
. Wait until she told him what the detective had said—

“Laura.” Detective Standish appeared beside her. “I’m afraid you’re not going anywhere.”

“Get away from me.” She veered down the hall.

“Laura, stop. Now.”

She kept going. He caught her arm and whirled her around.

That’s when she saw the cuffs in his hand.

April 2013

The day after Clara Crenshaw’s murder went from bad to worse.

I’d returned home after talking to Jack and Beth Grayson, and seeing Billy King, intent on pulling myself together so I could head back out. I had to visit Clara’s parents. Tell them how sorry I was. It would be a difficult visit, seeing their grief up close, feeling mine mingle with theirs. Was Dora Crenshaw fighting guilt of her own over her daughter’s death? She’d left the wedding shower about fifteen minutes before Clara, too stricken by one of her headaches to help clean up.

Once inside my house I felt all energy slip away.

Nicole and Colleen were gone, Nicole to her college classes and Colleen to her job at Grangers Gift Store. Pete was in the kitchen, washing up his breakfast dishes. Nobody could get a kitchen messier cooking eggs and bacon than Pete Baler. He stopped his work when he saw me, a dripping cast iron pan in his hands. “Del-Belle.” His blue eyes shone with concern. “How are ya?”

The comforting sight of him made me want to cry. All I could do was shake my head.

“You had any breakfast?”

I lifted a shoulder. “I’m not hungry.”

“You need to eat.”

“I … can’t. Not now.”

Pete put down the heavy pan and dried his hands on his battered jeans. “Come on over here, let’s sit down.” He beckoned me across the kitchen and into our gathering room. Pointed at the couch. I sat, and he settled beside me. “Where ya been?” His voice was gentle.

I looked at my lap. “Chief Melcher wanted to see me again. More questions.” I told Pete about Billy King. Measuring the bush in the Graysons’ yard. Seeing Billy at the site where Clara died. Pete leaned away from me as I talked, elbow on his thigh, watching my face. He had this way of hearing what I said—and what I didn’t. He’d set himself as my protector long ago, as soon as he moved into the house. He loved me like a granddaughter and sometimes bossed me like one, too.

“Aw.” Pete waved a hand when I fell silent. “Melcher’ll come around. He can’t hold it against you for long that you forgot to tell him somethin’ last night. Just after you’d found your good friend dead? What’s he expect of a gal?”

I wanted to believe that. But there were so many nuances of the encounter between the chief and me that I couldn’t explain to Pete. The vibes that had quivered in the air. My hostility at his questions of Billy, and the chief’s reaction.

“What if he doesn’t ‘come around,’ Pete? I got the feeling my description of the man’s height wouldn’t be enough to turn the police from looking at Billy. He was seen in the area. Recognized. That means a lot.”

Pete grunted. “Billy couldn’t a killed Clara.”

“I know.”

“They’ll see that soon enough.”

“You don’t
know
that, Pete!” A dust storm kicked up inside me. Whirled old dirt around. “People can be accused of crimes they didn’t do, and their lives are never the same. Especially if the lead detective is under a lot of pressure to solve the case—like Melcher is. Or maybe the detective’s just got an ego too big to fail. Melcher again.”

Pete sat back, one finger pressed against his bearded chin. “Well, we just can’t let that happen.”

But how to stop it? I’d crossed a line with Melcher. He would not listen to me anymore. “Melcher is bound to question Billy soon. And I’m afraid Billy will lie, like he did to me.”

“Maybe he’s not lyin’. Maybe he wasn’t on Brewer Street at all.”

I pictured Billy’s body language as he’d made his denial. Heard the defensive tone in his words. “He lied, Pete. It was obvious to me. And it’ll be more than obvious to Melcher.”

Pete ruminated on that a moment. Then shook his head. “What’s happenin’ is, the chief’s gettin’ sidetracked. And I’m here to tell ya, sidetrackin’ a train’s tricky business. Can cause some crazy accidents. Reminds me …” He focused across the room, his eyes taking on that faraway look he got when gazing into his cherished past. I so envied him that.

“Back in ’89, on a record cold day, one of our freight trains picked up three pusher locomotives in Helena, Montana for help gettin’ over the Mullan Pass. Then the lead engine got some electrical problem. The crew parked the train at the Austin siding, east of the Pass. They uncoupled the engines from the cars—I think there were forty-eight of ’em—and set the air brakes, but not the hand brakes. ’Bout 5:30 in the mornin’ the crazy cold temperature—I’m talkin’ thirty-two degrees below zero—caused the air brakes to fail on those cars. They started rollin’ backwards. Rollin’ and rollin’, pickin’ up speed, headed back into Helena. Nobody was awake to see ’em comin’, but even if they had … There’s just no stoppin’ that kind of thing. The cars crashed into a parked work train at a crossin’ in town, right near a college. Whole train caught fire and exploded. Amazin’ no one was killed. But it did a lot of damage and knocked out power. That’s pretty cold to be goin’ without heat for days. People got real scared. That kinda freak accident happens to you once, and you suddenly realize life’s full of random events that can rock you at anytime. Took the whole town years to come back from all the damage—physical and emotional.”

For a moment we both sat in silence, picturing the scene.

Pete sighed. “It’s too hard a thing, stoppin’ a tragedy like that once it’s done started. You got to keep it from ever gettin’ goin’. Put on those hand brakes as a precaution, know what I mean?”

I nodded. “So what do we do?”

Pete pushed his lips together. His mouth nearly disappeared into his beard. “I’ll think on it.”

“Don’t take too long. These things can move awful fast.”

He gave me a long look, and I tried not to wince under his gaze.

My cell went off—Andy’s ring tone. I pushed up from the couch to head for my phone in the kitchen. Pete wandered off toward his bedroom.

“Hi.” Andy’s voice was warm. Just hearing it made me want to cry. “How you doing?”

I wandered to the front kitchen window and gazed at the street. “Melcher called me back to the station. He’s starting to look at Billy King.”

“For the
murder?”

“Someone said they saw Billy last night, near where it happened.”

Andy breathed over the line. “Why would Billy hurt Clara?”

“Who said he did?”

“You just said somebody saw him.”

“Doesn’t mean he’s guilty, Andy. Just because he was nearby. Besides, he’s too tall.” I told Andy about the man I saw—and the bush. How I’d forgotten to tell Melcher that fact. “When I did tell him, he seemed to dismiss it. Almost as if he thought I was making it up just to save Billy.”

“Melcher doubted your
word?”

Andy’s sharp tone stuck a knife in me. No one in this town—except our chief of police, apparently—would believe I’d tell a lie.

How fragile, the life I’d built.

“I’m calling Melcher right now.”

“Andy, don’t. You’ll only make it worse for me.”

“I can’t let him treat you like that.”

“This isn’t about me. It’s about finding who killed Clara.”

Please, God, don’t let it start to be about me.

“Yeah, but if Melcher starts ignoring key facts just to nab a suspect …”

I had no response for that.

“Look.” I rubbed my forehead. “I need to go see Clara’s parents. I should have gone over there first thing this morning.”

“Okay. Keep me posted. And, Delanie, I want to take you out to dinner tonight. Away from town and all this. Somewhere in Lexington. I’ll pick you up around 6:30.”

I focused on a tree in my front yard. So green. So beautiful and full of promise in spring. I pictured someone taking an axe to it—and squeezed my eyes shut.

“Delanie?”

“I’m here.”

Did I even want to go out tonight? Part of me said yes, anything to be away from this town and with Andy. How I needed to be with him. For the rest of my life.

But on this day I’d be such lousy company. So many things, so many fears I couldn’t tell him. Now or ever.

“Six-thirty all right with you?”

“Yes. Thanks. I’m just …”

“I know.” Andy’s voice was gentle. “Call me anytime today if you need me, okay?”

“Okay.”

“See you tonight. I love you, Delanie.”

The words washed through me. “I love
you
.”

As I clicked off the call I spotted a police car coming up the street. It pulled to the curb in front of my house. Bruce Melcher got out, slammed the door, and strode with purpose up my front walk.

The chief’s hard pounding on the front door sent shock waves through me. I braced myself against the kitchen counter, my stomach queasy. He’d found me out, hadn’t he. My cursed past. A little digging into my background—and suddenly Billy King didn’t look like the best suspect anymore …

More pounding. I couldn’t move.

Pete appeared from the hallway, a frown on his face. “All right, all ready, I’m comin’.” He spotted me, my fingers digging dents in the counter tile—and raised his eyebrows.

“It’s Melcher.”

Pete stopped. Looked from me to the door. “Want me to answer?” he stage-whispered.

No.
I gulped in oxygen. Being laid bare, my sins uncovered, would be bad enough. But to happen in front of Pete, who’d never doubted a word I said …

Melcher pounded again.

“Answer it.” The words shot from my mouth. There was no running from this. Hadn’t I always known this day would come?

Already I could feel myself shutting down, the old barriers coming up.

Lord, help me. Even if I don’t deserve it.

Pete pulled back the door.

“Is Miss Miller here?”

“Yup.” Pete didn’t move from the doorway.

“I need to talk to her.” Impatience tinged Melcher’s words.

“I’m coming, Pete.” Somehow my legs found the strength to move me into the gathering room.

Pete stepped back and let the chief inside. As he pushed the door closed, Pete shot me a look—
“I’m right here with you.”

Melcher and I faced off across the room. His jaw was set, hands on his hips and feet apart. I knew that police stance all too well.

“Somewhere we can talk in private, Miss Miller?”

Pete’s gaze slid to me. A chill washed through my limbs. I couldn’t dismiss my self-proclaimed protector without hurting his feelings—and leaving him to wonder why. “It’s okay, Pete can stay.”

Melcher shook his head. “This is police business. I can take you down to the station if you prefer—”

“No.” I swallowed. “Come on into the kitchen. We can sit at the table.”

Pete cast a suspicious look upon Redbud’s chief of police. “I’ll be in my room.”

With the door open and both ears cocked, no doubt.

Pete shuffled off.

Melcher strode into the kitchen. I motioned to a chair, but he waved a hand at it. I sat down anyway. My legs wouldn’t hold me. Pictures of all I had to lose flashed through my head. Andy. My friends. This house. My
life
.

The chief’s small eyes narrowed. “I’ve just been over to the Graysons’. They told me you’d been there, had Jack measure that bush. Now I got
them
informing
me
how tall the suspect is.”

I gaped at him, feeling the weight of my breaths.

“I
told
you the information about Billy King was confidential.”

My brain could not reboot. This wasn’t about my past?

“Miss Miller!”

“Yes. I … hear you.”

“You had the unfortunate experience of discovering Clara Crenshaw’s body. You’ve told me what you know. Now you need to keep out of the investigation.”