Behind the Walls (20 page)

What?

‘—especially since graduate school doesn’t come cheap at an Ivy League school like Cornell.’

‘Colonel.’ Harper clutched the phone. ‘This conversation – you’re making me very uncomfortable.’

‘I understand. You’ve thought you were all alone and on your own. It’s an adjustment to realize that you’re neither. Given your circumstances, Harper, I’m prepared to go even farther. I’ll offer your husband a job, too – there’s plenty of non-verbal work to be done  . . .’

Harper stood with her mouth open, appalled. Colonel Baxter knew all about Hank, the nature of his injuries, their finances. He’d not just been watching from afar; he’d been downright spying on them, just like Burke had said. What the hell?

‘ . . . believe me, I take care of my people. Come on board; you won’t have to worry about another bill. I’ll talk to Professor Schmerling. Dean Van Arsdale, too. They’ll give you an extension on your—’

He even knew her professor? ‘How do you know Schmerling and Van Arsdale?’

Another sigh. ‘Harper. Like I said: it’s my business to be connected. I’ve kept my eye on you. You’re one of the people I’ve wanted to keep close.’

In her mind, she heard Burke:
Be careful, Harper. He’s not just trying to buy you off; he’s also warning that he knows everything about you, including how to hurt you. It sounds like an offer, but it’s really a threat.

‘I’m a little overwhelmed here.’ She felt bullied and spied upon. Tried to hide the indignation in her voice.

‘Understandably. No need to answer me today. Just consider what I’ve said.’

‘But I assure you, my husband and I don’t need—’

‘Harper,’ he interrupted, ‘let me ask you this: out of all the places in the world, why do you think Burke Everett killed himself right in the town where you live?’

‘I didn’t say he—’

‘I think I know why. Everett came to you because he trusted you, because of the bond formed between you when you served in that detail. Owens and I saw him at Murray’s funeral, and he was almost irrational. He had wild notions about the past. Tell me, did Everett share those notions with you?’

‘No.’ It came out of her mouth too fast. Sounded untrue.

‘Really? Didn’t you see him?’

‘No.’ Damn – the lies just kept coming. Why was she denying it? If the Colonel had been ‘keeping tabs’ on her, he already knew she’d seen Burke.

‘You’re saying you never saw him?’ His voice sharpened; he knew.

‘No, wait – I forgot.’ She scrambled to change her story. ‘When he first came to town, we had coffee. That’s how I found out you were running for Senate – he told me. After that, he called a few times, but we didn’t connect.’

‘And? Did he seem stable? Say anything unusual?’

Don’t tell him anything. He’s fishing.

‘Well, he was depressed about Pete. He took the loss real hard.’

‘Murray’s death. That’s all he talked about?’

‘Yes, pretty much. Why?’ Harper sat stiffly on the edge of her bed, biting her lip.

The Colonel sighed. ‘I understand you don’t want to betray a comrade, Harper. But I can’t help but think that Burke came to you for a reason. Probably to confide something he considered important. And I have to think that it’s no coincidence his death took place in your neighborhood. In fact, I’m betting it was a symbolic message to you, reinforcing whatever he confided. Am I completely off base here?’

Sonofabitch. He’s threatening you. Saying that my death was a symbolic warning. A message telling you how close his people are, how much they can get away with.

Harper heard whispering on the Colonel’s end of the line. A chair creaking and background shuffling. Then his blustery voice again. ‘Sorry – I keep getting interrupted. But that’s my thinking. Terrible news about Everett. A real waste. Makes me even more determined to reach out and gather my people close. Think about what I’ve said, Harper. I can take care of you and your husband, and you can be of service. We both win. Sound good?’

‘Thank you, sir,’ Harper’s jaws were clenched. Something told her not to stand up to him. Not even to turn him down flat. ‘I’ll think about what you’ve said.’

When she got off the phone, Harper stayed on the bed, replaying the conversation. Feeling invaded. Exposed. The Colonel knew way too much about her life. Was way too pushy. How odd that a man running for Senate from a state she’d never been to, a man she hadn’t seen or heard from in years and had served with for only a few days – how odd that such a man would spy on her for years and call right after Burke’s death to offer jobs for her and her husband.

It made no sense at all.

Unless, as Burke said, the Colonel was trying to buy her silence about what happened back in Iraq.

Harper thought back to the detail, loading cargo on to the Colonel’s helicopter. Had those crates been loaded not with supplies, but with millions in stolen hundred-dollar bills? Was that why the Colonel had kept an eye on everyone who’d worked that detail? Was it possible that, for all his seemingly irrational paranoia, Burke had been right? Why else would the Colonel take time out of his busy campaign, just a few days before the election, to suddenly call her and out of the blue offer her a job?

Because he thinks you know the truth and he wants to scare you silent.

‘Shut up, Burke.’ She said that out loud. Good God, what was wrong with her, hearing Burke’s voice in her head? Answering it? Enough. She needed to get away, out of the house. Harper pulled on jeans and a heavy sweatshirt, grabbed her phone and bag. Hesitated for a moment, long enough to text Hank:
See you later
. No need to give details; he hadn’t given her any.

She was in the driveway, about to climb on to her Ninja when Detective Rivers pulled up. Oh God. What now?

‘Your friend wasn’t at the hotel when we got there, Mrs Jennings,’ she called as she got out of the car.

Her friend? Oh, Salih.

‘No one by that name was even registered.’

‘But I dropped him there  . . .’

‘Might have used a false identity. Fake name on the credit card.’

Really? ‘I don’t know why he’d do that.’ She felt as if she knew him. As if they were friends.

Rivers looked off into the woods behind the house. ‘Well, it’s probably not all that complicated. In my experience, people use false IDs when they’re up to no good.’

‘Detective, Salih didn’t kill his sister.’

Now Rivers looked at Harper. ‘You know that for sure?’

Of course not. ‘He was terribly upset about her murder. He didn’t seem capable of—’

‘I looked into the honor killing theory, Mrs Jennings. Lots of times, people kill their relatives even though they love them. They see the murder as a sacrifice necessary for the good of the entire family. A man might feel obligated to kill, let’s say, his sister. It would be his duty. That’s not to say he wouldn’t then deeply mourn her loss.’

Harper tried to imagine Salih cutting Zina. She couldn’t. Salih hadn’t done it. Had he?

‘These are people from a different culture. Different rules. If the brother did it, he thought he was doing the right thing. And his family will respect him for it. But I doubt we’ll get the chance to find out for sure. Salih wasn’t at the hotel, and the family’s cleared out of their place in New York.’

A breeze scattered leaves around their feet.

‘I don’t suppose he told you where he was going from here?’

Harper shook her head. ‘Sorry.’

‘Damn. Looks like this one’s going cold.’ Rivers frowned. Didn’t leave. Just stared past the garage at the trees behind the house.

Harper wanted to get going, sensed that she wouldn’t want to hear whatever Rivers was going to say next.

‘You or your husband own a Beretta, Mrs Jennings?’

A Beretta? ‘No.’

‘We asked the frat boys next door. Odd. None of them claimed it either.’

‘I’m sorry – I’m not following you.’

Rivers shook her head. ‘Of course you don’t; I haven’t explained. The fraternity boys were cleaning up after their party, and one of them found a gun by a ledge uphill back there – unregistered. So we’re asking if it belongs to anyone in the area.’

Harper nodded. ‘Well, it’s not ours.’

‘I didn’t expect it would be. The only prints on it belonged to the suicide victim.’

Burke? Why would Burke’s gun be in the trees behind her house?

‘And that leaves us with a conundrum, Mrs Jennings.’ Rivers’ brown eyes narrowed, and she crossed her arms. ‘How would you rather die, by jumping off a bridge or taking a bullet in the head?’

Seriously?

‘Because, between you and me? I can’t see why a man who had a loaded gun in his possession would go to all the trouble of climbing on to the wall and jumping off a bridge.’ She paused. ‘Of course, his gun was all the way back here. Maybe he dropped it. Couldn’t find it. Still. Something about this one doesn’t seem right.’

Burke had had a gun? Not a surprise, given his state of mind. But, as experienced in combat as he was, Harper knew that he wouldn’t have accidentally dropped it. He would never have lost his weapon; someone must have taken it. Must have ambushed him. There must have been a struggle, and he must have dropped the gun as they fought. Harper envisioned it; saw Burke running for his life, heading in the dark on to the Thurston Avenue Bridge. Feeling trapped there. Climbing on to the ledge.

But that was ridiculous. Students had seen him jump. They’d tried to stop him.

And they’d said someone else had tried, too. A man had been there, talking to Burke.

And Harper had seen a man run past her – a man who’d looked a lot like Rick.

Stop, she told herself. You’re imagining things. Buying into Burke’s delusions.

But what if Rick had been there, had struggled with Burke back in the trees. What if Burke had dropped his gun and run off, and Rick had followed, running right past her? What if they’d confronted each other on the bridge, and Rick had not been talking Burke down, but had been threatening him?

No question: rather than surrender, Burke would have jumped.

After Rivers drove off, Harper rode around town, replaying snippets of conversations with the Colonel, Hank, Salih, Burke. And, finally, with Rivers. Memories fragmented and bumped each other. She was finding Hank’s abrupt note, then hearing about Burke. Then finding Zina’s body. Or drinking with Salih. Or listening to the Colonel.

She thought of Rivers’ reaction to Burke’s fears of Colonel Baxter.

Rivers had scoffed. ‘Let me get this straight. The man is running for Senate from the state of Tennessee?’

Yes.

‘And supposedly, he stole millions of dollars from Iraq, yet he’s never been accused or even suspected of this theft.’

Again, yes. Harper had explained that she was just repeating what Burke had told her.

‘And this guy, Baxter – he’s suddenly having everyone who served on your detail killed in order to prevent potential accusations that, even if they were made, nobody could prove?’

Harper had agreed that it sounded crazy; she hadn’t believed it either. But then, Burke had died. Peter Murray had died. And the Colonel had suddenly offered her a job.

‘He what?’

Harper had told Rivers about the phone call. The Colonel’s too intimate knowledge of her life.

Rivers had shaken her head. ‘Mrs Jennings. This is all – well, no question, it’s odd. Nevertheless, other than an unexpected job offer and your buddy’s unsubstantiated claims, there’s no evidence that Colonel Baxter has broken any laws. Am I right?’

She had been. Unless Burke actually had possessed the proof as he’d claimed. But even if he had, who knew where it was? Harper rode her Ninja, airing her mind out, trying to think of other things. Like where Hank was. Or no, not that. And not about Zina and Salih, either  . . .

She refused to think about them even as she pulled on to the turn-off that led to the only place where she could find stillness and peace, where she could escape. She parked the Ninja not far from the spot where she’d found Zina’s body. When she heard the gong of her phone, she grabbed inside her bag, hoping it was Hank. Fumbling, she grabbed her flashlight instead of her phone. Then her wallet. When she finally pulled the phone out, she saw that it wasn’t Hank at all. She recognized the number on the screen, though. It was Richard Owens.

He knew that the Colonel had called her. ‘I’m following up.’ He sounded smooth, cheerful. Like a political consultant, not a hitman.

‘There’s nothing to follow up on, Rick. He made an offer, but I’m not interested.’

‘Hell, Harper. You called earlier – I got your message.’

Right – why was she snapping at him? He was just returning her call. ‘I wanted to tell you about Burke.’

‘Yeah, Baxter told me. It sucks, doesn’t it.’

It did.

‘But the very fact that you called me, that proves you still feel connected.’

Connected?

‘That’s what Baxter and I want to point out to you: we three share history. We’re linked, like family. Look, I know the Colonel pretty damn well. He’s a good guy. He comes across a little too strong. But he’s for real, I swear.’

For real? As real as Burke’s ‘suicide’? Harper wasn’t sure about Burke’s death, but she didn’t want anything to do with Rick. She started toward the Langston house. No way she was letting the Colonel or his people anywhere close to her. Even a punk like Rick.

‘Listen, Harper, I’m actually not far from you.’

Harper stopped walking. He wasn’t far? So that man she’d seen running – had it really been him?

‘I had to visit a big backer in Rochester, and before I head back south, tell you what – I’d love to sit down with you.’

Oh no. Harper tensed. Heard Burke warn:
Don’t let him.

‘I can come by, catch up, and we can iron out the specifics of your offer.’

What? ‘You mean today?’ Harper looked around, as if Rick would walk out of the woods.

‘Sure. How’s this afternoon?’

‘Sorry. Can’t today, Rick. I’m  . . . busy.’

‘Busy? It’s Sunday. And Halloween. What are you doing, trick or treating?’

‘I’m working.’ None of your business.

‘Working? On what?’

Seriously? ‘It’s archeology stuff. Nothing—’