BIG SKY SECRETS 01: Final Exposure (14 page)

He found himself smiling as he thought about her crazy pup and how she’d thought the big galoot was
going to be a watchdog to protect her. From chipmunks, maybe.

But his humor faded as he surveyed the dwindling number of possible leads he had to go on. Ted had probably been too smart to leave a trail.

Maybe he’d even left these clues on purpose, to sidetrack anyone trying to investigate. And maybe that money was gone forever into unknown accounts, and with it, any chance for Jack to prove once and for all that he’d had no part in Ted’s schemes.

A rusty prayer hovered on his lips.
Hey, God, I could really use some help here. Ted’s clients are suffering. My office staff will be jobless if I go under. And if I’m implicated in this mess, who will be there for Max? There’s no one else for him. Please, God, tell me what to do.

No matter what, he and Max would need to go back to Texas after his lease was up in Montana. He would need to find a way to rebuild his career, so he could establish a stable, comfortable home for Max.

But in the process, he would have to leave Erin behind.

Though his feelings for her had been steadily deepening, he didn’t have to ask her to know what the answer would be if he asked her to move to Texas for a chance to continue their relationship.

She would want to stay here and honor her commitment to her grandfather. But more than that,
what kind of gamble would that be, moving more than a thousand miles to follow a guy who might eventually be facing prison? He couldn’t let that happen.

So he would keep his feelings firmly in check and keep his distance. She deserved far better than someone like him.

The tiny library in Lost Falls was housed in an old brick bungalow on Main Street, its bookshelves crammed into what had once been the bedrooms, living room and dining area. The “tech center,” set up in the former kitchen, housed a typewriter and two computers that were dinosaurs from the late 1980s with dial-up Internet access.

Erin fidgeted on the swivel stool as yet another page from the Birch Valley newspaper archives slowly loaded onto the screen.

“Hey, Lily,” she called out. “When are you guys putting in cable?”

“Never.” The librarian, a middle-aged woman with a cheery smile, shuffled into the room, a hot cup of mint tea in her hand.

“That’s not soon enough. Hey, I like your shoes, by the way.” The woman’s conservative navy pantsuit was certainly standard fare, compared to her bright red furry slippers.

“The slippers and tea are the only way I can keep
warm in this place.” She lifted her mug. “Can I make you some?”

Erin looked up at the old-fashioned clock on the wall. “I’d better get back to the store, but thanks, anyway.”

“You know, it’s quiet here today. I’d be glad to continue searching for whatever you’re trying to find.”

“Really? Thanks!” Erin jotted down the dates she was researching and the name of the park. “I’ve been looking at the Birch Valley paper so far, but haven’t even started on the
Denver Post.
I’m looking for anything suspicious in the area to the north or west of Denver. Missing people, murders, maybe even a major drug deal.”

“Wow. Heavy stuff.”

“It’s just that I was in a state park and saw someone—or something—from afar. It’s been bothering me ever since, but I’m hoping that it was just my imagination.”

Lily shivered and cradled her mug with both hands. “I hope that person didn’t see
you.
That could be bad. Of course, you live way up here now. So that’s lucky.”

“Definitely.”

Except…a smart,
desperate
man had the world at his fingertips these days. With a little sleuthing he could’ve found out her name—maybe even from someone cleaning up after the wedding.

People searches were a breeze on the Internet and
would be an easy ticket to a world of information—even her old address. And Ashley’s door.

A knot of fear settled in the pit of her stomach. “I—I have to go. Please, do call if you find anything, okay?”

At Millie’s, Erin unlocked the front door and took Charlie out of his kennel to let him run in the fenced yard in back. By the time she came inside, the phone was ringing.

“I’m not sure if this is what you’re looking for, but there’s an ongoing investigation into the disappearance of a guy who owns a chain of dry cleaners. He was last seen alive around the time of your friend’s wedding.’

“Really?”

“There’ve been a couple of articles on it. Otherwise, there were some gang-related shootings and domestic disputes, but none of those victims are missing. I printed the articles for you—do you have a fax?”

Erin rattled off the number. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this, Lily. If you stop by sometime, there’ll be a caramel roll and cup of coffee for you on the house.”

A few customers came in for coffee to go, then left. Erin paced anxiously near the fax machine, then jumped when it finally rang.

Eight pages came through, a little grainy, but clear enough to read. Shuffling them together, she headed for the corner table in the café and began to read.

The first articles showed a photo of the missing businessman, a Ronald Peterson. The others included quotes by the investigators, who were at a loss as to where Peterson could be.

When she turned to the last one, her heart stumbled.
The missing man’s body had been found buried in an unnamed park, but there were no suspects in his murder.

And in this article, there were photos of the two lead detectives on the case. She squinted at the photos, trying to make out the details.

Her nerves jangling, Erin reached for her cell and speed-dialed a number.
Come on, Ashley, pick up.
But it rang eight times, then went into voice mail.

And Erin started to pray.

A
steady trickle of customers came into the store through the afternoon. Familiar faces, now. People who asked about her grandfather or called Charlie by name and leaned down to scratch him behind the ears.

The usual trio of elderly Second World War vets who often showed up around four to have coffee by the warmth of the potbellied stove, playing checkers and talking about the war until one by one they noticed the time and headed for home.

Ashley still hadn’t called back by five o’clock.

Erin read through the newspaper articles once more, then picked up the phone, dialed for Directory Assistance and called the Birch Valley Police Department.

“I’m…uh…calling about an article I read in the paper. About the body that was found in the park.”

“Hold on.” The line went dead for a moment, then clicked. “Sergeant Dean.”

“I’d like to talk to the person in charge of the Peterson case.”

“Your name?” He sounded bored, as if he’d fielded calls from crackpots all week.

“Erin Cole.”

“And you have information?”

“I’d like to talk to the investigator who was quoted in the newspaper. Patrick Doyle.”

“He’s not available, but I can help you just as well.”

“Actually, I need to talk to him. If I can leave a message, he could call me back.”

The sergeant heaved a sigh. “He’s no longer on the case. And before you ask, he’s also on a leave of absence. So if you have any information, you’re talking to the right guy.”

“What does that mean exactly, not on the case?” She could tell the sergeant was becoming irritated with her, but she pressed on. “Would that mean he hadn’t been doing a good job with it? Or that he—”

“Look, I can’t release that sort of information. If there’s anything you need to tell us, please do. If you have some sort of personal issues with Doyle, you’ll need to contact him directly.”

“I understand from the newspaper article that Peterson was last seen alive in the vicinity of a park near Denver and that he was later found dead.” She twisted the phone cord around her index finger. “I think I may have some photographs you’d like to see.”

“Photographs? Of what?”

“Possibly of someone who was involved. It’s just a guess, but I really need to show these pictures to somebody.”

“Can you drop them by the police station? Or do you need an officer to stop by and pick them up?”

“I’m actually in Montana. But I was in that park for a wedding on the approximate day that man was murdered.”

“Right. So you got a picture of the murderer just by chance?”

He still didn’t believe her. “I’ve been researching this case by using the Internet to go through old newspaper archives. I didn’t realize until just recently that I had pictures that might mean something. None of the articles reveal the exact location of where that body was buried, right?”

“That information hasn’t been shared with the press, ma’am.”

“Well, I think it was about fifteen yards from the river, back in an undeveloped part of the park just north of Birch Valley. I saw the remnants of an old, abandoned settlers’ cabin close by.”

The sergeant fell silent.

“And something else—I was on the other side of that river at the time, where there’s an overgrown fire road. That’s how I happened to be back there, after attending a friend’s wedding.”

“Give me your name and address, please.” The man’s voice was sharp, alert and all business. “And the best telephone number to use for reaching you.”

She gave him the information. “Do you want me to send prints?”

“I’d like you to send them directly to me by e-mail attachment. Do you know how to do that?”

“No problem. I can probably do it on Sunday or Monday, when I get my pictures back from the drugstore. There’ll be a CD with the prints.”

He carefully spelled out his e-mail address. “I’ll be watching for them. In the meantime, one of our investigators may give you a call to ask questions about what you saw.”

She hesitated, debating whether to share her suspicions about the identity of the man she’d seen in the woods. But if the sergeant thought she was trying to pin the blame on one of their own, he might discount her entire story. Who would believe her, after all?

“Thanks. I’ll do anything I can to help.”

After hanging up, she felt a cold chill work its way down her spine.

Someone had been searching her property.

Her laptop was missing.

Until now, she’d suspected Barry of trying to subtly intimidate her. He’d made no bones about wanting her property and his hopes that she would sell.

But what if she really
had
caught a killer in those photos, and he’d tracked her here, trying to retrieve them?

She’d never uploaded the photos onto the computer. If he was the one who had stolen it, he’d know that by now.

And he’d definitely be back.

The call from Dean came at seven o’clock, and it was the call Patrick had feared for more than a month.

“She’s probably one of those crazies, you know,” he scoffed, switching his cell phone to his other ear. “Maybe she even staged some pictures, hoping to get her name in the newspapers.”

“She sounded normal to me. And she also described the area where the body was buried. That information hasn’t been leaked to the press, and there were no bystanders around when we processed the scene. She
had
to be there.”

Patrick felt his palms grow damp. “Is someone going after the pictures?”

“This is the crazy part. She says she’s up in Montana, but she’ll e-mail them in a few days. I just hope they don’t disappear in cyberspace. If she’s right about them, she could help blow this case wide-open.”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Patrick said easily. “Sounds like just another dead end to me.”

“But one we can’t ignore. Given Peterson’s drug affiliations, his killer was probably a buyer or a supplier.”

“Maybe the perp did everyone a favor, getting rid of the guy.”

“But finding who offed Peterson could lead us straight up the ladder. This call is off the record of course. I still think it was wrong to take you off the case, and I just thought you’d like to hear how things are going.”

Staring at the endless ribbon of asphalt leading to Lost Falls, Patrick gripped the phone long after his old friend ended the call, his stomach twisting in a tight knot and his hands shaking.

He’d volunteered to head up the investigation into Peterson’s death, hoping he could do subtle damage control and intercept anything that might tie him to the case.

But he’d known it was only a matter of time when he’d caught the curious looks. The pointed questions. The murmurs behind his back. Complaints about the so-called “flaws” in his investigative procedures had dogged him every step of the way.

Being removed from the case had been humiliating. Yesterday’s intense questioning, followed by being placed on administrative leave, had made his future crystal clear.

The other homicide detectives were quietly gathering evidence against him, but they didn’t have a
tight case—yet. As long as he kept those pictures out of their hands, he still had a chance.

And already, the lights of Lost Falls were coming into view.

“S
orry about the late call, but I figured you’d still be up if I phoned before eleven. It was great hearing your message.” Ashley laughed. “In fact, I looked at my calendar as soon as I listened to it, trying to decide when I can come up for a visit. I think some of our other friends might want to come along, too, if that’s okay.”

“I’d love it. I won’t have much room for guests until the middle of December, but after my renter leaves I’ll probably really wish I had some company. It’ll seem awfully quiet here when he’s gone.”

“Ahh. So he’s ended up being a pretty interesting guy? Tell me more!”

“Ashley—”

“Come on, you can tell Auntie Ashley. Since my social life is so dull right now, maybe I can vicariously enjoy yours.”

Erin felt a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. “What about that handsome cop who stopped by
after your car was damaged? He sounded pretty cool.”