Blood Ties (10 page)

Probably not smart to say the fi rst thing that popped into my head, but — big surprise — I did it anyway. “Why?

Afraid of what we might fi nd out?”

He

fl ashed his creepy smile again. “What are you insinuating?”

I shrugged. “Wonder why you’re so hot to have the case dropped. Rumor has it you didn’t like your son dating Samantha.”

“Dating is an antiquated phrase isn’t it? He was fucking her. For some reason, the boy has confused sex with love.”

I clenched my left fi st to my side, then my right. Assaulting a lawyer. Appealing, but a complication I didn’t need. In my mind I slugged him. Hard. One little punch and he was laid out cold on the Berber carpet.

“Look,” he said in his best no-nonsense attorney 97

tone. “Th

e apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Samantha would’ve turned out just like her mother. Drunk, loose, trapping David into marriage with a lie . . .”

“But instead Samantha was murdered.” A mere coincidence? Or convenience?

“Which is exactly why
how
she spent the last two weeks is irrelevant. I’ve heard the Feds are involved . . .” He studied his manicured fi ngernails before smirking at Kevin. “I don’t see the need to waste any more of my son’s money or your time. She’s dead. David needs to get over it.”

“David is my client,” Kevin told him. “When
he
decides to ‘get over it’, then I’ll stop pursuing the case.”

After tossing the unused checkbook back in the briefcase, Charles faced me. “How does Shelley feel about this?

Th

e two of you dredging up her painful past?”

“Why do you care? She’s a drunken whore, right?”

Charles held up his hand. “I never said that specifi -

cally. I know her life hasn’t been easy. Or fair. And she deserves compensation for her suff ering, but it’s not right to expect . . .”

Th

e ugly truth dawned. “You sick bastard. You’ve talked to Shelley, haven’t you? You’re tempting her with some kind of lawsuit. Th

is ‘drop the case’ bullshit isn’t

about your son’s welfare. It’s about yours. What are you afraid we’ll uncover?”

“Maybe you aren’t so smart after all,” Charles sneered.

“You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”

98

“You?” I laughed, scraping a disgusted glance down his torso. “Save your breath. You don’t scare me.”

His balding pate became a blotchy red mass, but his tone remained composed. “I should. You’re wrong when you assume I’ve got no clout in this community. I’m not the same punk you remember from years ago. Don’t push me, Ms. Collins. I guarantee you won’t enjoy the results.”

I curled my fi ngers into my palms. “You threatening me?”

“Not threatening, just off ering a friendly
warning
. You don’t have a clue about what’s really going on.”

Kevin’s gaze narrowed. “And you do?”

“Apparently I know more than either of you.”

“Right.” I rolled my eyes. “You don’t know jack and you’re here on a fi shing expedition.”

“I know that Dick Friel wasn’t Samantha’s father and Shelley claims she was raped.”

Th

at stopped me cold. “Claims?”

Charles fussed with his vulgar, Black Hills Gold tie tack. “I’m not disputing she was raped. I’m just saying Shelley hasn’t been honest with anyone about her attack.”

“How on earth would you know that?”

A superior smile lit up LaChance’s face, from fi sh lips to reptilian eyes. “Because I was at the fair that night, along with a plethora of now prominent men in this town.

And despite her ‘I was drunk and don’t remember’ denial, I believe Shelley knew
exactly
who attacked her.”

99

Th

e sentence hung in the dead air like a slab of rotten meat. No one moved.

“Th

at’s bullshit.” I said fi nally. “Why would she hide that information? What possible reason would she have for lying?”

“Maybe you’d better ask her.” Charles grabbed his briefcase and swaggered toward the door. “You won’t consider dropping this matter?”

Kevin shook his head.

“Your call. I just hope for both your sakes, it is the right one.”

Charles turned toward me as if an afterthought. I didn’t buy his act, but was curious to hear what low-down scheme he’d hatched on the spot.

“You know, Julie, if you ever want to pursue
your
legal options with your brother’s unsolved case, call me. I’ve got contacts in the BIA and FBI. I’m sure if we hired a competent investigator, we’d fi gure out some way to get compensation for your pain and suff ering.”

Before I had a chance to respond, he’d slithered away.

Kevin and I sat in the McDonald’s parking lot gobbling super-sized Value Meals. “You think Charles LaChance is blowing smoke?” I asked.

“No. He knows something.”

“Or

thinks
he knows something. I wouldn’t put it past that sneaky bastard to try and lure us off track.”

Kevin crumpled the fry box into a misshapen red ball.

“What track? We’ve got nothing new.”

“Stop it. See? He’s poison. What do you always tell me?”

“Besides that you have lousy taste in men?”

I

cuff ed him lightly under his stubborn chin and said,

“Start at the beginning. Th

ink back to when this was just

a missing person’s case.”

I lit a cigarette, watching him cram burger wrappers and spent ketchup packets into the paper bag.

“I

fi gured Sam would turn up before I found her.

101

When she didn’t, I called her boss, her cousin in Lincoln.

Since she was a minor, the school angle was a bust. David didn’t want me approaching Dick or Shelley. So I followed Meredith. Felt like a pedophile, trailing after a fi fteen-year old girl.”

A mock shudder rolled through him.

“Anyway, David didn’t know where Sam had stayed up in North Rapid so I canvassed motels. Every one. Th ree

days of hitting every shift of every dive and still nothing.

Not one person saw Samantha Friel in over two weeks.”

“You

off ered them . . .”

“Money, booze, a get-out-of-jail free-card, you name it, I thought of it. But every clerk I talked to swore they hadn’t seen her.”

“What’s that tell you?”

“Either minimum wage doesn’t inspire employees to give a rip about what goes on around them,” his fi ngers curled on the steering wheel, “or Samantha lied.”

I nodded. “She had to stay someplace. So, where was she?”

“Hell if I know.” He aimed his brooding stare toward Toby’s Casino across the parking lot. “I’ve gone over this until I can’t think. Why would Sam lie to David if he was the only one who cared about her?”

“Maybe she was scared,” I off ered.

“Of

him?”

“No.”

102

“Of what, then? Of the big secret David alluded to?

First I’d heard of it. And from what little I’ve gathered, Sam was more pissed off than scared.”

“Someone killed her, so apparently she had reason to be scared.”

Kevin mulled that over. “Th

is sucks. I wish . . .”

“What?” I brushed my fi ngers over his, hoping for once, he’d let me give him reassurance.

“I wish I would’ve taken this more seriously from the start.” His sigh went beyond weary. “It was supposed to have been a simple case. Find girl, return her to arms of loving boyfriend, collect fee. Easy cheesy, right?”

“Stop beating on yourself.”

“Maybe Charles is right. What can I fi nd out that the locals can’t? And if I do fi nd something, who the hell is going to benefi t?” He moved to look at me, knocking away my hand like one would a pesky fl y. “Would it make a dif-ference to you? If you ever fi gure out what Ben was doing at Bear Butte instead of that casino in Arizona? Will it ever make any goddamn sense? Will it ever lessen your grief?”

With my show of compassion rebuff ed, I didn’t reply.

He sighed again, exasperated with my silence. “Let’s go talk to Meredith Friel.”

Th

e irony that the Friel house resembled the houses in my shoddy neighborhood wasn’t lost on me. Kevin and I walked up the cracked sidewalk and rang the doorbell.

My

fi rst thought upon seeing Meredith Friel was that 103

she didn’t resemble Samantha at all. She seemed closer to twelve than fi fteen, petite, with waist-length, fl axen hair, brown eyes accentuated with heavy black makeup. After shaking our hands and taking Kevin’s business card, she invited us inside.

However ramshackle the outside of the house appeared, the inside was immaculate, except for the dingy walls and the heavy odor of cigarettes. Had Dick hired a cleaning service? Or had Samantha’s responsibilities fallen on Meredith’s slim shoulders? I declined her very grownup off er of coff ee and waited for Kevin to begin.

“Th

anks for agreeing to talk to us.”

Meredith lowered her head. “Anything I can do to help.”

“I understand you were pretty close to Sam. When was the last time you saw her?” He didn’t add
alive
, it was implied.

“Th

ree weeks ago. Umm,” she said as she folded one toothpick thigh over the other, “she came back here. Guess she needed some money.”

“She say for what?”

“Food and gas. I waited until Dick fell asleep and lifted sixty bucks from his wallet.”

Meredith called her father
Dick
? Interesting.

“Did Sam ask you to do that?”

“No. But if she had, I would have, no question.” Despite the quivering chin, her eyes snapped defi ance. “I 104

would’ve done anything she asked.”

“When she came back . . . how did she seem?” Kevin asked.

“What do you mean, ‘how did she seem’?” Meredith repeated.

Kevin loosely draped his forearms across his legs and shrugged. “I mean her emotional state. Was she sad?

Depressed? Angry?”

“She was completely destroyed. Said her entire existence was a joke. Wouldn’t talk to anyone about it.”

“Not even you?”

“No.”

“How about the counselor assigned to Sam at the rehab center?”

Meredith leaned back into the threadbare Lazy Boy recliner, her rosebud mouth a perfect teenage moue of revulsion. “You’re joking, right? Sam hated that woman.”

Kevin saw his opening and took it. “Your mother knew Sam didn’t like the counselor. But she believed Sam might’ve gotten counseling outside of the rehab center.”

“
Shelley
told you that?” Meredith mocked.

Hmm. Shelley and Dick. Not Mom and Dad. Was this fi rst name basis a recent development?

He nodded. “Actually, she suggested Sam should try Catholic Social Services for counseling. You know anything about that?”

“Doesn’t matter because I know Sam didn’t go to CSS.”

105

“Why wouldn’t she go to CSS? Especially if she was short on cash? It’s free, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Wax-pale fi ngers stopped smoothing the crease in her washed out jeans, fl itting upwards to twist the silver chain circling her neck. “But if it was Shelley’s suggestion, Sam would’ve purposely avoided it.” Meredith’s blank look turned thoughtful. “Although Sam did mention once I should try going to church with her because her prayers had been answered.”

Kevin lifted a brow. “She went to church? Alone?”

His surprise matched mine. A sixteen-year-old
willing
to go to church?

“Probably. She and Grandma Rose normally went together, but Gran’s been out of town for the last few months, so I’m sure Sam went by herself.”

Meredith gazed past the slate blue Priscilla curtains shrouding us from the outside world.

“Sam had a faith in God I didn’t understand. So, naturally, Gran gave Sam the family rosary after her fi rst confession.” A ghostly smile loosened the corners of her mouth. “Sam totally freaked if it wasn’t in her purse. Said it made her feel protected.” Her glazed look turned shrewd.

“Did the police fi nd the rosary? Pink pearl beads with a big, white cross?”

“I haven’t seen the police report, but I’ll check.”

“Th

ank you.”

Kevin let Meredith gather her thoughts and I longed 106

for a cigarette. For a shot of tequila. For a rabid dog to bite my leg off so I didn’t have to sit politely and listen to the screaming silence of grief.

“Back to the counseling idea,” Kevin prompted. “You think Sam might’ve talked to one of her parish priests?”

“No.

Th

e priests at our church are as old as dirt. I can’t imagine they would spew anything besides the ‘honor thy father and mother’ line of rhetoric bullshit.” She wrapped her arms around her slight upper body, a self-hug. “God, how stupid is that? My mother lied to her for her whole life, and then my father kicked her out. Sam was supposed to honor that behavior? Get real.”

“Were you here when Dick kicked her out?”

When Meredith averted her eyes again, I recognized the maneuver. She wasn’t hiding something; she was trying to get control of the pain. Whatever she was about to say wasn’t pretty.

“He literally picked her up and tossed her out the front door. Told her never to come back.”

“Meredith, I know this is diffi

cult, but do you think

your father could’ve . . .”

Killed her?” she said without an ounce of shock. “First, he’d have to remove his fat ass from the barstool. But I’ve never seen him in such a rage.” Th

e turquoise ring twisted

round and round on her thumb. “He wanted to hurt her really bad, I could tell. But usually he saves the harshest beatings for Shelley.”

107

She glanced up sharply, apparently startled she’d spoken that tidbit out loud.

I watched Kevin digest Meredith’s proclamation, but he plugged away with more questions, no matter how much the answers bothered him. “After she left here, where did she go?”

“David told me someplace up on East North Street.”

“But she didn’t tell
you
where she’d been staying?”

“No.” Her gaze slid to the cuckoo clock in the dining room, memorized the crooked, ruffl

ed lampshade on the