Burnt River (24 page)

*   *   *

Macy peered over the bar at The Whitefish, looking for some sign of life. It was eleven in the morning and the place was deserted. On the drive over, she’d called the manager and had been assured that Lana would be working.

“Hello,” she said. “Is anyone here?”

The door to a storeroom opened and Lana stepped out, carrying several boxes stacked on top of one another. She didn’t see Macy until she put them down on the counter. She took a little jump back and nearly upset a tray of freshly washed glasses.

“Fuck, you scared me.”

Macy didn’t apologize. “Lana, we need to talk.”

Lana took out a utility knife and sliced open a box containing bags of potato chips. “I already told you everything I know.”

“That’s not for you to decide.” She gestured to the empty tables. “Would you rather do this here, or come down to the station?”

“I thought you were looking for some guy named Ethan Green. As far as I know, I’ve never met the guy.”

“I interviewed Nick Childs this morning.”

“What’s that got to do with me?”

“Can we sit?”

Lana plucked a glass from the countertop and poured herself a couple of measures of whiskey. “This time I’m going to have that drink.”

“Suit yourself.”

Macy dropped down in one of the many booths. The table’s surface was sticky. She slipped her notebook and pen from her bag and waited patiently for Lana to finish her drink.

“While you’re over there taking your time, I’d like a Diet Coke.”

She moved glacially. “Ice?”

“Yes, please.”

Lana leaned over the table and wiped it down with a wet rag before handing Macy her drink. “I suppose Nick Childs told you all about me.”

“He did.”

“I knew that little runt was going to ruin my life the moment he showed up here. I didn’t just come here to hide. I wanted a fresh start. Wilmington Creek. What are the odds that asshole walks in the door?”

“It does seem ironic. When was this?”

“About two months ago.” She sat opposite Macy, swirling the remains of the whiskey. The ice tinkled against the glass. “I told him that I’d put all that behind me, but he threatened to expose me if I didn’t cooperate.”

“By cooperate, I take it he wanted you to take him on as a client again.”

“No, it was worse than that. He wanted it for free. I was so afraid he’d say something. He’d come in with his friend and just sit at the bar watching me. Whenever John was here I made a point of acting like we weren’t together. I was already worried that John’s family wouldn’t think I was good enough, but this was far worse. If Nick Childs talked, I’d have to walk.”

“I’ve met John’s family. You had nothing to worry about. They seem to be pretty messed up.”

“John was thinking of going into politics. Even if I got rid of Nick Childs, there would be others. I’d be looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life.”

“What did you do?”

“I told John I wasn’t sure about us and I needed time.”

“That’s not how you felt though.”

“No, I really loved him. Through and through loved him.” She pulled a Kleenex out of a pocket and wiped her tears. “I couldn’t risk him finding out though. He’d have never understood. I was all set to leave town, but then Jean overheard Nick threatening me and kicked him out of the bar. I was sure he’d come back, but I never saw him again. After a while I began to believe it would be okay. That’s when things between me and John started to yo-yo. He didn’t trust me anymore and he’d made promises to Tanya. It was a mess. One minute we were together and the next he was telling me it was over.”

“You seem a bright girl. You must have known your actions would come back to haunt you.”

She pressed the tissue to her eyes. “I needed the money. My mother hasn’t been well for a long time. She can’t work. There’s no insurance. I did it for her. Not for me. For her. I lied and said it was to pay for school, but I didn’t see a penny of what I made. I don’t know what would have happened if I hadn’t taken care of things.”

“If that’s the case, I’m truly sorry.”

“And then I finally have a chance at being happy and, of all people, Nick Childs shows up.” She lowered her voice. “I didn’t even have that many clients. If I didn’t like the look of them I’d steer clear. Nick seemed all right.”

“No offense, Lana, but you’re a terrible judge of character. Nick is a convicted felon. He’s served time for multiple offenses, including aggravated sexual assault and armed robbery.”

“Shit.”

“That’s an understatement.”

“What happens now?”

“That really depends on Nick Childs. If he keeps his mouth shut, no one will be the wiser.”

“I’m tired of running.”

“Are you sure? It’s not just Nick you have to worry about. Charlie is still out there somewhere.”

“The worst has happened. I’m not afraid anymore.”

“All the same. I advise you to continue to take precautions.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you everything before. I know I’ve wasted your time.”

“I’m going to pretend it never happened.”

“Thank you. That means a lot to me.” She drained the remainder of the whiskey. “I have to get back to work or Jean will go ape shit.”

Macy gathered her things and made her way to the door. “I’ll keep an eye out for news about Charlie. I’ll let you know if I hear anything.”

*   *   *

Being careful to take the route marked out as safe by the fire investigators, Macy picked her way through what was left of Lindsay’s home. Water no longer dripped from the exposed rafters. Twenty-four hours after the fire, the house was bone dry. In places the ceiling was reinforced with freshly cut two-by-fours. Other than the linoleum floor, there was little that remained of the kitchen. The officers stationed out front told her Ryan was in the cellar. Macy stuck her head through an opening in the back wall of the kitchen. Acrid dust swirled in the lamplight. The wooden stairs had been replaced with a ladder. She took a deep breath.

“Ryan, are you down there?”

“Yep, watch your step. It’s a mess.”

Ryan stood alone in the middle of the low-ceilinged room. Cables and lights hung everywhere. Some areas had been completely consumed by the fire, but others were left untouched. Scorch marks ran up the walls, and in places the ceiling was open to the floor above. Shafts of light cut into the room at odd angles. They’d cleared a path through the debris.

“Where’s your trusty sidekick, Aiden?”

“He’s coordinating the team searching Ethan Green’s property. They’ve been up there since dawn.”

“Not your kind of thing?”

“Seems too much like hard work.”

“What’s the story with Aiden anyway?”

“Why? Are you interested?”

“I might be.”

“Ryan, he’s been married.” She paused. “To a woman.”

“Maybe he saw the light.”

“I’m telling you, he’s not your type.”

“You sound like you have inside information.”

“I might.”

He laughed. “Someday you’ll have to tell me everything.”

“You’ll have to wait until I write my memoir.”

“As long as I’m in the acknowledgments.”

“Wouldn’t dream of leaving you out. Can we get to work now?”

Ryan switched on a flashlight and pointed it to what was left of a storage unit. “Whoever did this knew what they were doing.”

“What am I looking at?”

“The landlord is a retired doctor. Instead of destroying old patient records, he kept them here.”

“That’s pretty creepy, but go on.”

“Everything was pulled out and piled up before being doused in gasoline.” He poked at a thin sheen of gray residue on the charred remains of a folder. “I’m pretty sure that’s candle wax. We’ve found it in almost every room in the house.”

“What’s the significance?”

“White utility candles can be bought in almost any hardware or home store. Cut them to the desired size, set them on top of your flammable material, and leave them to do their thing. They burn at a rate of one inch every forty-five minutes, giving the arsonist plenty of time to get away and establish an alibi before the fire starts.”

“Neat trick.”

“Low-tech and pretty much untraceable.”

“Did you find anything else?”

“Nothing you can use. If you hadn’t come along when you did, there’s a good chance the fire wouldn’t have been ruled as arson. Other than what you pulled out the bedroom window, this wax is all we have. And I don’t think anyone would have gone looking for it if you hadn’t found evidence that an accelerant was used. The accelerant was poured on the soft furnishings, beds and sofas. Whoever did this was careful not to leave any burn patterns on the floors.”

“It seems like they were counting on us not finding Lindsay’s body up at the canyon. They must have been wanting to destroy physical evidence in the house and her car.”

“Looks that way.”

“Kind of odd that her killer took such lengths to hide evidence of Lindsay’s murder, given how publicly John Dalton was killed.”

“Maybe Lindsay wasn’t part of his master plan.”

“Which would mean there is a master plan. The neighbor, Tyler Locke, said he saw a car drive by his house a little before ten.”

“That was probably the arsonist. By the way, I thought we’d decided we were looking for Ethan Green. You seem a little reticent about mentioning him by name.”

“I found all of Lindsay’s case notes on the mainframe. She didn’t seem close to finding Green. In fact, she was growing more convinced that he’d left town or died.”

“Are you tracking down everyone she spoke to?”

“So far they’re sticking with what they told Lindsay. Nobody has seen Ethan since last summer.”

“Have they found anything out on his property?”

“There’s no cell phone reception up there, so I have no idea what’s going on.”

“Could it be that someone in his militia wanted to pick up where Ethan left off? At one point he had a lot of followers. Someone could be using his gun.”

“The FBI and Ray think otherwise. They believe Ethan Green is behind all this.”

“What’s your next move?”

“Since I already drove all the way out here, I’m going to walk over and have another word with Tyler Locke. He may have remembered something else about the car he saw. At the very least, I want to get his thoughts on Ethan Green. Maybe John Dalton had some sort of disagreement with him in the past. John’s niece witnessed an argument. She couldn’t identify Green from a series of photographs, but she’s awfully young to be relied on as a witness.”

*   *   *

There was a handwritten note taped to the front door. Tyler was out in the garage. She cupped her eyes with her hands and looked inside the house. Tyler had tidied the place up since she’d last visited. There was a faint smell of cleaning products, and smoke. Through the back windows she could see a mound of rubbish smoldering in the backyard. It glowed like the lit end of a cigarette.

The double doors to the garage were shut, so Macy went around to the side entrance. She ran her eyes along the back fence of the property and peered into the half-dug fallout shelter. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched. At the side door she paused and gazed out across the yard and saw no one. She knocked on the half-open door and stepped inside the garage. Fragmented light filtered through the small windows along the back wall. She tried the light switch, but it wasn’t working. Tyler’s Suburban was parked inside, facing toward the garage doors. His bald head was leaning against the window on the driver’s side. He looked like he was asleep. She took a cautious step forward.

“Tyler Locke, it’s Detective Macy Greeley.”

Tyler didn’t move. She waited.

“I’d like to have a word with you about the car you saw the other night.”

Macy removed her gun from its holster and stayed well back as she rounded the vehicle on the driver’s side. Thick orange electrical cables stretched from a hole cut through the masonry to the car’s side window. Tyler’s mouth and nose were covered with wide strips of silver duct tape. His bare head was unnaturally pale.

She ran for the door. Outside, the backyard was bigger than she remembered, the sun hotter. The force of the blast lifted her into the air like a kite before sending her stumbling down the steep sides of the freshly dug hole. She spit up dirt and dust as she struggled to her hands and knees. The Suburban’s back bumper had skewered the hard-packed soil just a few feet from her head. It was bent like a frozen smile. She pointed her gun up at the sky, scanning the limited horizon for any sign of a threat, but she was shaking too much to hold the gun steady. She shoved it into its holster and crawled up the earthen slope.

The ringing in her ears was so strong she was thrown off balance. She staggered to her feet and held on to her right arm. A sharp pain ran down its length. All the back windows of the house were shattered, and scattered debris burned on the dead grass and in the trees. The garage was in flames; two of its walls were blown clean away. Tyler’s car was half buried in a deep crater that had been punched into the center of the concrete floor.

Two figures moved through the smoke. Jessie Dalton was the first to emerge. She ran toward Macy.

“Where’s Tyler? Is he okay?”

Macy swallowed. Her hearing was starting to come back. She caught some of what Jessie said, and guessed the rest. She tried to piece together the last few minutes. She craned her neck so she could see over Jessie’s shoulder. Dylan was pacing back and forth a few feet away from what was left of the garage. His mouth was wide as if from screaming. Macy’s voice sounded muted in her head. She had to yell to be heard.

“Tell Dylan to get back.”

“You should sit down.”

More shouting. The group of officers who had been assigned to Lindsay Moore’s home arrived. Ryan was still in his protective overalls. A couple of patrolmen attempted to move Dylan away from the garage, but he started swinging at them. One tried to grab him and he twisted away. He turned to the garage and called Tyler’s name. Macy could hear him clearly now.

Jessie started to walk away. “I need to go talk to Dylan.”

Everything was starting to spin. Macy dropped to her knees in the dry grass. “That’s not a good idea. Stay here.”