In Seconds (22 page)

“Have you figured out who that might be?”

“No. They have a lot of friends, Sheriff, but not the type who’ll help us. Ryder and Beachum belong to a gang called The Crew.”

That was the problem, not the answer.

“They must’ve had some wire cutters smuggled in so they could cut the fence,” the warden was saying. “But we could drag every member of that gang into my office and interrogate the hell out of them for hours and not a single one would talk, because nothing we’re at liberty to do can compare with what’ll happen to them if they rat out a fellow member.”

“But you’ve tried to talk to them? Maybe there’s a weak link. Someone who really hates Ryder and would like to see him get caught. Someone who, down deep, wants to do the right thing.”

Laughter crackled over the phone. “I can see you’ve never worked in a prison.”

That told him they hadn’t called in any of Ryder’s or Beachum’s “buddies.” “Look, I already have one dead man here, thanks to your escapees. I expect you to do all you can, no matter how futile it may seem.”

Silence greeted this response. Myles had been speaking out of frustration more than anything else, but he didn’t apologize. When Ryder and Beachum drove that beat-up Toyota into his town and killed Pat, California’s problem had become
his
problem. And he didn’t appreciate it. “We
are
doing all we can, Sheriff.” His manner, suddenly wooden and overly polite, indicated any camaraderie had come to an end. His next words confirmed that the conversation had, as well. “Thanks for calling.”

“Wait!” Myles tried to catch him before he could hang up. There was no response, but he didn’t hear a click so he barreled on. “Tell me this. Why would these men come to Montana?”

“Sheriff, I didn’t even know they were in Montana until you told me. But it’s as good a place to hide as anywhere else, I suppose.”

The California authorities knew nothing, just as Myles had suspected. Laurel Hodges had left WitSec, so she didn’t even have that conduit to people who might know where she was and inform her of this escape. That tempted Myles to open their eyes, despite Rex’s warning. “You need to check out the shooting incident that damaged Ryder’s spine,” he said.

“Why?”

“Because maybe these two cons aren’t looking for freedom. Maybe they’re looking for revenge.”

“Against whom?”

“Whoever was involved in that shooting!”

The way the warden cleared his throat and deepened his voice reminded Myles of his father. “Do you know something you’re not telling me, Sheriff?”

Was he going to tell what he knew?
All
of it?

Myles tapped his fingers on the desk while he tried to decide. He wasn’t sure he believed what Rex said about The Crew being able to find out everything the authorities knew. That would require too much corruption, or too many girlfriends working in too many government offices. But…Los Angeles, where he’d been told this gang was largely based, wasn’t Pineview. Maybe he was being too naive. “I know they’re not out for a joyride. That’s what I know.”

Long after he hung up, Myles sat staring at the phone. Should he have explained that Vivian was Laurel Hodges and her life was at stake? That she was a mother of two children? That she’d already been through far too much and deserved to feel safe for a change?

He could’ve tried to enlist their support, offered to collaborate. Most sheriffs would’ve done so; he’d certainly considered it.

But he couldn’t ignore what Rex had said. Apparently he trusted Vivian’s ex-boyfriend more than he wanted to admit. Or maybe he just didn’t want to see what might happen if he disregarded that advice. Either way, he’d told the warden that Ryder and Beachum were here. Let them come look for their escapees without knowing any more about Laurel and her whereabouts than they did now. He’d make sure she was safe.

Speaking of safe… Myles glanced at the clock. He needed to head back to Pineview. He didn’t want Vivian returning from the airport in Kalispell to an empty house.

He’d just scooped up his keys and started for the door when one of his deputies—Ben Jones, his most recent hire—intercepted him.

“Ned Blackburn’s on the phone for you,” Jones announced.

Ned was an insurance salesman who was also on Myles’s softball team. At their last practice, Myles had mentioned that he’d like to increase his life insurance. But now was not the time. “Tell him I’m busy. I’ll have to call him back when things slow down around here.” He tried to circumvent Jones, but Jones caught his arm.

“I think you’re going to want to talk to him, Sheriff.”

Myles hesitated. “Why’s that?”

“He says he saw those two men you’re looking for. Gave ’em a ride yesterday.”

At last. Maybe Ned was the person who’d picked up Ryder and Beachum after Harvey left them on the side of the road. Or he’d given them a ride since. The way word spread in a place like Pineview, he knew it couldn’t be long before he heard
something
.

“Where is he?” Myles asked, suddenly far more interested than he’d been before.

“Line one.”

“Can he show us exactly where he dropped them off?”

“Says he can. Told me he’d drive you there right now if you’d like to go.”

He did want to go. But he wanted to make sure Vivian was okay first. “Tell him to hang on, that I’ll be with him in a second.”

Myles returned to his desk and called Vivian’s house. No answer. He hated to leave her at risk for even a minute, but he had no guarantee she was coming right back. For all he knew, she was spending the day in Kalispell shopping. It wasn’t as if they’d talked before she left.

“Sheriff? Ned’s waiting,” Jones called out.

“I know, I know,” he muttered, and glanced at his
watch again. It was only eleven. If he hurried, he could take that drive with Ned and get back to Pineview by noon.

Pressing the button with the flashing light, he brought the handset to his ear. “Ned? Where can you meet me?”

V
ivian had made a commitment to this place. After moving around for most of her life, searching for her niche in the world, she’d finally found what she wanted, and she was determined not to abandon it. She’d painted and repaired this house herself. She’d spent hours looking for the right cast-off furnishings—unique and eclectic pictures, rugs, window coverings and furniture. She’d planted her garden. Tomatoes, eggplant, zucchini, watermelon, strawberries. Pumpkins for fall. If she left now she’d never see any of it come to fruition.

But sending her children away hadn’t been easy. She didn’t know if or when she’d see them again. And that caused all kinds of doubts. Was she making a mistake? Taking an unnecessary risk? Being too stubborn for her own good?

So many times she’d almost turned the car around and gone back to Kalispell to board a plane for New York. But it was the fact that she had no guarantee that they’d be able to stay there, either, that stopped her. A life on the run was no life at all.

Virgil and Peyton would raise Mia and Jake if anything happened to her. But that was small consolation, because her kids meant everything to her. She just
couldn’t envision finding another town or city where they’d be as happy as they were here. It wasn’t the beauty of Pine view that convinced her, or her house, much as she prided herself on being a homeowner at last. It was the promise of what the future here might hold. It was Nana Vera. The women in her Thursday-night book group. Herb Scarborough at the bank. Mia’s ballet instructor. Claire and all the other people she’d tried so hard not to love. They’d worked their way into her affections despite her resistance, and she wanted to stay and embrace them fully. To truly become who they thought she was and let go of the fear that had been driving her for so long.

She’d survived the abuse she’d suffered at Tom’s hands, become a designer, even without a formal education, gotten over Rex when it would’ve been so much easier to continue wallowing in the mess they were together, and built a company to support her family. And she’d done it all on her own. She was established and successful and she wasn’t going to let anyone take that away from her.

As she drove around the lake, her eyes gravitated to the two-story house next to hers. Her night with Sheriff King hadn’t ended as well as she’d hoped. She couldn’t imagine he was too impressed with her at this point. But she’d been able to act on the feelings she’d had toward him for so long and, regardless of what happened, she’d always treasure the experience.

Her gaze shifted to her own home. The coming days, maybe weeks, were going to be so strange without Mia and Jake. The place looked different already, empty and forlorn with Mia’s tricycle on the grass and no little girl to come out and ride it.

How would she manage to live in a house where every noise, creak or rustle would be suspect?

She couldn’t even guess. But she had to try.

After pulling into the driveway, she grabbed her gun from under the seat and got out, but she didn’t walk around the car right away. She studied the place, searching for any sign that someone had been there while she was gone.

She couldn’t see anything. So when a figure emerged from her porch, she nearly jerked up the Sig and squeezed off a round.

Claire had been sitting deep in the shadows, hidden behind a pillar. She must’ve walked over because there was no car nearby. She did that sometimes, even though it was nearly two miles. She liked the exercise. But if she hadn’t called out when she did, Vivian might’ve shot her.

“Where’re the kids?” her friend asked, raising a hand to block the glare of the sun.

Rattled by what she’d almost done, Vivian shoved the Sig in her purse, which just happened to be the biggest purse she’d ever designed. She hoped Claire hadn’t seen the gun. It didn’t look as if she had. Vivian was carrying Jake’s jacket, which he’d left in the car when he got out, along with her purse, and the jacket had been partially covering her hand. Besides, Claire would never expect her to be carrying a weapon so she wasn’t likely to assume anything, unless it was very obvious.

Still, the incident made Vivian wonder if she knew what she was doing. She’d decided what was best for her family, but what was best for the people of Pineview? They didn’t deserve to get caught in the cross fire between her and Ink or whoever else The Crew had sent,
and that could easily happen if Claire continued to show up here unannounced. Look at poor Trinity Woods. She’d been shot and killed on Vivian’s doorstep in Colorado.

Vivian forced a smile. “They’re visiting relatives out of state.”

“Your sister?”

“Um, yeah.” She’d made up a fictional family who lived in Denver. She felt guilty every time Claire mentioned them:
Have you talked to your parents? How are they doing? When’s your sister’s baby due?

The subject seemed to come up again and again. But she’d had to provide
some
history. Everyone came from somewhere. To be able to share her excitement over Peyton’s pregnancy, she’d created a sister named Macy who was recently married and expecting her first baby. She’d also made up parents who were retired schoolteachers and gone so far as to say her mother suffered from adult-onset diabetes, which was why Claire constantly asked after her health.

Was it time to tell her best friend the truth?

That was something she’d never dreamed she’d be able to do. Just considering it made her feel freer than she’d felt in four years. She could be honest again. Not only that, considering the danger, she had a moral obligation to be honest.

She just wasn’t sure how to go about breaking the news, or how Claire might react. Claire had shared her deepest, darkest secrets, had trusted Vivian completely. How would she respond when she heard that Vivian hadn’t been doing the same? That she’d pretended to be someone she wasn’t from the very beginning?

Claire would feel betrayed. Hurt. Vivian didn’t think she could cope with that right now, not in addition to
the pressure and worry she was already experiencing. But she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if anything happened to Claire, and that meant she had to warn her.

“So you’re looking at some time off from the kids?” Claire waited on the porch steps. “How long will they be gone?”

“Possibly all summer.” That sounded like an eternity to Vivian but she had to accept that it could take a while to solve her problem. If she was lucky, the police would find Ink and put him back in prison before Ink ever found her, and Horse would be busted along with him. Maybe they’d take down several more Crew members, and all the ones who felt so strongly about exacting revenge would be locked up.

If she was lucky it could happen. But she’d quit counting on luck years ago…?.

Fearing The Crew might come careering around the corner at any moment and gun them both down, she beckoned Claire to the car. “Let’s go out to dinner.”

Claire didn’t move. “Right
now?
”

“Why not?”

“It’s only three o’clock.”

“I missed lunch.” She’d missed breakfast, too. Feeling as unsettled as she did, she couldn’t imagine stuffing food in her mouth, doubted she could keep anything down. It’d been too hard to say goodbye to her kids. But she had to get Claire out of here. “And…I have something to tell you.”

Obviously concerned by her ominous tone, Claire came to meet her. “What is it?”

“Can we talk at the Chowhound?”

She smoothed her blouse, then wiped her hands on her khaki capris. “I guess. If that’s what you want.”

“It’s what I want.” Vivian watched the street, guarding Claire until she climbed into the passenger seat. Then she got behind the wheel.

“What’s going on?” Claire was trying to work out how worried she should be, but Vivian couldn’t prepare her. She was too busy rehearsing her part of the conversation…?.

“You’ll see.”

“Is it bad?”

“Yes.”

She offered Vivian a weak smile. “Great. I love bad news.”

Vivian had already started the engine. With a quick check in the rearview mirror, she peeled out of the drive, and Claire grabbed for her seat belt. She’d been too preoccupied by Vivian’s references to impending disaster to put it on.

“Whoa! Be careful. You live next door to a cop, remember?”

How could she forget? She watched and waited for the sheriff all the time. She hadn’t realized what a habit it’d become until the past couple of days. With Rex around, she couldn’t gaze out the window or sit on the porch listening for Myles. Her fixation would be too noticeable, and that made it all the more apparent to
her.
“He’s at work.”

Claire seemed to understand that Vivian was gathering her thoughts. She studied her for a moment as if she could decipher the problem without words before attempting to move past her curiosity. “I bet Sheriff King’s been busy.”

“Very.” The comment was innocent enough, but Vivian’s mind immediately returned to the cabin where
they’d made love. Claire would freak out if she knew. She’d been after Vivian for a long time to give the sheriff a chance. Like everyone else, she seemed to believe he could walk on water. If she wasn’t still struggling to get over David’s death of a few months earlier, Claire might’ve been interested in him herself.

“But you’ve talked to him, right?”

“Now and then.” She’d tell Claire that she was really Laurel Hodges, but she wasn’t going to mention her encounter with Myles King.

“Has he said anything about the murder?”

Now Claire was guessing at the bad news. “Not really.”

As they reached the highway, Vivian noticed a car she didn’t recognize turning down her street. She tensed—but there was an old woman in the driver’s seat. Definitely not a member of The Crew.

“You okay?” Claire asked.

“Fine.” Breathing easier the more distance she put between them and the house, she tried to calm down so she could handle the coming conversation as carefully as she needed to.

“So…the sheriff didn’t tell you
anything
about the murder?” Claire pressed.

“It has nothing to do with what happened to your mother, Claire.”

“You don’t know that,” she responded. “No one does.”

Apparently, hearing that Alana had been murdered by some deranged killer was better than continuing to live with the mystery of her disappearance.

It broke Vivian’s heart to see how deeply the past still affected the present. But she couldn’t blame Claire for being so determined and steadfast. From what Vivian
had heard, Claire’s mother had been as devoted to her children as Ellen had been selfish.

“What does your stepfather have to say about it?” Vivian asked this as if she was merely making conversation, but she was more than a little curious.

“He thinks my mother’s disappearance might be related to Pat’s murder. I mean, he hasn’t ruled it out. Until we know who killed Pat, and if they ever had any connection to our family, no one can say.”

“Including your stepfather?”

“Right.”

If anything, Vivian thought Darryl O’Toole, Tug as he was called, might know more than he’d ever admitted. He’d been the last person to see his wife alive, and he’d certainly benefitted from her death. “Did he get that snow-removal contract he was hoping for?”

“He did.”

“Great.” Not that Tug needed the money. He’d inherited a couple of million dollars, thanks to his wife’s wealthy family. He’d bought a nursery and the bowling alley in Libby with the money, so he owned other businesses besides his snow removal company. But these days he was mostly retired and enjoying the good life, which included a luxurious home in the mountains with the woman he’d moved in with only six months after Alana went missing. “How’s Leanne?”

“Her business is growing. Have you seen her latest?”

Vivian hadn’t asked about her business. She’d asked about
Leanne,
but this answer was typical of Claire. Claire didn’t like to discuss her sister. From all outward appearances, they got along fine. But they were so different…?. “What’s she working on?”

Leanne made stained-glass windows and lamps and
sold them to stores around Montana or on the internet. She did incredible work, had even been commissioned to do windows for several churches.

Vivian thought Claire should leave Pineview and pursue her dream of becoming a famous hairstylist in New York or L.A., even if that meant leaving her sister behind. She’d married at twenty-six, then lost her husband after only four years, before they chose to have kids. Although her stepfather and her sister were all that kept her in Pineview, Claire wouldn’t consider leaving. Vivian had never heard the details behind the sledding incident that’d broken Leanne’s back—Claire wasn’t willing to talk about it—but she suspected Claire felt guilty for being the one who made it to the bottom of that mountain safely. Otherwise, she would’ve left town long ago.

“She’s doing a piece for the new library in Kalispell,” Claire explained.

“They commissioned her?”

“Are you kidding? They have no money.”

“So she’s donating it?”

“Yeah.”

“How nice of her. That’s a lot of work.”

“She can be surprisingly generous.”

It was the
surprisingly
that made Vivian wonder if their relationship was as loving as it seemed.

The Chowhound came up on their right, just past Chrissy Gunther’s Nice Twice store and the bank. When Vivian flew past the restaurant, Claire rapped on the window with her knuckles. “Hey, didn’t you want to turn there?”

She did, but first she had to see who was in town. She eyed all the people she could see, searching for anyone who looked out of place, or who could be Ink or another
thug. Only when she’d driven all the way past Gina’s Malt Shoppe did she whip around and return to the windowless Chowhound.

Claire took her by the arm as they met up at the door. “You’re acting so strange.”

“You’ll understand in a minute.” Squaring her shoulders, she motioned her friend in ahead of her.

At night the Chowhound became a strip club. On dollar dance nights it gave the Kicking Horse Saloon a run for its money. Some locals hung out here, but most of the nighttime traffic came from the men who poured through the area on their various hunting and fishing trips. During the day it served breakfast and lunch. It was always much less crowded then, even though it served some of the best burgers in town.