Lake of Tears (14 page)

“Probably not. Plus you could have gotten hurt yourself.”

“If I would have known … .” He trailed off.

“You’ve helped us with this information. Thanks for calling.”

“When I heard about the bones, I wondered. Terrible thing.”

Doug lay on his back in the twin bed in his grandmother’s spare room, and tried not to go to sleep. His nightmares were getting worse. Always he was back in Afghanistan, in those craggy hills, climbing through the rocks and bushes, trying to stay alive, trying to get away from whatever was following him.

He couldn’t stand the dreams anymore. He had to stop them. And he knew what he had to do.

He was all ready. Tomorrow or the next day he would carry out his mission. Call Andrew and set it up. Time to get this baby off his back. He almost didn’t care what would happen to him afterward. He had taken a vow, and he would stick to it.

Closing his eyes, he tried to stay alert. He could feel them all around him, creeping up. There was no way he could get out of the hole he was in.

He jerked his eyes open. The light shining down the hallway was like a star in the sky, showing him he was in his grandmother’s house. He could hear her gentle snore in the next room.

He reached down and felt the stock of the gun that was lying beside the bed. The cold metal reassured him. He had what he needed.

He closed his eyes again. This time he was walking forward, not skulking in the weeds. He was taking action. He was carrying out his last duty. It would be enough.

Sleep poured over him like enemy waves, swamping him in the dark.

“Let’s go into the sheriff’s office,” Claire suggested as she tapped Amy on the shoulder.

“You finally going to move in there?” Amy asked, getting up and following her down the hallway.

“Not yet. Hopefully not ever. I’m counting on the sheriff coming back. Just feels too strange to take over his office, plus I like being out on the floor. But I want to talk about Tammy Lee Johansen—where we’re at, and figure out what to do next. You got all the information from Mr. Swenson?”

As they settled into the sheriff’s office, Claire forced herself to go around the desk and sit down in his chair. The office chair was too big for her and not in good shape. It held the imprint of the sheriff’s large body. Probably just right for him. She, however, felt like Goldilocks.

Claire perched on the edge of the big chair and said, “What more did you get from him? Seemed like a garrulous old guy.”

“I doubt if it’s anything you haven’t heard, but I’ve been checking with more of the campers. So far he’s the only one who noticed the car that came that night. I’m thinking we should be searching Terry Whitman’s car.”

“Yes, I’d like you to bring in Terry Whitman’s car and go over it thoroughly. And have a look at Andrew’s, too. Andrew’s regular vehicle is that brand new Jeep. Doubt it has a muffler problem, but still might be worth looking at.”

“We know there’s going to be Tammy Lee’s fingerprints in Terry’s car.” Amy brought out a piece of paper from her file and handed it to Claire. “Also, we lucked out with her. She shoplifted something in tenth grade, so we’ve got her fingerprints on file. But who knows what else we might find in there.”

“Do you want me to tell Andrew that we want to search his car, or are you up for it?” Claire asked.

Amy wrinkled her nose. “I’d rather not. I’ve barely got seniority over him. It’d be better coming from you.”

“Not a problem. I’ll catch him as soon as he gets in and ask him if we can go over the vehicle. Why don’t you give it a once over, and if you find anything that makes you think we should inspect it more carefully, we’ll call the lab.”

“Sure.” Amy looked down at her notes, then looked up and said, “I just have to say this. I can’t believe Andrew had anything to do with Tammy’s death. I’m not saying he wouldn’t or couldn’t kill someone. I just don’t think he’d put her body in the boat. I think it’s too weird for him.”

Claire didn’t say anything. Let Amy have her say.

“He’s just not that kind of guy. Plus, Andrew doesn’t need to force himself on a woman. He’s cute and well behaved.”

“So are many sociopaths,” Claire couldn’t help pointing out.

“But he’s not like that.”

“War does hard things to men.”

Amy shook her head. “I guess. I just have a hard time believing Andrew would do something like that. It’s too creepy.”

“Yeah, there is a large creep factor in it. Makes me wonder if we’re looking at someone who’s done this before.”

“Like a serial killer?” Amy’s voice rose.

“Maybe not killed before, but done something with fires. I think you’re right, putting her in the boat to be burned. Worth checking out. Ask around about Terry. He doesn’t have a record, but see if there’s ever been any trouble when he’s been around, any arson.” Claire let out a sigh. “At least I don’t need to check on Andrew. That stuff would have come out when we were hiring him.”

“Why didn’t you go to Vietnam?” Meg asked Rich as they sat at the kitchen table, cracking black walnuts open and digging out the meat.

There were hundreds of black walnut trees on their property, and every fall Meg and Rich would crack open enough of them to make a cake or two. The nuts were not easy to shell, and to get even a cup of the walnuts took a lot of work. Not to mention husking them and curing them and soaking them. But when Rich made his black walnut cake with buttercream icing, Meg thought it was all worth it.

“Vietnam?” He lifted out a perfect nugget of a nut to show her. “I was a little bit too young. Plus I worked on a farm. We get special dispensation sometimes.”

“Would you have gone if they had drafted you?”

Rich slammed a hammer into a nut, and it shattered. “I don’t know. I doubt it. Don’t really believe in all that stuff.”

“What stuff?”

“Killing, fighting.”

“So you don’t believe in war?”

“Oh, I guess I’d say it might be a necessary evil, but not one I’d like to participate in. Also, sending all the young men off to fight when they don’t even know they could be killed, when they haven’t even lived, some of them haven’t had a drink, haven’t been laid.”

“Rich.” Meg was surprised by how blunt he was being.

“You asked me. If we drafted the old men, like my age, I doubt there’d be many wars. I for one wouldn’t go.”

“Well, I think war is just plain evil.”

He looked up at her, the hammer raised to strike another nut. “Good for you, Megster.”

“Do you think Mom is right—not wanting me to see Andrew?”

“Oh, you’d like me to get in the middle of that?” He slammed the hammer down and the nut broke in two perfect halves.

“You’ve got a good aim,” Meg laughed. “I guess it’s probably been hard on you, not taking sides.”

“Sometimes,” Rich said. “But mainly I’m glad it’s not my decision.”

“What do you think about me seeing Andrew?”

“To tell you the truth, I’d leave it up to you, but I have to say your mom doesn’t ask much of you—and this is her business. She knows more than me when it comes to the ways of the world. I’m just a lowly pheasant farmer.”

“Which rhymes with peasant farmer, or pleasant farmer.”

“You got it.”

“Let me have the hammer. You’re having all the fun.”

He handed the hammer to Meg. “You need to take out a little of that aggression, too, I guess.”

“Yes, this is the last time Mom can tell me what to do.” To punctuate that statement, she slammed the hammer down on a walnut. Unfortunately, she hit it too hard and the whole thing flew into bits.

“Somehow, I don’t think you’re listening to her,” Rich said, chipping away carefully at a nut.

“Whatever gives you that idea?”

“You seem happier than I think you would be if you really weren’t seeing Andrew.” He winked at her.

Meg brought the hammer down with a little more care. “Pheasant farmer and soothsayer.”

Andrew walked in right on time from his shift. Claire knew because she was waiting for him. She wondered how he would react to her request. He could demand a search warrant, but she doubted he would do that. Just wouldn’t be very smart.

She walked up to him as he was coming around the counter. “How’s it going?”

He looked at her and tried a half smile. “Not bad.”

“Hey, Andrew, I’m sorry to say this, but we’re going to have to search your car. Do I have your permission?”

He stood still and his gaze turned inward, thinking. Without much of a pause, he nodded. “I guess. It’s not here. I drove the squad car home last night. You want me to go and get it?”

“No, I’ll send Amy out for it. You can drive her out there. Just stay away from the vehicle.”

His eyes hardened. “I know how to handle this. Don’t worry.”

He stalked off and went to get Amy.

When Claire got back to her desk, the phone rang. She was glad to have something else to think about. She couldn’t help feeling bad about Andrew. No matter how much she didn’t want him seeing her daughter, he still seemed like a good guy to her.

A shattered woman’s voice said, “This is Mrs. Johansen. Can I speak to that woman, Watkins whatever her name is?”

“Speaking,” Claire said. “How can I help you, Mrs. Johansen?”

“Well, they delivered the bones, like you said they would. But it’s just bones.” The woman started crying.

“I’m so sorry. This must be so hard.”

“Yes, but you see, there’s the ring.”

“What ring?”

“Her engagement ring. She told me it was worth a thousand dollars, a real diamond and all. But I can’t find no ring in with the bones.”

“I don’t think a ring was found.”

“But it wouldn’t have melted. It must be there someplace.”

“I was with the forensic bone guy, and he made a completely thorough search of the burn site.”

“Well, a ring is heavier. Maybe it went deeper than he looked.”

“That’s a possibility.”

“Maybe I’ll go down and look for it.”

“No, I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’ll check into it and get back to you later today.”

“That ring is mine,” the woman said fiercely.

Claire wasn’t going to argue with her, but she wasn’t sure what the law was on that. It might actually belong to Terry Whitman; after all, he gave it to Tammy Lee as a promise of marriage.

“We’ll find it,” Claire assured her, then asked, “How’re you doing with everything, Mrs. Johansen?”

The woman broke into sobs, then when she quieted, she said, “My daughter’s dead and all I’ve got is a bag of bones and ash. I don’t know what to do. I just don’t know what to do.”

“I’m just double-checking with you, Dr. Pinkers. Did you find a ring when you searched the burn site?” Claire stood by her desk, ready to hit the road if she got the answer she was afraid she would get from the forensic anthropologist.

“I found a couple of nails, but no ring.” He sighed, then continued, “I would have told you if I had. I didn’t really have to dig down very far to extract the bones. They were all lying in order and I just carefully picked them up. Since they hadn’t been messed with and none of them were missing, I didn’t look any further.” He cleared his throat, then continued, “If you’re looking for a ring in that mess, I’d use a metal detector.”