Looking Through Darkness (6 page)

“You know what bothers me most about all this? I spent years married to a man I never really knew. I saw only what I wanted to see. How could I have been so gullible?”

“Whatever Kurt did is out of your hands now. Maybe you should just let the past go.”

“I can't. The past will keep finding me, just like that box in the attic, until I deal with it once and for all.”

He nodded slowly. “You can't forget and let go until you have closure. I get it.”

Once again she heard the edge of darkness that lay just beyond his sexy smile. She wondered about that side of him, the one he never showed the world. Yet as badly as she wanted to know more, she didn't push. That was a line neither of them ever crossed. Their friendship had boundaries.

“If you think Kurt hid stolen money in a storage locker,” he said, “why don't we go over there right now and take a look?”

“I'm not sure the place is even open this time of night.”

“Give them a call. I have a feeling they don't keep banker's hours. The people who use those places often have to go there after work and on weekends.”

“Good point, but I still don't have a key.”

He smiled, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a combination knife. “I used to be very good at picking locks.”

She stared at him in surprise. “You were?”

“Practically gifted,” he said, chuckling. “As a kid, I was always taking doorknobs and locks apart to see how they worked. It drove my parents crazy.”

“Okay then.” She found the number on a phone search and called. A minute later, she hung up. “I got a recording, but if it's up to date, they're open 'til midnight.”

He stood. “Coffee can wait.”

They were on their way moments later. Leigh Ann had grabbed a copy of Kurt's death certificate along with the rental receipt.

*   *   *

“Are you sure you want to get involved in this?” she asked as she entered the city limits of Farmington, which was twenty miles to the east along the river valley. “I have no idea what I'll find except that it'll be something illegal. I may be getting you involved in a very dangerous situation.”

“Leigh Ann, you worry too much. I'm a big boy. I can take care of myself.”

“I'm just trying to look out for a friend,” she answered.

“I know, and I appreciate it, but you're doing me a favor by letting me get involved.”

“Really? How?”

“I'm between projects now,” he said. “This is the time I'd usually go visit the art classes at the elementary school. Unfortunately, the semester is almost over and funding cuts have taken away most of the summer art programs for the kids. Volunteering at the schools, dealing with the kids … that's what helped me unwind. Without those visits I'm too alone with my thoughts, and that often takes me down some very dark trails. I need to be occupied, to keep my mind busy. Being around the kids helped me create new art—being around you … even more so.”

“
I
inspire you?”

“You do in ways I find hard to put into words,” he said.

“That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me,” Leigh Ann said.

“It's the truth.”

She parked at the curb outside the high wall of the storage facility, her hands now shaking so badly at the moment she almost dropped her keys. “We're here. The gated entrance is about fifty feet away,” she said, but made no move to get out of the car.

“Relax, there's nothing to be nervous about. It'll be all right,” he said quietly. “No matter what you find here tonight, we'll figure things out and go from there. Take it one step at a time.”

“Good advice.” She took a deep breath, sat perfectly still for a moment, then finally climbed out of the Jeep and walked around the front to the passenger's side. “There's a sidewalk, but you have to step up at the curb,” she said through Melvin's half-open window.

He opened the door and stepped out carefully, feeling with the tip of his boot. “This is the time of day when I find it almost impossible to see anything at all. I can see shapes of people and objects when I get close enough, but at night even those disappear into the background unless there's really strong lighting.”

“Do you want to stay in the Jeep?”

“Not if I'll need to pick a lock. It's true that I have a hard time getting around at night, but I may still be able to help you. I can detect scents that you wouldn't necessarily notice, for example, and hear the slightest whisper. My touch is heightened, too.”

Leigh Ann's thoughts strayed as her anxiety was replaced with other emotions that led in another direction entirely. She'd always been more comfortable making love in the dark. It had been her way of hiding, of holding on to the piece of her soul she'd never surrendered. Now instinct told her that with Melvin there'd be no lines, no barriers left uncrossed. She bit back a sigh.

“The dark can reveal secrets we'd never share otherwise,” he murmured.

A delicious shiver ran up her spine; there was a tiny hitch in her breath.

Melvin said nothing, but she saw the ghost of smile touch the corners of his mouth.

Forcing herself to focus, she wound her arm around his and walked to the storage facility's office, a small room just inside the tall, sliding panel, metal gates. As they entered, a young, attractive Hispanic woman smiled and rose from a tall stool behind the counter. “Melvin! I haven't seen you in ages.”

Melvin paused for a beat, then said, “Jenny, is that you?”

“You remember!” she said, coming around the counter and giving him a hug. “I haven't seen you since you and Kathy broke up. I kept hoping you'd come by the house just to say hi,” she said, snuggling into him.

Leigh Ann stared at the woman, hating the attention she was giving Melvin and the way he was eating it up.

“Truth is, I'd heard you moved out,” Melvin said.

“Kath told you that, right?”

“Come to think of it, she did,” Melvin said, and laughed.

Leigh Ann suddenly wondered if Melvin had volunteered to come because he'd hoped to run into Jenny. Not that she had any claim on Melvin, but until that very moment, she'd never even considered the possibility that there were other women in his life. At the trading post, she was the only guide he would accept.

Theirs was the best of friendships, one with no demands or expectations. There was much she didn't know about Melvin, and she'd wondered, since they'd met, if he was still burdened by the memories of the accident that had cost him his sight. Something was keeping him from speaking of his past, at least in any detail.

“This is my friend Leigh Ann, Jenny,” Melvin said.

The young woman gave her a dismissive look. “Oh, yeah, hi, Lena.”

“It's Leigh Ann,” she hissed.

The young woman nodded, and moved closer to Melvin. “I'm so glad you came by tonight. It's been such a long time.”

Leigh Ann wanted to shake her until she rattled, but managed a thin smile instead. “You two can catch up later,” she said. “Right now, I need some help. My late husband rented storage space here, but I didn't find the paperwork until yesterday. According to this receipt, he was paid up for a year, but he's passed on and the rental payment is past due. I need to pay you for those extra months and retrieve whatever's inside.”

“I'm sorry for your loss,” Jenny said automatically, then glanced at Melvin again. “You're always ready to lend a hand, Melvin. That's so sweet.”

Leigh Ann glared at the girl. It was hard to imagine the possibility that there could be anything between her and Melvin. Maybe Jenny was being her namesake—a female ass.

“Do you have the locker number, ma'am?” Jenny asked, glancing back at Leigh Ann. “We usually don't close out unclaimed lockers right away unless we run out of space, so maybe you'll get lucky and everything will still be there.”

Leigh Ann read it off the receipt.

Jenny stepped over to the computer keyboard and typed for a few seconds. “Compartment eighty-four C? You sure?”

“Yes, that's what it says here,” Leigh Ann said, holding up the receipt.

“Sorry. That storage unit was closed out on October eleventh, almost eighteen months ago. The customer was given a prorated refund. We rented the unit again a few weeks later and that client is still using the compartment.”

“Check again,” Leigh Ann said crossly. “That can't be right. My husband died on October ninth, two days before that date. Dead people rarely come by to pick up their stuff.”

“Ma'am,” she said again, making Leigh Ann painfully aware of the difference in their ages, “this is all I have to go by.” She turned the computer screen around so Leigh Ann could see it.

“Looks like someone passed themselves off as my husband,” Leigh Ann said, reaching the only logical conclusion.

“Ma'am, that's not possible. No one can get into the storage units without using their personal key. We don't keep duplicates for security reasons. It's on our rental contract.” She pointed toward a large sign on the wall that detailed the basic agreement. “If we'd had a break-in at around the time, that would explain it, but we haven't had any problems here, like, in forever.”

Which begged the question how long was “forever” to someone her age, but Leigh Ann held her tongue. This wasn't the time to lose it.

“Also every time a unit is unlocked, especially on the night shift, an employee of the facility has to be present. It's an extra security measure. We don't allow people to just wander around back there. If the attendant accompanying your husband had noticed anything suspicious, like he was trying to pick the lock or use bolt cutters, he or she would have called the cops.”

“If your dates are accurate, it couldn't have been my husband,” Leigh Ann said flatly. “I notice your contract mentions security cameras. Can I see the video for that date and time?”

“Oh, of course!” she said, but after a beat, added, “Oh, wait, it's long gone. The DVDs are recorded over every few months. That helps keep down the costs to our customers.”

“What about your personnel records then? Any idea which staff member was on duty at that time?” Melvin asked. “Kath was working here back then, wasn't she?”

Leigh Ann glanced at Melvin, and realized that she was getting so upset she hadn't even thought to ask that.

Jenny looked at the display again. “Yeah, but the person on duty that night was a guy named Joey Smart. See his name on the receipt? Your husband—” she started, then seeing the look on Leigh Ann face, amended it, “the person who said he was your husband must have fit the description, because we take a photo copy of the renter's driver's license and compare it with the customer's face before we let them access any units.”

Leigh Ann stared at her in surprise, then after a beat added, “And no one here has a duplicate key to the renter's padlock?”

“No. Every renter has to have their own key
and
know the number of the unit. We don't give that information out.”

“Joey Smart … The name sounds familiar,” Melvin said, interrupting. “Wait a sec. Is that the same guy I heard about on the news? He identified his neighbor, an elderly lady with short hair, as the serial killer he'd seen on a reality TV crime show the night before?”

“Yeah, that's him,” Jenny said, laughing. “He apologized to avoid a lawsuit, but picked up the nickname ‘Not Smart' along the way. Then he got into a fight here with a customer and was fired.”

“So we're not dealing with a genius,” Leigh Ann said softly.

“At least Kurt and the person impersonating him were probably both males,” Melvin said.

“That doesn't narrow the field much. Do you have any idea where we can find Joey now?” Leigh Ann asked. “Maybe you have a forwarding address?”

“No we don't, sorry. After he got fired I heard he moved to Mississippi. I don't know where.”

Leigh Ann led Melvin back to the Jeep and opened the passenger's side door for him. “There's no way Kurt would have told anyone about the storage unit or willingly surrendered the key. He was paranoid and determined not to get caught—case in point, the shotgun in the attic,” she said.

“Maybe he left the key someplace, like his desk, and someone stole it.”

“I doubt it. Kurt was really careful and kept everything on two rings—the house keys, car, post office box, business, on one, which he always carried, and the garage cabinet keys on the other, which were usually in a kitchen drawer. I'm certain Kurt kept the padlock key with those in his pocket.”

“But it wasn't there when you got his personal effects from the police?”

“Not that I recall,” she said, pulling out into the street.

“Are you're thinking he was murdered by his partners?” Melvin asked.

“Who else had a motive? Maybe one or the other found out he'd been creating phony accounts and embezzling money. They squared off and things got out of hand.”

“You're thinking manslaughter as opposed to premeditated murder?”

“I suppose it could be either,” she said slowly, having time to think now that they were at a stoplight. “But Kurt wouldn't have willingly told either of them about the storage space … unless he was bargaining for his life. That points to premeditation.”

“Sure does. Do either of the partners resemble Kurt enough to pass for him at the storage place?”

She shrugged as they continued down the road. Traffic was light, with only a few cars out at the moment. “Wayne Hurley is about the same size and build as Kurt. He'd be a good match except for eye and hair color. Wayne has short, light brown hair, and Kurt's was longer and dark.”

“Sunglasses, a wig, or a cap might have fooled ‘Not Smart,' especially because he was working the late shift and may have been tired and inattentive.”