Rising Heat (87 page)

My head hurt. My brain hurt. I pulled the cell phone out of my pocket and tried to call Hawk again. No answer. Another minute of use remaining on my phone gone. Where was he? Why was he doing this to me again? He had the most rotten timing of anybody I’ve ever known. Every time I really, honestly, and truly needed him, he wasn’t there.

Dammit.

I don’t know how long I waited in that office. The sun set. It grew dark outside the window over Detective Westin’s desk. I fidgeted in the chair, my foot jiggling nervously. I looked around the office, trying to distract my thoughts away from the image of the slaughtered man. I imagined his family getting the news. Them crumpling to the floor in grief. And it was all my fault. If he hadn’t been at my house, he would still be alive. I closed my eyes, leaned my head back, and wondered how this was all going to end.

This wouldn’t have happened if I had stayed up in Hawk’s cabin. If I hadn’t insisted on going home to prove something to the killer, or was it to me? That I couldn’t be scared out of my own house. That no one would get in the way of me making my living.

Guilt overwhelmed me. I choked back a sob that wrenched out of my chest and wiped the tears from my cheeks, sniffling as I heard the sound of the phone ringing out in the foyer of the police station. I straightened in my chair. Heard Officer Shelton speaking quietly into the phone. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but moments later the conversation ended and I heard his footsteps approaching the detectives’ office.

“Miss Whitcomb, that was Detective Westin. He said he couldn’t reach you on your phone. He’s going to be at the crime scene for a while yet. He’s heard from Detective Cutter, who is on his way back, but he won’t be here for about an hour.”

I thought about it. I didn’t really want to stay here, but where could I go? I decided that maybe I would leave to get a cup of coffee at the local Starbucks. Maybe doing so would serve as a distraction. I also needed to get another phone card to reload my minutes.

“I think I’ll just go out and get some coffee, take care of an errand,” I mumbled, rising from the chair. “I’ll be back in an hour or so. Will you let either Detective Cutter or Detective Westin know that I’ll be returning?”

“You shouldn’t go out, Miss Whitcomb,” Officer Shelton said. “Detective Westin will want to talk to you.” He shook his head, frowning. “Detective Cutter is in a black hole—”

“A what?”

He made a face. “Sorry, he’s out of cell phone range for a while. There’s not many cell towers along the road he’s taking back here. But Westin will have my hide if I let you go without some kind of protection… nearly everyone not on a call is out at the crime scene. I can’t leave the front desk.” He paused. “Won’t you just stay for a while? I’m sure it won’t be more than an hour—”

“I… I have to get out of here for a little while,” I said, shaking my head. “I’ll come back soon. Besides, the detectives have my…” They had my cell phone number, but not the number to my throwaway phone. “I’ll check back with you in a little while, see if either one of them is back.”

I didn’t wait for his permission. I needed to get out of there, and I wasn’t being held. I needed to do something, but I wasn’t sure what that something was. I felt fidgety, nervous, and of course, afraid. I couldn’t imagine what Hawk was doing or where he was. Why hadn’t he tried to call me? It was way past the time he said he’d pick me up at my house.

I stepped toward the door and Officer Shelton backed out of the doorway as I walked through, a frown on his face. I felt numb. My nerves shattered. As I got into my truck, I pulled the cell phone from my pocket and tried Hawk’s number once more. This time, his phone didn’t even ring, but went immediately to voicemail. I couldn’t figure it out.

I decided to go to the coffee shop. Maybe get a bite to eat. I wasn’t particularly feeling hungry, but I knew I had to keep up my strength. I hadn’t had anything to eat all day. Maybe some coffee would help settle my nerves. Of course I knew I was just fooling myself, but I didn’t know what else to do. I had no idea where Hawk was, didn’t know when either of the detectives would return to their office, so for the moment at least, I had to think for myself.

I started my truck, turned on the lights, and then pulled out of the police station parking lot. The coffee shop was only a few blocks away, but I didn’t dare walk it in the growing darkness. Not with a killer out there. A killer toying with me.

Lights were ablaze in the coffee shop, although it didn’t seem too busy. A few cars were parked outside. Next to the coffee shop was a bookstore, still open. On the other side, a shoe store, closed.

Running my fingers through my hair, I took a deep breath and got out of the truck. I had a feeling my face might be splotchy and red from crying, but I didn’t really care if anyone saw me like this. I was barely holding on as it was, and my appearance was certainly not uppermost in my thoughts at the moment. I left the truck, the crisp, cool air of the evening invigorating my flagging senses.

I pulled the door open and walked inside. A barista stood behind the counter, tapping out a text message on an iPhone. When he saw me, he immediately put the phone down and offered a smile.

“May I help you?”

I ordered a small caramel mocha coffee and a huge chocolate chip cookie. I paid for my order and waited at the other end of the counter. As I glanced around at the few patrons sitting inside, talking with friends, reading a newspaper, or exchanging text messages, not a care in the world, I felt a twinge of resentment. Maybe even jealousy. Everything seemed so… normal. For them at least.

“Miss?”

I realized the barista was trying to get my attention. My coffee was ready. I reached for it, mumbling my thanks and then turned to leave, the little white bag holding my cookie clutched tightly in my fingers of one hand, the cup of coffee warming the fingers of the other. Head down and not watching where I was going, I nearly bumped into a customer who just entered.

I looked up, gasping out an apology. “Oh! I’m so sorry—” It was Zach, from the Quilts R Us shop. “Oh, hello,” I said.

“Tracy.” He nodded and smiled.

His smile faded when he noticed my expression, probably my red nose and red-rimmed and bloodshot eyes.

“Are you all right? You don’t — excuse me…”

I offered a lame smile. “I wasn’t watching where I was going,” I said, moving to step past him. “Sorry.”

“Tracy,” he said again, his voice stopping me. “Are you all right?”

He sounded sincere. It was that very sincerity that got to me. Unbidden tears once again warmed my eyes. A strange noise escaped my throat. I don’t know how it happened, but the next moment, Zach was gently grasping my elbow and leading me outside. He guided me to one of the outside tables and pulled out a chair. I sat down, the cold metal of the white-painted chairs quickly making its way through my jeans. He sat down in the chair next to me.

“You look upset. Would you like to talk about it?”

His face was half in shadows cast by the glow of the lights inside the coffee shop. My back was to the window. I stared out at the street. “No… I’m all right. Thank you for asking.” I still held my coffee and the bag containing the cookie. The thought of consuming either curdled my stomach. I placed them on the table.

“Would you like a cookie?” I turned to ask him. “Or a flavored coffee? I don’t feel like eating this after all.”

Zach watched me for several moments, then leaned back in his chair as he shook his head, frowning. “No thanks.” He looked around. “If you don’t mind me saying, you don’t look so well. Where’s Mr. Hawk?”

Now that was the question, wasn’t it? I gave a small shrug. “I have no idea.” I felt a little odd, sitting here in front of the coffee shop with Zach, but where else did I have to be, really? I lacked the energy to move, to do anything. I glanced at him. “You going to get some coffee?”

He shrugged. “No rush. They’re open twenty-four hours.” He said nothing for a moment. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Not unless you can bring back the dead.

I shook my head. “No, but thanks for your offer.” I didn’t really feel like talking, but I didn’t want to be rude either. I sighed heavily. Out of the blue, Zach started talking to me as if we had known each other for years.

“You know, my mom knew your grandmother fairly well,” he commented.

“Really?”

“Yes, I think they both belonged to the same quilting group when I was younger, before my mom opened up the quilt shop.”

I didn’t say anything. I had forgotten that my grandmother liked to quilt. In fact, I had one of the quilts she had made me as a high school graduation present. It was in a box somewhere at the house…

I swallowed a sob.

At the house.

The house with the police cruiser sitting at the end of the driveway, the police officer inside—

“Yes,” Zack continued, offering a short laugh. “I remember one time I went with my mom to your house — your grandmother’s house. She was supposed to take several bolts of fabric there, but she had taken a tumble a couple of days before and hurt her shoulder, so I had to carry them for her.”

I glanced at him, trying to track the conversation. Why had my grandmother wanted several bolts of material? While I certainly wasn’t a quilter, I couldn’t imagine why my grandmother would need that much fabric, even if she were making two or three quilts with the same pattern. I guess it didn’t matter.

I realized that I had to say something. Again, not wanting to be rude, I asked him a question. “You’ve always lived here? In Seneca?”

Zach nodded, looking up and down the street. “Yeah, I want to leave and go to college, but I have a feeling I’m getting too old for that.”

I glanced at him. “Too old? You’re never too old to go to school.” While he appeared to be a few years older than me, he wasn’t
that
old. “What do you want to study?”

“I’ve always wanted to study computer technologies, maybe even programming.” He offered a distant smile, as if his mind were miles away. “I’ve always loved to play video games; thought it might be fun to learn how to create them.”

So, they did have something in common. Technology. “So why don’t you?”

“So why don’t I what?”

“Go to school.”

“My mom won’t let me.”

Now that was odd for someone his age to say. He seemed to realize how the words had come out and shrugged. “She needs help running the shop. Or at least that’s what she tells me.”

I frowned. “Can’t she just hire someone?”

He shrugged again. “Sure, I suppose, but I feel obligated to stay and help her.”

Despite myself, I was a little curious. “Why?”

“I was a bit sickly as a child,” he explained. “She sacrificed a lot to take care of me, especially after my dad left…”

Before I knew it, Zach was giving me a nutshell version of his life. I only half listened, nodding occasionally when I felt it was appropriate. We had only been sitting there for a few minutes, but it felt like forever. And then I heard him mention Hawk’s name.

“What? I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“I said I’ve always looked up to Mr. Hawk, but he’s not the friendliest sort,” he repeated. He lifted a shoulder again, which seemed almost to be a habit. “In fact, I think you’re the first client he’s had in quite some time that has even spoken to me or my mother.” He paused. “I’ve tried to be personable, but he always seems so distracted, so serious.”

“Well, it stands to reason that most of the people that come to see him have some sort of trouble and they need his help,” I replied. “He probably has a lot on his mind.”

“You’re right,” he said. “I never really thought of it that way.”

He looked at me and I saw the curiosity in his gaze. I wasn’t about to assuage that curiosity. “Well, it’s been nice talking to you, Zach, but I really have to go.”

He seemed disappointed, but offered another shrug. “Sure, I understand.”

I stood to leave, but he stopped me.

“Don’t you want your coffee and your pastry?”

I shook my head. “You can have them if you want. I’ll see you later.”

He said something as I turned to leave, but I didn’t catch it. I headed for my truck, thinking I would run out to Walmart and get another phone card. I climbed into my truck and backed out of my parking space. Zach remained at the table where I’d left him. I lifted my hand in a brief wave, but I don’t think he saw me, even though he was looking in the direction of my truck. Oh well.

I drove out to the Walmart, hyper-aware of everything and everyone around me. Was the killer following me? Watching me? Once I got back into my truck and loaded the minutes onto my phone, I tried Hawk’s phone again. Still no answer. I sat in the truck for several minutes, just watching people come and go. It was going on nine o’clock. Where was he? Why hadn’t he called? I wasn’t sure if I was more frustrated or angry.

I decided I would go back to the police station to see if either Detective Cutter or Westin was there. I pulled the business card Westin had given me from my pocket and dialed the police station. Officer Shelton answered.

“Officer Shelton, this is Tracy Whitcomb. Has Detective Westin or Detective Cutter returned yet?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “Detective Westin just got in. Detective Cutter has gone out to the crime scene.”

The crime scene at my house. I still couldn’t believe it.

“Thank you, Officer Shelton. Will you tell Detective Westin I’m on my way there?”

I disconnected the call and pulled out of the parking lot, heading back to the station. By the time I got there, my stomach was doing somersaults again. I walked into the station, nodded a greeting at Officer Shelton, who gestured for me to go right into the detectives’ office.

I steeled my nerves and walked to the door. Detective Westin sat at his desk, unmoving, staring down at the desk blotter in front of him. I knocked softly on the door jamb. He turned to me and half stood.

“Tracy… Miss Whitcomb, please come in. Sit down.” He gestured to the chair adjacent to Detective Cutter’s desk.

“You can call me Tracy, Detective. No need to stand on such formality anymore, is there?”