The Quilt Before the Storm (22 page)

“We’ll see,” Harriet said. “I’ve at least got to try.”

She spent the rest of the trip staring out the window at the storm carnage that had yet to be cleaned up. For his part, Jorge was kept busy dodging debris, standing water, and minor mudslides.

“Here we are,” he said finally as he pulled off the road in front of the vet clinic.

A large Douglas fir had fallen across the front corner of the parking area, blocking the entrance, so Harriet would have to walk the rest of the way in. The offending tree was large enough it would require commercial equipment to cut it up and remove it.

“I’ll be back in an hour,” Jorge said as she got out of the truck.

“Thanks for driving me,” she said and pushed the door shut.

“Hi, Harriet,” one of the clinic vet technicians said from the front desk when she walked in. “Did you come to spend some time with Scooter?” The young woman was dressed in mismatched scrubs, her blond hair scraped back in a severe ponytail.

“Yeah, I thought he might like a little company. Besides, I can’t work without power.”

“We’re all getting a little tired of this storm. We have a generator going in the back to keep the patients warm and do their laundry, but we’re running it one hour on, one hour off to preserve fuel and it only runs two circuits. You can go on back. I’ll tell Aiden you’re here.”

Harriet went through the door the tech held open for her then down the short hall to the converted storeroom. The tech brought in a space heater and plugged it into an extension cord that trailed down the hall and out the back door.

“You’re lucky it’s an ‘on’ hour,” she said as she flicked the heater’s power switch. Aiden came in a few minutes later, Scooter in one hand, a fuzzy lap pad in the other. He deposited both in Harriet’s lap and turned to leave.

“Wait,” she said. “Can’t you stay and talk a minute?”

“I’ve got work to do,” he said, opening the door, then hesitating.

“Please,” she said in a quiet voice.

“There’s no point,” he told her without turning back around.

“Can’t you at least tell me what’s going on?”

“If I talk about it, you’ll try to tell me I’m wrong, and then we’ll argue and I don’t want to remember us that way.”

Harriet could feel the heat rising up her neck, flushing her face.

“
Remember
us?” she snapped, her voice rising. “I have no say in this matter? You’ve just decided we’re done, and I don’t even get to know why?”

She stood and put Scooter and his pad down in her chair then grabbed Aiden’s arm and spun him around. She started to speak, but hesitated when she saw the pain etched into the lines of his face.

“Please,” she pleaded. “Talk to me,”

“It won’t change anything,” he said, letting the door shut.

“What sort of lies is your sister filling your head with?”

“My sister is not telling me lies. She’s just helped me see things more clearly.”

“Are you sure that’s what she’s doing?
Helping
you? Think about it. When has she ever helped you?”

“I know my sister is greedy and self-centered, but that doesn’t mean she’s wrong about this. She knows our family, and more important, she knows me.”

Every fiber of Harriet’s being was screaming out that she knew Michelle was conning him because Carla had heard them, and Aunt Beth and Mavis had told her the truth, and she was certain Michelle had faked her proof, but she couldn’t betray Carla so she kept her mouth shut.

“Can’t we talk about it,” she pleaded, “and figure out
together
if we should keep seeing each other?”

Aiden jerked his arm free.

“There’s nothing to discuss. I’m sorry things didn’t work out. You tried to tell me all along we shouldn’t be a couple, and now I agree. Just let Shannon know when you’re done with Scooter.”

“Wait”…

He opened the door.

“Good-bye, Harriet.”

Tear filled her eyes as she picked Scooter up and put him and his blanket in her lap again. The little dog licked her face, his tail wagging his whole body. He did his best to charm her. He tried to chew on her earring; he pawed at her fingers until she petted his head. And he sneezed repeatedly if she stopped talking to him for more than a minute.

“If you’re trying to distract me, it’s working,” she told her little companion. “Maybe you’re the only man I need in my life—well, besides your feline brother Fred. I bet you’ll never leave me without notice or reason.”

Scooter licked her face again then began barking at the sound of a knock on the door.

“Come in,” she called when the door didn’t open immediately.

It was Shannon.

“I just wanted to let you know it’s time to turn the generator off again. It’s going to get cold in here. We have microwave heating pads in the animal cages that will retain the heat for an hour, so I’m afraid this little guy needs to go back.”

Harriet glanced at her watch and was surprised to see her hour was almost up.

“My ride is going to be here any minute anyway. Thanks for taking such good care of Scooter.”

“No problem,” Shannon said with a smile. Harriet didn’t know if the young woman had heard any of her discussion with Aiden, but her slightly awkward manner suggested she had.

She waited until Shannon and Scooter had left the room then put her coat on and walked out through the reception area and into the cold parking lot. Jorge’s pickup was parked at the side of the road, across the street from the clinic.

“How did it go?” Lauren asked when Harriet got into the truck.

“Let her be,” Jorge said when he saw Harriet’s face. “Is there anywhere you’d like to go? We’ve got about thirty minutes before we need to pick up the detective.”

“How’s that going to work?” Harriet asked. “I mean, where’s she going to sit?”

Lauren answered for him.

“I had the same question, but it turns out there are two little seats in back that face each other and have seatbelts and everything.”

“We could swing by the homeless camp,” Harriet said. “According to Morse, the paramedics took the bodies away, and Darcy was supposed to be trying to collect evidence. Maybe she’s still there.”

“The park it is, then,” Jorge said and turned the truck toward Fogg Park.

“Aiden is being totally dumb,” Harriet said, answering Lauren’s earlier question. “I can’t believe he’s willing to listen to his sister’s nonsense. I mean, what if his mother
was
a murderer, and his uncle, too? It doesn’t make sense for him to just give up his life and go hide in Africa, does it? Does that make sense to anyone?”

“If your family was psychopathic serial killers, wouldn’t that give you just a little pause,” Lauren asked. “I mean, wouldn’t you at least wonder if you were capable of turning into a killer?”

“But the very fact he would worry enough to want to break up and leave means he couldn’t be a psychopath.”

“Oh, so now you’re an expert on criminal behavior?” Lauren asked. “You see it on TV all the time—serial killer lived on our street and we never suspected anything, he was married with two-point-four kids.”

“And of course everything you see on the television is true.”

“As true as—”

“Ladies,” Jorge said, cutting Lauren off. “We’re here,”

He stopped near the restroom building. A red Jeep sat sideways across two parking spots, the back hatch open. Darcy was here.

Harriet got out of the truck; she zipped her coat as a slow rain started falling.

“I’m going to see Señora Joyce,” Jorge said and headed for the trail.

“Darcy?” Harriet called out as she and Lauren headed toward the restroom door.

“In here,” Darcy answered from the men’s side. “Don’t come all the way in.”

“How’s it going?” Harriet asked from just outside the door.

“I’m not getting much done on that quilt I’m making for my niece,” she said. “Hopefully, I can still get it done in time for Christmas.”

“I’ll hold a spot for you if you want me to quilt it,” Harriet offered.

“Of course I do,” Darcy said. “I don’t quilt anything bigger than a table runner on my own sewing machine anymore.”

“When the power comes back, call me with your best guess on timing, and I’ll put you on the schedule.”

“Thanks, I will.”

“Are you finding anything?”

Darcy was in the stall, paper booties covering her feet, a large black camera in her hands. She focused the lens and snapped a rapid succession of pictures.

“You know I couldn’t tell you if I did. But I
can
tell you this—the scene was compromised. Not only from people coming in to look at the vic, but a lot of fine debris blows into the bathroom through the vents during this type of storm.” She pointed up at a series of screened openings above each stall.

“It doesn’t look like anyone disturbed the body before the paramedics got here, but who knows. I’ll have to compare my pictures with the ones they took and see what story they all tell us.”

“I didn’t see any footprints when I came in here the first day,” Harriet offered.

“Whoever did this was careful,” Darcy said. “But with all the mud from people coming in and out before and after the crime and the open environment, he didn’t have to worry too much.”

“He?” Lauren asked.

“Or she,” Darcy said. “And that’s all I’m saying.” She started picking up paper bags she’d filled with samples and evidence then closed her camera into its case. “I’ve got to go check these in to the temporary storage area at the fire station,” Darcy said. “Do you all have food and water and batteries and stuff?”

“Yeah, we’re good. My aunt and Mavis stocked my house before the slide. I think we’re good for another month or so. How about you?”

“I went to stay with my folks. They’re doing fine, but I wanted to be there, just in case. Besides, they have a woodstove with a flat top, so my mom is cooking all kinds of yummy stuff in her iron pots while it warms the whole house.”

“Let me know about your quilt,” Harriet said as Darcy went back to her car. “We’re going to go see how the homeless folks are doing.” She headed around to the back of the restroom and the trail into the woods. “I hope Darcy can come up with something.”

“She didn’t sound very hopeful,” Lauren said.

The two women walked the rest of the way to the camp’s common area, each lost in her own thoughts. They found Joyce and Jorge laying a quilt from the plastic storage bin onto the table.

“Well, that’s weird,” Joyce said. “We’re missing a quilt. I was going to send one of the two extra we had left to Ronald at the church. Jorge said he would take it to him.”

“What happened to the one we gave him?” Lauren asked.

“I’m sure it’s in his tent, but I don’t feel like I should break in just to get a cover.”

“Break in?” Harriet asked.

“He has a little combination lock on the zipper. I know it isn’t much, but we all lock up what we can. It won’t stop a determined thief, but it does deter the casual one.”

“Did you look in any of the other areas? I understand you had some transient people who stayed here the first night of the storm.”

“They may have had extra people in the restrooms, but the people who were camping here went to the church shelter that afternoon.”

“Have you looked in Duane’s space?”

“No, I haven’t. That young woman from the police went back and looked around, but she didn’t bring anything out that I could see.”

“Do you mind if
we
look around a little?” Harriet asked.

Joyce nodded her agreement.

“Didn’t Duane have his quilt with him in the restroom stall?” Lauren asked.

“He did, but remember, he didn’t take one at first so we left the extras with Joyce, and I specifically gave her one for him. It was one of the quillows. But you know, now I think about it, the one that was covering him in the restroom didn’t have a pocket on it. At least, not that I could see.”

“Who knows what goes on when we aren’t here,” Lauren said. “Maybe they did something crazy, like trade their blankets. Perhaps the one you thought he was getting didn’t match his decor, so he traded it with one of the other inmates—I mean, residents.”

“Would you lower your voice?” Harriet muttered through clenched teeth as they walked farther into the woods.

Duane’s space looked much as it had when the Loose Threads had helped set it up several days earlier. His sleeping bag lay on the brush-pile bed covered by one of the tarps they’d made. There was no sign of a flannel quilt.

“Let’s take a peek at Ronald’s area,” Harriet said and led the way deeper into the forest.

“Not much to see here,” Lauren proclaimed when she came up beside her in front of the tent. As Joyce had told them, it was buttoned up tight, with a small luggage lock holding the two ends of the zipper system in its grip.

Harriet turned to go, but Lauren didn’t join her.

“You aren’t going to just walk away from this, are you?” she asked.

“I most certainly am,” Harriet answered. “Just because his home is outside doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be breaking and entering.”

“You’re no fun,” Lauren griped, but she backed away from the tent.

Brandy was nowhere to be seen as they walked back on the trail, so Harriet stopped at the entrance to her area and listened for the sounds of someone breathing.

“Is she in there?” Lauren whispered.

“I don’t think so,” she answered in the same tone. “Let’s check it out.”

They crept as quietly as they could into Brandy’s camping area.

“What have we here?” Lauren asked in a normal voice.

Piled on Brandy’s bed were three quilts, one with the distinct quillow pocket on its top.

Harriet picked up the quillow, and when she did, a cell phone fell out onto the bed. She dropped the quilt and picked up the phone.

“Jackpot,” Lauren said.

Harriet pushed the power button, but nothing happened.

“This probably ran out of juice a long time ago,” she said. “Let’s go back to Duane’s and see if he has the charger cord in his things. I’m not sure how it’s going to help us, unless it has a place for notes and he used it. But if he was doing something that got him killed, he probably didn’t spell it out for us.”