Up in Flames (26 page)

The woman scowled, but didn’t have a chance to say more. A large man walked out the door behind her, letting the screen door slap shut as he walked around the woman. “What you want?”

His voice was gruff, his attitude defensive, and it took about two seconds to decide that he made a decent murder suspect—big enough to overpower most women, and arrogant enough to think he could get away with it. The desert camo pants and army boots added to the tough look, even though his gut put him a good forty pounds over army standards. His canine companions didn’t add anything to his character references. “Are you Brice Ogden?”

“Who’s asking?”

“Shut up!” Sophie flinched as the woman yelled it into the air. Behind the house, the barking died down to a few snarls, then started up again as loudly as before.

Sophie raised her voice. “My name’s Sophie Larkin. I was told you might be able to help put me in touch with some people who own tarantulas.”

He gave her the same up-and-down examination the woman had. “Yeah? Who told you that?”

As suspected, another paranoid freak. She’d play along, except there was no way this one was going to sniff her neck. There was also no way she was going to get Manny in trouble when he was just trying to be helpful.

“A guy I met at the Moosehead. I didn’t get his name.”

She watched him digest what had to be a common occurrence at the Moosehead—no names exchanged—and felt dirty everywhere his gaze touched her. His upper lip curled into a sneer. “You don’t look like anyone I ever seen at the Moosehead.”

Thank God. But he had a point—her skirt and knit top had been selected for a courtroom and to make a decent impression on Zane’s lawyer, not for cozying up to questionable men. Time to develop a tough attitude of her own. “I had to make an appearance in court this morning, and it’s none of your business why.” She wasn’t even slightly amused that the truth made a great excuse. “I just want some information on tarantulas.”

He spit into a scraggly bush beside the front door as he considered it. “Why?”

“Because I don’t know anyone else who has one. Look, I just want to make some helpful contacts. I thought there might be a club or something. If you don’t know, just say so and I’m gone.”

He studied her, threw an irritated glance over his shoulder at the racket from the dogs, and said, “Christ, Cheryl, go shut them fuckin’ dogs up.” The woman tightened her lips into a thin line, but left. Brice looked Sophie over again before answering. “Your information’s out of date. I don’t have tarantulas no more.”

“Oh.” She wondered if it was because Rena Torres squashed them all while trying to escape him.

She hadn’t expected to get shot down so fast, and didn’t know what else to say, but Brice wasn’t done with her. “Most women don’t like ’em.”

Around the side of the house a dog yelped, and sudden silence descended. Cheryl was tough, too.

Sophie felt an uncomfortable need to join the Tough Club. “I’m not most women.”

Brice showed some teeth in a slow smile.

She longed to turn and leave, but this was her only lead. Someone around Barringer’s Pass had a collection of exotic insects, and she had to find them. “Do you have any other big spiders?”

“Are there others?”

So that meant no. “Know anyone else who has tarantulas?”

He thought more carefully this time. “I might.”

“What’s that mean?”

He motioned with his head toward the door. “Come on inside while I look up some names and make a few calls. We’ll find someone for you.”

He might. Then again, the chances were a lot greater that he had something else in mind. And one thing was certain—even if Cheryl wasn’t still with the dogs, Sophie didn’t care to be in the same room with Brice. It was time to be as careful as she’d promised.

“No thanks, I’ll ask around. But I’ll keep your offer in mind.”

“You do that.”

He called it out as she did a fast walk to the Jeep. On the highway, she gunned it toward Barringer’s Pass, even though it was already too late. She’d missed Zane’s arraignment. But if she was lucky, she could visit him in jail and give him all her reassurances in person. And maybe mention that she loved him. Jail might not be the best place to hear it for the first time, but she had nothing else to offer.

And he might be there for a long time.

17

Z
oe flattened her
hopes with one sentence. “You can’t see him, they’re moving him to the county jail in Blackstone.”

“Then I’ll go there.”

Sophie said it as she spun on her heel, but Zoe grabbed her arm. “Not today. His lawyer said you’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”

Frustration welled up like lava looking for a venting hole to relieve the pressure. “Well, damn it, they can’t keep him away from us forever! It’s not like he’s in solitary confinement.” She turned a stricken look on Zoe, almost afraid to ask. “Is he?”

“No. You’ll get in tomorrow. Now sit down.”

Zoe led her to a pretty wooden bench in the public square next to the courthouse. It was crisscrossed by brick-paved walkways and landscaped to perfection to match the charming touristy appeal of the rest of the town, but Sophie couldn’t find any charm in it today. She sat stiffly next to Zoe, ignoring the few people strolling past. “What did he say?” she asked. “How good is the case against him? And how did he look in court?”

Zoe didn’t let go of her hand. Sophie thought it was possibly to reassure her, but was only more apprehensive at the thought that she might need to be anchored down when she heard Zoe’s report.

“He’s fine,” Zoe said. “Not angry or sad as far as I could tell. Just very closed off. Controlled.”

Typical Zane. It was a good start. “Did he smile at you? Nod his head? Did he ask about me? Like, could you read his lips if he said my name?”

Zoe sighed. “He barely looked at me, Sophie. Our eyes met for a second, so I’m sure he saw me, but then he skimmed right over me. Maybe he was looking for you.”

She made it sound hopeful, as if Sophie might be fooled into believing it. “If he was looking for me, he would have tried to say something to you. Wouldn’t he?”

“He wasn’t allowed to talk to anyone, Sophie.”

“No, but he could at least mime a puzzled look. Something to let you know he had expected to see me.”

Zoe shrugged. “Maybe the guards are really strict about that sort of thing.”

Sophie pulled a half smile to hide the aching sense of loss that he hadn’t even reacted to her not being there. “Right.”

“Really. I mean, he didn’t smile at his friend Will, either. Well, not much.”

“You met Will Chambers?”

“He stayed after to corner the lawyer, same as me. The guy’s name is Bradley Boggs. He seems smart, like he knows what he’s doing.”

Sophie tried to set aside her disappointment with the lack of communication and concentrate on Zane’s legal defense. Even if he didn’t care that she wasn’t there, it didn’t change anything. She was still on his side. “Does this Boggs have experience with murder cases?”

Zoe hesitated. “No. But he’s dealt with DNA evidence in court before,” she rushed to add. “He talked to Zane about it, and Boggs feels they can mount a good defense.”

“It’ll have to be a
great
defense if they get a jury from B-Pass.”

“He’s asking for a change of venue to Blackstone, and says he’ll get it. There’s too much chance that a conviction here could be influenced by newspaper stories and the Thorson family’s reputation.”

“No kidding.” Trying to counteract that was a point in Boggs’s favor. She almost hated to ask the next question. “What kind of DNA evidence do they have against Zane?”

“A hair, found on Rena’s clothes.”

“That’s it?” She’d been afraid it would be semen, and they’d call it rape. Hair seemed like nothing in comparison.

“It’s enough to make a case that they were together, which he had denied. That might be all they need to push people to the logical assumption that he killed her.” Before Sophie could argue it, she hurried to add, “But that’s not the whole story. Apparently there were hairs from another person on her clothes, too. They don’t know who yet, because they only took Zane’s DNA. Boggs said the prosecution rushed this case, Sophie. That they’re too eager to convict.”

She could believe that, but it made her feel only marginally better. Zane was still locked up, still charged with murder, with the police force and public opinion against him, and no other suspects on the horizon. She couldn’t imagine how he felt, but knew it would include anger, humiliation, and hopelessness. “I want to see him as soon as possible.”

Zoe nodded. They sat there for several seconds, but there didn’t seem to be anything left to say. “I guess you don’t need a ride back to the commune, now that you’ve got your Jeep.”

“I’m not going back there. I’ll spend the night at my apartment.”

Zoe frowned. “Zane said it’s not safe.”

“The commune is an extra hour from Blackstone. It doesn’t make sense to go all the way back there.”

“Fine, then you can stay with me and Jase.” When Sophie opened her mouth, Zoe spoke first. “No argument. There’s no reason to take chances, and we have a guest room.”

“I was going to say thanks.”

“Oh.” She smiled. “You’re welcome.”

Sophie just hoped she had something good to tell him by tomorrow, something to give him hope. Right now she had nothing.

The next morning, Zane lay on the lower bunk in his cell, staring at the underside of the mattress above, mentally connecting the stains to make patterns. It was almost like picking out constellations. It was the most challenging waste of time he’d found so far, next to talking with his cell mate, which he tried to avoid. The young armed-robbery suspect sat on his upper bunk, amusing himself by drawing action figures in his sketchbook. Zane had to admit they were quite good if you liked women with enormous breasts and bazooka-toting men in combat gear. And more women with enormous breasts. And sometimes just enormous breasts.

Zane had just found a fair imitation of Orion in what looked like bloodstains when the cell door rattled and slid open. He turned a disinterested glance at the guard.

“Thorson. Come with me, and bring your stuff.”

He had no stuff, but got up. “You’re moving me?”

“Yeah, all the way out. Someone bailed your ass out.”

He stopped, saving them both some trouble. “I think you got the wrong guy.”

“Zane Thorson, number 38201. That you?”

“Yeah.” He stepped forward slowly, still certain there’d been some mistake. Will Chambers was the only one who’d put money on the chance that he wouldn’t flee before his trial, but he didn’t have five hundred thousand dollars to put up. And no one Zane knew would hand over the nonrefundable fifty thousand it would cost for bond. More likely it was a cruel trick by bored guards to get his hopes up, then crush them.

“Come on, move it,” the guard said, nudging him forward. “Unless maybe you’d like to stay here.”

“Hey, I’ll go,” his cell mate offered. Both Zane and the guard ignored him.

He walked along the corridors, resigned to playing it out. Through a locked steel door. Down an elevator. Through two more locked doors. They stopped in front of a desk where another guard handed him his clothes and shoes, and told him where to change.

He hesitated. The clothes were his. Would they carry a joke this far?

“What’s your problem, Thorson?”

“Nothing,” he muttered, and followed the desk guard into another room.

Ten minutes later he had his wallet and keys in his pocket, and had signed the appropriate forms. The guard unlocked another steel door that opened onto bright sunlight and an asphalt parking area. He stepped through the door, and heard it close behind him. Disoriented, he scanned the jail’s back parking lot and service drive, looking for his benefactor.

Cal Drummond detached himself from the back wall where he’d been waiting and strode toward him. He wasn’t in his Barringer’s Pass police uniform, but Zane could think of only one reason Cal would be there.

“Don’t tell me—the department took up a collection and posted my bail so you could conduct your own quick trial, followed by a hanging.”

“Not a bad idea. Sorry we didn’t think of it.”

He met the cop’s hard gaze. “Then who?”

“You can thank the People’s Free Earth Commune for getting your ass out. They paid the whole bail. And you’d better be worth it, because I happen to be very fond of those people, even if their hearts are too soft for their own good.”

He stared. “Those nice old hippies have five hundred thousand dollars? What do they do up there, grow pot?”

Cal scowled. “No, and don’t be starting rumors. They run several very successful and strictly legal businesses out of that commune. They work hard, they’re smart as hell, and they save their money. Don’t ask me what for. But you get arrested and the next thing I know my mother-in-law is on the phone to the commune’s investment broker, then to me. I wasn’t exactly happy to hear about it.”

“Sorry they made you come get me. Or are you here to drive me to a remote location where I’ll have a tragic accident?” He was only half kidding.

“I volunteered to pick you up. Insisted, actually.” He narrowed his eyes and rested his hand on his hip. Zane couldn’t help noticing it was right where his gun would be if he were in uniform. “I heard you talked with my wife.”

He nodded, wondering if Cal was possessive enough to consider Maggie off-limits.

“She’s been chewing my ear off about you ever since, and she insisted I need to talk to you. Congratulations, Thorson—it seems you’ve stirred the sympathies of the Larkin women, and that’s no small force to deal with.”

He pulled his eyebrows together, thinking Cal had to have misunderstood. He’d been trying to convince Maggie and Zoe of his undesirable qualities. Nothing was going right for him lately.

“So here I am, ready to hear why my wife’s whole family is suddenly convinced you’re worth saving. And you’d better make it damn convincing, Thorson, because I’m not as softhearted as those people, and I’m not known for my forgiving nature.”

He believed it. It would have been nice if he had an explanation for him. “I hate to disappoint you, but I don’t know why they suddenly like me.”

“Well, I’m damn well going to figure it out. You had breakfast yet?”

His lip curled with distaste at the memory. “That’s what they called it.”

That got an amused snort, his first indication that Cal might not hate him enough to shoot him at the first opportunity. “You’re about to get a second try at it, and you’ll be earning it by answering my questions.”

After the gooey bowl of oatmeal he’d choked down, anything sounded good. Even the questionable pleasure of Cal Drummond’s company.

Sophie’s cell phone woke her. She felt for it on the nightstand, squinted at the screen, and took the call. “Hi, Maggie.”

“Were you still sleeping?” She sounded aghast.

“Nine isn’t that late.” Not when you spend half the night with your brain buzzing and snapping like a live wire, unable to shut down until well after 3 a.m. “I don’t have a job to go to, and I can’t get in to see Zane until afternoon.”

“You can’t get in to see him at all. He’s out.”

“Out?
He escaped?”

“Out, as in bailed out.”

Her heart zoomed into high speed, while her mind raced to catch up. “How? Who?”

“The commune. They put up the whole five hundred thousand.”

Her brain was buzzing again. She rubbed her forehead, squinting as if that might help. “I didn’t know they had that much money.” She paused, trying to comprehend it. “Are you
sure
?”

Maggie huffed out a laugh. “Yes, I’m sure.”

“Why?”

“Because they believe in him. In fact, they really like him.” There was a moment of silence. “So do I.”

She stared at the phone. She knew he’d made a favorable impression at the commune, but didn’t realize it had been a $500,000 impression.

“Are you still there?” Maggie asked. “You might want to get up. Cal drove to Blackstone to pick him up. They should be back here soon.”

“
Cal
went? Jeez, Maggie! Did he take his gun?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” She hesitated, then added, “He’s not exactly on board with defending Zane yet. I think he wants to talk with him.”

Talking was better than posturing and blaming, but she imagined it could take some time to change Cal’s mind. “Let me know when they get back,” she said.