Terry Odell - Mapleton 01 - Deadly Secrets (5 page)

Years of training told Gordon he should simply confront Rose and Sam. Ask them why Karl Franklin from Florida was looking for them. They’d laugh, say, “Good old Karl. Always—” And that’s where it fell apart. Always what? If they’d been expecting a long-lost anyone from Florida, it wouldn’t be a secret. He should have asked Megan if the Kretzers had any ties to Florida. If so, maybe Franklin was connected. He jotted a note.

More years of relying on his gut told him he should do this quietly first. Find out more about who Karl Franklin was. Laurie’s call announcing the arrival of a Trooper Patterson interrupted his ruminations.

“Send him in.” He set the envelope on his desk and pulled out the evidence log sheet Solomon had started.

“Chief Helper?” A young trooper, his blond hair cut high in military fashion stepped into the room. “Pete Patterson.”

Gordon stood, rounded the desk. “It’s Hepler.”

“Sorry, sir.”

“No sweat. Everyone gets it inside out. In this line of work, I think I’d prefer Helper.”

“Yes, sir. I’m supposed to pick up some of the accident victim’s personal effects.”

“Here you go.” Gordon handed a pen to Patterson, who scrawled his name on the log. “Cause of the accident?”

“Vehicle versus tree.”

“Trees usually win those. Especially along that stretch of highway. Did you respond to the scene?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Ugly?”

“Saw a lot worse in Iraq, sir.”

Where the kid had probably learned not to volunteer information. He’d make a good cop. Keeping one’s mouth shut usually got you more information than barrages of questions. The kid waited. To be dismissed, or because he had something to say after all?

“Any clues to cause of death?” Gordon prodded.

“Can’t say, sir. I was there, but they had me controlling access. Clipboard duty.”

Gordon caught the hint of frustration. “I guess that got boring. Not many rubberneckers along that part of the road. Maybe next time you’ll get to chase away the media hounds.” He grinned. “Or even a police chief.”

The hint of a smile crossed Patterson’s face. “I did get to deny access to a pushy reporter, sir. And I heard some talk about shell casings.”

Gordon’s heart did a quick hop. “Someone shot the victim?”

“I don’t know. They’ll probably know once they go over the car. And do the autopsy.” He shifted his weight, almost imperceptibly. “Sir, I need to get back.”

“Of course.”

Patterson pivoted and marched from the room. Mind swirling, Gordon shut the door. Gilman hadn’t mentioned a gunshot wound. He and Reynolds wouldn’t have missed that. Or would they? How much attention would they give to a dead body? He called Dispatch, left a message for them to get in touch. He’d just hung up when his internal line rang.

“Yes, Laurie?”

“The mayor called. Said to remind you there’s a budget meeting at four-thirty.”

Damn.

“Thanks, Laurie. I’ll be there.” He sank into his chair and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. Being Chief of Police wasn’t being a cop.

Karl Franklin was dead. If he had been after Rose and Sam, they were safe enough. He pulled up the spreadsheet on his computer. What did the mayor want to cut now? Spare tires on their patrol cars? Kevlar vests? Kibble for Buster, their part-time K-9?

Why me, Dix? I was a good cop. Wasn’t I?

Megan fastened her hair into a ponytail and trotted down the steps after Justin. She’d probably laid it on a little thick. More like a lot thick—like the frosting on one of Angie’s cinnamon buns—but she wanted to find out what he knew. Her chat with Gordon had shaken her. Even more when she considered he’d probably stepped over some ethical boundaries when he’d shown her those papers.

She shivered at the memory of those pictures. And Rose and Sam’s address.

Justin was moving farther away. She rushed to the street, turned and hurried to catch up. Her heart pounded. This was nothing like her brisk walks on the treadmill at the gym. He jogged on, seemingly without effort. The distance between them increased. She pushed her pace.

“Justin. Wait. Up.” The words seemed to consume any remaining oxygen. Lights twinkled in front of her eyes. He must have heard her, because he turned and jogged in place. Thank goodness. She slowed a fraction, and after what seemed like ten miles later, gasping for breath, reached his side.

His hand grabbed her elbow. “Shit, Megan, what are you doing? I told you not to do anything strenuous until you get used to the altitude. We’re at six thousand feet here.”

“Didn’t. Seem. Bother. You.” She bent double, hands on her knees, sucking what oxygen-deficient air she could.

“First, I live at four thousand feet, not sea level. You’ve been gone for years. You have to acclimate. I’ve been here over a week. And I’m used to exercise.”

“Fine. But as long as I’m here, can we talk?”

“Can you walk? We can go slow, but I’d rather keep moving.”

Right now she wasn’t convinced she could crawl. She gave Justin a brave smile. “Lead on.”

“So, what do you want to talk about?” He’d released her arm, but was watching her as if he thought she’d collapse. Which she might, if she actually had to carry on a conversation and walk at the same time.

“What are you doing here?” she managed to wheeze out.

“Visiting. Same as you. And fixing up the house.”

“Tell me…about that. You said—”

He’d slowed to a leisurely stroll, and she took deep breaths. The lightheadedness passed.

“What do you really want to know, Megan?”

“It’s not like you visited a lot. A few weeks in summer, and not every year. If you cared about Rose and Sam, why didn’t you show up more often?”

“Geez. We were kids. It’s not like I could pick up and go where I wanted. I went where my parents sent me. Sometimes a vacation included a visit here. Sometimes it didn’t. What, you missed me?”

She swallowed her guilt. No, she hadn’t. She tolerated Justin’s visits because Rose and Sam expected it. Most of the time, she preferred not having to include him in all the things the kids did. He was clumsy, didn’t like to swim, and forget swinging into the pond from the rope on the elm tree. Rose always made them take turns choosing what to do, and Justin usually said, “I don’t care.” Which meant Rose picked things she thought were more suited to his city-living style. Museums. Children’s theater, with lunch in a fussy tea room afterward. Or the movies. The most adventurous activity Rose ever chose was a picnic. Not that any of her choices were
bad
, but they isolated Megan from her friends.

Face it. You were afraid they’d think you were like him. A doofus.

She took a few more deep breaths. As kids, she’d been the active one. Now, she was lucky to hit the treadmill a few times a week. “What happened to your allergies? You hated going outside.”

“Five years of shots.”

“Contacts?” She pushed an imaginary pair of glasses up her nose.

“LASIK.” His stride lengthened. “You want my life history? Mom and Dad were totally career oriented. They barely had time for each other, much less me. One thing I knew was that I didn’t want a job so demanding it would become my life.”

Justin was still walking, but she had to hurry to keep up. As long as she didn’t try to talk, she thought she’d manage. She waited, hoping Justin would continue without prompting. After an annoying few minutes where all she heard was her own labored breathing, and all she saw was Justin’s back as the distance between them lengthened, he turned his head.

She tried to catch her breath. The light surrounding him sparkled. Must be sunlight reflecting from the pond. Tiny black dots swarmed in front of her face. She swatted at them.

Justin appeared at her side. But he was far away at the same time.

“You okay?” he asked.

His voice seemed to echo. And then he had her elbow again, and he was dragging her off the road into the shade of the trees. “Sit.” He pushed her onto the curb, forcing her head to her knees despite her feeble attempts to push his hand away.

“Shit, Megan, you almost passed out. I’ve already called the paramedics once today. Breathe,” he demanded. “Slow. Deep.”

She tried. “You know CPR?”

“If you can talk, you don’t need it. But yes.”

Another surprise. She tried to stand, but Justin held her down.

“You always were stubborn,” he said. “When you feel up to it, I’ll walk you home. I can still get a run in.”

She shook her head. “No, Rose will smother me. I’ll wait.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

She raised her head, got her bearings. “We’re almost at the pond trail. There’s plenty of shade, and there used to be a bench or two.”

He nodded. “Still there.”

“Then that’s where I’ll be waiting. Go on. I’ll rest.”

He shook his head, but she knew he’d cave. He always had.

“Crap, Megan, don’t give me that look.”

“What look?”

“The one you perfected when you were eight, I think. The one that says, “I’m right, and even if I’m not, I’m not giving in.”

She smiled. “That bad?”

He returned a grin. “There never was any point in arguing with you.”

“It’s served me well in my job. Which reminds me, you haven’t told me what you do.”

“I teach.” He didn’t stop moving. Did he want to keep his muscles warm, or was he afraid to stop for a serious conversation?

“What?”

He swung his arms, twisted his torso, did some quad stretches. “I guess you’d say it’s what they called shop class when we were in middle school. Officially, all-purpose handyman stuff.” He stopped, stared at her as if daring her to put him down for not being a doctor or a lawyer like his parents.

Her heart had stopped drumming in her ears, and she stood. He watched, the defiance switching to wariness.

“So, why are you here and not teaching?”

“Spring Break,” he said. “I guess I’m not the only one who thought it was a good idea to see my grandparents.”

“I agree. They’re not getting any younger.”

“You sure you want to do this?” he asked.

“I’m okay,” she said. “Let’s walk.” He stayed close enough to catch her if she stumbled.

They strolled in silence, reaching the point where the road formed a T at the path to the pond, then continued toward the trail that ran along its circumference. “So you’re teaching middle school shop?” she asked as they approached the benches in the clearing. “That explains what you’ve been doing at Rose and Sam’s.”

He gave a quiet grunt. “Not exactly middle school. More like Last Chance Before Jail U. Alternative school. Or, if you want to use the out of date, down and dirty term, reform school.”

She’d never have thought of that one. “Um…you like it?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Well…that’s good then.” Justin the Jerk, who couldn’t stand his ground, now dealing with what had to be acres of attitude?

He’d gone tense, as if he sensed her disapproval. She realized her tone hadn’t been exactly…positive. “Hey, I didn’t mean—”

“Forget it. It’s what I do. Period.” He paused by the bench. “Sit. Rest.”

She sank to the wooden seat. “I’ll be here.”

He paused, eyeing her.

“Go. What could happen?”

He nodded, then took off, his pace increasing as he moved farther away. He disappeared around the first curve. She leaned against the wooden slats of the bench, enjoying the fresh air. Her eyelids drooped. She swung her legs onto the bench. She drifted.

Slowly, she surfaced to the sound of rustling in the leaves. A deer? She propped herself on her elbows, hoping to catch a glimpse of the animal. They were gorgeous creatures, with their big eyes and delicate legs.

With the image of a deer fixated in her mind, when the man emerged from the trees, it didn’t register. Not until he raced to her side, clapped his hand over her mouth and knocked her to the ground did she realize that one, it wasn’t a deer, and two, she was in deep trouble.

Justin checked over his shoulder. They’d only come a few blocks, and Megan had already caught her breath. He let go of any remaining concern and kicked up the pace to make up for the leisurely way his workout had started. And to get his mind off the two nagging questions. One, would he be able to keep his grandparents’ names out of the mess he was trying to prevent? Two, what was Megan doing here, showing up unannounced? And the logical progression. Were the two related?

He pushed himself faster, striving for the mental disconnect where there was nothing but the run. Breathing. Feet hitting the ground. Sweat dripping from his hair, down his face, off the end of his nose. Down his arms, off the tips of his fingers. Washing away stress. Cleansing. Nothing but the run.

No thoughts of the way Megan had looked at him when he told her what he did. Disbelief. Disappointment. The same undercurrents he got from his parents. “As long as you’re happy,” they’d say. But he could see it in their eyes, hear it in their tone. Working with
those
kinds of people. No status, no prestige. Teaching was honorable, but why not a university professor?

Even Oma, who’d always tried to make him feel special, kept implying this was temporary. That one day he’d see the light and get a high-paying job. But, since she and Opa had lived through the depression, Justin understood the value they put on money.

But it was helping
those
kind of people that made a difference. Like Eldon, who’d found a better use for his hands than pummeling someone into a pulp, and was putting food on his mom’s table three times a day. Justin had no delusions about saving them all, but the ones he reached made it worthwhile. His father prided himself on putting punks into jail. Screw that. Justin preferred keeping them out of jail in the first place.

He realized his pace had reached a flat-out run and eased off a bit. Laughter and splashes filled the air as he rounded the curve along the swimming area. A group of kids having some afternoon fun, getting in a quick swim before dinner.

Maybe he’d invite Megan for a swim tomorrow, if for nothing more than to watch her eyes pop and jaw drop again. He hadn’t missed the double-take when she’d actually recognized him. Did she even know why he’d never wanted to go swimming?

Probably not.

He tried to recapture the rhythm of the run. His shoes thudded against the packed dirt. Left, right. Left, right. He concentrated on breathing. In. Out. In. Out.

Halfway around the pond, he’d shaken the memories, only to have them replaced by anxiety, which was rapidly escalating to fear. The sleazeball had given him two weeks, and the first one had yielded a big, fat zero. On the other hand, he had fewer places to search. But with Megan here, it would be a lot harder to explore.

If he told her, would she help? Or would she go straight to Oma and Opa? Or Gordon, the cop?

The path veered away from the pond on an upgrade, and he focused on the extra effort he needed to maintain his pace. His mind clear at last, he settled into the run for the remainder of the distance.

As he approached the spot where he’d left Megan, he slowed to a jog. He could make out a second figure sitting on the bench. Had someone joined her? And so what if someone had? Dozens of homes used that clearing as pond access, and Megan knew half the people in town. Of course she’d chat with anyone who stopped.

From here, all he could tell was that the second person on the bench was definitely male. And had his arm around her. A turn in the path blocked his view. When they came into sight again, they were kissing, not chatting. And not the friendly, “Welcome home, good to see you” kind of kiss. More like tonsil hockey. He fought the urge to rush to her side. Her life, her business. And maybe she’d spend time with whoever he was and be out of the house.

Head down, he walked the last twenty yards, making enough noise so he wouldn’t surprise them. They didn’t seem to notice. Small wonder, engrossed as they seemed to be. Ten feet from them, he cleared his throat. They jerked apart, and two pairs of startled eyes met his. Eyes he’d never seen before.

“Um…hello,” the female said. Aside from her general coloring, she bore no resemblance to Megan. And these were kids, probably high-school.

“Hi,” Justin said. “I…um…a friend was meeting me here.”

“We got here about ten, fifteen minutes ago,” the boy said. “Haven’t seen anyone.” He and the girl exchanged guilty glances. She blushed and dropped her gaze.

“Guess she got tired of waiting,” Justin said. “I’ll be on my way, then.”

“Bye,” the girl said.

Justin didn’t look back. Megan wouldn’t have tried to catch up while he was running, would she? No. Stubborn maybe, but she wasn’t stupid. He jogged toward Oma’s, keeping an eye out for Megan, half-afraid he’d find her collapsed by the side of the road. He trotted up Oma’s front steps. As usual, despite his admonitions, the door was unlocked. Opa glanced up from the television. “You have a nice run?”

“Pretty good.”

Opa looked past him. “So where’s Meggie? Rose said she went with you.”