The Code of the Hills (16 page)

When Elsie pulled into the parking lot of the grocery, Donita invited her to come inside while she shopped. She just needed a ­couple of things, she said, and wondered aloud whether Elsie could provide a ride home. Sighing, Elsie agreed.

Finally, after dropping Donita back home, she headed for the police department. She pulled her phone from her purse to give Ashlock a heads-­up: she could meet him at the P.D. and watch as he combed the contents of the boxes. It would be like a treasure hunt, she thought, her excitement mounting.

It wasn't yet noon, so she expected to catch him before he went to lunch. Her hopes sank when Patsy answered the phone and informed her that he was out.

“Out to lunch?”

“Out for two days, honey. It's that police conference at the Lake of the Ozarks. We won't see him until Wednesday.”

“Oh,” Elsie said in disappointment.

“Do you need me to get a message to him?”

“No,” Elsie said, “no, I'll just talk to him when he gets back.”

“Do you have his cell number?”

“Yeah, I've got it. Patsy, tell him I called when he checks in, okay? About the Taney case.”

Nearing the police station, she had second thoughts about delivering the boxes to the P.D. Without Ashlock to examine and catalogue the contents, she knew that the evidence would end up in a dusty corner of the property room. She was seized by a fear that the evidence would be abandoned, forgotten, possibly misplaced or lost.

Sometimes, evidence that went into the property room was never seen again. One of her drug cases had to be reduced to a misdemeanor because the evidence mysteriously disappeared. When she reduced the drug charge, Madeleine had thrown a fit, as if the missing evidence was her fault.

She could prevail upon another officer to examine the evidence, but that didn't suit her. She only trusted Ashlock to do it right. No one but Ashlock would touch those boxes, she resolved.

Ashlock or her.

She could take the boxes up to her office, she thought, and go through them herself. Since Donita had handed them over to her, she was already a part of the chain of custody. She had secured evidence in her office before; she could lock it up tight.

Elsie felt a rush of enthusiasm as she hunted for a parking spot at the courthouse, wondering what the boxes contained. They might reveal nothing, nothing but junk. But they might hold a piece of the puzzle; something that would strengthen her case.

Chapter Twenty

T
HE TRASH CAN
in Elsie's office was stationed between the four boxes from the Taney apartment. She squatted beside the boxes, removing the dirty garments and possessions one by one and shaking them over the wastebasket in an attempt to remove any vermin they contained. She worked her way through the first two boxes, accumulating a collection of dead cockroaches.

Ed Montee, of the janitorial staff, stuck his head in her office door.

“Heard you needed some help hauling boxes of evidence.”

“Well I did, but when I couldn't find anyone I borrowed a dolly and brought them up myself.”

“Okay,” he said. Ed was a squat middle-­aged man, and generally helpful. “I guess you don't need me, then.”

“Nope,” Elsie said as she continued shaking bugs into the wastebasket.

“What's that you're doing there?”

“I'm trying to clean out these boxes. They're full of dead cockroaches.”

Ed scratched his head and walked over to take a look into the boxes of evidence. “There could be eggs in there. Cockroach can lay fifty eggs at a time. Some types can. You could have the place crawling if you don't watch out. You better let me burn those in the incinerator.”

“Tell you what, Ed,” Elsie said, maintaining a friendly tone as she rose and walked to the door, hoping he would take the hint and follow. She was glad to change her position; her knees were killing her, and the cheap nylon carpet had imprinted its pattern into her flesh. “Let me go through these boxes and see if anything valuable is in here. Then we'll figure out what to do with this stuff.”

Ed followed her into the hallway outside her office door, but he was shaking his head in disgust. “I'm going to have to tell the county commissioners' office what you're up to, because we could have an infestation.”

“Whatever you need to do.” Elsie watched him walk away.

She needed a Diet Coke. She locked her office up so she could go grab a fountain drink from the coffee shop. When she came back, she decided to check her e-­mail before returning to the vermin-­filled boxes.

An e-­mail from Noah was in her in-­box. The message was short:
Can I come by tonight?
After glancing at the weekly calendar on her desk, Elsie typed
Sure
and sent it. She silently warned the computer screen that he better be in a good mood when he showed up. If he arrived with an attitude, she swore she would kick his ass out. Kick him out for good. Maybe.

Bree's footsteps sounded in the hallway outside. She stopped in the doorway of Elsie's office, gasping for breath.

“I've got exactly seven minutes to get to Taylor's school program,” she said. “You still covering for me in Judge Carter's court?”

Elsie stood and took the files that Bree handed over to her. “I'll head right up there.”

After the case load in Carter's division was exhausted, Elsie hurried back to her office, half afraid Ed Montee might have snatched the boxes before she had a chance to see what they contained.

Settled in her chair, she gingerly picked up a bundle and shook it out; it was a pair of Taney's dirty pants. She checked the pockets: nothing of interest. She sorted through a handful of overdue bills and a crumpled Bass Pro advertisement with some camping gear circled in pencil. It wasn't what she had hoped for.

Starting to feel discouraged, she sorted through JoLee's belongings in the third box. Beneath a collection of mildewed clothes and a few used-­up dollar store cosmetics, she spied a small stack of cards. She picked them up and examined them, one by one. A birthday card, then a baby card containing a two dollar bill. The third card was a valentine.

Elsie handled it with care. A fuzzy red rose decorated the front of the card. She opened it gingerly; sure enough, a smashed reddish-­brown cockroach was splayed inside. After knocking it into the trash can with a decided shake, she read the card: it had a conventional sentiment, a printed jingle in fancy script, declaring true love.

A handwritten note was scrawled at the bottom. It read:

DON'T BE MAD
what me and Char do don't mean nothing your my girl

“Oh my God,” Elsie said aloud. She held the card gently, almost reverently. Opening a drawer in her desk, she rummaged for a plastic Baggie. Before she slipped the card inside, she opened it and read it again. Charlene, she thought, you are officially redeemed. With care, she locked the bag in her desk. It would go to the Barton P.D. tomorrow, to undergo handwriting and fingerprint analysis.

By the time she discovered the valentine in the third box, the sky outside had long been dark. The office was quiet as death; all of her coworkers had headed home. She decided to pack it up. A final examination of the first three boxes she'd dragged from the Taney apartment revealed no further evidence, just old clothes and trash. A collection of paper grocery bags in one, dirty shoes without mates in another, and in the last, a stiff mouse so long dead that it didn't stink.

The fourth box was as yet untouched, and she would go through it soon, but not tonight. She pushed it in the corner of her office and prayed that no cockroach eggs would hatch. She set out the other three boxes for the janitorial staff to dispose of. Ed would be glad to be rid of three-­quarters of the vermin control danger, anyhow.

As she walked to her car, Elsie considered her evening plans. Since Noah was dropping by, pizza sounded practical. On her way home she dashed into a Jiffy Go to pick up a six-­pack of Corona. Noah was generally more fun if she was drinking.

She made the pizza call as soon as she hit her apartment, took a quick shower, and sprayed her neck and wrists with cologne. There was always a chance that the visit would be a happy one.

After pulling on a clean sweater and a pair of jeans, she heard a knock at the door: the pizza. She tipped the delivery man and set the box in the kitchen. Within minutes she heard a knock at the door again.

Elsie checked through the peephole; it was Noah. He was off duty, wearing jeans and his leather jacket. She opened the door and he kissed her, a casual hello kiss.

“How are you?”

“Pretty good,” she said. “Another crazy day. Would you like a beer?”

“Sure,” he said. He took off his jacket and tossed it on a chair. His T-­shirt revealed his magnificent arms. Lord, Lord, he looks like a Greek statue, she thought.

“I ordered a pizza, too. Would you like some?”

“Yeah, great,” he said. He followed her into the kitchen, and Elsie opened two bottles of beer and put slices of pepperoni pizza on plates. She grabbed some paper napkins and they sat at her kitchen table.

“Hand tossed,” she said.

“This is great,” Noah said. “The high point of my day, I kid you not. What were you up to today?”

She launched into a description of her visit to the Taney apartment and the boxes she had taken to her office. Excitement crept into her voice as she told him about the valentine and the message.

“Yeah, that's pretty cool,” he said. His hand wandered under the table; she felt its warm pressure on her leg.

Elsie wanted more of a reaction. Noah was also in law enforcement; how could he sound so casual about her evidentiary find?

“Pretty cool?” she repeated. “It's a fucking breakthrough. I'm going to nail him. Don't you care?”

“Elsie, don't jump on me the minute I walk through the door. You think I don't care about nailing criminals? I'm the one on patrol, doing the grunt work. And now I've got to get into a new schedule. I'm going on night shift next week.”

She felt a twinge of remorse; she wasn't the only one who carried a burden at work. “How will that be?”

“It will be hell till I get used to it. It messes up your sleep routine, messes your body up, really. Then just about when you get in the swing of it, they switch you back to days.”

“I know you all alternate,” she said. “I bet that's rough.”

“Yeah, it's supposed to be fair. But it just keeps everybody messed up all of the time.”

He took her hand and turned it over on the tabletop, running his fingers lightly over the lines of her palm. It tingled, giving such a pleasurable sensation that she visibly relaxed.

“That feels good,” she said with a sigh of pleasure. “If I get you more pizza, will you do it again?”

“No more pizza; I'm good.” He slapped his belly. “Don't want to get fat.”

“That's not likely,” she said, unhappily registering that he'd worked body fat into the conversation. Unable to stop herself, she blurted in a rush, “Do you think I'm attractive?”

He leaned away with a bemused look. “What the fuck?”

Blushing, Elsie fortified herself with a swig of beer. “You're always talking about getting fat, and eating salad, and exercise. Do you find me appealing? Physically?”

“Hell yeah. Of course. Where's this coming from?”

Elsie wondered the same thing, now ashamed that she was showing her belly in such a fashion. “I just wondered. If maybe you prefer someone little. Petite. Like Paige.”

Noah rolled his eyes. “Didn't I tell you not to worry about her? She's just a friend.”

Trying to suppress a vision of Noah and Paige bent over the pool table, Elsie asked a question that had been eating at her: “Have you ever slept with her?”

He cursed under his breath and looked away. When he looked back, he gave her a rueful half smile. “Is this the way this is going down? Do you want me to ask you who all you've slept with?”

His response did nothing to help allay the jealousy that nagged at her; but he was right, She was not interested in a game of True Confessions. “I guess I get your point.”

“Now you're being reasonable,” he said, his voice becoming warm again. “You know I think you're hot. And it doesn't matter what happened before we met. What's important is what we've got now.” He tipped back in his chair. “Think I could have another one of those beers?”

“Sure,” she said, and she jumped up to get one from the refrigerator. When she handed it to him, he pulled her down on his lap and kissed her, lingeringly this time. “Everything straight now?” he asked.

“Yeah, I think so,” she replied as she ran her fingers down the contour of his arm.

He pulled her close and whispered, “You're the one I want.”

As she nestled up to him, she couldn't help wondering, What do I want?

But that train of thought stopped when he unzipped her jeans. While he teased her with his hand in her pants, she remembered what she liked about him. When they stood to move into the bedroom, he picked her up and carried her inside. They fell into bed, pulling at each other's clothes, and Elsie was finally able to shut her thoughts down and lose herself in Noah's embrace.

When they were done, he rolled over on his back.

She watched him as he lay there after a gymnastic round of lovemaking, his chest rising and falling as his breathing returned to normal. Maybe she was too hard on Noah. “Do you want to sleep here?” she asked, kissing his bare shoulder.

“Oh, honey, that's sweet,” he said. “But I'd just be in your way tomorrow. You'll be getting to the office, and I'm working, too.” He groaned and hauled himself out of bed. “I'd better get going.”

She looked at her clock. It was 10:42. “Well, okay. It was nice to see you.”

She watched him as he quickly dressed. Then she got out of bed and said, “Just a sec, I'll get my robe and walk you to the door.” Feeling resentful of his abrupt departure, she added, “You better hurry. Paige is probably waiting at the pool hall.”

He smacked her on her bottom, hard, and said, “I don't want to hear any more about that.” She gasped and took a step back.

He took her by the waist and pulled her back to him. “Hey, honey, I'm just fooling. Just kidding around.” He kissed her ear and whispered, “Gotta teach you to behave.”

“That's a joke?”

He kissed her and gave her a little squeeze. “See you soon,” he said. He left while she was putting on her robe. She went into the living room after he was gone and turned the dead-­bolt lock.

When she went back to the bedroom she inspected her stinging behind in the mirror and saw a red hand print. She was furious. Was that really some kind of joke? Or was he a Stanley Kowalski throwback: a guy who'd smack a girl on the butt to show he was the boss of her?

“Son of a bitch,” she said out loud.