Two for Flinching (24 page)

“I guess not. I had come to the conclusion
something bad had happened to her.”

Randy: “Why?”

“She disappeared off the face of the
earth.”

Larry: “The last time you saw her?”

“I left her at the hotel around
midnight.”

Larry: “After the two of you had sex.”

“Yes.”

Randall: “Where did you go?”

“Home.”

Larry: “Straight home?”

“No. I drove around a while.”

Randy: “Why?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “I had some thinking
to do.”

Larry: “For someone as stupid as you, you
sure do a lot of thinking.”

I didn’t hear a question, so I didn’t
answer.

Randall: “Can anybody verify what time you
got home?”

“Yes.”

Randall raised his eyebrows.

“Steven Noble.”

Larry: “Your lover’s husband?”

“Yes.”

Randall: “Would he back you up?”

“I don’t see why he wouldn’t. Actually, he
already has.”

Larry: “How’s that?”

“When he reported her missing, didn’t he
admit to taking a swing at me?”

No answer.

Randy: “What’s your financial situation, Mr.
Camp?”

Mister.
We were on tape, probably
video.

“Not good.”

Larry: “Maybe you can define
not good
for us.”

“The bank account is dry. Credit cards are
maxed out. And I’m behind on the mortgage.”

Larry: “Yeah, that sounds not good.”

No question.

Randall: “Your wife have a life insurance
policy?”

“Yes.” The question would have thrown me if I
had not known they were trying to trip me up, to throw me.
Stella, though?

Larry: “How much?”

“Beats me.”

Randall: “You don’t know?”

“No. You’ll have to talk to her brother. He
is in insurance and sold us the policy. It doesn’t matter,
though.”

Larry: “Why not?”

“I haven’t paid the premium since she
left.”

There was a knock on the door and lieutenant
pushed it open. He gave me a dirty look and crooked a finger at his
two detectives. They left.

Alone, I wondered about the questions
concerning my wife. When I was a detective, I had never put an
innocent man in prison. That does not mean they were always guilty
of the crime they were accused of. I took the case to the district
attorney’s office and they decided to pursue it or not. They went
to a grand jury who determined if there was validity to the
charges. Then you had the judge and a jury. So it wasn’t all on me.
But I never pushed it unless I was sure they were guilty of
something.

The door opened. Their faces had hardened. I
could read it in their eyes. They were sure I was guilty of
something.

Randall: “We just pulled out the second
car.”

Not a question.

Randall: “Your wife’s car. Adrian was in the
back seat.”

I rocked back in my chair, palms to my eyes.
No amount of training could prepare me for that. It was a physical
blow, a punch stronger than any I had ever known, deep into my
soul.

Randall: “Stella was in the trunk.”

The tears came.

Chapter Forty

I walked out of the station into a cold
night. That’s what I had done in the interview room. Stood up and
walked out. Randall and Larry may have tried to stop me. I hadn’t
noticed.
Stella was in the trunk
and I was on my feet,
moving in a fog. They would have had to put me in chains and behind
bars to keep me. I would have resisted. Maybe they knew that. Or
maybe they were showing me mercy. Randy, perhaps—not Larry or the
lieutenant.

My Jeep was still at the quarry. I didn’t
know how I was going to get home, only that I had to. I could walk
to the Jeep or I could walk home. They were both within five miles.
I had walked much further.

A Suburban rolled to a stop at the curb. I
opened the passenger door and climbed in. “Lucky you happened to be
riding by.”

“Lucky my ass,” Nero said. “I’ve been going
up and down this block for three hours.”

“You heard?”

A nod.

“All of it?”

Another nod.

I wasn’t surprised that Nero had better
connections than I with the Indianola Sherriff’s
department—especially after the bridges I had nuked.

“I’m sorry.”

My turn to nod.

His sharp features were illuminated by the
green of the displays, his hair pulled back in a tight pony tail.
“What happened?”

“I was hoping you could tell me.”

Nero shrugged. “They found a woman in the
trunk of her car. While they were down there, the boys kept
diving—probably milking the OT—and came across Stella’s car. Male
body, hands still cuffed, in the back seat, female in the
trunk.”

“That’s what I got.”

“How are you connected to the woman?”

His source must have been a patrolman,
possibly a diver, since he didn’t know the rest of it. “Amber
Noble. She was my neighbor. Her husband had me looking for
her.”

“Ah.”

“She was also my lover.”

Nero took his eyes from the road and shot me
a look. “Bees.”

“I know.”

“You want me to take you to your ride?”

I shook my head. “Home. And we need to
hurry.”

***

My father’s van sat in front of the house,
all the lights on the ground floor burning. Nero parked in the
driveway. “You want me to come in?”

“Yeah. For a minute.”

Dad greeted us at the front door, the lines
in his weathered face etched deeper in worry. “What’s going
on?”

“Where is Sarah?”

“She’s fine. I took her to Gus’s. I didn’t
know when you were going to be home or if you would need me. Sarah
thinks it’s a party.”

“Good.”

Dad looked from me to Nero, back to me. His
worry multiplied. “Hey, Nero.”

“Hey, dad.”

“Now, what the hell is going on?”

“They found Stella.”

He blinked, actually taking a step back. He
knew this wasn’t going to be good news, had no idea how bad it
really was. “Where?”

“At the bottom of the rock quarry.”

He closed his eyes, dragging a calloused hand
over his face. “What about…your partner?”

“He was with her.”

“They been there all this time?”

“I imagine so”

“And they think you put them there?”

“I’m sure somebody does.” I ran up the stairs
to the guest bedroom, dug under the single mattress and came out
with the journal. Back downstairs, I gave it to Nero. “You need to
keep this.”

He held it up, eyeing it suspiciously. “Is it
what I think it is?”

“Yeah.”

“You want me to read it?”

“Up to you. Just don’t give it to the
law.”

“Don’t believe you gotta worry about
that.”

The door banged open. Me, dad, and Nero
huddled together in the kitchen.

Erin said, “I go home for one weekend.”

***

They came two hours later. Blondie gave her
early warning bark and I drug her into the backyard, returning in
time to get to the front door. Dad was still asleep on the couch.
Erin had gone to her room, though not changing into her nightgown.
I hoped.

“I’m really sorry about this, Beason.”

“No problem.” I moved out of their way. Larry
Coleman shoved the folded paper into my chest.

“You know what this is.”

I didn’t bother opening it. “Knock yourself
out.”

I returned to the den, taking my place in the
easy chair. Dad stirred.

“They’re finally here?”

“Yeah.”

“Took long enough.”

“They had to wake up a judge.”

A half-dozen pair of feet stomping in the
dining room/playroom and Larry barking commands. Randall came into
the den. The TV was off. He did a double take at seeing my
father.

“Mr. Camp.”

“Detective.”

“We apologize for the intrusion.”

“Uh huh.”

To me, Randall said, “You left before we had
the chance to tell you some things.”

“I was all done talking. Still am.”

He nodded. “We’re pretty sure it was Amber in
her car, but it’s not official. The other two…bodies haven’t been
identified yet. I don’t know how to say this except to say it; the
bodies are pretty decomposed.”

“I bet.”

“So I’m going to ask you not to tell anyone
until we’re sure. No sense in causing the families undue pain.”

“Who else could it be?”

Randall shrugged. “You know how these things
work.”

“Yeah.”

“Who might want to kill Amber Noble?”

“Steven.”

“Anybody else?”

“Not that I’ve talked to.” I considered
Starling and Fletcher. They wanted Amber found and I believed they
wanted to talk to her—maybe even hurt her. If that was the case, it
meant that they hadn’t already killed her. “Only Steven. He might
or might not have abused her and then he found out she was having
an affair.”

“Oh, we’re going to talk to him. How do you
think your lover and your wife ended up in the same lake?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

“Any idea who might want to cause Stella
harm?”

“No.”

“How about Adrian?”

“Me.”

“But not Stella?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“No matter what else she was, Stella was the
mother of my child. I would never hurt my daughter like that.”

“Looks like you’ve done okay by her all these
years.”

“If you say so.”

“If she always thought her mother had run
off,” he said, “it wouldn’t hurt her so bad.”

I shook my head.

“What?”

“Two things. One: how long has she been since
we had a drowning in the quarry?”

He thought about. “Six years or so. The
Chilla kid.”

“Before that?”

“I don’t know. Ten years?”

“Exactly. Any car at the bottom of the quarry
would inevitably be found. It was only a matter of time.”

“Okay. What’s the other thing?”

“What would be harder on a child? Her mother
dying or her mother running off because she didn’t want to see her
daughter?”

“It might depend on if her father killed her
mother.”

“Whatever. I’m done talking to you.”

Randy waited. He was hoping I would fill the
silence. I didn’t.

“Detective!” The voice came from the
unfinished bonus room over the garage. Randall struggled to his
feet. I didn’t envy him. He had spent all of Friday night searching
for Trey and his friends and most of Saturday before being called
in Sunday for the dive at the quarry. Now it was well after
midnight.

When he left, dad and I exchanged a look.

“Nothing to worry about.”

A few minutes later, Randall returned. “You
always leave your gun safe open?”

“Only when I’m expecting visitors.”

“Quite an arsenal you got there. Rifles,
shotguns, automatics and revolvers—even an assault rifle.”

“All legal.”

“Is that all?”

“No. My .45 is in the glove box of my
Jeep.”

“Which is where?

“Gravel pit.”

“I don’t guess you have the registration on
you?”

I pulled out my billfold and handed him my
concealed carry permit. He copied the numbers in his little
notebook. “Anything else?”

“No. Were any of the victims shot?”

“Too early to tell.”

“Bullshit. All you have to do is look. It
doesn’t take a pathologist to see if a bullet has gone through a
body.”

Randall made a face, wondering how much he
could tell me. Finally, he said, “Doesn’t look like it. Stella ever
keep a journal?”

“A journal?”

“Yeah, you know, like a diary. You ever see
her writing in anything like that?”

“No.”

Chapter Forty-One

“You look like hell.”

“Yeah.”

“Rough weekend?”

“You have no idea.” Melvin Jenks was in his
dapper Monday best, dark London Fog overcoat over a charcoal grey
suit, red tie. “You want coffee?”

“Sure.”

I pushed my own mug across the desk and
pointed to the maker in the corner. Sarah and Erin were both at
home, both sleeping. Both skipping school. Melvin took my cup with
him, filled it and one of his own and returned. “What’s up,
Melvin?”

He stirred his coffee. “I just came by to
tell you that you are a genius.”

“Finally.”

“Finally?”

“Finally, somebody else noticed,” I said.
“What did I do?”

“That King Ralph idea of yours. I couldn’t
wait until Saturday, so I popped it on Cynthia before I left for
the movies with the kids and we watched it when I got back.” He
shrugged his shoulders. “It worked. One thing led to another and
now I’m not getting a divorce. Absolutely brilliant.”

I doubt Eric Hendricks thought so.
“I’m glad for you. Congratulations.”

Melvin took one of the old client chairs and
blew in his cup. “Thank you.”

“You can’t leave it there. You still need to
go to counseling and keep working it. If you don’t, the affair will
keep coming up.”

“I know. I will always be in your debt.
Thanks again.”

“You’re welcome.”

“That boy in here the other day…”

“Nero?”

“He’s an interesting fellow.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “He is.”

“That his real name?”

“Yes.”

Melvin nodded. “I never met anyone named
Nero. His parents know about the Roman emperor? The Nero that made
torches out of Christians to light his garden?”

“I doubt it. His mother had a dog named Nero
when she was little. She always liked the name. The dog, too.”

“He a good friend?”

“Yes. The best.”

“I could tell. He is devoted to you? How did
that happen?” he asked. “A ghetto kid and an ex-cop and
ex-ranger?”