Walleye Junction (15 page)

Even though it was warm in the room, Alex Finley wore a navy field jacket zipped up to his neck. He apologized for keeping them waiting before sitting down across from them. His hands were shaking. Seeing that his guests noticed, he smiled nervously.

“I've just come from the prison hospital,” he said, clearing his throat. “There's been an incident.”

Macy almost asked if Ray Davidson was involved, but Gina spoke first.

“Ron Forester?”

The assistant warden blanched. “He was involved but is thankfully okay. According to early reports, a prisoner attacked people out in the exercise yard at random.”

Macy kept her voice steady. “When did this happen?”

“Earlier this afternoon.”

“Was Forester singled out?”

“I seriously doubt it. There were a couple of other prisoners who faired far worse than him. The prisoner who attacked him was shot dead by guards.” He lowered his voice. “There was a lot of blood.”

“Did you find the weapon?” asked Gina.

“A utility knife blade had been embedded into a toothbrush handle. We do all we can to keep the place secure, but they're mighty resourceful.”

“You seem confident the attack was random.”

“Forester has been here a relatively short time, but he is already well liked. It's difficult to imagine someone having a grudge against him.”

“Why's that?” asked Macy.

“He is affable, generous … does what he can to help out. He tutors inmates who are nearing their release dates—how to do tax returns, manage household bills, stay out of debt, that sort of thing. He also spends a lot of time working on his appeal.”

Gina looked through her notes. “How could this happen? Wasn't Forester housed with minimum security prisoners?”

“That was normally the case, but there was a fire. Nearly thirty high security prisoners were shunted out into the yard.” He spread his hands. “The perpetrator died on the operating table so we may never know the reasons behind the attack. He was a lifer. Might be he decided that he'd had enough.”

Macy gazed out the window toward the watchtower they'd passed on the road in.

“What sort of injuries did Forester sustain?” asked Macy.

“Defensive wounds, mostly to his hands. We pride ourselves on running secure facilities. Thankfully, incidents such as this are rare.” All business again, the assistant warden opened a folder. “I understand you've put in a request to speak to Ray Davidson as well.”

Macy hesitated. “I'm hoping he'll have some insight. With his vast knowledge of private militia movements in the state, he may have some information that could help us with our investigation. Will it still be possible to see him?”

“We're pretty much in lockdown at the moment, but I've made an exception as it's official business. There's a conference room next door you can use. He's there now. My assistant will make sure you have everything you need. If you'll excuse me, I have to get back downstairs and meet the forensics team.”

“What about Ron Forester?” asked Macy. “Will we be able to meet with him as well?”

“He is still receiving medical treatment, but he should be available in the next hour. Will you be able to wait?”

“That won't be a problem,” said Gina.

The sleeve of his jacket pulled away as he reached out to shake their hands. The cuffs of his white shirt were soaked with blood. He turned a deeper shade of pale.

“I've not even had time to change yet.”

*   *   *

Ray sat at the conference table dressed in an orange prison jumpsuit staring down at his handcuffed wrists. Since Macy last saw him, he'd grown a beard and lost a considerable amount of weight. She pressed her back against the closed door and watched him. There were so many different things she wanted to say and do at once, all of them conflicting. Keeping well away, she skirted the edges of the room as she made her way to a window that overlooked the exercise yard. A forensics team had started processing the scene. The assistant warden stood on the edge with his hands in his pockets speaking to a few prison security officers wearing dark sweatshirts and camouflage trousers.

“When I heard there'd been an incident I was afraid it was you,” she said.

Ray looked up at her and she didn't look away. She walked to the table, pulled out the chair opposite him, and sat down. It took a few seconds before she was able to speak.

“Logic dictates that I should hate you, but that reaction tells me I still care. Why do you suppose that is?”

He put his shackled wrists on the table and leaned forward a fraction. She wasn't bothered that he didn't respond. She knew exactly what she wanted to say.

“There was a time when you were everything to me. You recruited me out of university, you were my mentor, my boss … my confidant. And when we eventually started seeing each other, I'd like to think that we were happy. I want to believe that Luke was conceived by two people who were in love, that you were and are capable of love.”

Ray blinked.

“Your son is getting on nicely by the way. As you know, he'll be three in December.” She reached into her bag and pulled out the sheaf of photos she'd printed off. “These are for you.”

She spread the 8 by 10s out on the table in the same way she would if she were asking someone to identify a suspect. She watched Ray focus on each one in turn, his expression growing harder every time Luke smiled up at him.

Macy rested her chin in her hands. “It's fortunate Luke is still so young. I haven't had to explain where his father is.”

“Don't.”

“Don't what, Ray?”

“He doesn't need to know I exist.” With difficulty, Ray gathered the photos and pushed them back across the table. “And I don't need to be reminded of what I've lost.” He looked up at her. “So that goes for you too. I don't want you coming here.”

“You could have refused to see me.”

Ray stared up at the ceiling. “It's not that simple. I couldn't not see you.”

“I'm having a hard time getting past you.”

“You should have given me a way out. A little warning … a loaded gun.” He rubbed his eyes. “It would have saved the state a lot of time and money.”

Macy flinched. “You know me better than that. Regardless of my feelings for you, I wasn't going to let you take the easy way out.”

“And yet here you are. Sitting in this room with me. Right now. Admitting that you still have feelings for a convicted felon. Admitting that you can't bring yourself to hate me.” He slumped forward and rested his chin in his hands. “Maybe, just maybe it's better to keep that sort of thing to yourself.”

Macy slipped her hands in her pockets and made a conscious decision to keep them there. She drew the line at touching him.

“I believe in being direct,” she said. “If I feel something I say it.”

“What are you feeling now?”

“Fear.”

“Why are you afraid, Macy? You're a free woman. You can walk out of here anytime you like.” He held up his handcuffed wrists. “I can't hurt you.”

“I can't walk away when you're in my head. I keep thinking that I should have seen the warning signs, that I missed the point when I could have saved you.”

“Careful Macy, it sounds like you're developing a God complex. Maybe that new job of yours at the Department of Justice is going to your head.”

“I'm far from God. If anything I've been humbled.” She caught his eye. “How did you know I changed jobs?”

“My lawyer told me. It was a wise career move. They'll give you far more autonomy than I ever did.”

“It's a good team of people.”

“If you're set on rebuilding your reputation you may want to keep away from doing any internal investigations. How's your boss?”

Macy almost smiled. “Pleasant. A little dull.”

“I'm sure you'll find he's more difficult to please than you realize.”

“You know him well?”

“Well enough.” Ray yawned. “He knows his limitations so he surrounds himself with people who can make up for them. If he took you on it's because he feels you have potential.”

“Nice to know, but I'm not here to talk about my new job.”

“And here I was hoping I'd successfully changed the subject.”

“Ray, you were a brilliant man, and I was one of the few people close to you. If I knew what was going on, I would have intervened. I'd like to think you would have listened to me.”

“You're giving yourself far too much credit. I wasn't in the mood to listen to anyone.”

“Are you listening now?”

He raised his wrists again. “I don't have a choice.”

“You've never shown remorse. Why is that?”

Ray didn't answer.

“I know you're sorry for all you've lost, but are you sorry for what happened in that fire?”

“It's not as simple as that, Macy. Either way I'd have lost everything. One stupid mistake and I was fucked.”

“I'll take that as a
no
.”

“I only wanted to silence her. She wouldn't—”

“Fall into line like I did? I was so gullible, wasn't I? Your bright-eyed ingénue, ready to take a bullet in more ways than one.” Macy paused. “You asked me why I'm afraid so I'll tell you. I'm afraid that I've been wired so well to expect disappointment that it's now my default position.”

Macy gathered her son's photos and stood up from the table, slamming the chair into place as she turned to go.

“I wasn't a born cynic. You made me into one.” Macy opened the door. “And do you know what, Ray? It sucks. It really sucks.”

*   *   *

Ron Forester looked more like a boxer than an accountant. Both his hands were heavily bandaged and a strip of tape bridged his swollen nose. His deep-set eyes were shadowed with black and blue hues. Someone had placed a plastic cup full of orange juice on the table in front of him. He leaned forward so he could sip it through a straw.

“I hope you guys will put in a good word for me,” he said.

Macy feigned concern. Ron Forester was convicted on charges of aggravated sexual assault. Nothing she said would make any difference.

“I'll do what I can,” she said.

“The woman who accused me of assault has a history of psychiatric problems. It should have been disclosed in court.”

“Do you have a court date for your appeal?” asked Macy.

“Yes, but it's taking too much time.” He held up his bandaged hands as evidence. “I nearly died out there today.”

“Do you have any reason to believe you were singled out as a target this afternoon?”

He shook his head. “As far as I can tell it was some random nutcase. You never know what's going to cause offense in here. You can be staring off into space and some asshole will accuse you of looking at him funny.”

“I need to speak to you about what happened at your home on Edgewood Road.”

“I'm not sure how much more I can add.”

“I understand that you went through photos from the scene with the detectives who first interviewed you.”

“They left one hell of a mess.”

Macy slipped out several photos of the kitchen, including one of the contents of the refrigerator.

“In general would you say that you are a fairly neat person?”

Ron Forester sifted through the photos. He stopped and stared at the photo of the inside of his refrigerator. “I'd say I'm average.” He pointed to the photo. “That's not my Red Bull.”

“Anything else that's odd about the photo?”

Ron leaned in. “The Chinese takeaway?”

“The rest is yours?”

He shrugged. “I suppose so. I've had other things to worry about. Is there something important that I'm missing here?”

“Does anything look like it's not where you normally put it?”

He stared again. “It's too neat.”

“Would you be surprised to learn that your condiments are now alphabetized?”

Two eyebrows rose in unison. “I didn't do that.”

“What about the cleaner you used? Had she ever done anything like that?”

“God, no. I think I'd have fired her if she'd wasted her time organizing my cupboards.”

Macy showed him several photos of the contents of his cabinets.

He laughed and winced at the same time. “It's like a scene from
Sleeping with the Enemy
.”

“So you don't alphabetize your spices either?”

“Hell, no.”

“Do you know anyone who has these sorts of tendencies?”

“No one I can think of.”

“We're pretty sure you've had some kind of contact with the perpetrators. They knew the code for your alarm system.”

“I already gave the guys that came to interview me a list of anyone who may have known the access code.”

“Everyone has checked out so far. You were with Mountain Security?”

He nodded. “For years. I assume they do background checks on their staff.”

Macy thought about what Kyle Miller had said about Flathead Valley Security employees all being ex-military or ex–law enforcement. Mountain Security had a similar employee profile.

“We checked,” said Macy. “There's no known connection between the security company and the kidnappers.”

“You know who did it?”

“Carla and Lloyd Spencer were found dead yesterday morning. We've come to believe they were involved.” Macy placed their DMV photos on the table in front of him. “Do you know them?”

He stared at Carla's photo. “I can't place her, but she sure looks familiar.”

“She worked at a waitress at the IHOP.”

“The IHOP?” he said, looking insulted. “Give me some credit.”

“For the past year she's delivered pizzas.”

He tapped his bandaged finger on the photo. “That's it. I only remember because I think it's the last time I actually had fun. Some friends came over and we ordered pizza. One of my guests had drunk a bit too much. He invited her in.”