Wrong Place, Wrong Time (6 page)

He jumped up and grabbed the phone, punching it on. “Montgomery.”

“Pete — it’s me.”

Sally.

Her voice was raspy and weak, but it was the most wonderful sound Monty had every heard.

A flood of relief surged through him. “Thank God. Where are you? Are you okay?”

“I guess so.” She coughed. “I’m shaky, dizzy, and exhausted. But I’m alive. I shouldn’t be calling you, but I didn’t know where else to turn. Is this line still… okay?”

“Yeah. And you sure as hell
should
be calling me. This way your call can’t be traced. Besides, no one can do a better job of keeping you safe.”

She didn’t negate his words. “So you know what happened?”

“That Pierson’s dead and the cabin was torched? Yeah, I know.”

A shaky sigh. “I’m in a phone booth, using a calling card. It’s only got fifteen minutes on it.”

“Give me the number.” Monty grabbed a scrap of paper and a pen. He listened, and scribbled. Judging from the area code, she was somewhere in Vermont. Good. That would make things nice and easy for the plan he had in mind. “Hang up. I’ll call you back,” he instructed.

He disconnected the call and punched up the number she’d given him.

“Pete?” she asked tentatively when she picked up.

“It’s me. Before we get into this, how bad are you hurt and where?”

“My head. It’s pounding like a drum. I’m dizzy, and I’ve got a huge bump. But my vision’s okay, so if I’ve got a concussion, it’s a mild one. Other than that, it’s just aches, pains, and some tightness in my chest from the smoke. I’ll heal.”

“Thanks for the diagnosis. But I’d prefer getting it from a doctor. I’ll make arrangements to have you checked out later today. Now tell me what happened.”

Slowly, and with obvious physical discomfort, Sally relayed the events of the previous morning. “Once I got out of the cabin, I panicked,” she concluded. “I didn’t know if the killer was still around, or if he’d seen I was alive. I was terrified he’d come after me. So I took off. I cut across to Glens Falls. More people. More traffic. Less chance of being noticed. I bought a bus ticket at the diner, and took the two thirty Greyhound. I didn’t get in till almost eleven.”

“Into where?”

“Middlebury. I figured a college campus would be about the best setting I could pick to be invisible in.”

“Smart girl. College kids don’t notice anything on a Friday night. They’re too drunk. And Saturday morning at seven — they’re dead to the world.”

“Exactly. I checked into the Marriott Courtyard. I was lucky they had a vacancy during ski season. I paid cash. I don’t remember much of the night; I must have passed out. I woke up a little while ago, stopped off to buy this phone card, and came straight here.” Her voice broke. “Pete, I’m scared.”

“Don’t be. I’ll fix this.”

“Did the police find the killer? Do they know who he is, or why he killed Frederick?”

“No. Not yet.”

Sally picked up on the gruff censure in Monty’s tone. “Do the police think
I
did it?”

“They don’t know what to think. But they are looking for you — either as the perp or as a witness. I gave them my take on things. No shocker that I was right. But it’s not the cops I’m worried about. It’s the killer. Like you said, he’s still out there. By now, he knows he screwed up and you’re alive. Which means you’re still a target. There’s no way you can come forward, not without putting yourself in danger. Until he’s found, we’ve got to keep you stashed away.”

“Stashed away — where?”

Monty leaned forward, gripping the phone more tightly. “Remember the plan you and I talked about years ago when I was working undercover?”

A heartbeat of silence. “You mean about how the kids and I could drop out of sight if your cover was blown?”

“That’s the one.”

“You still have those contacts?”

“One of them’s right in your backyard. I’ll get ahold of him. We’ll work out a time frame and I’ll call you back. Give me a half hour to make the arrangements. I’ll call you at the hotel. What room are you in?”

“Three forty-two.”

“Okay, go back and take a hot shower. Have you eaten?”

“Uh-uh. Last night I was too out of it, and today I’m down to a few dollars.”

“Spend them. Buy coffee and a muffin. That’ll tide you over. You’ll get everything you need, including a hot meal, soon. Okay?”

“Okay.” Sally’s voice was getting weaker. “Pete?”

“Enough, Sal. You sound like you’re going to collapse.”

She ignored his reprimand. “The kids — they’re all right?”

“They will be now. They’re all at Devon’s. I’ll drive over there as soon as I’ve got things set. I’ll also call your folks. Now haul your ass back to that hotel. I’ll be in touch in a little while.”

“Thank you, Pete,” she managed before hanging up.

SALLY WAS WRAPPED in a bath towel, sipping a cup of hotel-room-brewed coffee when the phone on the nightstand rang.

“Yes?” she answered cautiously.

“It’s me.” Monty didn’t mince words. “Here’s the scoop. I called my contact. Rod Garner. He’s a good guy and a hell of a cop. We go back twenty-five years. He retired from the Seventy-fifth a couple of years before I did, and moved to Williamstown, Mass. He’s got a wife, plus two married kids, and a slew of grandkids in the area. You’ll be staying with him and his wife, Molly, for as long as necessary. No one will know where you are. Rod’s got ten or fifteen acres, so you don’t have to worry about being spotted. Just hang close to the house and you’ll be fine.”

“Wait,” Sally interrupted. “What about his wife? Won’t she mind?”

“Mind? She’ll be thrilled. Rod’s like an old warhorse. Molly’s heard his cop stories so many times, they put her to sleep. Besides, you two are a lot alike. She loves the great outdoors. And she’s crazy about kids, especially her grandchildren. They’re her life. When she finds out you teach nursery school, she’ll go nuts. Anyway, she and Rod are the only ones who’ll know the truth about why you’re there. If the kids visit, Rod will tell them you’re an old friend who’s going through a rough time and needs a place to sort things out.”

“But — ”

“No buts. Rod’s already on his way to Middlebury. It’ll take him a little over two hours to reach you. So get some rest. He’ll give you a call when he’s fifteen minutes away. At that point, you’ll head down to the lobby, turn in your key, and meet him at the back entrance. He drives a blue Ford Explorer. Any questions?”

“What about the police? You said they’re looking for me.”

“Let ’em look. I’ll give Sergeant Jakes a call, tell him I heard from you, and explain what really went down at that cabin. Then I’ll tell him you’re terrified the killer’s after you, and that you hung up without telling me where you were or where you were headed.”

“Isn’t that aiding and abetting, or obstruction of justice, or something like that?”

“Nope. Just a small twist of the truth. And only about your whereabouts. The rest is fact.” Monty gave a wicked chuckle, and Sally could actually visualize that smug I-beat-the-system gleam in his eyes. “That’s the great part about being a PI and not a cop. You can bend the rules a little.”

“As if you didn’t before,” she commented drily.

“Point taken. Okay then, I can bend them even more. So, instead of wasting time following protocol and filling out bullshit reports, I can investigate on my own and track down the scumbag who smashed in Frederick Pierson’s skull and nearly incinerated you.”

Like an unwelcome blast from the past, Sally felt that grinding twist in her gut. “In other words, once you figure out who he is, you’re going after him.”

“Did you doubt it?”

“No. Are you going to elicit the help of the Warren County sheriff, or is that a stupid question?”

“It’s a stupid question. I work better and faster on my own. Now go take it easy. Later, I’ll want to ask you some questions about what you might and might not know about Frederick Pierson.”

“Speaking of that, there’s something you should know right away. It may mean nothing. On the other hand, it bugged me enough to stick in my mind. I assumed I was overreacting — until Frederick was murdered.”

“Go on.”

“I overheard an argument between Frederick and his father earlier this week. Frederick wanted to fire someone at his company. Edward was dead set against it. Something about a criminal offense that could jeopardize the company. At least that’s what Frederick claimed. Edward obviously didn’t agree. He vetoed Frederick’s decision to let this person go.”

“Interesting.” Monty digested Sally’s information. “So it could be a crooked employee. Or maybe just a disgruntled one who knew Frederick didn’t trust him. As the ball-breaking CEO of the company, I’m sure he had lots of pissed-off employees. We’ll just have to figure out which of them, if any, would go so far as to kill him.”

“I could try to write down the exact words they — ”

“Not now,” Monty interrupted in that no-nonsense detective voice. “Now is about getting you settled in and checked out by a doctor. Call me when you’re safely in Rod’s truck.”

“On the Bat Phone?” Sally asked, her lips curving slightly.

“Yeah.” There was a trace of rough nostalgia in his tone. “On the Bat Phone. I’ll bring it with me to Devon’s. That way, you can talk to the kids when you get to Williamstown.”

A pause. “Pete…whatever you do, be careful.”

“Never mind me.
You
be careful. No hiking into town or sneaking off to hit the slopes. Be a nice, New England homebody. In the meantime, I’ll start digging around to see who hated Frederick Pierson and why.”

The sun was poised on the horizon, sinking slowly downward, when Edward Pierson finished his phone call and slammed down the phone in the farm’s walnut-pillared living room.

“The cops still haven’t found Sally Montgomery,” he announced, turning to Blake. “But evidently, she’s alive and hiding.”

Blake extricated the shredded hem of his jeans from between Chomper’s teeth and frowned. “What do you mean ‘hiding’?”

“I mean she called her ex-husband. Didn’t want her family to think she was dead. She got out of the cabin before the fire destroyed the place.”

“Why didn’t she take Frederick with her?”

“Because he was already dead.” Edward dragged an arm across his forehead. Looking ill, he explained the circumstances to Blake. “She’s afraid that whoever killed Frederick and whacked her on the head will be looking for her to finish what he started. So she’s not telling anyone where she is.”

“Did she see the guy? Is she willing to give a description?”

“I don’t know.” Edward filled his water glass and gulped at it, clearly wishing it were bourbon. “The cops won’t give me any details. All the sheriff keeps saying is: ‘It’s an ongoing investigation.’ Which does me a hell of a lot of good.” He set down the glass with a thud.

Blake shooed Chomper away again, then gave up, letting the puppy tug at his jeans and chew the leg bottom into a soggy wad. “Grandfather, ease up. You’ve been pushing yourself all day. Grandmother would have your head, and so would the doctors. Let the police do their job. Concentrate on something else — like how strong James’s showing will be in tomorrow’s Grand Prix.”

“Right.” Edward’s tension eased slightly. “According to our trainer, he’s more than ready. His form’s great and he’s been clearing every jump.” The scowl returned. “Of course, all that could go down the tubes before next Sunday’s event. He’ll have flown home to cope with a funeral and the fallout that goes along with losing not just his uncle, but the head of his branch of our company. That’s bound to screw him up. You reported to Frederick, too. You and I have got to pick up the slack so James doesn’t have to, and so the food-services division doesn’t suffer. As it is, the staff will be in chaos, and our suppliers and accounts will be nervous as hell. It’s going to be ugly.” A sidelong glare at Blake. “By the way, cut out the placating, diversionary crap. It’s revoltingly obvious.”

“I wasn’t going for subtle. And I’m not placating you. I’m helping get you through this ordeal. I’m well aware you’ll fight me every step of the way. Just as you’re aware that I’ll fight back.”

“Yes,” Edward muttered, shaking his head. “Somewhere along the line I screwed up with you and James. You’re not afraid of me like you should be. Everyone else in the family is.”

“Except Grandmother,” Blake reminded him. “
Fear
’s not in her vocabulary. As for James and me, it’s not a matter of your screwing up. It’s a matter of your nurturing what we represent: your legacies. James is fulfilling one — your life’s passion — and I’m fulfilling the other — your life’s work. He inherited your hunger for Olympic gold, and I inherited your business creativity and the balls to take Pierson & Company where it needs to go.”

A simple enough explanation, Blake mused. With an ocean of details omitted. It was true that neither he nor James was afraid of their grandfather. But that was for entirely different reasons. And, yes, they each represented a different priority in Edward’s life. But that’s where the similarities ended.

“If you’re saying I’m softer on the two of you because of your likenesses to me, that’s bullshit, at least where you’re concerned,” Edward replied, as if reading Blake’s mind. “James is one story. But I’m harder on you than I am on any of your cousins, your uncles, and, certainly, your father. He’s a lost cause.”

Blake shrugged. “Dad’s just not driven.”

“Oh, he’s driven all right. To sail, play golf, take vacations. You’d never know he’s Pierson & Company’s VP of marketing. He’s in the office about three days a month. The rest of the time he and your mother are gallivanting around the world.”

“He manages his end of the business.”

“No,
you
manage his end of the business.” Edward’s gaze clouded. “But that’s about to change. Everything’s about to change, with Frederick gone.”

“I realize that.” Blake blew out his breath. “Let’s take this one step at a time. The coroner has the dental records. Soon they’ll make a positive ID. After that, we’ll call James —
before
the news leaks out and he catches sight of a newspaper. The corporate jet will be there waiting. It’s on standby, ready to fly him home, and back to Wellington after the funeral. Niles and Lynn are already back from Florida, and Mom and Dad will be landing tonight. Everyone else is home, ready to do whatever’s necessary. As for the other company VPs, I’ll call them after we’ve told James. We’ll call an emergency management committee meeting for later this week, once the funeral’s behind us.”