Cooper's Deale Part 18

Despite the charges and the intensity with which the prosecutor had pursued them, the judge had determined that any number of individuals could have placed the camera in the house and that unless more substantial evidence could be brought to bear, Addy was out on bail pending her trial. She thanked her court-appointed attorney, a middle-aged balding man who spoke with a lisp but made up for it with his energetic defense, and strolled beside Karen to her car.

"Would you like to go someplace and celebrate?"

Addy shook her head. "There's nothing to celebrate...yet. The trial is soon. To be honest, I just want to go home and see Tommy."

Karen nodded and helped her into the car. As they drove, their silence was heavy with unspoken words. Addy tentatively reached across the seat and laid her hand over Karen's after a few blocks, relieved when Karen gripped it tight. The connection grounded her and kept her from losing control. If she dwelt on her situation, she would fall apart. Right now, she needed to be strong, for Tommy if not for herself.

Fern came bustling out the front door when they pulled up, wiping her hands on a dish towel.

"I've made blueberry pancakes to welcome you home.

Chauncey is out back churning the ice-cream maker, and Tommy is...well, in his usual place."

Addy was so glad to be back home and out of jail. They entered the house, and Karen continued to the backyard.

Addy lingered in the kitchen, appreciating the warm room and luxuriating in the familiar safety.

"Did you really get out on bail, or did the file come in handy?" Fern asked, glancing out back.

Addy smiled. "I appreciate your support, Fern, really I do. But I got out of jail the legal way. I can't leave town, and I'm only free while everyone prepares for the trial."

Fern whispered, "I've been speaking with Chauncey. He says he has a cousin in Matamoros who does odd jobs in Brownsville, Texas. He can get you as far south as Veracruz. From there, we can get you to Cancun, where Chauncey's family lives. You could take a boat across to Cuba and they'd never find you."

"Thanks, Fern, but I've got to think of Tommy, remember?"

"I'm working on that." She frowned. "Maybe we can ship some trees to Mexico so Tommy would feel at home on his voyage. Once Tommy's there, he can cross the country like Tarzan, swinging through the jungle."

Addy stared at Fern, wondering if she was serious or had truly lost her mind. Before she could answer, Karen stepped through the screen door.

"Tommy's fine, but he's asking for you."

Addy excused herself and climbed the tree. Seeing Tommy again made her realize she really was home, and she hugged him close.

"Are you here for good this time?"

The mournful sound of his voice nearly tore Addy's heart from her chest. She wished she could rea.s.sure him, but she didn't know how long she'd be home. At the very least she would be back in court. At the worst, she'd be in prison for life. They sat down on the bed.

"I'm home now," she said. "What have you been up to since I've been gone?"

"I learned a new bird call," he announced proudly. "Mr. Velasquez taught me the toucan's song." He pursed his lips and trilled out a series of rasping notes.

"That's very nice."

"Then yesterday, Jeff came over and spent the night. We played hide-and-seek in the tree for a while, and then it got dark."

Addy was about to say something, but Tommy's words made her pause. What struck her as odd?

"What did you say?"

"Jeff spent the night."

"No, you said...you said you played hide-and-seek?"

Tommy nodded.

The memory crashed in on Addy as she remembered the night she had found Tommy near the sh.o.r.e in the tall weedy gra.s.s. He was standing next to the body saying something similar, about men playing hide-and-seek and the man with the camera. She jumped from the bed, shaking excitedly. Running to the window, she shouted, "Karen!"

"Where are we going?" Abel asked, cupping the flame of his lighter against the wind.

Clarence steered the forty-six-foot Harper-Jones fishing boat out of the harbor and into the open Chesapeake. Her twin Caterpillar diesel engines chugged noisily as they churned in the water, the waves spraying lightly over the bow. The boat had belonged to Frank's army buddy, Wayne Newton, who had left Frank the keys.

"Far enough out where no one can see us."

"Then what?" Abel stared at him. Clarence made him nervous. He was unpredictable, and Abel didn't trust him. The big oaf was also stupid, and that scared him even more.

"We're dumping this s.h.i.t overboard into deep water where no one will ever find it."

"But what if Frank wants it back?" Abel was very nervous now. Clarence was one thing, but Frank's anger was something else altogether. If Frank had only meant to have them hide his equipment in order to return it to him when things cooled off, he'd probably kill them if he found out they had dumped it in the bottom of the ocean.

"He said to get rid of it, and that's what I'm doing. If he wants it back, he'll have to jump in and get it." Clarence laughed like a maniac, then shifted into idle. Walking to the stern, he picked up the duffel bag and pitched it into the blue waters of the Chesapeake.

Frank waited outside the jail as reporters hovered nearby.

They had arrived late in the day, not realizing that Addy Cooper had already made bail. They were trying to interview the DA or anyone who happened to come out of the building who might know something about the murder investigation. Someone in a suit came out onto the steps, and the reporters rushed him, obscuring him with cameras and microphones. Frank hung back, awaiting the outcome.

The man obviously knew nothing, but enjoyed the attention he was receiving. He blathered on until Frank noticed a bleached blonde exiting the jail, accompanied by a man in a cheap suit who looked like a public defender. They parted company and the woman stumbled down the steps, pausing to adjust her disheveled appearance. She was about to divert her path toward the reporters when Frank stepped up and took her by the arm.

"Hey," she protested.

Frank walked her around the corner of the building. If his hunch was right, the woman had recently spent time in jail.

"Excuse me, ma'am," he said. "I'm Bob Smith of the Post, and I want to ask you a few questions, if you don't mind."

The woman straightened immediately. "If this is about the woman who killed the reporter, I'm the one you need to talk to. I shared a cell with her. She confessed the whole crime to me."

Frank eyed her skeptically, but played along.

"Really? Then you're the woman I want. Of course, the Post will be happy to pay for your story."

The woman's bloodshot eyes brightened noticeably. "How much?"

"Would five hundred be sufficient?"

The amount had its intended effect. The woman nearly tripped all over herself to tell Frank her story. He listened impatiently, knowing that most of what she said was either outright lies or greatly embellished. Unable to take anymore of her gibberish, he interrupted smoothly.

"Did she ever talk about a camera while you were there?"

The blonde squinted. After a few minutes, however, she snapped her fingers as a low-wattage light bulb seemed to flicker on.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, she did. Some cop was asking her about it."

Frank's pulse quickened. "Think very hard. What did she say? This is important and could be worth a lot more money than what we're offering."

"I remember exactly what she said. By that time, I was pretty sober-I mean, I had just woken up and was paying close attention. The cop was asking her about the film. They couldn't find it and wanted to know what she did with it. But she said she didn't know anything about it."

Frank only half listened after that. His mind flew back to the kid in the tree house. He had it all along. No one else would think to look for it there-everyone's attention was focused on the girl.

The woman had stopped talking and waited expectantly. He thanked her for the information and wrote down her name and address, telling her that his newspaper would send her a check in the mail. As he limped down the street to his car, he tossed the slip of paper with her address into the trash can at the curb.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN.

Liberty was furious that Addy had been released into the deputy's custody the day before. No longer able to question her suspect, she focused on the environmental aspects of the case. After all, that was her primary concern, not the reporter's death. Addy had definitely committed the crime and her brother was mixed up in it as well, but Liberty needed to reexamine the radioactive waste in the Chesapeake and determine its components precisely. If she could tie that situation in with what had gone on at Addy's former workplace, she could get a solid conviction.

"Girls Just Want to Have Fun" rang from the cell case on her hip, and she flipped open her phone.

"Liberty."

"We just got a call from the EPA. Radioactive levels around Deale have spiked. They're on their way via the scientific vessel Ship of Fools and will use all the resources available to examine the waters around Deale and give us immediate answers."

"When did this happen?"

"Very suddenly, within the last twenty-four hours, but they won't know for sure until they examine the waters and begin cleanup activity. If this isn't stopped right now, and word leaks out to the press, it will cause a major panic in the area. If the terrorists plan to poison the watershed that provides drinking water to DC, we can't do a lot to stop them."

"I'll stop them. I know exactly who's responsible. I just need to get the proof. Book me a flight to Oakland, California."

"We have to find out who the men are, so let's have Tommy look at some photos."

Karen sat at the kitchen table with Cheatham and Gra.s.sley, who had been at the station late that afternoon when Karen called in. They had tried to contact Liberty but were only able to leave a voice message. It wasn't like her to be unavailable, and no one knew exactly where she was. But they were certain she was investigating clues about the perpetrators.

Cheatham and Gra.s.sley had listened to Tommy's somewhat convoluted story and said they weren't sure what to believe, but if Tommy was right, they were trying to locate three Caucasian males, possibly the Gripps. The crime was taking on a whole new dimension. They said they would quit interrogating Addy and Tommy and instead focus on the three men in the house across the inlet. The theory that the Gripps were involved was plausible.

Addy was making a pot of coffee and occasionally stared out the window to the red oak. Tommy was on the deck, his binoculars focused toward the inlet. She had allowed the agents to talk with Tommy, but all he would say was that one was a snipe, one a pelican, and the other a sandpiper. She didn't think the information would help them find the suspects. They should be showing Tommy a book on Maryland wildlife instead of mug shots.

"You can bring the photos here, right?" Addy asked. "Tommy doesn't have to go to the police station, does he?"

Karen shook her head. "No. It'll be fine, I promise."

She rose and approached Addy at the kitchen sink. Though Karen acted like she wanted to touch her, she only said that she better stay around because the publicity surrounding Addy's arrest had made the papers. If those guys were still in the area, they might want to pay Addy and Tommy a call tonight.

"We'll make a game of it," Karen said. "Tommy will have a good time and not suspect a thing. But, Addy, we need his help desperately. One man has already been killed, and we don't know what we're up against."

The men seated at the table waited with expectant looks on their faces. Meeting Karen's gaze, Addy nodded, so the agents rose and said they'd be back in the morning with the photos.

After they left, being in the kitchen alone with Karen made her nervous, so she busied herself with the coffeemaker, flipping the off switch to on, and the coffee began to drip. Karen hadn't moved away and heat waves emanated from her, but Addy tried very hard to ignore them.

"Just sugar, right?" she asked.

"Right."

As Addy scooped two spoonfuls of sugar into a mug and poured the coffee, her hand shook, and she gripped the handle tight.

"Here, let me get that." Karen put her hands over Addy's to steady the pot.

Addy wished she hadn't done that. What began as a slight tremble in her hands turned into uncontrollable shaking all the way to her knees. She was simply tired, she decided, raw and vulnerable-still recovering from Liberty's stinging betrayal.

And even though her relationship with Karen appeared to be improving, she wasn't sure where they were headed. They couldn't simply pick up where they left off, but maybe they could start anew. She wasn't sure if that was the right thing to do, but her body sure liked the idea.

She released the coffeepot and Karen poured them both a cup. But neither of them paid any attention to it. Addy tried to look everywhere but at Karen, knowing if she did look at her, she wouldn't be able to control her reaction. She had too much to do and worry about. But when she finally met Karen's steady gaze, she was lost.

"I've missed you so much, Addy." Karen stroked her cheek. "Please, let me love you the way you need to be loved. It's all I've ever wanted."

Addy closed her eyes at the touch. She had no strength to resist it anyway, and she simply gave in. Even with her eyes shut, she could feel Karen drawing closer until their lips met. Their kiss was so much better than she remembered, and she floated away on a cloud of euphoria. Suddenly, Karen lifted her and carried her into her bedroom, their connection not breaking until she laid her on the bed.

They made love well into the night, slowly, as though now would last forever. Addy had dreamt so often of this, of being with Karen again, and had wondered whether it would feel the same as she remembered. Her memories didn't compare to what she was experiencing-the way Karen touched her, how their bodies fit like they were made for one another. Karen stroked her gently when she needed it, withholding pleasure to heighten her need, then giving her all to push Addy to climax. Karen played Addy's body like a virtuoso, and Addy hummed in tune.

"We can't go back there, Frank," Abel said. "They're looking for us right now."

"They're looking for someone, but not us, and certainly not on this boat," Frank said. "They don't have the film, but the boy has it and we have to get it back."

"You don't know that for sure," Abel whined.

"My gut knows it, and that's good enough for me."

"Well, it's not good enough for me," Clarence said. "You're as fruity as the kid if you think I'm going back up that tree. I've loaded up my car with my stuff and I'm heading to Canada. If you want to come along, that's up to you, but either way, I'm outta here."

"And they'll catch you at the border," Frank said. "If we don't get the film back, they'll track you down like a dog. You won't last a minute out there. But if we get our hands on it, we're safe. They'll never know who did it."

Clarence studied Frank skeptically, but a glimmer of doubt flashed across his eyes.

"I don't know..." he said slowly.

"Either you're with me or you're dead. Take your pick. It doesn't matter to me if they catch your lazy a.s.s. But I know you, Clarence. You'll squeal like Ned Beatty in Deliverance if they get hold of you. So you're coming with me whether you like it or not. Now, grease up your face and let's go."

Frank finished blackening his face, then checked to see if they were following suit. Abel and Clarence gazed nervously at each other, but slowly picked up the can of grease and smeared some on their faces. Frank grinned. They'd do as he said, because they knew he was right. Abel would obey, even if he didn't really like the plan. But Frank still wasn't sure he could trust Clarence.

If he did anything he wasn't supposed to, Frank might have to stop him-in any way he felt necessary.

When their faces were dark, they dressed in black and steeled themselves for the night ahead. Frank took the stern of the boat and headed inland to the inlet that led to the Coopers'. The running lights were off so no one would see them. The sky was overcast, so even the boat's outline against the horizon wouldn't be noticeable. Only the diesel engines were audible, and he hoped no one would be outside this late, because the noise carried a great distance across the water. As if in answer to his prayers, a bolt of lightning briefly lit up the sky, followed moments later by a rumble of thunder. The storm would cover their approach, and Frank smiled broadly.

Liberty was about to board her plane at BWI for Oakland when "Girls Just Want to Have Fun" jingled at her side again.

"Liberty."