In Harm's Way Part 30

"It's not that complicated."

"It's late," she said.

"You want me to go." He made it a statement. "Your earlier invitation?"

"I don't think I realized how tired I was."

"Why-" He caught himself. There were questions he'd been wanting to ask her for some time now-her name appearing on St. Luke's emergency room manifest; her refusal to answer the door that night. He could have asked them anytime. He could have asked them now. But he held off because once asked, he couldn't take them back; once they were asked, he would have answers and he wasn't sure he wanted the answers. He couldn't recall a time that as sheriff he'd not wanted answers, the feeling so foreign to him he felt upended. She was protecting Kira, and for him to go after the girl meant he would have to go through her, and it was the last thing he wanted.

"Yes?" she asked.

"Let me help clear her," he said. "I want to clear her."

"I'll try," she said. "I promise."

"If she was threatened. If it was something like that-"

"Walt, she wasn't here that night."

"Yeah, but you see, that's part of the problem. The autopsy couldn't establish an exact time of death-the cold nights, the hot days. It screws everything up. We have a witness-"

He felt her tense and knew she tried to hide it.

"But it doesn't establish a TOD for us. Time of death," he explained. "We don't know which night it was. It's one of two. But you seem to think otherwise. Can you help me out here?"

"How?"

"Explain to Michael and Leslie how important this is for Kira. If they complicate this, it only makes things worse for her."

"I told you I'll try to find them. It isn't always so easy."

"I'm going to say something as a friend. Not as sheriff. Okay? For a minute let's say I'm not wearing the uniform."

"Okay." She crossed her arms more tightly. Any more and she'd have trouble breathing.

Collecting himself, he looked up into the darkness of the trees, the shadows from the headlights playing tricks on the eyes.

"I know you'd do anything to protect her. I understand that urge. But don't put yourself in the middle of this. The law is real clear about that kind of thing. Believe me, I don't want you or Kira caught up in this. But a thing like this, it sorts itself out eventually, and there's no going back and changing what was said, or done, before it does. There's no changing that stuff."

"Some cases don't get solved," she said. "Some cases go cold."

He felt his breath catch. A few seconds earlier he'd been wondering if she'd somehow managed to subst.i.tute her name for Kira's on the emergency room manifest-if she was sacrificing herself for the young woman. Fiona showed no signs of head injury. Had Kira taken off to hide her injuries? Was she waiting for a bruise to heal before returning? He'd been thinking he needed a look at the actual medical records. But that had all evaporated with her pushing him off the investigation. Could he let the case go cold? Could he do such a thing? A month earlier he wouldn't have even considered such a possibility.

"You're right, it's late. Neither of us is thinking clearly." He stepped toward her and kissed her on the cheek, but she stood rigid and unresponsive.

He whispered, "I hear you."

"I . . . My memory is all messed up." He saw now that her face was stained with tears.

"Shhh."

She faced him and met eyes with him. She looked frightened-terrified, was more like it-and he pulled her to him and held her.

"There's so much to tell you," she said.

"I'm here."

"I want to tell you."

"It's tricky," he said. "Some things may be better left unsaid." He wondered where that had come from. He couldn't-wouldn't-ask her to betray Kira. There were other ways he could do this. He could leave her out of it. "Get some rest."

"But I want to . . ." she said.

"Sleep on it."

She nodded, his uniform shirt damp with her tears. She clung to him as he gently pushed her away and walked back to the Jeep. He stopped and looked back at her in the headlights, wondering how he could let such an opportunity pa.s.s. Wondering who he'd become.

Bea licked him as he climbed in. He pushed her into the backseat and drove off, intentionally avoiding a glance into the rearview mirror.

32.

As lead investigator on the Gale case, Walt was shown and was required to sign off on the case paperwork. The longer and more involved a case, the greater the paperwork. He was no stranger to bureaucracy. As sheriff, he was in charge of people management and budget oversight; he essentially ran a decent-sized company with a charter to solve crimes and keep the peace, work that was typically delegated to others. He and Nancy had developed a routine, a rhythm to the administration of his office that allowed him, as with the Gale case, to keep his hand in the work that interested him, while keeping the office work moving ahead. Like any worthwhile a.s.sistant, Nancy was crucial to the process. She knew what had to be done when, and saw to it, chasing him down for signatures and ensuring he attended the necessary meetings with the county commissioners and politicians.

He finished signing a stack of papers and slid the next in front of him, recognizing the top sheets as the inventory from Gale's rented SUV. He'd been so obsessed with his own handling of the baseball bat found outside the vehicle that, while he'd been briefed on the contents of the vehicle itself-including the victim's missing wallet, found under the seat; blood evidence, not on the headrest but near the ignition and on the steering wheel and pa.s.senger-side floor mat; and the car rental contract, discovered inside the console lock box-he'd not given a great deal of thought to any of it. The wallet contained no cash; the blood evidence had been collected and sent off to the lab, along with the rental contract to be processed for fingerprints. The vehicle's interior and exterior had been processed for latent prints, with little more than a few smears and smudges to show for it.

He flipped through the detailed inventory, making sure to read it carefully as he continued to think about his handling of the baseball bat, and how he was going to eventually add it to the same list. Boldt had promised quick lab work; he made a mental note to follow up on that.

He read past the line before stopping abruptly and backtracking. It was listed under contents of the wallet.

"Nancy!"

She knew that tone, and rushed through the doorway.

"Double-check this, will you? It's got to be a mistake." He spun the page around and indicated the line. "Someone screwed something up. I'm almost positive Brandon said the ATM withdrawals were from a Visa with this same bank. As in, this same card. It can't be in the wallet if it's being used to make cash withdrawals in town, can it? Sort it out, please."

"Got it." She took the page with her. But Walt came out of his seat and followed her back to her desk and hovered there as she located Brandon. Walt held out his hand for the receiver. She handed it over, disappointed in him for micromanaging. She and Beatrice knew how to get to him.

"Tommy? The ATM card. Gale's ATM card. It was a Visa with what bank?"

"Purchase Bank, in Mobile."

"You're sure?"

"Positive."

Walt cupped the receiver and said to Nancy, "Find out where Gale's effects are. Specifically, his wallet. The lab, I a.s.sume?"

Nancy returned to Walt's desk and carried a stack of papers back to her desk. She flipped through several and ran her finger along a line. "Yes. Still in Meridian."

"Ask them to e-mail us a photo of the card, will you? Both sides. And I want that card fumed or dusted for prints."

She held out her hand, wanting the phone back from him.

"Meet me in my office," Walt told Brandon, surrendering the phone to her.

Brandon tried to fit himself into one of the two chairs facing Walt's desk. He looked like Walt felt when volunteering to read to kids in kindergarten.

Walt pa.s.sed him the inventory sheet, where a yellow highlighted line now jumped off the page.

"Son of a b.u.t.te," Brandon said.

"Banks don't issue two cards with the same name on the same account."

"All I can tell you is that Blompier, I think it was, was the one in touch with them, and it was this card on this bank. Maximum cash advances a couple days in a row."

"And he was dead."

"Yeah, I get that."

"And the card is now somehow back in his wallet."

"I'm not saying I understand it."

"Blompier handed it right to me, and I missed it," Walt said, thinking aloud.

"Sheriff?"

"We were talking about cameras on the ATMs, how convenient it was that the ATM used didn't happen to have a working camera as part of its security."

"Okay," Brandon said.

"We were made aware of this during that poacher case. You remember?"

"Sure."

"So did Deputy Blompier. He mentioned it to me. Reminded me."

"You lost me, I think."

"All those trees, the forest as thick as it is where we found the rental-it occurred to me at the time that it was a miracle it threw off any kind of heat signature."

"Now I know you lost me."

"Gilly Menquez told me he found the truck because of its heat signature. The poacher case? Menquez handled that for the Forest Service. He knew that ATM didn't have a camera."

"Menquez?" Brandon couldn't believe it.

"We need a way to prove it. What about traffic cams?" Walt asked.

"What traffic cams? We don't have any traffic cams."

"You and I know that, but is that common knowledge?"

"If I knew where you were going with this, Sheriff, maybe I could help." Brandon stood out of the chair, making it look normal-sized again.

"Nancy!" Walt shouted, forgoing the intercom. "Get me Kenshaw."

"I'm on it!" she shouted back.

Brandon, his face a ma.s.s of confusion, pointed out the office door, miming his request to leave. Walt a.s.sented.

"Sometime today would be good!" Walt called out to Nancy.

"I said: I'm on it I'm on it."

Walt addressed Brandon saying, "Find Gilly. Get him down here for a chat."

"Menquez? How am I supposed to do that?"

"I'm not asking, I'm ordering," Walt said.

His phone rang. She'd put him through.

Shaking his head, Brandon took off.

Walt answered the phone. "Sheriff?" Fiona said, sounding ever so professional.

"I need you," Walt said.

For the sake of security and secrecy, there was no window in the door of the office's Incident Command Center. But Walt felt as if he could see inside to where Fiona was working at his request. He stood outside the door as agitated as an expectant father, the prosecuting attorney's voice ringing in his ears. Finally, he summoned the courage to knock and let himself in.

"Why?" he asked her. She sat all alone in the room, dwarfed in what could pa.s.s as a lecture hall, her laptop connected to a large hi-def television screen.

"Why what?" she said, breaking her attention away from the screen.

"The Engletons turned down my request to search the property." He felt confused by the look of surprise on her face.

"I didn't know," she said.