Bounty (Walk the Right Road) (13 page)

Well, this wasn’t going well. She wondered whether Green had even called to smooth it over with him first before they stepped into this county. He was a first-class ass, but he still understood how things worked, so who had he talked to when he sat in his office before they left this morning?

“We’re investigating the murder. Green was supposed talk to you, a courtesy call, and let you know we’d be coming tonight, see if you could lead us to any of the polyg families around here and see if they knew the girl.”

They were staring at each other with the toughest poker faces she’d ever seen.

Diane cleared her throat and gestured to the computer. “Maybe I should back up. Do you recognize the girl in the photo?” Diane finally asked, because they weren’t too forthcoming.

The chief didn’t bother looking at the photo again, simply rested his hands over his large girth as he leaned back. “Sorry, don’t recognize her, but I hate to tell you that I think you’re wasting your time. We don’t have polygamists around here, so you’re barking up the wrong tree. You’d best move on.”

She didn’t say anything as she watched both men study her with crossed arms. She wanted to shout at them to look at the photo again, make some calls. She ground her teeth and studied two men who either hated her or were lying to her. For the life of her, she couldn’t figure out which.

“So, Chief Roberts, are you telling me there are no polygamist families in this county?” Diane uncrossed her legs and shifted in the hard wooden chair but didn’t take her eyes off the chief.

“What polygamists? As I said, you’re barking up the wrong tree. I suggest you go back to your own county and sift through your own dirty laundry. Don’t start bringing your trouble here or pointing any fingers at us.” His expression didn’t soften at all, and Diane had the distinct impression he was hiding something.

“You know this girl was somebody. She’s someone’s daughter, and don’t you think her family, her parents, have a right to know what happened to her? That wherever she was going, whether to a new husband, an arranged marriage, or just running away, she ended up lying on a steel slab in our morgue?” Diane said, and she couldn’t help wondering if appealing to their paternal sides would help at all. Right now, she had a feeling she was about to be escorted to the county line and dumped on her ass with a warning not to ever set foot back in this county again.

“Chief, if it’s all the same to you, we’d like to ask around about the girl, see if anyone recognized her,” she said. It was almost painful watching, as the man didn’t appear to give an inch. “Look, Chief, I’m sure you’re right about there being no polygamists around here, but if you could just help us out, we could at least cross this area off our list. We still have several more counties to visit, and this was just our first stop on our way to the border.”

His pale brown eyes flashed with what she’d swear was anger, rage, something. Then he smiled in a way that didn’t reach his eyes. It was closer to a leer, and it had Diane’s skin crawling. He slid open his drawer and lifted out her gun and badge. “Wally here will accompany you. Make sure you don’t ruffle any feathers.” He slid her badge and gun across the desk slowly. His slick gaze didn’t leave her, and she picked up his silent warning to her loud and clear: He was in charge, and she’d better tread carefully.

“What about Sam and Zac? We’re investigating together. Are you going to let them out?”

The chief turned to Wally. “Let them out with a warning, and then keep an eye on them. Just for safety’s sake, I’m keeping their guns.”

Diane wanted to argue, to give this guy an earful, but she’d also learned that sometimes it was best to take what you got, and right now, this was about as good as it was going to get. At least Sam and Zac wouldn’t be stuck in some smelly cell beside a drunk. She had a few choice words she needed to unload on Zac. “Okay, fair enough,” she finally replied.

“We’ll take three rooms,” Diane said to the clerk at the local motel just outside downtown Bonner’s Ferry. Zac leaned against the counter next to her, having said not one word since the moment he and Sam were released from the jail.

Sam lingered on the other side of Diane. Both of their faces were colored with bruises and cut lips, and the clerk’s small, pale eyes widened underneath his dated glasses. He was an older man with a narrow face, a little on the scrawny side. Of course he was hesitant—probably worrying they were a couple of thugs and wondering how to turn them away without getting the crap beaten out of him. They even smelled, after being stuck in that small cell for four hours.

Diane flashed her badge. “We’re up here investigating a case. I’m wondering if you could take a look at this photo and tell me if you recognize this girl. We think she may have lived in this area.”

His eyes widened, darting from Zac to Sam. “Are you all cops?”

“We’re with the Sequim detachment, in Washington State.” It was Zac who added that last bit.

The clerk shoved his glasses further up his nose and appeared to breathe a sigh of relief. “What happened to you two? Have a run-in while taking down some bank robber?”

“Hazards of the job,” Sam said, really emphasizing his southern drawl.

The clerk leaned over as Diane slid the photo of the dead girl across the dingy countertop. It was the picture taken at the crime scene of the girl wearing that old-fashioned dress. The other photo from the morgue, the face shot, Diane kept in her pocket. This photo would say a lot about the type of family she was looking for without her having to explain that she was seeking polygamists.

He started to shake his head and then tsked before glancing back up at Diane. “Don’t recognize her. Pretty young thing—is she dead?” He flinched and pulled a face as if just realizing he was staring at a dead body.

“Yup, she sure is. Can you take another look?”

He glanced up at Diane, his eyes widening, before staring at the photo, getting ready to bolt. “I don’t know, with the way she’s dressed. Wait, that’s not one of them polygamists from one of them cults?”

“She could very well be from a polygamist group, a family.” Zac gestured with his large hand, and it was then Diane noticed his bloody knuckles.

The bell jangled, and the door slid open.

“Hey there, Wally. What brings you here?” the clerk said. Diane wanted to weep as the lanky deputy walked in and right up to the counter behind her.

“Just checking to see if these three found their way here.”

“Oh, are you working with them? This one here says she’s a cop,” the clerk said, wide eyed, his head darting back and forth between them.

Diane wanted to hide the photo. She set her hand over it and started to slide it back.

“She was just showing me this picture of a dead girl,” he whispered loudly as if no one else should hear.

“Is that right? Mind if I have a look?” Wally stepped in and took the photo from Diane’s fingers.

Diane glanced at Zac and didn’t miss the way his expression darkened.

Wally held up the photo. “Yeah, the chief was just telling these three how they’re wasting their time here in our county. No polygs here. Isn’t that right, Chris?” Wally said to the clerk.

The clerk appeared startled and then nodded. “Well, of course. We don’t have that kind of thing around here. You’d best listen to the chief.”

“Why don’t I hang on to this photo? Chris, get them a room, and I’ll be back first thing in the morning.” Wally waved his finger from Zac to Sam, including Diane, while shoving the photo of the girl in his shirt pocket.

She wanted to scream and yell and shout, but instead she said, “Sure. We’ll see you in the morning.”

Wally pushed open the door and left, and Diane exchanged a look with Zac and Sam. The clerk was watching and frowned at them. “I only have two rooms. One is a suite with a king bed and a fireplace. The other has two queen beds, so two of you are going to have to share.”

Zac pulled out his credit card and handed it over. He filled out one of the registration cards, while Diane filled out the other.

“Enjoy your stay.” The clerk slid two room keys across the counter. “The suite is at the top of the stairs at the end, and the two queen beds are just around the corner. If you need anything, just ring the front desk. Restaurant opens for breakfast at six thirty.”

Diane grabbed both room keys before Zac or Sam could. “Thank you,” she said, heading for the door and striding to the SUV Zac had parked around the side.

“Diane, wait up. I know you’re mad,” Sam said as he lifted the back door, taking out his backpack.

Diane stopped right in front of him. “You better put some ice on that eye. Clean up those cuts before you scare anyone else.” She lifted out her duffle bag, and she could feel Zac behind her, just hanging back. “You, too. Get cleaned up.” She tossed Zac a room key. “If you don’t mind, try not to kill each other.”

Diane walked away with the key to the suite. She was halfway up the stairs when she heard the door to the SUV close and listened to their muffled voices, probably discussing who was sleeping where.

“Diane,” Zac called out to her when she reached the top stair. She glanced down at him over the railing. “We need to talk.”

She was of a mind to say,
No, not tonight, go cool off,
because it was late, almost midnight. She wanted space and a bath, a place to think.

Sam was watching her and then Zac, but, to his credit, he said nothing crude this time. “Diane, we do need to talk,” he said as he gestured to Zac.

She wondered then what had happened between them in that tiny cell while she was sitting with the chief, because they hadn’t talked at all since being released. They’d been escorted out of the building and had paid the fine for having their rental vehicle towed to impound, but they’d driven silently to the motel the chief had told them very clearly to check in to.

“Give me half an hour to get cleaned up. Then you two can come up,” she said. She waited only a second as Zac walked away, and Sam hesitated before following him.

Diane slid the key into the lock. The door was pristine white and appeared freshly painted. She flicked on the lights and stepped inside the room, which had a king bed beside a brick fireplace, a small fridge, and a coffee maker. It was nothing spectacular, but it looked clean. She shut the door and set her duffle bag on the luggage rack, then flicked on the bathroom light to see a small, average motel bathroom with a chipped sink and tub. The faucets were dated, with some rust around the edges. Maybe a shower would be better. She unwrapped the motel soap and set it in the bathtub dish along with the generic shampoo and conditioner. She hadn’t thought to bring anything different.

Diane turned on the hot water and quickly undressed, dumping her clothes in a heap in the middle of the bathroom floor. She allowed the hot water to sooth the aches from the stiff muscles pinching her shoulders and up the back of her neck. Then she shampooed and soaped herself twice just to get the scent of that dirty jail off her skin. She’d just pulled on a clean shirt and sweats when a knock sounded at the door.

“Just a minute!” She ran the towel again over her wet hair and then quickly ran her brush through her short locks.

She opened the door to a cleaned-up Zac and Sam, both still sporting cuts and bruises. She looked from one to the other. They appeared calm and didn’t seem as if they were about to pound each other’s faces in. She stepped back, holding the door wide. “Well, come on in.”

She shut the door after them, and Sam took a chair in the corner and sank into it.

“Diane, I want to apologize for what happened. I’m sorry I lost my temper,” Zac said as he stepped toward her, but this time he didn’t even try to touch her. Maybe he realized now was not the time.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, too. I don’t know why I said what I did,” Sam said from the corner and gestured with his hand awkwardly.

“Great. Now that that’s out of the way and we can all agree what a couple of fools you are, let’s get on with it.” Diane perched on the edge of the bed. It was firm, comfortable. Maybe she’d have a good sleep tonight, after all.

Zac leaned against the door. Talk about having space between them, so much like the great divide. “What did the chief say to you, Diane, when he had you alone?”

Diane could see the concern in Zac’s eyes as he crossed his arms. She glanced over at Sam, too, and could see a similar worry on his face. “He’s being a first-class prick,” she replied. “Doesn’t want to share anything. Interesting, though, he said there’re no polygs around here. He said we’re barking up the wrong tree, and I was pretty sure he was going to dump us at the county line.” She’d tossed it through her mind over and over, what the chief had said and how they had looked at her. She’d heard how some communities protected the groups to keep a black mark off their town. She wondered if that was happening here.

“Why would he say that? Zac, didn’t you say there were polygamist groups around here?” Sam asked.

“There are. I thought it was odd though how that deputy took your photo as if he didn’t want you showing it around.” Zac breathed deeply and didn’t ignore Sam at all.

“You guys worked it out, huh? You almost look like you’re friends,” Diane observed, unable to help herself.

Neither man looked at the other. Sam shrugged, and Zac didn’t answer, period. Instead, he asked, “So what did that deputy mean when he said he’d see us in the morning?”