Dust To Dust (37 page)

"Hey!" "You ruined my chance!" "I was winningf"

"You were not!" "Was so!"

Liska pulled them close and breathed deep the smell of clean hair and microwave popcorn. "I love you guys. I love you so much!" "You're cold!" R.J. exclaimed.

Kyle gave her a speculative look. "Do you love me enough to let me stay over at Jason's house tonight? He called and asked."

D U S T

T 0

D U S T
257

"Tonight?" Liska said, hugging him tighter. She closed her eyes against silly, sudden tears of relief and joy. "Not a chance, Sport. Tomorrow, maybe. Not tonight. Not tonight."

T H E S I T T E R S A w herself home. Liska played with the boys until they couldn't keep their eyes open anymore, then shepherded them off to their beds and lingered at the door, watching them sleep.

Calmer, reassured they were safe and sound, she checked all the locks, then drew a bubble bath-a rare, feminine treat. The warmth penetrated muscle, easing out the tension, the anxiety, the feeling of toxicity that always lingered after working a murder scene, as if evil hung in the air. She closed her eyes and rested her head on a rolled-up towel, a steaming cup of tea on the edge of the tub. She tried to clear her mind of everything and just drift, Just be for a few minutes.What a luxury.

When she was completely relaxed, she opened her eyes, dried her hands, and reached for the stack of mail she'd piled on the edge of the vanity. No bills. No junk mail.just a small stack of what looked to be Christmas cards. Once again, she wasn't going to get her cards out until God knew what holiday.

There was a card from her Aunt Cici in Milwaukee. A photo card of cousin Phil the dairy farmer and his family all in matching "Got Milk?" T-shirts. Hallmark's finest from a college friend who had otherwise lost touch so long ago she still addressed the envelope to Mr. and Mrs.; why did people like that bother? Was it really so much trouble to cull out the database?

The last of the envelopes was addressed only to her. Another computer label, no return address. Odd. Obviously a card. The envelope was red. She slipped the letter opener under the flap. A simple business-type card with "Season's Greetings" on the front. Something fell from it as Liska opened the card, and she swore and grabbed the dark square as it hit the surface of the bathwater.

A Polaroid snapshot. No. Three photographs stuck together. Photographs of her children.

Liska's blood ran cold. Goose bumps pebbled every inch of her skin. Her hands began to tremble. One photograph had been taken as the boys stood in line to get on the bus at school. The second showed them playing with a friend as the school bus drove away from the stop

258
T A M

0 A 0

down the block. The third showed them walking up the sidewalk to the house. On each photograph, someone had drawn a circle around each of the boys'heads with a black marker.

Inside the card, the only message was a phone number typed in black.

Setting the card and photos aside, Liska hauled herself out of the tub, wrapped her dripping body in a towel, and grabbed the portable phone. She was shaking so badly, she misdialed the number twice. On the third try, the call went through, and she waited. A machine answered on the fourth ring, the recorded voice sending a bolt of fear straight through her.

"Hi. This is Ken. I'm out doing something so exciting, I can't take your call right now...."

Yeah. He was lying in a bed in a surgical intensive care unit. Ken Ibsen.

0 U S T

T 0

D U S T
259

A P T E

FAM OUS LAST WORDS: Itseemed like agood idea at the time. Kovac rang the bell before he could change his mind. He knew the

minute she looked out the peephole in the front door. He could feel her presence, could feel her scrutiny, her indecision. Finally, the door opened and she looked out at him.

"Yes, I do have a phone," he said. "I have several, and I do know how to use them.,,

"Then why don't you?" Savard asked. "You mi*ght have said no."

"I would have said no." "See?"

She didn't invite him in. Her eyes narrowed as she stared at his forehead. "Were you in a fight?"

Kovac touched his fingers to the spot, remembering that he'd never finished washing the blood off. "An innocent casualty of someone else's war."

:,I don't understand."

'No. Neither did I," he said, recalling the scene at Steve Pierce's house. "It doesn't matter."

"Why did you come here?"

260

"Mike Fallon was murdered." Her eyes widened. "What?"

"Someone killed him. I've got his son, Neil, sitting in the pokey now, reflecting on the cleansing power of confession."

"My God:' Savard murmured, opening the door a little wider. "What have you got on him?"

"Nothing, really.We did it with rMirrors. If it weren't the weekend and if he had a clever lawyer, he'd be sitting in his bar by now," he admitted. "On the o;her hand, he had opportunity, motive, and a bad attitude."

"You think he did it."

"I think Neil is proof there should be a lifeguard at the gene pool. He's a small, mean, angry person, bitter over the fact that people don't love him in spite of himself His father's son:'he added, an ironic twist to his mouth.

"I thought Mike Fallon was your friend."

"I respected what Mike represented on the job. He was an oldtime cop."

He looked back out toward the street, where a car was going by slowly. A couple checking house numbers. Normal people looking for another Christmas party. They probably hadn't come to this neighborhood from a murder scene.

"Maybe I had a soft spot for him because I want someone to have a soft spot for me when I'm that old and that resentful."

"Is that what you came here looking for?" Savard asked. "Sympathy?"

He shrugged. "Id even settle for pity tonight." "I don't keep much of that around."

He thought she was almost allowing herself to smile. There was something softer in her eyes than he'd seen before.

"How about scotch?"

"I don't keep that either." "Neither do I. I drink it:'he said.

"That's right, you're a stereotype. The tragic hero."

"The twice-divorced, smoking, drinking workaholic. I don't know what's heroic about that. It reeks of failure to me, but maybe I have unrealistic standards."

"Why did you come here, Sergeant? I don't see what the news about Mike Fallon has to do with me."

D U S T

T 0

D U S T
261

"Apparently so you could make me stand in the cold while you chip away at my self-esteem with your blunt indifference."

Almost-amusement to go with the almost-smile. "Laying it on a little thick, aren't you?"

"I find subtlety is -a waste of time. Especially when I've been drinking. I've already been indulging in that scotch we were talking about." "Drinking and driving? I guess I'd be doing a public service if I invited you in for a cup of coffee."

"You'd be doing me a service.The only thing that overheats in my car is the radiator."

Savard sighed and'opened the door wider.

Kovac took advantage of the opportunity before she could change her mind. Winning the war of attrition. The house was warm and smelled of a wood fire and the aforementioned coffee. Homey. His house was cold and smelled of garbage.

"I think maybe you're developing a soft spot for me, Lieutenant." "Mmm ... in my head
'" she said, and walked away.

Kovac toed off his shoes and followed her through a small formal diming room to a country kitchen. She was dressed for lounging in a loose, flowing outfit the color of sage. Like something an old-time Hollywood star would wear, he thought. Her hair tumbled around her head in soft, silver-blond waves. A very alluring picture, except that there was a stiflhess in her back and neck as she moved that hinted of pain. He wondered again about her story of a fall. Obviously, there was no one living with her, no boyfriend hanging around on a Friday Might.

"How are you feeling?" he asked. "I'm fine."

She took a stoneware mug from a cupboard and filled it from the pot simmering on the coffee machine. The room was lit softly, by small yellow lights mounted under the cupboards and on the ceiling. "I take it Neil Fallon doesn't have an alibi."

"Not that stands up in court," Kovac said, leaning against the island. "People never believe anyone else was home alone in bed. They always suspect everyone in the world is having sex or committing crimes but them."

"Milk? Sugar?" "Black, thanks.".

"No physical evidence?"

0 A Q

"None I believe will hold up past the lab "He didn't leave any prints on the gun?" "No."

"What made you decide it was murder, then? Something the ME came up with?"

"The scene.The position of the gun. It shouldn't have fallen where it did. Couldn't have, if Mike pulled the trigger."

She handed him his coffee, sipped her own, and made a thoughtful sound. "That's sad his life had to end that way. His own son ... imagine . . ." she said, staring at the floor. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah.You know, he had a chance to make things right with Andy and he didn't take it. Then everything went to hell on a sled." He tasted the coffee, a little surprised there was no exotic flavor to it. It wasjust coffee. "Apparently, Andy wanted to do something with Mike in relation to the Thorne homicide. Write down Mike's story or something."

"Really? Did Mike tell you that?"

"No. A friend of Andy's mentioned it. Mike didn't want to do it. I guess stewing in the memories and sharing them were two different things. Did Andy ever say anything about it to you?"

Savard set her cup aside and crossed her arms as she leaned back against the counter. "Not that I recall.Why would he?"

"No reason. I thought he might have mentioned it in passing, you being friends with Ace Wyatt. That's all."

"We're not friends. He's an acquaintance. We have people in common.
11

"Whatever. I guess he must have dropped it, anyway," Kovac said. "I didn't see anything in his office relating to it. No file, no clippings or anything like that. Unless all that stuff is in the same place as his copy of the Curtis-Ogden file.The same place as his laptop.Wherever that nuight be."

"What do you think he hoped to gain by looking into his father's past?"

Kovac shrugged. "Understanding, I guess. What Mike was these last twenty years started the might of that shooting. Or maybe he was just a brownnoser, trying to win the old man over by pretending interest in his father's life.You could say better than I-was Andy a kiss-ass?"

She thought about it a moment. "He needed to please. He needed to succeed. That's why he took it so hard when the Curtis-Ogden

D U S T

T 0

case closed. He wanted to be the one to say it was over, not J ust have it end because Verma copped a plea."

"I guess I know what that's like," Kovac said with a sheepish smile. "I'm not supposed to be spending time asking questions about Andy Fallon's death-or his life, for that matter-but I want to know. I want to feel satisfied. It ain't over till I say it's over.That's the way I am." "It makes you a good cop."

"It makes me a pain in the ass. I once had a captain tell me that I'm paid to investigate crimes, not solve them."

"What did you say to that?"

He laughed. "To his face?
'Yes, sir.' My bank account couldn't handle a suspension. Behind his back? I called him something I shouldn't say in front of a lady."

Savard picked up her coffee again and took a sip, looking at him from under her lashes. The almost-amusement, a shade of speculation. Sexy, he thought,for a lady u4th a beat-up eye. Beautiful, bruises or no.

She glanced away. "I went over the case file, by the way. Ogden was verbally abusive to Andy several times during the investigation, but that's not unusual. He made a couple of vague threats-also not unusual. Then Verma made his deal and it was over. There were no addendurns to the file after the case closed. Ogden had no reason to continue contact."

"What about Ogden's partner? Rubel?"

"Nothing about him. I don't think that was the name of his partner at the time of the incident. I think it was Porter. Larry Porter. "For what it's worth," she added, "I personally believe Ogden was

dirty. I believe he planted Curtis's watch at Verma's apartment. There just wasn't any way to prove it. We'd taken it as far as we could go based on what we had."

"And afterVerma copped, you would have had the union on you for harassing Ogden. And the brass on you for pissing off the union," Kovac said. "You're paid to investigate, not to solve."

"And I have to live with the idea that Andy might have killed himself in part because of that," she said quietly.

"Maybe," Kovac conceded. "Or maybe he killed himself because his lover wouldn't come out of the closet. Or because he thought his father might never love him again because he had come out of the closet. Or maybe he didn't kill himself at all.

"See, maybe it wasn't your fault at all. But you'll let the idea hurt

264
T A M

you anyway," he said. "You'll punish yourself and think of a dozen ways you might have stopped it from happening-if only you'd been quic k enough, sharp enough, or able to read the future in tea leaves." "I guess I'm an easy read."

"No, you're not," he said quietly, thinking she was one of the toughest people to read he'd ever come across. So guarded, so cautious. And that made her all the more intriguing to him. He wanted to know who she really was and why she had become that person. He wanted to be allowed behind the walls.

"That's just what I'd do, that's all," he said. "It's what my partner would do too. I try to tell myself it's proof we haven't entirely detached from the human race. Though sometimes I think I'd be better off if I did."

The weight of the evening rolled up against him, the emotions pressing against his own walls. He had successfully kept it at bay for a little while: the image of the street full of emergency vehicles; of the child's small body and the bloodstained snow.

He wandered to a set of French doors that looked out on a deck. A security light illuminated a wedge of backyard.The moon brightened what lay beyond, reflecting off the snow in a way that gave the landscape a blue cast. Dreamscape. Trees edged the property, keeping the neighbors from looking in.