Flashpoint (37 page)

He turned to a woman sitting in a chair that had been pulled away from a desk. He was gentle and he talked slowly. “Mrs. Sowder, there's no need to feel bad. Nobody's blaming you.”

The teacher was white faced and grim. She nodded.

“Now he told you he was just going to be gone a little while, and that he'd be back shortly, that right?”

“That's right.”

Sonora stood up. “Excuse me, Mrs. Sowder, I'm Specialist Blair. Did you get the impression—”

Burton waved a hand. “Detective, I'd—”

“Burton, look, this is your jurisdiction, okay. I know I'm jumping right in the middle here, but it's my investigation, and while you and I squabble, this killer is going to off Keaton Daniels. Just let me talk to her a minute,
please
.”

The please stuck in her throat, but turned the trick. Burton waved her on.

“He didn't check out with the front office, Mrs. Sowder, that right? Did you get the impression he was sneaking away?”

The teacher rubbed her eyes. “It wouldn't surprise me. He seemed really upset. And he also … he asked to use my car.”

“Your car?”

“He said his was stalling out, and could he take mine. He said he'd be back in about twenty minutes.”

“But he didn't say where he was going?”

“No, but he was … compelling. He was frantic.”

Sonora frowned. “And he knew that if he didn't come back in twenty minutes you wouldn't walk off and leave the kids.”

“Of course not.”

“So he knew they were safe.”

“Yes. I've been teaching in his class all year. We have a good working relationship. We're friends.”

“And he did take your car?”

“Yes.”

“But didn't say where he was going or why?”

“I think it had something to do with his wife.”

“His wife? Why?”

“He had a message from her, so he called her from the office. That's when he came back and said he had to go out just for a short time, and would I watch the kids.”

Sonora peered into Keaton Daniels's rental. Rain drenched her head and shoulders and dripped off the end of Sam's nose.

“Three things we know,” Sam said. “One, he didn't want to take his car, or check out officially, which means he wanted to sneak away. Two, he left in the middle of the school day and didn't tell anybody he was going except that Mrs. Sowder. Three. What was three?”

“His wife.”

“Yeah, his wife called. A woman who said she was his wife, anyway.”

“It was her. Secretary recognized her voice.”

“Come on, girl, let's get out of the rain.”

Sonora leaned back against Keaton's car and bit the back of her hand. “Just let me
think
, Sam.”

“That's the problem, Sonora, you can't think, you're too upset.”

“
This
helps?”

They stared at each other. Sam's tie was plastered to his shirt. Sonora's hair hung in wet wavy strands along her shoulders.

“God, Sam, Flash is going to kill him. He may already be dead.”

Rain splattered the pavement, and a steady stream of cars flowed through the circle drive. The crush of children gradually began to dissipate.

“Let's try the Allstate booth,” Sam said.

Burton surrendered the phone like a gentleman. Sonora reached into her jacket pocket, found the business card Ashley Daniels had given her that first day. She twisted the phone cord, counted three rings.

“Allstate, Beatrice Jurgins.”

Sonora identified herself, asked for Ashley Daniels.

“I'm sorry, she's out of the office. Can I take a message or can I help you?”

“Look, this is an emergency. I have reason to believe Mrs. Daniels is in some danger, and I need to speak with her at once.”

The voice on the other end went up an octave. “She's not here.”

“Where is she, do you know?”

“She had an appointment. Somebody called, and she asked me to cover for her in the booth. A hot lead, she said. I figured it must be life insurance.”

“When was this?”

“She got the call this morning. She said she had to meet a prospect on their lunch hour.”

“She give you a name?”

“No, but … hang on a sec. Maybe she put it down in her book.”

Sonora waited. Looked at Sam. His hair was wet and sticking up on one side. She smoothed it back in place.

“Hello? You there?”

“Right here,” Sonora said.

“Okay, I looked on her desk. She's got her book with her—”

Sonora's stomach got tight and painful.

“
But
,” the tone was triumphant, “she wrote Ecton Park on a scratch pad, and I'll bet that's where she went.”

“Ecton Park? Seems strange for her to be meeting a client in Ecton Park, don't you think?”

“Not if you can sell some life. And she did say she was catching them at lunch.”

“Them or her?”

“It must have been a her, because she put on the fake glasses. She does that when she writes a woman, because Ashley's a dish and she likes to tone it down.”

“She make a habit of meeting clients in out-of-the-way places?”

“Ashley's careful. If she doesn't know somebody, she tries to meet them in the office. But we have the fall life contest going right now, and Ashley's really close. Could mean a trip to Hawaii.”

Sonora sighed. “When is she due back?”

There was a long silence. “She's already late.”

“Not careful enough, then. Thank you, Ms. Jurgins.”

Sam wiped his face with a handkerchief. “You say Ecton Park? That's in Mount Adams, right where Keaton lives.”

“Yeah, and it's outdoors and wooded. Just exactly what appeals to Flash. I think Selma's got herself a hostage, and Keaton's gone to rescue his wife.”

Sam was nodding. “I'll call Crick.”

“Do it from the, car. Let's hit the road.”

“
I'm
driving.”

60

“It's a big park,” Sam said.

“She'll be by the water.”

“Fine, Sonora. That could be one of about five different places.”

“What kind of car did that teacher drive?”

“Sowder? Toyota Corolla.”

“Find the car, find Keaton.”

Sam drove past the conservatory and a rusted-out water tower. Sonora saw a pool of shallow greenish water next to an empty gazebo. Raindrops spattered the surface.

“What's that?” Sonora asked. “A skating rink?”

“No, fountain. Turned off for the winter.”

The Taurus glided close. Made a shark pass by a lone car parked by the fountain—a shiny black Datsun Z.

Sam looked at Sonora. “You know the make of car Ashley Daniels drives?”

“Black Datsun Z.”

“Anybody inside?”

Sonora squinted through the rain-streaked window. “Hard to tell, the windows are fogged. I'm getting out.”

Her leg brushed the wet back bumper of the Datsun, and her jacket plastered to her back like a second skin. She shivered, looked in the window, knocked on the glass. Tried the handle of the back door and found it unlocked.

Sonora wrenched the door open and crouched close to the ground, gun at the ready.

Nothing but the sound of rain. Insurance manuals and a briefcase were scattered across the back cushions. A red leather purse lay on the front seat, passenger's side. A console in the middle held a large paper cup from Rally's and a mounted car phone. A dark stain ran down the side of the upholstery.

Sonora opened the driver's door.

There were dark brown smudges on the rim of the steering wheel, and blood pooled over the accelerator and gas pedal. A black slingback pump, left foot, sat on the car dash.

Sonora heard footsteps and looked up into Sam's face. Rivulets of rain ran down his cheeks. She took a breath.

“This does not look good.”

Sam grimaced. “Just talked to Crick. Park patrol did an extra round a few minutes ago, spotted the secretary's car up the road, near the main park entrance at an overlook.”

“Anybody inside?” Sonora closed the door of the Datsun and headed for the Taurus.

“Guy wasn't sure, he didn't think so. Crick told him to glide in and out, business as usual.”

Sam backed the Taurus out of the circle drive and made quick work up the hill. Crick was there ahead of them, looking into the empty Toyota.

Sonora put a hand on the door handle.

“
Wait
till I stop, Sonora.”

Crick turned when he heard their footsteps.

“Nothing,” he said.

“Look in the trunk?” Sonora asked.

Crick shook his head. “Not yet. Crowbar's in the back of my car.”

“I'll get it,” Sam said.

Sonora paced the parking lot, went to the edge to look out toward the river. It was hard to see in the drizzle, and she held the palm of her hand up, shading her eyes from the rain. Concrete stairs led from the overlook to another parking lot below, where there were cars, a swing set, another fountain that had been turned off. An overlook at the end of the lot gave a less lofty view of the river, which was gray now, churning with rain.

The steps were steep, leading down the side of the cliff. A man and a woman slipped into view, then disappeared.

“That's them,” Sonora said.

Sam and Crick were at her elbow. “Where?”

She wasn't sure who had asked the question, maybe both. “On the stairs.”

“I looked when I got here, I didn't see anybody,” Crick said.

“They passed into view just a second ago.”

“You sure?”

“Hell yes, I'm sure.”

Sam started for the stairs, but Crick held his arm.

“You go charging off after them, she'll shoot him, and you.”

“I'll shoot her first.”

“Let's try to keep Daniels alive. We'll drive down, then go on foot.”

Sonora looked down the cliffside, squinting. Something there, a path of some sort. Which made a certain sense. People never stuck to the stairs.

She pointed. “I'm going that way.”

“Sonora—”

“Just to keep them in view. Everybody gets in the car, they could go anywhere. They're close to the bottom already. I won't approach, Crick, I'll just keep them sighted.”

“Okay, go.”

“I'm with her.”

Sonora headed for the path, Sam at her heels. The closer they got, the steeper it looked.

“Shit, Sonora, we're never gonna make this.”

Sonora grabbed the trunk of a tree, knees aching at the incline of the hillside. The dirt had turned gluey in the rain, slippery on the top. Her shoes sank in the brownish black sludge.

Six feet down the slope her feet stuck, then slid. She landed on her knees in the mud. Sam grabbed her arm and pointed. Spoke in a whisper in spite of the distance and the rain.

“Look, see? There they are.”

Two drenched figures headed toward the river overlook.

“Run, Sonora.”

Once they got their momentum going there was no way to stop. Rainwater pooled at the base of the cliff, and Sam and Sonora splashed through. Sam looked toward the parking lot.

“You see Crick?”

“No, and I don't see Keaton either.”

“Must have gone over the guardrail.”

“Okay, Sam, you circle left, I'm going behind them that way.”

Sam looked one more time for Crick. Nodded. “Go, girl.”

Sonora straddled the railing, climbed over the hill to the brush. On her left was the Kentucky River. She could see Barleycorn's Floating Restaurant and knew that if she went the other way she'd find the remains of the Sundown Saloon.

There was grass underfoot, waist-high weeds. Her shoes were heavy with mud. The rain picked up, her clothes streamed water. She half-ran half-walked, moving down the path. Rounded a bend. And there they were, no more than three yards ahead. Just out of reach.

Sonora stood still for a moment, catching her breath. Her spine felt tingly, palms suddenly wet. It was almost absurd, the tiny blonde next to the large, broad-shouldered male.

In her mind's eye she saw the bloodstained shoe in Ashley Daniels's car, the fan of blood-soaked upholstery.

She raised her gun, aimed with the utmost care. Keaton was still too close, but he was pulling ahead. She waited till he was clear. Held her breath and fired.

Selma Yorke flinched and turned around, blond hair dark with rain. No hit.

“Police,” Sonora said. “Selma Yorke, you are under arrest. Stand aside, Mr. Daniels. Move it, move now, drop that gun—”

“Sonora, she's got Ashley stashed out here in the woods. She's hurt, but she's still alive.” Keaton held up a jacket, sun yellow around splotches of blood.

Selma looked at Sonora. “You found me.”

That first time Sonora had seen her, there in the cemetery, it had been a letdown, how drearily normal Selma looked. Today, even with the short blond hair plastered with rainwater, she was oddly pretty—cheeks pink and flushed, an edgy air of energy and purpose. She met Sonora's eyes just for a moment, then looked away, gaze shifting like a lightning flash. Sonora had seen it twice before, this inability to focus and meet a gaze. Both times from someone on the verge of major breakdown.

“Put the gun down, Selma.”

Selma cocked her head to one side. “You'uns could have shot me right in the back. How come you didn't?”

“I tried, I'm a bad shot, that's all.”

Selma laughed, but Sonora registered the flicker of pain that came and went.

“Come on, Selma. Put it down, and we can go somewhere dry and warm and talk.”

Selma shook her head. “This isn't about us, Detective. This is about me. Me and him.” She put her gun to Keaton's head.

The nightmare, coming true. Sonora gritted her teeth. “Let it go, Selma. You don't have to do this.”