Grave Danger (30 page)

Mark nodded, not liking the scenario, but aware he’d asked for trouble when he got involved with a woman connected to two active investigations.

“I’ve also followed up on the two gas jugs left at the Shelby house Thursday night. We found one empty jug inside the kitchen and a second full jug on the back porch. Libby Maitland bought two gas jugs and duct tape from Doug’s Hardware two weeks ago. They have surveillance camera footage and a credit-card receipt.”

In his role of devil’s advocate, Mark said, “Those are both reasonable purchases. There are two gas-powered generators at the site.”

“There’s more.”

Mark steeled himself.

“There was a price sticker on one of the cans. The sticker indicated the jug was purchased from Doug’s, which means they are probably the same jugs purchased by her. Furthermore, we got partial prints off the cans, and we have a thumb and ring finger match with her prints, which she provided Thursday night for comparative purposes with the prints we lifted from the kitchen in her house.”

“Go on.”

“We’d talked to the neighbors Friday morning, asking if they’d seen the prowler the night before, but we hadn’t asked about Maitland’s activities. So yesterday I questioned the neighbors again. The next-door neighbor said she returned home from work Thursday sometime between noon and one o’clock. She was wearing dirty field clothes—including a blue T-shirt with some sort of white design or logo.

“The neighbor said she unloaded two large red plastic gasoline jugs from the back of her Suburban and left them on the porch. Our witness states that her movements indicated the jugs were heavy. The neighbor, Eli Banks, said he thought it was odd that she’d leave full gas containers on her porch. He’s eighty-seven and doesn’t get around very well. He spends much of his time on the upper balcony in the back of his house, or on his front porch.”

He had to listen to Luke’s evidence as a cop. As a cop, her activities bothered Mark. “It’s reasonable to assume she filled the gas jugs on the way home, then placed them on the porch so the fumes wouldn’t fill her vehicle. Her attacker could have made use of the jugs when he found them.”

“Then why didn’t she tell us she brought the jugs home herself?”

“That’s the first question we need to ask her when you bring her in.” Officially she was a suspect. If he didn’t treat her like one, the repercussions would be enormous.

“I don’t think she was hit with a Taser at all, Chief.”

“She has wounds on her shoulder from the probes.” He’d seen those small scabs repeatedly over the weekend.

“I think she pricked herself with the barbs then tossed the Taser in the backyard for us to find. We downloaded the firing history from the weapon. It had been fired once, for less than a second. Traceable tags discharge when a Taser is fired. She could have fired it once to scatter the tags we found throughout the kitchen. Those particular tags traced to Maitland’s weapon. She purchased that Taser cartridge a week ago Saturday. Even if the firing log was inaccurate, the jolts she described should have depleted the alkaline batteries in the Taser. The batteries were full.”

“Did you check the batteries for fingerprints?”

“Hers were the only ones on the batteries, and on the Taser. I think she’s a superb actress.”

A surreal emotional detachment descended upon him.
Yes, she is.

“There’s more,” Luke said. “Her fingerprints were on the adhesive side of the duct tape that bound her, and her fingerprints were on the Molotov cocktail. We wondered why it didn’t break, how the flame was extinguished before the room went up. The answer is simple. She staged it all.”

“But how could she tape up her own wrists?”

“Her wrists were bound in front of her. So I tried it myself. Taping my wrists was easy. The hardest part would have been ripping off the roll, which is probably why the roll of tape was still attached at her wrists when you arrived.”

“What about the gas? It would be dangerous for her to fill the kitchen with propane when she was coated in gasoline.”

“I don’t think it was such a big risk. You said in your report that the back door was open—letting fresh air in. All she had to do was wait for you to knock. Then she could have turned on the burners and rolled around in the gasoline on the floor.”

He was bloodless. Adrift. The image of her in Jason’s arms came rushing back and he could see the calculation in her stance. The perfection in her understated response.

Had she planned their argument Thursday night? He carefully went over the sequence of events in his mind. She confessed to opening the box unexpectedly, knowing he would be upset. The argument was the catalyst. He’d fallen for it.

There was only one thing missing from Luke’s scenario. “She’s not crazy, and she couldn’t actually believe she’d be able to frame Brady. Too many variables out of her control. She’s smart enough to realize that. So what’s her motive?”

“The project for Caruthers Commercial Development is in serious financial trouble.”

He frowned at the young officer. “We don’t have a warrant to look into her finances.”

“I talked to the reporter who was at the library last week. He’s working on a story about her and the possibility that she’s created a stalker for herself because she seriously underbid the project. I believe she wants to make it look like someone is trying to stop the development by harassing her. Under those circumstances, she can claim to be too scared to finish the project and bow out. Jack would have to release her if she has reason to fear for her and her crew’s safety. This motive lines up with what she attempted with Brady three years ago, which the reporter also knew about. She was losing money on a project when she got involved with him, then tried to use his supposed stalking in the courts to help recoup her losses. She failed. I think she learned from that mistake and is being more proactive this time around.”

Shit. Libby had given him her scope of work but refused to show him her cost proposal. Why all the secrecy if she didn’t have something to hide?

Brady’s words came back to him.
She’ll fuck anything to get what she wants.

“Where did the reporter get his information?”

“He didn’t reveal his sources. I called around and learned the Corps of Engineers made several changes to the scope of work for the Caruthers project. Including a recent one that has apparently sent her costs spiraling out of control.”

“Who did you talk to?”

“The Corps archaeologist, Dan Parker. He confirmed that the scope changed after the contract with Caruthers Commercial Development was signed. Each time more work was added, right up to the major addition that happened a week and a half ago. He claims he doesn’t know anything about the project finances or if scoping changes will result in more money to Maitland’s company. That’s between her and the client.

“We’ve got her solid, Chief.” He raised a hand and ticked off the evidence. “The phone call from her house, an eyewitness who places her with the gas cans, the duct tape was hers, her Taser with full batteries, her fingerprints on the tape and Molotov cocktail, and, she knew you were coming back—just in time to rescue her from her imaginary assailant.” Luke paused. “You were her insurance policy.”

Mark supposed that should bother him, but now an eerie detachment kept him from caring. He considered Luke’s theory. In this instance, the evidence, all the facts available to him, pointed in one direction.

If Libby was the woman Aaron warned him against, then she was capable of what Luke described. She’d fabricated evidence when she doctored photos of Aaron. Just days ago she’d tampered with evidence when she opened the box and copied the tapes.

A woman who fabricated evidence would do anything to achieve her goal. Tampering with evidence proved she would do anything to save her business. By standing in Jason’s arms, she showed she was a woman who would do anything to save herself.

Bobby was right. He’d followed his dick. He’d thought he was falling in love. But it had all been an act on her part. For her, it was all about money. Sex with him had been her insurance. She got involved with the police chief so no one would look too carefully at her actions. She could seduce him, and get out of a project she couldn’t afford to complete.

How many times had she said her business would fail if she couldn’t give Rosalie Warren the report she wanted? This was just another way to avoid that.

“Pick her up.”

“Bring her in for questioning, or arrest her?”

“Arrest her.”

“The charge?”

“Start with attempted arson.”

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-
F
OUR

L
IBBY RETURNED TO THE ARCHAEOLOGICAL
site mid-afternoon. She stood under the canopy with Simone, a site map rolled out on the table between them, arguing over where to place the next excavation block. Most of the crew was lying in the grass on a hillside, taking their afternoon break.

Alex paced near the screening station, talking on his cell phone. He looked agitated and Libby wondered what was wrong. He shut his phone and turned to her. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

She followed him to the gravel lot.

“I was just on the phone with a friend of mine who works for Amy Seaver.”

At the mention of the name, Libby stiffened. To say that she and Amy didn’t get along was like calling the Grand Canyon a valley. Amy Seaver was a competitor with whom she shared a relationship of mutual animosity.

“Amy said you seriously messed up the bid on this project, and that you’re going under.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Seeing the look of concern on Alex’s face, she continued, “Alex, you can’t believe anything she says about me. Your job is secure.”

“I’m not worried about my job. I know she’s evil. I’ve worked for her.”

Libby nodded; so had she, a decade ago.

“But it gets worse. Amy’s telling people you’ve been faking having a stalker so you could get out of this contract.”

“That’s insane.”

“The assault on Thursday was picked up by the Seattle papers when a reporter realized you were the same archaeologist who found Angela Caruthers. That reporter spoke with Amy.”

“Oh crap,” she said, feeling as though she’d been hit in the solar plexus. She remembered the reporter at the library Wednesday night. He wouldn’t hesitate to print Amy’s lies. “She wants this project.” Just like last time. Amy had taken over the project after Aaron’s brother fired her.

Alex nodded.

She sat abruptly, feeling as if a ghost of the Taser jolts ran through her system.

“Libby? Are you okay?”

“I’ve got to think.”

How the hell do I handle this?

Call the reporter?
No. Talking to a reporter could only make matters worse. But if the paper printed the story, what would she do with the shreds of her reputation?

Mark believed her, she reminded herself. The Coho Police Department would be on her side. No newspaper would publish a story if the police investigating the crime were behind her. Breathing became a tad easier. Amy Seaver had nothing to back up her crazy claims.

A police car, with Officer Roth at the wheel, pulled into the lot. This was a first, a visit from the police when she hadn’t called them. She wondered if Mark had sent him to check up on her. She smiled, his protectiveness warming her. She stood and crossed to the lot. “Officer Roth, what brings you here today?”

“This isn’t a social visit, Ms. Maitland,” he said.

Assuming there had been some progress in their investigations, she responded, “Is this about Angela, or my stalker?”

“This is about you.”

She’d always avoided Officer Roth’s eyes, because she’d sensed he didn’t like her, and she’d never wanted to feel his animosity full force. Now she received a blast of loathing. “What do you mean?” A chill went up her spine. “You heard the rumor Amy Seaver started, didn’t you? You can’t possibly think I’m making everything up after what happened on Thursday. You were there.”

His eyes pierced her, an intense blue that reminded her of solid ice, cold hostility. “So you’re denying you are in financial trouble?”

“Yes.”

“And yet you know that’s why I’m here. I find that a stretch, Ms. Maitland.”

Goosebumps spread along her arms. She cleared her throat, which had gone dry. “Archaeology is a small field. Everyone knows everyone else. I know when someone sneezes on another excavation.”

“How convenient for you.”

“Amy Seaver is a competitor who dislikes me. She’s jealous of this project.”

“Why would anyone dislike you, Ms. Maitland?” he said with attitude.

“I’d like to talk to Mark.” She reached for her cell phone.

“The chief sent me to get you. To bring you to the station. I don’t think he’ll take your call right now.”

He spoke with chilling certainty. Her world shifted. “I’ll go to the station later, after I’ve spoken with him.”

“You need to come with me now.”

She straightened her spine and reminded herself that she’d done nothing wrong and had nothing to be afraid of. “I won’t go anywhere with you, officer. Not when you treat me with such hostility.”