Grave Danger (35 page)

“Was the story flattering?”

Rosalie’s laugh was a deep, harsh bark. “Hardly.” She coughed. “You said on the phone you have a tape of my mother talking to Angela. I’d like to hear it.”

Libby played the tape. At the end of the interview, the elder stared at her, clearly stunned. “I didn’t know about the will,” she said softly.

“I think Angela and Frances were working together to find it.”

“Yes. That has the ring of truth. The will would have been proof, of a sort, that Lyle killed Millie. I know my mother always wanted to prove Lyle killed her.”

“And in 1979, Lyle was still alive. He’d have lost the mill and faced prosecution for Millie’s murder. That was Angela’s reason—you alluded she had a greater purpose when we first met—for documenting Lyle Montgomery’s treatment of the Kalahwamish.”

“I wonder if she disappeared because she found the will,” Rosalie said.

“I’m beginning to think that’s what happened. If the police listened to this tape in 1979, then they didn’t make the connection between her work and her disappearance.”

“What if the will wasn’t destroyed when Angela disappeared?” Rosalie said. “It could still be out there somewhere. If she found it, then someone repeating her research could find it.” She looked at Libby speculatively.

“You’re making a lot of assumptions there.”

“Let me think.” She leaned back and closed her eyes. A minute later, she opened them and said, “The will is the key. It’s your best bet to clear your name.”

“You think what’s happening to me is related?”

“Don’t you?”

Libby nodded. “The stalking started the day we found the burial—the day we found Angela.”

“Going back to that day, put yourself in the mind of the person who buried her in the site.” She paused. “Even without my request for a detailed background report, Angela’s research is relevant to your excavation. You were bound to find out about her ethnographic notes and use them for your report. If she was killed because she found the will, then her killer had to be very worried. Worried you would recognize she wasn’t Indian, and worried she left information on her search for the will in her notes.” Her brown eyes swept Libby from head to toe. “You found her and you were following up on her research. You must be her killer’s worst nightmare.”

“Which is why I’m facing jail time.”

“You heard that tape and called me immediately. Why?”

“Because the more I looked at her research, the more I was sure she had an agenda. She may have started off doing a basic ethnography, but after this interview”—Libby tapped the tape—“she had a new mission. She bought the property where her grandmother was killed. Her research questions focused more and more on tribal interaction with mill management and Lyle’s relations with the Kalahwamish. Millie’s connection to the tribe. She was looking for the will, trying to figure out who Millie might have trusted. And your mother, Frances Warren, knew what Angela was doing. That’s why Angela had unprecedented access to the tribe.”

“How long did you take to come to that conclusion?”

“Fast. In reading her notes, I could sense her focus.”

“Will the police draw the same conclusions when they go through her papers?”

“They didn’t in 1979. They’re not likely to now. They probably haven’t read ethnographers’ notes before. They wouldn’t understand that her focus on recent history was unusual.”

“Why did you call me and not the police?”

Libby gave Rosalie a tight smile. “I’m not exactly on the best of terms with them right now. They’ve got a witness who claims he saw me bring gasoline home so I could torch my house.”

“And don’t you find it interesting that you are at odds with the police, right when you have relevant information for them?”

“So my stalker’s goal was to undermine my credibility with the police.”

“At first, yes. Then, if you told the police you found a murder victim instead of an old Indian burial, they wouldn’t take you seriously. But that didn’t work. Think about this, when you were attacked, had Angela been identified?”

A chill spread through Libby as she remembered the sequence of events. “Not officially.”

“I think your attacker was desperate to discredit you before she was identified. He or she staged an attack, leaving a trail of clues straight to you. Once it became clear you were crazy, your claim that you’d found a murder victim could have been determined to be another hoax. The bones would have been given to us for reburial without further investigation.”

“But that didn’t work. A DNA test confirmed we’d found Angela on Friday, the day after my attack but before my arrest.”

“Things haven’t gone according to plan for your attacker. So tell me, why is he or she still working so hard to frame you?”

Libby shrugged. “Too late to stop a plan in motion?”

“You mentioned a witness. Did you bring the gas cans home?”

“No. I didn’t.”

“When did the witness talk to the police?”

“I assume sometime over the weekend.”

“After everyone in Coho knew Angela Caruthers had been found. So the witness lied after it was already too late to discredit you. Too late to stop the police from identifying Angela. The plan to frame you could have been dropped. But it wasn’t. The witness lied anyway. What did they still have to gain?”

Libby gnawed on her thumbnail. “When you say ‘they’ you mean the four people with something to lose. You mean Laura, Earl, and James Montgomery. You mean Jason Caruthers.”

“Yes. What do they get out of framing you now?”

“At this point, there is only one reason to continue to frame me. To stop me from finishing Angela’s research. To stop me from finding the will.”

“Yes. This tells us they don’t know what happened to the will either.
They didn’t get it when they killed Angela.
The will is still out there.”

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-
N
INE

A
KNOCK ON THE DOOR
of the RV startled Simone. The crew never knocked. Curious, she answered the door and came face to face with Jason. His gaze scanned her coolly from head to toe. Although she could see his frank appreciation of her snug tank top and shorts, she knew his thoughts weren’t complimentary.

He stepped into the RV and closed the door. “I’m here to take a look at your financial information. For Libby’s defense. I need a list of clients, projects, the works. Libby said you could give me everything I need.”

Did she hear innuendo in that last sentence, or was that just wishful thinking? “Sure. Have a seat.” She waved to the booth. “Would you like some coffee?”

“I just want the information.”

“Everything is in the proposal package. I can print it out, but the computer here is slow. It’ll take a few minutes.”

He moved a box from the booth seat and sat. Simone began printing the documents he’d requested. Slowly, the ink jet printer came to life. The rhythmic clicking of the printer carriage was the only sound in the increasingly oppressive and tense silence.

The first section finished printing. She handed the pages to Jason. “I know you’ll get the charges dropped,” she said to break the tension.

“No thanks to you,” he muttered.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what you think it means.”

“You blame me for looking out for Libby.”

“I think you’ve done her more damage than good.”

“I don’t care what you think. Three years ago, I was the only one who believed her. I was the only one who helped her. So I made a mistake. Libby has forgiven me. And my being caught with a camera and Aaron’s work schedule isn’t why Libby was arrested. If that were the case, I’d have been booked along with her.”

“What do you mean
Aaron’s work schedule
?”

She smiled tightly. “Did I forget to mention that part?”

“I don’t think you forgot.”

She was riled and defensive and didn’t like being at a disadvantage with him. She stood to her full five-foot-two height. “Just say it, Jason. Let’s deal with this here and now.”

He moved to stand in front of her. A scant inch separated their bodies and Simone’s pulse jumped. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? But I won’t absolve you of your sins. You have to deal with your mistakes on your own.”

“I don’t need absolution.”

“That’s where we disagree.”

“You don’t want to be my confessor. You want to be my judge and jury. I need your judgment even less than I need your absolution.” She cursed her short stature. He was nearly a foot taller than her, and she had to crane her neck to meet his eye, but she wouldn’t look away. She wouldn’t back down.

Their gazes remained locked. The moment stretched out long enough for her to forget the point she’d been trying to make. He smiled in a slow, sexy way. “You know what pisses me off about you the most, Simone?”

She laughed. “I have a wild guess.”

“I don’t like you, but still, I want you. I always have. I focused on Libby to convince myself to forget about you. It hasn’t worked.” He reached out and traced her collarbone. The gesture seemed like an impulse he couldn’t control. He dropped his hand. “If you’re interested in getting laid, give me a call.” He tucked a business card into her cleavage and headed for the door. Before leaving, he stopped and turned back to her. “Have your client information delivered to the Dawes house. I need it today.” Then he was gone.

She plucked his card from between her breasts and stared at his number. He was rude and insulting. She had a hundred and ten reasons to avoid him. But she knew it was only a matter of time before she gave in and dialed his number.

B
EFORE
L
IBBY LEFT
R
OSALIE’S HOUSE
, Rosalie gave her a small pistol. “The police will hardly race to your rescue if you call 9-1-1. Take the weapon. Lou will show you how to use it.”

The last time she’d tried to arm herself, someone had used the weapon against her. She didn’t want to take the gun, except she had no other way to protect herself. She spent the early part of the afternoon shooting at aluminum cans with Lou in an old gravel pit on the reservation. Lou was friendlier now that she wasn’t desecrating a grave, and she found she enjoyed the target shooting.

From there, she went to the library to read every newspaper article she could find on Millie Thorpe Montgomery. According to Frances, Millie’s lawyer was named Banks. Libby scanned the newspaper for references to him as well. A footnote to a 1946 article about union negotiations caught her eye. After the union formed, the union gained three percent ownership of the mill. A lawyer named Eli Banks brokered the deal. Banks received a cut that included two percent of the mill.

Two percent was a ridiculous payout for a negotiator. The agreement must have been a payoff from Lyle. Perhaps Banks had threatened to tell the sheriff about the will.

She left the library at seven p.m. At home, she read all her notes and interviews, searching for references to Millie. Simone called, wondering where she was, and Libby remembered she’d promised to move to the apartment. She was immersed in her research and didn’t want to leave, nor did she want company. Her head was spinning and she wanted to read through Angela’s notes without distraction. She wanted to see whether Angela left any veiled references to her search. She managed to convince Simone that she was fine and just needed to be alone.

By eleven p.m., she regretted her choice to stay in the Shelby house alone. When she’d spoken with Simone, it had still been light out. Now the darkness outside brought out a fear she hadn’t experienced since she was a child. Every noise she heard sounded like a prowler invading her home. She checked the status of the alarm system for the fourth time, turned on the inside motion detectors and then retreated to her bedroom for the night.

She checked for a dial tone on her bedroom phone to be sure the landline hadn’t been cut. Her imagination was getting away from her, but she knew she had reason to be afraid. She placed her cell phone and the loaded gun on her nightstand and then pulled a heavy dresser in front of her bedroom door. Finally, she crawled into bed, if only to pass the time until dawn when she could resume researching.