In Too Deep (18 page)

“I'll call you as soon as I get to the marina, Morgan. I promise.”

I took a deep breath and forced myself to concentrate on my driving. Phil Varton stayed with me until I got to the marina parking lot. Then he turned and parked across the street in front of the police station. I grabbed my backpack, locked the car, and walked down to the water to call Morgan again.

“I'm at the marina,” I said.

“I know. I can see you. I'm out on the dock with binoculars. Are you okay?”

“Apart from almost being attacked by a bear?”

“A bear!?”

I glanced around. There were some people nearby, so I walked out onto the dock where I would have some privacy and told her what I had found out in the woods.

“And stumbling on a car-theft ring,” I said.

“Car-theft ring? Out at Mr. Wilson's place?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure?”

“There are a lot of car parts stashed out there. And they didn't look like they had come direct from the factory, either.” Next I told her about the little box of numbered metal plates I had discovered. “I'm pretty sure they're VINs,” I said.

“VINs?”

“Vehicle Identification Numbers. Every car has one. It's the number you use to register a car. It's what the police use to ID stolen cars.” I knew because my dad had spent some time on the auto squad when he was a cop.

“If you're right, then you're lucky you didn't get caught—”

“I almost did.” I told her what had happened with Phil Varton.

“That's too close for comfort, Robyn,” she said with a shudder.

“You're telling me. I almost had a heart attack when Varton found me at my car. I thought he'd followed me.”

Morgan apologized again for calling the police. “But when you didn't answer your phone, I was worried. So I called your dad's friend. I checked the card he gave you.” I had stuck it to the fridge door. “I called him on his cell number, Robyn, you know, so that it was a personal thing, not a police thing. And I didn't tell him anything. I just said that you were out hiking, that you said something about taking photos out at that old church. He was in the middle of something, but he said he'd get someone to look into it for me. You don't think Phil Varton knew what you were doing out there, do you?”

“I don't know.”

“So now what?”

“I'm going to call my dad again.” I needed to hear his voice. I needed some advice.

“Sounds like a plan,” Morgan said. “Let me know what happens.”

I tried my dad, but I couldn't get through. I even tried my mom. Nothing. I stared out at the water and thought about what to do. Nick was right. Something was happening out there—and something else was going to happen tonight. What if Nick was involved? What if he was in danger?

I called Morgan back.

“What did your dad say?”

“I couldn't get hold of him.”

“So now what?”

I stared out over the water to the Point, where I saw a tiny Morgan perched at the end of the dock, and I made up my mind.

“I'm going to do what my dad told me to do if anything came up,” I said. “I'm going to talk to Chief Lafayette.”

  .    .    .

There were two police cars parked out front of the station, which meant Phil Varton was inside. I drew in a deep breath before I pushed open the door. A woman—a civilian—was working at a computer. Another civilian—a man—was on the phone. Phil Varton was at a desk on the far side of the room. He glanced at me as I entered the building. I went up to the woman at the computer and asked to speak to Chief Lafayette.

“I'm afraid he isn't—” she began.

Then a door opened behind me and a voice said, “Robyn!” Dean Lafayette looked happy, even relieved, to see me. I was just as relieved to see him.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” I said.

“Certainly. What's up?”

“In private?” I said.

Dean Lafayette frowned, but he led me into a small, glassed-in office and closed the door. He invited me to take a seat, but I was too keyed up to sit.

“You look a little shaky, Robyn. Are you okay? Phil radioed me on his way back to town. He said he'd found you face-to-face with a bear. What were you doing out there in the first place?”

I hesitated. I knew it wasn't what Nick wanted me to do, but I had run out of options.

“I was out at the old sawmill on Larry Wilson's property. Something's going on out there. I'm not positive, but I think Mr. Wilson might be involved in a car-theft ring.”

“What?” He looked stunned.

I told him everything I had told Morgan. I also told him my suspicions about Phil Varton.

His face went white.

“You actually saw Phil out there?” he said.

“Well, no. But I saw his gloves. And his car. That must be how he found me. He must have been right there when you radioed him.”

Dean Lafayette shook his head and glanced through the glass at his deputy. “That's a pretty serious allegation, Robyn.”

I looked out at Varton too. He was heading for the door. I relaxed a little when he left the building.

“I wouldn't be here if I wasn't sure,” I said.

“I don't suppose you have any proof?”

“I took one of the VINs.” I unshouldered my backpack and noticed, for the first time, that I hadn't zipped up some of the pockets. I reached into the one where I had put the VIN. It wasn't there. I checked the other pockets. Nothing. That couldn't be. I checked them again. The VIN was definitely missing.

“It must have fallen out,” I said. “But I took pictures. Lots of them. My camera is in the car,” I said. “I'll be right back.”

I ran out of the station and across the road to my car in the marina parking lot. I was out of breath by the time I handed the camera over to Dean Lafayette back in his office.

He turned it on and looked into the display screen. He pressed the display button a few times. He was frowning when he looked up at me.

“There's nothing in here, Robyn.”

“Sure there is. I took a dozen pictures, maybe more.” I took the camera from him and peered into the display screen. Blank. I checked to see that the memory card was still in the camera. It was.

“I don't understand,” I said. “I took lots of pictures.”

“Maybe you only thought you did,” Dean Lafayette said. “Maybe you pressed the wrong button. Is it a new camera?”

“No. I borrowed it from my friend. But—”

“Not all cameras are the same. Maybe you—”

“I checked,” I said. “I looked at the pictures when I got back to my car.”

Then it hit me: Varton had seen me looking at the camera.

“Someone must have deleted them,” I said.

“Someone? Who would do that?”

“Phil Varton.”

I explained that I had put the camera in the glove compartment for safekeeping. Phil Varton had seen me do it. And he knew how to get into my car when it was locked. I had seen him do that, too, when I'd left my keys in the ignition.

Dean Lafayette leaned back in his chair and shook his head. He looked extremely unhappy.

“I know what I saw out at Mr. Wilson's,” I said. “And he's the only person who could have done it.”

“I believe you saw what you saw, Robyn,” he said slowly. “But Larry runs an auto-salvage business, and he's teaching those boys everything they need to know about auto repair. Maybe there's another explanation for what you saw.”

“But what about the VINs?” I wished I'd remembered to zip up that pocket. “And those cars I saw out there—they weren't old clunkers that someone was selling for scrap or for parts. They looked almost new. And expensive. And if what Mr. Wilson is doing is legitimate, why is there so much activity going on there in the middle of the night?”

“Middle of the night? What are you talking about?”

I hesitated. I didn't want to break my promise to Nick.

“Remember when I ran into you at Roxy's and I asked you if you'd ever heard of anything strange going on out at Larry Wilson's place?” I said. “Well, I just got this odd feeling when I was out there. So I decided to watch the place one night.”

“Watch the place?”

“To see if I was right.”

He sighed. “You've put me in an awkward position here, Robyn.”

“But I saw—”

“You've put me in an awkward position,” he repeated. “You trespassed on private property. You have no proof of what you saw.” He stood up. “But—I am going to look into it.”

“But how? Don't you need a search warrant?”

He shook his head. “In addition to the group home, Larry Wilson runs a salvage operation out there. The county licenses salvage yards. It requires their owners to make themselves available for inspection at any time at the discretion of the chief of police. I can take a look around the whole property, and Larry can't stop me. If you're right, I'll find out about it.”

Dean Lafayette's face was serious. He reminded me of my dad when he was getting to the bottom of something important.

“Unless he's been warned,” I said. I kept thinking about Phil Varton.

“I'm going to pay Larry a surprise visit,” he said. “If you're right, if Larry is up to something illegal out there and if Phil is in on it somehow, then there's no telling who else might be involved. Have you discussed this with anyone else? Anyone at the paper?”

I shook my head. “The only person I've talked to is my friend Morgan.”

“Okay. Well, let's keep it that way until I have to chance to look into things. Okay?”

“Okay.”

I left the police station and stood outside in the sun, wondering if I should have told him about Nick, too. But I decided I had done the right thing—at least I'd been able to keep Nick out of it. If Dean Lafayette was going to look into it, then Nick would be safe. As I headed back to the marina, I glanced into the police car in front of the police station. There was a pair of gloves on the passenger seat. One of the gloves had a grease stain on the index finger.

  .    .    .

Colleen Duggan was outside the marina restaurant, writing the daily specials onto the menu board. I walked over to talk to her. When I had finished, I went back to my car. I knew I was right about everything I had seen, but Dean Lafayette was right too. I had no solid proof. If only I still had that VIN plate. It must have fallen out of my backpack, maybe when I ran into the bear, or when I threw my backpack into the car—or when I grabbed it again when I got out of the car. I was unlocking my door to take another look inside when my phone rang.

“Robyn?” said a whispery voice I didn't recognize.

“Who is this?”

“It's me,” the voice said, so softly that I could hardly hear it. “Nick.”

“Nick, I went out there like I said. I found—”

“I have to talk fast, Robyn, before someone catches me using the phone. You gotta be careful, okay? I was right. There's a cop involved.”

“I know.”

“Don't get involved, Robyn. I don't think—”

He broke off suddenly.

“Nick? Nick?”

“Someone's coming,” he whispered. “I gotta go.”

My heart was pounding again. I got into the car and hunted for the VIN plate. But it wasn't on any of the seats or on the floor. That's when I realized that something else was missing. My notebook. I thought hard. I had left my camera in the glove compartment when I went down to the dock to call Morgan. But I had taken my backpack with me. It hadn't been out of my sight. And I clearly remembered putting the VIN plate into the pocket that held my notebook. But I hadn't zipped the pocket—I had been in too much of a rush to get out of the sawmill. Both the VIN plate and the notebook must have fallen out—maybe when I scrambled out of the building, or when I was hiding, or when I was climbing over the fence. If someone had found that notebook, they would know it was mine. They would know I had been there.

I was just about to get out of the car again when a shadow fell across the windshield. I stifled a scream when a face suddenly appeared. Phil Varton.

“Didn't mean to startle you,” he said as I got out of the car. He was wearing his gloves again. I stared at them. Across the street, Dean Lafayette came out of the police station, got into his car, and drove away.

A

couple hours later, I was standing under a window outside the marina restaurant, waiting for Morgan and gazing at the police station across the road. The air had turned cool, and clouds were building overhead. The breeze from the lake had turned into a sharp wind. Sometime tonight there would be rain. I checked my watch. Where was Morgan? Then I spotted her hobbling toward me. Her face was gleaming from exertion.

“Good news, Robyn,” she called. She glanced up at the restaurant. “I'm so hungry,” she said. “Let's go inside.”