Killing the Secret (18 page)

“How the hell do you expect me to remember that?” Loretta whined.

“Just try, please. Did any of you go out of town?”

“All I remember is that I was mad at Heather because she wasn’t helping. She stayed at home in bed like she always did on the first day of her period. She managed to show up in time for the party, however.”

“Thanks.” Lexie hung up the phone.

“The fact that Loretta could hold a grudge for twenty years has turned into a blessing. Mariah just spent an hour lying to me.”

“Sounds like you’re glad.” Red looked confused.

“I am. Now I know which puzzle to put together first.

“Puzzles? I know I’m puzzled.” Red chuckled.

“It’s a long story. I’d rather talk about the reunion. Do you plan on going?”

“No.”

“Please reconsider. I can use an extra pair of eyes. You’re alumni, so no one will think anything about your presence.”

“Anything for you, Sheriff Honey.”

“Cute.”

The flight back to Diffee seemed ten times longer than the one to Washington. It was midnight when Lexie climbed into her soft warm bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. Her eyes closed sixty seconds after contact with the pillow and didn’t open again until seven the next morning.

Chapter Forty-One

The light peeked in through the shades and she rolled over to avoid the intrusion. Her body was still, but her brain wouldn’t quiet down. Only one more week, and she had no doubt the murderer would arrive, assuming he already didn’t live in Diffee. She rolled out of bed. First thing she needed to do was follow up with Sean.

By eight she pulled the patrol car in front of his house. There he was sitting on the porch swing, as usual.

Dark circles underscored his eyes and the lines on his face were set in a frown.

“More questions?” He spewed his words as she approached the steps.

“Yes.” Seating herself on the old rocker she twisted it around in order to face him.

“I need to know what happened that night at the lake. Your daughter lied. I can let it out that she’s a murder suspect. Then her husband’s future, and hers, won’t include a presidency.”

“That would be an evil thing to do.”

“Vile perhaps, but deserving, since she lied to me about what happened at the lake. I have a witness. Why would she lie if she wasn’t the murderer?”

Sean held his shaking hand to his left temple.

Lexie pressed, “Why did she lie, Sean?”

“To protect her brother.”

“Her dead brother?” Lexie’s body stiffened.

“Michael was mentally ill. When his girlfriend disappeared in Columbia, the locals accused him of murdering her. I had to get him out of the country before they killed him, or locked him up, for the rest of his life. So I nailed him in a wood box. The locals helped me carry him to the boat. They were all so pleased when they were told that he committed suicide. that no one bothered to check inside the coffin.”

“Strange you could get away with that.”

“Not strange in Columbia. It was a whole different world then.”

“Where is Michael?”

“I don’t know. After he got back to the U.S. he changed his identity,” Sean divulged.

“So Mariah knows that he’s still alive?”

“Yes. They make contact from time to time,” Sean admitted.

“Why her and not you?”

“He hated me. He blamed me for his mother dying in Columbia. He said she didn’t have a chance in that country without good medical care.”

There was a brief silence, then Lexie said, “That’s all for now except I need you to get a photo for me.” He went inside the house and after at least ten minutes returned with a snapshot of his son.

Lexie walked away thinking that her puzzle had more pieces than she realized. She drove a few miles from his home and pulled off the road.

Pushing Mariah’s number into her cell phone she regretted not being there to see her face.

“Toleson residence,” Wade answered.

“This is Sheriff Wolfe. I need to speak to Mariah.”

“It’s that Sheriff,” she heard him say in the background.”

“What is it now?” Mariah was obviously irritated with Lexie’s intrusion.

“I talked to your father this morning. He told me that Michael is still alive and makes contact with you.”

“That old fool is crazy.” Mariah sounded like a ruffled animal.

“Where is Michael buried?”

“Bogotá. That crazy man left him in the jungle,” Mariah’s voice huffed out the words.

“Where is your mother buried?”

“In Diffee. Sean brought her back home.”

“Why didn’t he have Michael’s body transported?

“Because he hated him and didn’t want to waste money bringing his body to the U.S.”

The sharpness of Mariah’s words sent shivers down Lexie’s arms. “So why did your Father say that Michael is still alive?”

“I don’t want to hear about that old fool’s hallucinations. Hopefully, he’s gone nuts over the guilt of my mom and brother dying in that horrid country. He wanted to advance his career and we didn’t matter.”

“Do you have the location of Michael’s burial site?” Lexie questioned.

“Of course I do.” Mariah’s tone was flat.

“I need you to fax me directions.”

“Then will you leave me alone?”

“For now,” Lexie replied. She gave Mariah her FAX number before pushing the off button on her phone.

When she got back to the office, Delia was busy typing the reunion schedule.

“What’s up?” Tye’s eyes widened.

“Let me make a call then I’ll fill you in. You probably won’t believe it. I’m not sure I do.”

“Interesting,” Tye replied.

“Lexie opened her desk drawer and searched for the Interpol number. Finally, she dug it out and pushed the numbers on her phone.

“This is Sheriff Lexie Wolfe from Diffee, Oklahoma. I need prints from a Michael Haverty who was in Columbia with his father, Sean, ending around 1988.”

“What’s this about?” an official sounding voice on the other end of the phone asked.

“It’s for a murder investigation. His father, Sean, reported that his son’s death was faked to get him out of South America. His sister, Mariah, said that he’s dead and buried in Bogotá. If he’s alive, he may be the murderer I’m looking for. I’m hoping you have his fingerprints since his father was in security at the American Embassy. You’ve already sent me his sister’s prints—Mariah Haverty.”

“I’ll check this out and get the information to OSBI.”

“Bryce is handling the case for OSBI. Please hurry. Likely there’s others on his list.”

“Will do,” the voice said and hung up.

“What’s going on?” Tye’s interest was peaked.

Lexie recounted her conversations from the morning.

“Unbelievable,” was Tye’s only response.

Lexie worried aloud, “My concern now is that he won’t show up for the reunion because we’re getting too close.”

“Maybe he’ll give up on killing them since he may be caught.” Delia’s optimism didn’t ring true.

Lexie frowned. “I still don’t understand why he’s killing a bunch of women he never knew.”

“Sounds like some vengeance related to his sister,” Tye speculated.

Lexie picked up the ringing phone. “Sheriff Wolfe here.”

“This is Jenkins from Interpol. The information you requested is being sent to Bryce at the OSBI office in Tulsa. You may access it through them.”

“Thanks so much,” Lexie said.

“Tye, how do you feel about a trip to Bogotá to see if Michael is still there—six feet under? We need to know if Sean is lying to us.”

“Not exactly my idea of a vacation but I’m ready for an adventure. Do you want me to ask Red to pilot?”

“Yes. He’ll be here any minute for our meeting. I want to make sure we all know where we’re supposed to be during this reunion.”

Clay, Red, and the highway patrol representative, Turner, arrived at about the same time.

Turner reached out his hand in succession to each of them. He was a big burly guy with a dimple in his chin and a ready smile.

She assigned Tye to coordinate the officers at the gym. Clay and Turner were asked to rotate in the guarding of Jamie, Beth, and Loretta when they were doing their preparatory work at Loretta’s house Friday afternoon.

“Boss said we’d assign an officer to each woman once the festivities begin,” Turner reported.

“That’s great,” Lexie replied. “Red, can you fly Tye to Bogotá tomorrow? We need to check out Sean’s story.”

“No, can do. I’ve got another job. Phone Max Larson at Soaring Flights. His plane is better than mine and he speaks Spanish.”

Lexie tried to catch Red’s attention with her look but he focused on the men.

“I need to move on down the road,” Red interrupted. “Got work to do.”

Lexie followed him out the door. “What happened to your promise about helping?”

“Only applied to the United States.”

“You generally can’t wait for an excuse to fly off into the sunset. So why are you deserting me now?” Lexie felt the redness invading her face.

“The last thing I’d do is desert you.” His hand touched her shoulder.

She shrugged it off. “So that’s why you won’t go?”

“You got it. Someone wanted you dead and I’m not leaving the country the same time as Tye.”

“How many times have I told you that I don’t need a babysitter?”

“Way too many, so you might as well give it up. You’re wasting your breath,” Red scowled.

“Why are you such a pain in the ass?” Lexie looked directly into his eyes.

Red returned her stare then leaned his head down as if to kiss her. Instead, he turned her head to the side and whispered in her ear, “Because I love you.” He quickly turned and left only his back for Lexie’s glare.

She watched him walk away. Pretending that his declaration of love in Washington was a fluke wasn’t so easy now.

By the time she got back in the office, Tye had contacted Max Larson about the trip to Bogotá.

“I’m going to Tulsa to spend the night.” Tye grabbed his coffee cup and jacket. “Max said we’d leave at six in the morning, so I figure I need to be there and be ready. I’m going to go pack.”

“I’ll call ahead to make sure the authorities know why you’re coming. Try not to get into trouble.” Lexie shook a finger at him.

“Not me, I’m too mild mannered.”

“Like I believe that!” Lexie snuck up from behind and wrapped her arms around him.

“Don’t get all mushy—makes me wonder what you’re up to. I’ll be back in three or four days.” Tye saluted as he exited.

“I’m out of here, too.” Lexie patted Delia’s back. “I need to make arrangements for a horseback ride early in the morning.”

“Why?” Clay asked.

“Because it’s time I brought Wilbur back to his cell.”

“Don’t you want Clay to go with you?” Delia sounded worried.

“He’ll need to sleep after being on duty all night. I’ve arranged for Turner to come in days while Tye is gone.”

Turner nodded.

“I’ll check in with you every hour so you can monitor what’s going on. Wilbur’s doesn’t have a history of shooting anyone. However, he might consider it, as an alternative to being penned up.”

Chapter Forty-Two

Tye buckled his seatbelt, then visually sized up his pilot, Max Larson. Max was probably in his early fifties, of medium height, with gray thinning hair. Based on the airplane and the diamond ring on his hand, Tye assumed Max had plenty of money.

“Hello,” Max welcomed him aboard.

“I appreciate you flying me on this short notice.” Tye settled into his red cushioned seat and fastened the seatbelt.

“I don’t have anything better to do. I thought about flying to Paris for the weekend, but the thought of Columbia brought back some old memories.”

Tye’s curiosity was aroused. “So you’ve been to Columbia before?”

“Yes, in 1970. I went as an interpreter for a professor from Wabash College.” Max turned his attention toward maneuvering the plane down the runway.

Tye took the cue to keep his mouth shut until the plane was airborne. He had the idea that Max was fairly new at flying. Tye preferred to not know the answer to that question, so he didn’t ask.

“What was that professor doing in Columbia? Collecting drugs?” Tye joked after the plane was leveled in the air.

Max sounded irritated, “No, that was before FARC got involved with cocaine to raise funds for their guerilla organization.”

“What’s FARC?”

“Revolutionary Armed Forces of Columbia. Those are the dirt bags who captured the three Americans last year.”

“I do remember that story,” Tye reflected with a nod.

“Columbia was a friendly place for Americans until FARC showed up. Now there are men who’ll kidnap or murder you without a second thought. Especially, if they think they can get a ransom.”

“In that case, I’m surprised you agreed to fly me.”

Max gave him a sideways glance. “I’m just landing and leaving, then coming back to pick you up. San Jamiese del Guaviare is too dangerous for me. Strange that an American would bury a loved one there.”

Tye responded, “Sean worked for the American Embassy in Bogotá. I thought that’s where his child would be buried, but he had something to hide. Maybe that’s why the body ended up in San Jose del Guaviare instead of being returned to the U.S.”

“It certainly was the perfect place to hide a body,” Max agreed.

Tye changed the subject, “So what were you doing in Columbia in 1970?”

“Collecting samples of slime molds.”

“I’ve never heard of that.” Tye shook his head.

“The professor thought they were fascinating because they’re part plant and part animal on different life cycles. We put dirt samples in film canisters for him to study.”

“To each his own.” Tye paused and looked out the window aware of an approaching storm. “What else can you tell me about the place?”

“It’s been over thirty years since I’ve been in that part of the world. Max paused and seemed to be stretching his memory. “There were lots of vines, monkeys, and snakes. Also, great fishing in the Amazon River. Mostly Peace Corp people around back then. We had some wild bus rides, weird hotel accommodations, and an occasional lizard on the supper table.”