Riddle (24 page)

              Kort’s jaw tightened. He imagined reaching out and punching Butch in the face but instead he calmly told him, “I’m taking Grace home.”

              Butch leaned slightly to one side to look in at Grace. “I’d be happy to do that.”

              Grace didn’t give Kort a chance to answer. “Thank you anyway but I want Kort to take me home. Now can we go?”

              Butch’s eyes narrowed. “I see. We may have some questions for you this afternoon.”

              “Give her a break Butch.” Kort hissed.

              “Excuse me?” He stepped closer to the truck and a vein throbbed in his temple.

              “That’s fine Deputy or Officer or whatever,” Grace said coldly. “We’ll be home, at my apartment.” She gave him the apartment number enjoying the fury behind his eyes. “Is there anything else?” In spite of her grief she felt a slow rise of anger growing in the pit of her stomach. Part of her wanted a confrontation with this bombastic small town cop.

              As though he sensed the tension coming from Grace he slapped the side of the truck hard and he growled, “Get out of here. Go on.”

              As Kort drove carefully back onto the road he watched Butch in his rearview mirror until he was almost out of sight. “You shouldn’t antagonize him Grace. He can be dangerous.”

              Then they were passing the accident site. Small streams of smoke and steam still rose and Grace’s car was still there. A tow truck sat at the side of the road and another deputy was directing traffic around the debris, letting one lane at a time pass by. The acrid odor of burning rubber, the chemical smells of gas and oil and something Grace couldn’t identify seeped into the truck even though the windows were closed.

              “Don’t look,” Kort told her gently.

              But she couldn’t look away. The car was on the wrong side of the road, as though Mandy had drifted into the oncoming lane. The deputy had stopped them to allow traffic on the other side of the road to pass. There were only three cars but each one slowed to look as it passed. When Kort was allowed to pass again, Grace’s head turned as she continued to look back at the scene.  When it was out of sight she looked at Kort. “You don’t think it was an accident.” It was a statement and not a question.

              “I don’t know.” He turned into the Timber’s parking lot. “Something just doesn’t feel right.” He parked the truck and turned to face her. “Maybe I’m just being paranoid.”

              “Oh my God. You think someone thought it was me in the car, don’t you?”

              “Let’s go upstairs.” He turned to get out of the truck but she grabbed his arm.

              “Why would someone run me off the road Kort? Who would want to do that?”

              “I don’t know.” He pounded the steering wheel making her jump. “I don’t know anything. It just doesn’t feel right.” Looking back at her and seeing the questions in her eyes, he repeated, “Let’s go upstairs.”

              Reaching the apartment door Grace stopped short. Turning to Kort with eyes wide she said, “My key is with my car key.” Then her tears began to flow again.

              With one arm around Grace’s shoulders he dug into his pocket with the other hand pulling out his keys. “It’s okay baby. I have the one you gave me.” Once inside he guided Grace to the couch and she collapsed, sobbing uncontrollably. Sitting down next to her, Kort pulled her close. “It’s alright.” Even as he comforted her his mind raced. He wondered if the accident was a coincidence. He thought about anyone who might want to hurt her, kill her. Over and over he returned to one person, David. No one in Riddle knew her well enough to want to do her harm. They thought David had left town. But suppose he hadn’t; suppose he was holed up somewhere near-by.

              Grace struggled to wrap her head around what had happened. She tried not to consider the possibility it had been anything more than an accident. But in her mind she could see the car on the wrong side of the road. It just didn’t make sense. Grace knew if it was deliberate then it was likely she was the target. Like Kort she could only think of one person who had that much hatred for her; only one person she had angered enough to want her to suffer, David.

              She had calmed enough to sit up and wipe her face. “I need a drink of water.”

              Not saying a word he went into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator. As he handed it to her their eyes met. “You think it was David, don’t you?”

              He studied her closely before replying. “I can’t think of anyone else.” He sat down beside her. “I think it’s something we might want to mention to the police.”

              Frowning, she shook her head. “No. Suppose we’re wrong.”

              “Suppose we’re right. Suppose he tries again. When he finds out you weren’t in the car he may…” Kort left the sentence hanging. Taking the water bottle back, he opened it, and handed it back to her. “We need to at least let the police know it’s a possibility.”

              Before Grace could respond there was a loud knock at the door. She jumped, a look of terror crossing her face. Signaling her to stay where she was Kort went to the door. Opening it he came face to face with Butch and someone he had not seen for many years. Detective Jayson Bishop stood at the door, arms casually at his side. “Hello Kort.”

              Kort’s eyes narrowed. Bishop had been the State Department of Criminal Investigations detective who had questioned him relentlessly when Desiree went missing. He had repeatedly tried to get Kort to change his story, to admit some kind of altercation that had resulted in Desiree’s death. Oddly, at Kort’s trial he had also admitted he wasn’t one hundred percent certain Kort was the killer.

              “Is Grace Donahue here?” Bishop asked, his tone even and non-threatening. That was his way; laid back and cool. Hearing him say Grace’s name irritated Kort. Part of him wanted to tell the detective to go away, but Grace was already at the door. Bishop nodded at her. “Good afternoon Miss Donahue, I’m Detective Jayson Bishop with the CBI. Do you feel up to answering a few questions?”

              Grace glanced quickly at Kort, and then nodded at the detective. “Come on in.” She looked at Butch. “Does he have to be here?”

              The detective’s eyebrows went up questioningly. But he turned to Butch and told him to wait in the car. As Butch opened his mouth to protest Bishop cut him off. “I’ve got this.”

There was no mistaking Butch’s anger as he stamped down the stairs to the parking lot. The detective followed the couple into the apartment his eyes moving over the room noting details as he did. The living room was sparsely furnished, no personal touches, no pictures on the walls. It verified what he had already learned about Grace Donahue. She was a transient, had only been in Riddle a short time, and had stated she did not plan to stay. He was curious to learn how she had hooked up with Kort Ericksen. But that wasn’t the primary reason he needed to speak to her.

              Grace sat on the couch and the detective sat across from her, pulling a small I-Pad and stylus from his pocket. Grace was surprised that someone in such a small town would have that kind of technology but shrugged it off. Kort remained standing until Bishop looked up at him. “You might as well join us Kort. It will save me from meeting with you later.”

              Not answering, Kort sat down beside Grace. She moved closer to him and slipped her hand in his. She wanted to make certain this detective understood she trusted Kort and believed he had nothing to do with what had happened. Bishop got the message loud and clear and it made him smile slightly. He had no reason to think Kort had anything to do with his investigation. He had already confirmed Kort’s whereabouts at the time of the crash.

              “First let me say I am very sorry for your loss. It’s a terrible thing when such a young life is lost. I understand Mandy was driving your car Grace. Can you tell me how that came to be?”

              Grace took a deep breath and her grip on Kort’s hand tightened. “The construction crew up here at the Timbers had called in a lunch order. We all take turns making deliveries. Jack asked Mandy to go. She had let her sister borrow her car this morning so he asked if she could use mine. Of course I said yes. I had used hers a few times, we had even used Jack’s truck but neither of us liked driving it.”

              “Why is that?” Bishop asked curiously.

              Grace’s nose wrinkled slightly. “He smokes cigars and the smell in the truck is pretty strong.”

              Bishop nodded making notes as he listened. “Okay, so Mandy took your car. Had you been having any problems with the car recently?” He already knew the answer to that question too.

              “No I had just had a new transmission put in. Well, a used transmission. Jerry at the Riddle Full Service next to the diner did the work. I even got new brakes and tires. It was running great.” Grace closed her eyes tightly as she felt the tears returning.

              “I’m very sorry Grace. I’ll be as brief as possible.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “I have to tell you something about this just doesn’t sit right. Mandy went off the opposite side of the road from where she was driving. That can happen of course. But there were no skid marks. It doesn’t look as though she lost control of the car. I have to ask why she would end up there. Maybe an animal ran in front of the car and she swerved to avoid it. Maybe she hit a wet spot, although the road is dry right there. We’ve towed the car in and we’re going over it. But it’s pretty burned up and it will take a while before we have any answers. Maybe someone had something against Mandy and scared her off the road.” He stopped and leaned closer to Grace, his eyes holding hers. “Or maybe someone didn’t know it was Mandy in the car. I heard she was wearing your jacket. Is that right?”

              Grace looked quickly at Kort and he spoke up. “That is true. We need to tell you something. It might not be anything but …”

              At that point Grace jumped in and began telling him about David, how he had tracked her to Riddle, and the confrontations they had at the diner. “He said a lot of ugly things. But he hasn’t come around or called me since that day”

              Kort broke in once again. “You might as well know I told him if he didn’t leave her alone I would handle it. He’d told her he’d like to choke some sense into her. He was a bully.”

              “And that helped him decide to go on his way?” Bishop didn’t let on this was not news to him either. The altercation had been observed by others who were very happy to share the information with the authorities. Kort was not a popular guy.

              Kort shrugged. “I never saw him again.” He looked at Grace who confirmed that was the last time either of them had seen David.

              The detective asked for David’s contact information. “I might as well eliminate him from the picture if I can. Is there anything else you think I should know?”

              Kort and Grace looked at one another then back at Bishop and shook their heads. “Do you really think this wasn’t an accident?” Grace’s voice shook slightly.

              “I don’t know Grace. It just doesn’t feel comfortable. What’s that old movie line, if it doesn’t gel it isn’t aspic?”

              Grace shivered visibly. “Psycho,” she said very softly. A small warning bell went off in the back of her mind. Someone else had mentioned Psycho. Or had she said it? The thought flitted away almost as soon as it was born.

              Bishop nodded. “I will tell you I intend to find out exactly what happened. The labs are all working their parts. I’ll work mine. I would appreciate it if you would do something for me.” He looked at Kort. “Be very careful. Keep Kort here with you or near-by.”

              Kort’s eyes widened. He had not seen that coming at all. “That’s no problem,” he assured Bishop.

              The detective nodded. “Let’s keep this between the three of us for now. No need to tip anyone off that we think it is anything but an accident. After all it may be just that.” Bishop stood up and extended his hand to Kort. “Between you and me I never felt comfortable with your case either. I just couldn’t prove anything.”

              Kort was stunned. “I wish the rest of the town felt that way Detective.”

              Heading toward the door Bishop called back over his shoulder. “Just sit tight, keep a low profile and I’ll be in touch. You know the deal. If you think of anything, no matter how off the wall, call me.” He nodded at the couple as he pulled the apartment door closed behind him.

              “That’s settles it. I’m staying with you until we get some answers.”

              Grace did not argue. Whatever was happening and whoever was doing it, she felt vulnerable. Having Kort stay with her would make her feel protected.

              Kort called his mother and told her what had happened avoiding any mention of the possibility Grace might be a target of some stalker or killer. He explained how upset she was and Agnes was surprisingly sympathetic. She offered to prepare dinner for them. She even offered to bring Kort a change of clothes. In the end they decided to drive to her house so he could pick up some things.  Once there she pressed again to feed them as though a home cooked meal would make all the bad go away.