The Right Call (27 page)

“I’m just having a little fun with you, honey. I’m not going to photograph you in the pool. But I’ll bet there’s not a police chief in East Tennessee who looks as good as you do in a bathing suit.”

She laughed. “Since I’m the only
female
police chief in East Tennessee, I’ll bet you’re right.”

Ethan sat in his car at the Gas ’N’ Go station at Main and Ninth and typed Vanessa a text message:
Busy day. Miss you. Love coming your way, Ethan.
He hit the Send button.

How long could he stay in touch with her and avoid lying? That’s where he drew the line. He wasn’t going to lie to her.

Audrey Reeves turned out to be a sweetheart. She was deeply hurt that Stedman had stolen money from her. But if she knew that her grandson had agreed to kill a man in order to pay his gambling debt? She’d be devastated.

Ethan unfolded the paper with the directions Audrey had so painstakingly written out. Was Stedman hiding somewhere? Or had he been murdered and his body disposed of? There was nothing on his side of the duplex to suggest there had been a struggle. Had he even made it home last night? Audrey said his truck was not in the driveway at six this morning when she went out to get the newspaper.

Ethan had a sick feeling that Win Davison might have taken care of the
problem,
and that now the only problem left was Ethan, whom the conspirators assumed knew far too much. Why try to threaten him into submission? Why didn’t they just kill him? Why take the chance that he would go to Chief Jessup? Then again, what could he tell her? All evidence pointed to Stedman’s guilt. They had set him up well. And with his history, not even his grandmother would think it implausible that he might resort to murder to pay his gambling debt. After all, he had
agreed
to it.

Ethan studied the directions and crude map Audrey had sketched out. It was a long shot, but it was worth a try.

Chapter 32

Tessa
sat at the counter at Nick’s Grill and ate the last bite of a grilled salmon filet before wiping her mouth with a napkin.

“Goodness, Nick. I think you outdid yourself.”

Nick Phillips smiled and slung a white bar towel over his shoulder. “There’s just nothing better than Alaskan cold-water salmon. Had to charge a little more, but I’m glad you think it was worth it.”

“Tastes like chicken to me.” A grin appeared under Gus’s white mustache. “Just kidding. It’s real good. I may be losin’ my marbles, but my taster still works.”

Maggie locked arms with Gus and took a sip of coffee just as Jo Beth came by with a fresh pot and gave everyone warmers.

“Y’all have plans for Memorial Day?” Jo Beth said.

“Maggie and I went out to the cemetery this mornin’ and put flowers on my relatives’ graves.” Gus hooked his thumbs on his suspenders. “I’ve had ancestors buried out there since before the Civil War. A couple of them died in that war.”

“The War between the States was so sad,” Tessa said. “To think that citizens of the same country were killing each other.”

“Still are,” Gus said. “They’re just not suitin’ up. I guarantee you the war against crime has never been won.”

Antonio nodded. “I wonder how many people are murdered every year in this country.”

Gus pushed his glasses higher on his nose. “Last I heard, it was a little over sixteen thousand.”

“Where’d you hear it?”

“On the Internet,” Gus said. “I was just surfin’ and one thing led to another, and I ran across it on NationMaster.com. Real interesting site.”

Tessa looked down the counter at Gus. “
You
surf the net?”

“Sure do. Why do y’all look so shocked?”

“Tessa and I never have gotten into computers.” Antonio took her hand. “Our daughter and son-in-law want us to learn so we can email them and our little granddaughter in England. Computers are overwhelming. We’ve just never done it and wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“Nothin’ to it,” Gus said. “I could set you up. We could drive over to Best Buy and pick one that suits you and get you up and runnin’ in no time. Email’s the easiest thing in the world.”

Tessa stared at Gus. “Well, I’m surprised
and
impressed. How did we not know you were into computers?”

“You never asked.”

“Never asked what?” Clint Ames slid onto the stool next to Tessa and took off his sunglasses.

“Our friend Gus has been holding out on us,” Antonio said. “He surfs the net.”

“Doesn’t everybody?” Clint said.

“Tessa and I don’t. But Gus says he can set us up and show us how to email our daughter.”

“You know how to plug in all those wires?” Clint said. “I always have to get one of my sons to help.”

Gus shrugged. “Sure. I’ve been doin’ it for years.”

“I can’t believe you never mentioned it,” Tessa said.

“I’d rather rabble-rouse than talk about myself. I’m tryin’ to do better.”

Maggie patted his arm. “So anybody got plans for today?”

“I’m working,” Clint said. “We’re filled up at Hazy View. Every cabin, chalet, and campsite.”

“Tessa and I are going over to the Jessups’ this evening for dinner and another round of Monopoly.”

Gus looked over the top of his glasses. “The police chief plays Monopoly?”

“All the time,” Antonio said. “Why is your jaw dropped?”

“I’m just tryin’ to picture Brill Jessup playin’ Monopoly like a regular person.”

Tessa rolled her eyes. “Well, for heaven’s sake, Gus, of course she’s a regular person.”

“I never pictured her that way before—like you never pictured me as a computer geek. There’s a lot more to me than meets the eye, and I reckon that’s true of her, too.”

“Hey, look this way.” Nick went over to the flat screen TV and turned up the volume. “Something’s going on …”

“Again, the Stanton County Sheriff’s Department has identified the body of an apparent hit-and-run victim as forty-one-year-old Grant Wolski of Sophie Trace. Wolski’s body was discovered by a cattle rancher just before eleven this morning about two miles east of town on Brenner Creek Road. Sheriff’s deputies said they believe Wolski may have been intoxicated. He smelled strongly of whiskey, and an open container was found in his SUV, which was found parked on a gravel road a short distance from where he was struck.

“Sheriff Sam Parker said his department has no suspects at this time but has already launched a full investigation and ordered an autopsy.

“Wolski was an operations supervisor at Davison Technologies. He’s divorced and has two sons that live with their mother in Washington State.

“We return now to our regularly scheduled programming and will bring you breaking news as we have it …”

Nick reached up and turned down the volume.

“A hit and run?” Tessa said. “Who would do such a thing?”

Antonio took her hand. “At least it’s not another shooting.”

Ethan stopped his car, a trail of white dust behind him on the gravel road. According to his odometer, he had gone eight-tenths of a mile off Deer Path. Isn’t that what Audrey Reeves told him to do?

He rolled down his window; the only sounds outside were the buzzing of insects in the tall grass and the cawing of a crow. The sun was high and hot, the foothills wrapped in a milky blue haze. He picked up the directions Audrey had given him, unfolded the paper, and started reading out loud.

“Go eight-tenths of a mile. Look for the lone sycamore tree in the pines.” He glanced up and spotted it at the edge of the forest about thirty yards to his right. “Go to it and keep walking straight into the woods about a hundred yards. You’ll come to a rushing stream. Waterfall about thirty yards upstream. Look for Stedman there
.”

Ethan memorized the directions, folded the paper, and put it in the pocket of his cargo pants. Did he even know what he was going to say to Stedman if he found him?

He looked in his rearview mirrors for any sign that he might have been followed, then got out of the car and walked through the tall grass toward the lone sycamore tree, his eye drawn to a bright yellow goldfinch perched atop a thistle.

Lord, give me wisdom. I want Drew’s killer caught and convicted. I can’t accept that I have to keep quiet and let these guys frame Stedman—or kill him—in order to protect Vanessa and Carter and myself. Show me a better way. There has to be a better way.

Ethan stopped at the sycamore tree. The forest was dark and considerably cooler. He looked around. How was he supposed to continue on a hundred yards to the stream without a trail to follow? He took the paper out of his pocket and reread Audrey’s directions in a spot of sunlight filtering through the canopy. Yes, that’s what it said to do.

Ethan sighed. The trees were thick. If he wound his way around them, could he be sure he was going in the right direction? Why hadn’t he thought to bring a compass?

He heard a loud swooshing noise and felt a gush of wind on his neck. He ducked and looked up in time to see a huge owl light on a distant tree branch. His mind played in reverse, to an incident that happened when he was ten …

“There’s a humongous nest up there,” Drew said. “Let’s go see what’s in it.”

Ethan went over and stood next to his cousin at the base of a giant leafy tree in the woods behind Uncle Richard and Aunt Becca’s house. “It’s getting dark. We should go.”

Drew let out a husky laugh and started climbing. “Last one up there’s a rotten egg.”

Ethan followed, clutching the tree trunk with arms and legs. The two raced upward, bark flying in all directions, exchanging playful taunts all the way to the top.

“I won,” Drew said, sounding as if he had just enough air left to get the words out.

“No fair. There wasn’t even room to pass you.” Ethan crawled up on a thick branch and sat. “Can you see what’s in the nest?”

Drew took a tiny flashlight out of his back pocket and shone it on the nest. “It’s empty.”

“After all that? Are you sure?”

“Yep.”

“What’s that moving farther out on the limb?” Ethan stood and grabbed the branch above his head with both hands so he could get a better look. “They’re baby owls! Three of them! See if you can reach them!”

Drew lay on his stomach and inched forward. “I wonder if they’ll sit on my arm like my parakeets do.”

In the next instant, a gigantic owl swooped down and hit Drew’s back with its talons, almost knocking him off the limb and screeching so fiercely that he started to bawl.

“Go!” he hollered. “Let’s get out of here!”

Ethan didn’t have to be asked twice. With the parent owl still screeching and scolding, the two ten-year-olds made their descent in record time. The second their feet hit the ground they wound their way out of the woods and ran lickety-split back to Uncle Richard and Aunt Becca’s house.

Drew’s shirt was ripped, but his back wasn’t badly scratched. The only injury Ethan had was to his ego, when Drew pointed out that he had wet his pants. Considering what an exciting discovery they had made, neither bawling nor pants-wetting seemed dishonorable …

Ethan came back to the present, the memory of Drew so vivid and real that emotion was just under the surface. He wanted Win Davison held accountable—not Stedman.

He looked out at the maze of trees and willed himself to take a step and then another and another, weaving in and out of the trees, trying to move forward in the direction of the stream.

A twig cracked somewhere behind him. He stopped, his heart pounding. Was he being followed? He hid behind a tree … as if that would do any good. Was it possible the guy who attacked him put a tracking device on his car while he stood robotically at Stedman’s door, counting to fifty?

Dread flooded him. What if they wanted him to lead them to Stedman? What if they planned to execute both of them?

Brill walked down the familiar corridor, her sandals squeaking on the shiny floor, and remembered how intimidated she had been the few times she met Sheriff Sam Parker on his turf. She stopped at the first open door and knocked.

Sam sat at a round table in the corner, his hands clasped behind his head, a row of teeth visible under his mustache.

“Come in, Chief Jessup. Have a seat.” Sam had a smile in his voice, too.

Brill shook his hand, then sat in a vinyl chair, feeling vulnerable dressed in crop pants and a blouse instead of her uniform.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your holiday,” Sam said. “But some information has come to light in my investigation of today’s hit and run that you need to be aware of.”

“You said it was urgent.”
It had better be
.

Sam opened a file folder that contained some photographs. “I want you to take a look at a piece of evidence we recovered in the victim’s SUV.”

Sam handed her an eight-by-ten photograph of what appeared to be the bottom half of an email message. The top portion had been torn off.

“I think it’s clear enough that you can read the words,” Sam said.

Brill started reading:

Sorry to shock you like this, but the reason I know Stedman Reeves shot Tal Davison is because I gave him the gun and promised to cancel his sixty-thousand-dollar gambling debt if he would do it. What can I say? I wanted Win Davison to know what it was like to lose something he cared about. I wanted him to suffer for being so callous about laying people off and watching their dreams go down the toilet.

Stedman did a good job. He made Tal’s killing look like the result of a random shooting spree. But he nearly freaked when he found out he accidentally killed two girls in the process. He was in a lot more trouble than he bargained for and started to worry that Davison’s roommate might have seen something. He decided he couldn’t take any chances and killed him, too.

The reason I’m emailing you is to tell you that Stedman’s losing it! His guilty conscience has finally sent him over the edge, and he’s turned on me. He’s threatened to kill me for getting him involved. He’s crazy enough to do it, so I’m going to find a place to lay low for a while. I’ll call work Tuesday and say there is a family emergency and I need to use some vacation days. If you need me, call my cell. I wanted you to know in case something happens to me.