The Second Lie (27 page)

"Maybe not. And neither Maggie, or Shane, look anything like druggies. If they're living in that world, they'd have had to deal with stuff that would have toughened them up. From what I've seen of Maggie there's no sign of drug use. Her hair's healthy and shiny. She's got no meth mite marks on her arms or legs."

"I agree. I'd bet my practice that she's clean. There aren't any physical signs of addiction. She's thin, but not too thin. She looks me straight in the eye. Her gaze is clear. Except when she's feeling defensive, she holds her hands in her lap. She gets good grades. Her attention span is good...."

When I heard myself going on so much, as though I had a personal stake in Maggie's life, I stopped. Maggie was just a client.

But then, all my clients were very important to me. Maggie was just the one we were talking about.

"I need you to speak with her, Kel. Find out what's going on."

"In the first place, I'd have to see her to do that, and even then, I can't guarantee she'll tell me anything more. I've pushed as much as I can. In Maggie's case, my job is to look out for her, period. Not solve a crime." It felt good, too.

"If Maggie Winston is running drugs, having you in her corner couldn't hurt."

Sam knew how to play me. "I just don't believe Maggie's a part of that world." I was worried about Maggie's sex life and Sam was talking drugs.

"It all adds up, though, doesn't it?"

"You've concocted a scenario that incorporates most of your evidence."

"What have I left out?"

"Maggie's mom, for one. Why was she just having a run-in with Chuck? You think she's in on it, too? And that he interrupted something?"

"Could be," Sam said slowly. "If he'd found something, he'd have arrested her, but she might have been waiting to make a deal and he just happened to be there. She could have mouthed off. He'd retaliated, told her to move on. She'd be pissed for missing her deal. Think about it. That would explain why she flipped out when she heard I was poking around."

"Doesn't make sense. I mean, I can believe she'd deal drugs, but there's no way she'd involve Maggie in any of this. Whatever else I might say about that woman, she loves her kid. And why, if there was some drug scheme going on, would she have contacted me?"

Lori Winston would risk everything to prevent her daughter from having sex at fourteen and ruining the child's life.

"And it still doesn't tell us where the superlab is," Sam said. "Or who's behind it. It's sure not located in that trailer Lori Winston owns. It's way too small. And I'd have noticed traffic coming and going."

"No, but I'm really wondering what Lori Winston's up to," I said, half thinking aloud.

"I'll give Chuck a call just as soon as I down another cup of coffee."

I hung up, frowning, and drew the shape of a tennis racket. Wrote Maggie's name in the middle of it. And wondered how I was going to get that kid to tell me the truth.

Sam wanted to be off work at four on the dot Thursday to get out to the farm to see Kyle. He'd spent the past two days going over the Branson operations at Viola's request. She wanted someone she trusted, someone besides her and her kids.

Sam might not completely trust Kyle. But she still loved him. And after the hours they'd spent together in his bed, she knew she needed to be a part of his life.

When her cell rang just after three on Thursday, she recognized MaryLee Hatch's number.

"Jones," she answered immediately.

"Nicole knows who the girl is," MaryLee said. "Her picture's in the paper today."

Flipping off the screen she'd been perusing on the computer, Sam stood. "I'm on my way."

"You're sure that's her?" Standing in full uniform in Nicole's living room, Sam stared at the thirteen-year-old, and then back at the newspaper in her hand. "That's the girl that met you at your locker and told you she had something you could take to help you do better in your studies. The one that told you when and where to meet Shane."

"I'm positive. That's her."

Shit.

"I looked through all the yearbooks, just like you told me." Fear laced Nicole's voice. "I didn't see her there. I swear."

"You're sure," Sam said one more time.

"Yes."

"'Chandler High School senior wins scholarship to Ohio State,'" MaryLee read aloud. "And she's dealing drugs? Wow. I guess she's going to see how quickly she can lose a scholarship."

Yeah, that wasn't the half of it. Not only would Glenna Reynolds's promising future take a severe U-turn, but things weren't looking real good for Maggie Winston, either.

With a sincere thank-you to Nicole, Sam left the Hatch home, her cell phone already to her ear in a call to Chuck. The high school bust was his, too.

The next call would be to Kelly.

Sam was dreading that one.

Kyle had spent the past two days looking for Yale without anyone but Viola knowing. With her permission, and at her request, he spoke with everyone on the Branson farm. The three daughters. Their husbands. And the staff, from foremen to egg pickers. He wasn't a cop. He was a concerned friend. As far as he could tell, no one had seen the blond ex-con.

Bob had to have gotten the meth from Yale. Nothing else made sense. The older man had trusted the kid. He'd allowed him to live in his home even after Yale had stolen from him.

Kyle was convinced Yale was behind his friend's death, even if Chuck Sewell hadn't caught on yet. And Kyle was going to find the man and do what he had to do to get a confession out of him.

And then he'd turn him over to Sam.

She wanted her dealer. Kyle was convinced it had to be Yale.

Nothing else made sense.

He was going to do this for Bob. And for Viola. Bob's widow was falling apart. Her husband of thirty years had died before she could tell him she still loved him. Before she could tell him she didn't want the divorce. Before she could tell him that she'd stand by him, in sickness and in health, just as she'd promised to do.

Kyle couldn't give her back the lost opportunities. But hopefully he could give her a measure of peace.

And he was doing it for him and Sam, too. Not only to clear his name once and for all, but to win back at least a small measure of her trust.

He also hoped it would give Sam some peace. Maybe she'd accept a two-bit distributor and give up her search for a full-scale lab.

He hoped so.

The timing worked--Yale's release from prison coincided with the statistics Sam had spouted about the increase of drug arrests in Fort County.

He'd thought about contacting Sherry Mahon, too--even if he had to coerce information out of her. But considering Sam's probable reaction to him and Sherry in the same space, breathing the same air, he quickly dismissed the idea.

By Thursday afternoon he hadn't found Yale but he'd discovered the old storage building on Bob's land where he'd been living. Until the past couple of days, judging by the date on the milk in the mini refrigerator. Obviously this was where the kid had holed up after he'd been caught in Viola's purse.

The cot in the one-room building was unmade. Jeans and flannels were strewn around the floor. The seat on the toilet in the corner was up, the bowl unflushed. The door on the new-looking shower unit was hanging open, a towel flung over the top.

A used condom was in the trash.

Had Bob known Yale was still around?

Had he allowed the man access to this makeshift home?

Kyle chose not to tell Viola what he'd found just yet. Why hurt her with the knowledge that when she'd given Bob an ultimatum--Yale or her--he'd just moved Yale out of sight?

If he had.

With Bob gone, there was really no way for them ever to know for sure what he'd done.

His friend's death had left a lot of questions.

Chandler, Ohio
Thursday, September 30, 2010

Some days were just not good days. Deb had looked like hell when she'd come in that morning and by four in the afternoon she'd given up pretending to do any work at all.

"Can I go, please?" The receptionist stood in my doorway, her eyes red rimmed as though she'd been crying.

"What's wrong?"

"Would you believe a cold?"

"No."

"Allergies, then."

"No."

She leaned against the doorjamb, head and all. "I'm afraid Cole's having an affair," she said, her voice devoid of emotion, her eyes full of pain.

Cole Brown, another bastard?
I wrote on the sticky note in front of me.

"With who?"

"I don't know. But last night, for the first time since we got married, he went down to the pub. He didn't get home until five o'clock this morning. I know because I was still up. Sitting in the living room waiting for him."

"Had you tried calling him?"

"Yeah, his cell phone was dead."

"Off or out of charge?"

"I don't know. He says out of charge."

"The pub closes at two."

"I know."

"Did you ask him where he was after that?"

"Yeah. He says driving around."

"For three hours?"

"That's what I said. He swears that's all he was doing."

"But you don't believe him."

Raising her head, Deb looked at me. "Would you?"

"No." I answered her honestly. Deb was a friend, not a client. Giving the benefit of the doubt wasn't as easy.

"Did he give you any explanation for his unusual behavior?"

"Just that he's trying to figure himself out."

"Did he come up with any answers?"

"Apparently not. He just keeps saying he's confused."

"About you? Your relationship?"

"That's part of it. Mostly it's about him. About what he wants."

The man was way too young for a midlife crisis. Maybe he was having an identity crisis.

Or maybe... I froze as another thought occurred to me. Lori Winston appeared to have been out all night when I'd seen her arguing with Chuck early Wednesday morning.

She and Cole had graduated high school together.

Could there be some connection between Deb's unhappy husband and Maggie's mother?

I didn't want to think so.

And didn't want to worry Deb until I knew more. I was starting to sound like Sam.

"So what does he want from you?"

"I know what he says he wants."

"And that is?"

"For me to be patient with him. He says he loves me. And that he wants our marriage to work."

"What are you going to do?"

"Try to be patient and believe in him."

Probably the best choice. Just not one I would have made.

But then, my perceptions were a tad skewed at the moment when it came to anyone within Lori Winston's sphere.

24

S
am put off the call to Kelly until she was through her shift, thinking maybe she'd just stop by Kelly's office on her way out to Kyle's. As anxious as she was to spend time with Kyle--and, let's face it, stay on top of everything going on at Bob's--the latest development in town was equally urgent.

She'd call Kyle. Tell him she'd be there, just later than she'd expected. First, she wanted to visit the holding cell where Glenna Reynolds waited to see the judge.

Chuck had arrested the girl--at Sam's request. She'd taken a run out by Maggie and Lori Winston's place, waiting until she'd seen Maggie inside the window of the trailer before she'd called Chuck. She wanted to make certain the girl was nowhere near her friend when the arrest was made.

Chuck picked the senior up at home, brought her in and booked her. She'd spend the night in a county cell by herself and then see the judge in the morning. She and Chuck had agreed that they wanted the girl charged as an adult.

Luring innocents like Nicole Hatch to an addictive, lethal drug was not something they could shrug off.

And then Chuck had gone to have dinner with his sister and her family.

Sam waited for him to leave, then headed to the jail. She wanted answers. Shane Hamacher might be able to get away with not knowing much. He'd been the last man on the totem pole and a year younger than Glenna. Glenna was the middle guy.

Sam wanted to know everything the girl knew before the system got hold of her, even if it meant breaking some rules. That's why she'd left Chuck out of her plan.

Walking by a couple of deputies, waving to the dispatcher on duty, Sam let herself into the cell block, swiping her badge as she went.

Glenna Reynolds. Maggie's friend. A babysitter with a sick mother. A straight-A student who'd cared about leaving pregnant Susan Abrams in the lurch.

Chuck had said the girl was in cell number three. He'd chosen it because it was off by itself, leaving Glenna relatively removed from anything else that might happen in the jail that night.

When Sam had asked, Chuck told her he'd caught Lori Winston sleeping in a doorway Wednesday morning. He'd ordered her to move on, and she'd taken exception to his disturbing her sleep.

Something else that made no sense. Why would the woman be sleeping in a doorway when she had a perfectly good bed to go home to?

A daughter to go home to.

Listening for any sound coming from cell three, sobbing maybe, Sam approached. "Ms. Reynolds?" She spoke in the direction of the one-foot-by-one-foot barred opening at the top of the solid cell door.

No response.

With the key she'd brought, she unlocked the door. Pulled it open. And felt the blood drain from her face.

The plastic cording from around the mattress had been ripped away and was hanging from a fire sprinkler on the ceiling. The slender body of the sixteen-year-old senior hung suspended, the plastic cord around her neck.

"Call an ambulance!" Sam called to the guard down the hall. "Now!" Rushing forward, she grabbed the teenager's legs, lifting the girl to relieve the pressure on her neck.

Please, God, let her live.

Sam repeated the words again. And again. Only those words. They were the single thought in her brain for minutes that seemed like hours until help arrived.

She's just a child. Let her live.
All idea of charging the juvenile as an adult fled as she gave every bit of energy over to keeping the young woman alive.