A Grant County Collection (89 page)

Valentine was staring at the door as if he wanted to bust through it.

Jeffrey pressed, 'He's Lena's next of kin. Didn't you contact him?'

Valentine nodded. 'Wasn't there.'

There were muffled sounds through the door, but no yelling that Jeffrey could hear. He indicated to the sheriff that they should walk up the hallway a bit. 'You went by Hank's house?'

Valentine stayed where he was. 'I can't find him anywhere. I went to his house last night, then again this morning. His bar's been closed. There was something happened a few weeks ago—'

'Cook told me about that.'

'Yeah,' Valentine said, a suspicious look crossing his face. The man obviously did not trust his deputy. Jeffrey wondered how they got any work done. The force had to be a small one, with probably no more than five deputies in all. Parking Donald Cook at the hospital was one way of keeping his enemy at arm's length, but Jeffrey was going to take a wild guess and say that the old-timer had a lot more friends in uniform than his young boss.

Jeffrey asked, 'Any idea who it might be in the Caddy?'

'There are no missing persons that we know of. No reports on any suspicious characters hanging around. No Escalades reported missing. It's a puzzle.'

At least he hadn't been sitting on his hands all night. 'What about Hank Norton?'

'He drives a Mercedes that's probably older than I am.'

'No.' Jeffrey shook his head. 'Do you think maybe it's his body in the car?'

Valentine shrugged. 'All's I know is a DNA test is gonna blow half my wad for the quarter.'

His budgetary concerns were valid, but Jeffrey wondered again why Valentine wasn't more eager to nail down the victim's identity. Maybe he already had some idea, but he wasn't yet willing to share the information.

'I know you said there weren't any accelerants on her clothes, but did forensics find anything on her shoes?'

Valentine took his time answering. 'She was wearing those what-do-you-call-its, with the short heel.'

'Pumps?' Jeffrey asked, thinking it was odd that Lena was wearing anything dressier than tennis shoes on her day off.

'Right, pumps. My wife wears those shoes hippies and lesbians wear. You know, with the cork? I don't know what they're called, but she swears by them.'

Jeffrey tried to get him back on subject. 'Did they find anything on the shoes?'

'Just soot, dirt, the usual. Didn't seem like there was any need to send them to the lab.' Valentine tilted up his chin, asked, 'You think I should?'

Jeffrey shrugged. Though, if it was up to Jeffrey, he'd spend money on identifying the victim before worrying about Lena's shoes, but that hadn't been the sheriff's question. 'Up to you.'

Around the corner, he heard the elevator ding again. Jeffrey tried to think of something to keep them out in the hallway a little longer, wanting to give Sara as much time as he could. 'Where's one?'

'What's that?'

'The elevator,' he said. 'The buttons only go to two and three. Where's the first floor?'

'Basement,' Valentine told him. 'Crazy, ain't it?'

'How do you get down there?'

'You have to use the stairs or go around the back of the building.'

Jeffrey wondered how many fatalities the county coroner dealt with. 'You got many bodies down there?'

'Bodies?' He looked shocked, then gave a chuckle as he explained, 'Our morgue's over near the impound lot. The basement's for the laundry room, storage, that kind of stuff.'

'That's strange,' Jeffrey said, grasping at straws. 'Why the impound lot?'

Valentine shrugged, glanced at his watch, then the door.

Jeffrey tried, 'Is she going to need therapy or anything? Medication?'

'What, for the fire?' Valentine shook his head. 'Nah. Doc says she'll be fine in a few days.'

'What about your usual suspects?'

'What does that mean?'

'Your bad guys,' Jeffrey clarified. 'Persons of interest.'

Valentine shook his head. 'You got me on that one, Chief.'

'Well,' Jeffrey began, once again trying not to sound too condescending, 'when something bad happens in my town, like a car gets stolen or somebody swipes a television, I've got a pretty good idea who might be behind it.'

'Oh.' Valentine nodded. 'Yeah, I got you. Only, we don't get many cars being blown up on the football field here.'

Jeffrey chose to ignore his sarcasm. 'Any arsonists?'

'That's a big-city crime.'

'Apparently not.'

Valentine scratched his chin. 'I figure whoever did this was trying to send a message.' 'What kind of message?'

'Your detective's the only one who can answer that. Speaking of which,' he said, nodding toward the door. 'I think your wife's had enough time alone with her.'

Jeffrey could only hope that was the case. He followed Valentine back into the room. Sara was leaning against the wall outside the bathroom. The bed was empty, the soft restraints hanging from the rails. The shower was running.

Sara explained, 'I talked her into cleaning up.'

'She talk back?' Valentine wanted to know.

Sara shook her head, and Jeffrey could see that she was telling the truth.

'Not much help then,' Valentine said, obviously annoyed. He glanced at his watch, then at the bathroom door. 'How long she been in there?'

'Not long.'

He tried the doorknob, but it was locked. 'Jesus, lady, you didn't think it'd be smart to go in there with her?'

Sara opened her mouth to answer, but Jeffrey cut her off, telling the man, 'Watch your tone.'

Valentine ignored him, knocking hard on the door. 'Miss Adams? I need you to open this door now.' He slipped his radio out of his belt. 'Cook, you there? Come in.' There was no answer, and the sheriff pressed his shoulder into the door, trying to pop it open.

For the second time that night, Sara's lips parted, but she did not speak.

'Cook?' Valentine tried the radio again. There was no answer, and he banged his fist on the bathroom door. 'Miss Adams, you've got to the count of three to open this door.'

The radio crackled. In a slow drawl, Don Cook asked, 'What is it, Jake?'

'Find the passkey for the bathroom and get your ass in here!' Valentine barked. He tucked the radio back in its holster and put his shoulder to the door again. 'Miss Adams,' he tried again. 'Lookit, just come out and everything will be fine.'

Jeffrey asked Sara, 'Does she have anything sharp in there?'

Valentine turned around, waiting for her answer.

Sara shook her head. 'I don't think so.'

Valentine asked, 'Would she try to hurt herself?'

'I have no idea,' Sara returned, her words clipped. 'I'm not her doctor.'

'Shit,' Valentine hissed. He banged on the door again. 'Miss Adams.'

'Oh, no ...' Sara's voice was so low and the banging was so loud that Valentine obviously didn't hear her.

'What's—' Jeffrey looked up, his question caught in his throat. He knew exactly what had happened on the other side of that door.

Cook came into the room, a key in his hand. 'What's going on?'

Valentine snatched the key from him and slid it into the locked door. Steam from the shower filled the room. He strode inside and yanked back the curtain. The tub was empty.

'Motherfuck,' Valentine cursed. Above the toilet, a ceiling tile had been pushed back, exposing a narrow crawl space. 'Goddammit!' he screamed, kicking the wall. He told Cook, 'Search the hospital top to bottom. Call backup now.' Cook left, and Valentine looked right at Sara, saying, 'You bitch.'

Jeffrey grabbed the man by the collar and slammed him against the wall. 'You ever talk to my wife like that again and we're gonna have a real problem. You hear me?' Valentine tried to get away, but Jeffrey tightened his grip. 'You hear me?'

Valentine went limp like a kitten who'd been grabbed by the scruff of the neck. 'She let my prisoner escape.'

Jeffrey didn't let himself look at Sara, because he knew that she was thinking the same thing he was. Lena had tricked her. There was no getting around it.

He let the man go.

'Asshole.' Valentine jerked his shirt back into place, scowling. He shoved past Jeffrey as he went into the hallway. Jeffrey followed him around the corner and into the next room. The bed was empty, obviously unused. 'She let my prisoner escape,' Valentine snarled. 'I can't fucking believe I stood out in that hall letting you jerk me around while your wife was in there letting her escape.'

'Sara's not a part of this.'

'Why don't you do yourself a favor, buddy?' Valentine challenged. 'You get that wife of yours, and you get back into your car, and you get the fuck out of my town.'

Jeffrey didn't need to be asked politely. He turned without a word and went to find Sara.

She was still in Lena's room, stricken. 'How could I have been so stupid? How could I—'

He took her by the elbow, leading her out of the room. 'We don't need to talk about that right now.'

'I shouldn't have been here in the first place.'

Jeffrey led her into the hallway. The rent-a-cops had been called in, all two of them. Both men looked older than Don Cook and just as fit for duty.

Valentine started barking orders in between screaming into his radio for more backup. 'I want her found
now
!'

Jeffrey pressed the button for the elevator. He glanced down the hall, figuring Lena's escape. Obviously, she had pushed back the tile over the toilet and used the crawl space over the drop ceiling to access the bathroom on the other side. Then, she had probably sneaked down the stairs to the basement. The elevator opened onto the emergency room, though even if she'd taken that route, he doubted she would've caused much of a stir. The receptionist probably wouldn't have even looked up from her game of cards on the computer.

The elevator doors slid open. Jeffrey pressed his hand to Sara's back, urging her to get on. Valentine and one of the hospital cops trotted past the elevator as the doors closed, probably on their way to search the basement.

Jeffrey pressed the button for the second floor, wondering again why the car didn't go down to the first floor. Maybe there was a freight elevator Valentine had failed to mention. Lena could've used that to get downstairs, but then what? The laundry would have sheets and towels. There was probably a staff lounge, maybe lockers for the cleaning staff. She could find clothes, cash. Jeffrey figured she had taken what she needed and gotten out of the hospital as soon as possible.

'How could I be so stupid?' Sara repeated, shaking her head. Tears were in her eyes. He had seen her angry countless times, but there was nothing so savage as the anger she could direct toward herself.

He instructed, 'Tell me exactly what she said.'

'Just the same stuff – that we had to leave. She barely even looked at me.' She brushed away a tear with the back of her hand, her face white with fury.

'I'm so sorry,' she told him. 'This is all my fault.'

'I was standing out in the hallway,' Jeffrey tried. 'She used me, too.'

'Not like ...' Sara shook her head, unable to finish the sentence. 'I unstrapped her, Jeffrey. I'm the one who let her go.'

'Did she ask you to release her?'

'No – yes. Not directly. She said she felt dirty, that she was covered in dirt, and I just walked over and took off the straps. I didn't think twice about it. I even helped her out of the bed.'

He tried to press gently. 'Did she say anything else?'

'She apologized to me.' Sara laughed at her own stupidity. 'She was acting so scared. Her hands were shaking, her voice kept catching. I've never seen her so upset – not since Sibyl died. I fell for it completely. God, I'm such an idiot.'

Jeffrey wrapped his hand around her shoulder, not knowing how to comfort her. He was so furious at Lena right now that he could barely think.

Sara said, 'A drop ceiling. Of all the people who should know you can climb over a drop ceiling ...'

He knew what had happened to her all those years ago at Grady Hospital, that her attacker had dropped down from the bathroom ceiling. If Lena had put a knife in his back, Sara had just unwittingly twisted it. He told her, 'It's not your fault, Sara. You're not a cop.'

'Then why am I here?' she demanded fiercely. 'I should have stayed in the damn car. I should've just stayed home where I belong.'

The elevator doors slid open. Two more sheriff's deputies were running through the lobby toward the stairs.

'Let's just get out of here,' he told her, taking her by the arm. They were at the sliding doors when Valentine called to them.

'Hold on there,' he said, jogging to catch up. He was out of breath, probably from running up and down the stairs. He held out his hand, palm up. 'Give me the keys to your car.'

Had Sara not been there, Jeffrey would have told the man to go fuck himself. As it was, he silently tossed him the keys, wanting to get this over with as soon as possible.

Valentine saw the BMW logo on the keyfob and gave Jeffrey the kind of look you'd give a whore on the street. Cops didn't drive BMWs, at least not where Jake Valentine came from.

'It's my wife's,' Jeffrey told him. Sara had worked her ass off to be able to drive that car. As far as he was concerned, she could drive a Rolls-Royce if she wanted to.

Valentine pressed the button on the keyfob and the locks snicked up. Suddenly, he stopped. 'Laundry room,' he said, glaring at Jeffrey. 'You asked what was on the bottom floor.'

'I was making small talk.'

'Don't bullshit me.'

Sara said, 'I'll be over here,' walking toward one of the benches in front of the entrance.

Valentine gave him another nasty look before going to the car. Jeffrey knew the man wouldn't find anything there. Even if Lena had seen the BMW in the parking lot, there was no way to jimmy the door locks or open the trunk without the key. Breaking a window wouldn't do any good, either. One of the car's safety features was that if you engaged the central locking system from the outside, nothing could be opened from the inside. Jeffrey had actually been trapped inside the car once when Sara accidentally hit the lock button as she ran into the house to catch the ringing telephone. If the sunroof hadn't been open so he could crawl out, Jeffrey would've been stuck in the car for hours.