Ever Present Danger (33 page)

Bobby pushed back his chair and stood, his palms flat on the table. “He was also mean to you sometimes! Why don’t you just admit it? Pete Barton made up the nickname Icky Ziwicki. He laughed at you. Isn’t that right?”

“Everyone did. I learned to let it roll off my back.”

Bobby blew a pink bubble and popped it. “Ivy never called you Icky Ziwicki, did she?”

“No. She was nice to everyone.”

Bobby started pacing. “And you didn’t think Pete deserved this sweet, gorgeous creature that was every guy’s fantasy.”

“She wore his ring. It was her choice.”

“You wanted her in the worst way. But you didn’t stand a chance with her, did you, Bill?”

“I didn’t take it personal. She could only belong to one guy.”

“
Belong?
Interesting choice of words.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Did you know she and Pete were sleeping together?”

“I figured. Pete always got what he wanted.”

“And that made you crazy. Jealous.
Angry
.”

“More like sad for her. Pete didn’t appreciate what he had.”

“And you would’ve?”

“Not only would I have, I
do
. I’ve never disrespected Ivy the way Pete did.”

“And just how did Pete disrespect her?”

“I don’t know if I can explain it. He just didn’t treat her like a lady. She was there for his convenience and pleasure.”

“And you knew this how?”

Bill stared at his hands. “I just knew. I could see it in her eyes.”

“And you wanted to rescue her?”

“I guess. But I couldn’t.”

“So Ivy goes away for ten years, then comes back completely different—underweight, dried out, and lookin’ much older than her age. Pete doesn’t want her anymore, and you finally get the leftovers, is that it?”

“Ivy wasn’t interested in Pete!” Bill glared at Bobby. “I’m the one who looks inside her heart. Her physical beauty will come back after she gets over…”

“Gets over what?”

Bill shrugged. “The effects of the drugs.”

“Ah, that’s right. She went off the deep end for a while. Any idea why?”

“You’d have to ask her that.”

Bobby walked over and sat again at the table. “I’m asking you. Since you’re smitten with this woman and seem to be lookin’ beyond the surface, you must’ve either discussed her past with her or wondered about it.”

“Sure. But I’d never violate her privacy by askin’.”

“So she hasn’t talked to you about her drug problem?”

“Former drug problem. And not much.”

“I have to wonder what would cause a popular, seemingly well-adjusted beauty like Ivy to become addicted to drugs. She had an intact family. Was an honor student in high school. By all indications, she had a bright future.”

“Beats me.”

“Ever think there might be a lot about Ivy you don’t know? Maybe somethin’ in her background with Pete?”

“I’m willin’ to invest however long it takes to get to know her. But I’m not gonna push her too hard to talk about painful things till she’s ready.”

“Funny you think you’ve got somethin’ goin’ with Ivy. She told me she’s not interested in you.”

“She wouldn’t say that.”

“She sure did. Yesterday afternoon. I had her in here for
questioning, just like I’m doin’ with you. You mean she didn’t tell you?”

“I don’t believe she said she wasn’t interested in me. You must’ve misunderstood.”

“That’d be a slap in the face, wouldn’t it? Especially if she came on to you and hired you to get rid of Pete Barton so the two of you could be together—and then dumped you and left you to take the rap.”

Bill jumped to his feet. “That’s a lie!”

“Sit down. Now!”

Bill sank into his chair. “I can’t stand to hear you talk about Ivy that way. She’d never do anything like that.”

“Like what? Dump you?”

“Or pay someone to get rid of Pete.”

Bobby cocked his head. “Well, we’re beginnin’ to think the same guy who shot your three buddies also strangled Joe Hadley. The only connection between these four guys is high school. What do you say to that?”

“I say lots of people are thinkin’ the same thing. But what does that have to do with me or Ivy?”

A slow grin spread across Bobby’s face. “That’s what I intend to find out.”

“Am I under arrest?”

“Not yet.”

“Then I don’t have to listen to this garbage.” Bill pushed back his chair. “I’ve got a business to run. I’m not sittin’ through this harassment again without a lawyer.”

Flint moved away from the glass that separated him from the interrogation room and noticed Nick Sanchez walking toward him.

“So how’d it go with Ziwicki?” Nick said.

“He didn’t give up anything, and now he’s about to lawyer up. Ivy, too. So did your agents finish talking to Ronnie Unger?”

“Oh, yeah.” A slow grin spread across Nick’s face.

“What?”

“Seems Unger’s old lady neglected to tell us that she was sleeping with Pete Barton.”

“Well, for crying out loud. There’s our motive!”

“Except Unger swears he didn’t even know about the shooting until he got home and found my agents waiting for him.”

“You believe him?”

Nick folded his arms across his chest. “I might if he didn’t have a motive. His story is that he planned to corner Pete at the reunion and rake him over the coals for breaking up his marriage, then decided it wasn’t worth it. Says he left around 11:40 and drove up to Telluride to meet a couple of buddies for a week, which was already in the works before the reunion. Swears he never even knew about the shooting, that he never turned on a TV the whole week. His buddies backed up his story, and his employer confirms that he was scheduled to be out for a week’s vacation. Unger surrendered the clothes he wore at the reunion, but they’d already been laundered. No trace of blood in the car or on his shoes.”

Flint shook his head. “So why didn’t Unger’s wife tell us she’d been involved with Pete Barton? And why’d she lie and tell us her husband had never mentioned the names of any of the victims? Clearly he knew about her affair with Pete.”

“She claims that since she never suspected Ronnie of the shooting, she saw no reason to tell us her private business.”

“You believe
her
?”

“I don’t know yet. But if she’s got any more secrets—or if she’s covering for Ronnie—we’re going to find out.”

Ivy sat out on the porch steps, going over in her mind the discussions she’d had with Lu about her coming forward with the truth about Joe’s death. She heard the door open behind her.

“Honey, Bill’s on the phone. Why don’t you take it out here?” Carolyn Griffith handed her the cordless phone and then went back inside.

“Hello.”

“I can’t believe you told that bubble gum-chewin’ lieutenant you weren’t interested in me,” Bill said.

“What I
told
him is you’re a sweet guy who treats me with respect, but that our relationship wasn’t romantic. He grilled me over and over yesterday afternoon. My dad was furious and said I can’t talk to them again without an attorney present.”

“And you didn’t bother to call and give me a heads-up? I was just interrogated by the lieutenant, who implied maybe I killed Pete so I could have you all to myself. I don’t know where they’re comin’ up with this stuff. They must be desperate.”

“I know. They asked me all about my relationship with Pete, and if I had conspired with you to get rid of him so the two of us could be free to pursue a relationship.”

“Then it was probably smart you played down the romance. Good thinkin’.”

I played it down because it’s never going to happen!
Ivy sighed. “Don’t you get it? We’re going to have to tell them Mr. Hadley shot the guys.”

“Not if it means implicatin’ you in Joe’s death!”

“Bill, they’re looking at you as a suspect in the shooting, and you’re innocent! We’ve got to tell the truth or we’re both going to get pulled into this.”

“Let’s don’t get ahead of ourselves. They can’t prove somethin’ that never happened. Why don’t we meet and talk this through— make sure we’re on the same page?”

“No. We can say whatever we need to over the phone.”

“That’s not smart. Isn’t there a way you could get away for an hour?”

“Sorry, I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Look, I already told you I need time away from you to think.”

“We don’t
have
time, Ivy! That’s the point. We need to compare notes and make sure we’re sayin’ the same thing so we don’t slip up. Let me pick you up so we can talk this out. I promise not to pressure you about our relationship.”

Ivy saw a white Jeep Liberty coming up the drive. “Bill, my dad’s home. He’s got my new car. I need to get off the phone.”

“Call me later on my cell and tell me when and where to pick you up.”

“I don’t know…”

“Come on, Ivy. I’m not askin’ for the moon. Just one hour.”

THREE HOURS LATER, Ivy Griffith sat behind the wheel of her new Jeep Liberty in the driveway of her parents’ home, Montana nestled in the passenger seat.

“This is so cool, Mom!” Montana said. “We’ve never had our own car before. Tell me again why Grandfather Griffith won’t let you drive it yet.”

“Oh, sweetie, it’s kind of hard to explain. But for a while, I’ll probably drive it out here on the property. There are miles of unpaved roads, and I’ll bet you and I could find some really neat trails to explore.”

Montana grinned, exposing four holes where his teeth were missing. “Will you teach
me
to drive?”

“I think for now one of us behind the wheel is enough. You can be the lookout when we go exploring, though. I’ll need a good lookout.”

“Okay.”

Elam Griffith walked over to the driver’s side window. “So what do you think, Ivy?”

“I think it’s great, Dad. Just saying thank you doesn’t seem like enough. I can hardly believe you and Mom did this for me.”

Elam patted her arm. “I know it’s going to be hard just parking it for a while, but the shooter will be arrested soon, and you’ll be driving before you know it.”

Montana leaned over and looked up at his grandfather. “Mom said we can drive out here on the property and maybe find some cool trails to explore—and I can be the lookout.”

Elam bent down and looked in the window. “The lookout, huh? That’ll work.” He winked at Ivy. “You wanna take it for another spin?”

“No, I’d better go help Mom get dinner on the table. Maybe later.”

“Can I sit in the driver’s seat?” Montana’s eyes pleaded. “I promise not to touch anything. I just like the way it smells.”

Ivy reached over and tugged at his stocking cap. “Okay. But I’m taking the keys.”

Ivy put the last of the dinner dishes in the dishwasher. She looked outside and saw Montana and her father walking around the car, talking and looking at the tires, and seeming to hit it off. The thought was at the same time satisfying and terrifying. Once Montana became secure with both her parents, she would have to decide whether to go through with her original plan to tell the sheriff how Joe had died, or let Mr. Hadley’s revenge close the chapter on it.

She went upstairs to her room and saw the photos she had tossed on the bed. She put them in a stack, then sat in the rocker and began looking at them one by one till she came across the best one of Pete, Reg, Denny, and her posing together at the table. She wanted a closer look at their faces, and went in the bathroom and got the magnifying glass out of the drawer.

She picked up the picture and held the magnifying glass over Pete’s face and felt a pang of sorrow. He had spent all his years on himself, and she wondered how many other people he had used. How she had loved him once—or thought she did. It was always about Pete. Everything was. Had she refused him, he would have found some other pretty girl to wear his ring.

Ivy placed the magnifying glass over Denny’s face, and then Reg’s, remembering the sound of their laughter. She blinked
quickly to clear her eyes and wondered if they had suffered before they died. The ATF agents said that death was instantaneous. But how could anyone know what happened in those final seconds?

She thought of Becca Morrison and of baby Zack growing up without a father and how different things might have been had Ivy refused to make the pact all those years ago and just told the truth. The court might have gone easy on Reg and Denny. Maybe they would have paid their debt to society by now and gotten on with their lives instead of falling victim to Mr. Hadley’s vengeance.

Ivy dabbed her eyes, then thumbed through the stack of photos until she found the one of her dancing with Bill. Whoever took the photo had captured a full-length shot, giving the impression the pair were the only two people on the dance floor.

She studied Bill’s face, his eyes closed, his expression sweet. She wondered if anyone really knew how much he had suffered in high school when no girl would have been caught dead with him, including her.

How sharp he had looked in his brown leather jacket, yellow shirt, and khakis—certainly a step up from the threadbare jeans and wrinkled shirts he had always worn to school. She smiled, remembering how surprised and impressed she had been that he was a good dancer—much better than Pete.

Ivy started to move on to the next photo, then did a double take. She held the magnifying glass over the picture. “Brown
oxfords?
That’s odd.”

Her mind flashed back to those first awkward moments when they had ridden the elevator up to the second floor. She’d noted his brown leather loafers because they matched his jacket perfectly. Maybe he had changed shoes because he had been standing much of the evening and his feet hurt. That was probably it.