Looking Through Darkness (14 page)

Leigh Ann parked well away from the front of the hogan. Jo circled the hogan alone, searching the ground. Not finding any fresh signs, they made their way together to the house.

They checked the front entrance first, but saw nothing but two sets of shoe prints. “These look like they belong to my teacher and his wife,” Jo said.

They circled to the back next, and Leigh Ann helped Jo look around, but neither of them found any tracks other than those Jo had already identified as Rudy's. Leigh Ann was ready to call it a win until she saw Jo crouching near the back door.

“What did you find?” she asked.

“A trace of fur, maybe from a coyote or wolf.”

“Like stuff a skinwalker uses?”

Jo shot Leigh Ann a hard look. “Don't use that word, especially here.”

“Sorry,” she said.

Jo reached into her medicine pouch and sprinkled a substance that looked like cornmeal on the ground.

As Jo chanted, Leigh Ann listened closely. She had long felt that there was something entrancing about Navajo Songs. Though many were basically monotonic, they often had a haunting quality that spoke of power and tradition so closely interlaced that neither could exist without the other.

After several minutes, Jo stood up. “Wait for me here,” she said. She walked around the corner of the house and out of sight. Soon another chant filled the air, softer, yet no less compelling than the first.

When Jo finally returned, she seemed more relaxed, as if a great weight had been taken off her shoulders.

“Now we can go back to work,” Jo said.

“What did you do?” Leigh Ann asked.

“I conducted a blessing to take care of the danger to my teacher.”

“But the person, or people, are still out there,” Leigh Ann said, thinking of whoever was after her, too.

“That's true, so we'll have to be careful, but keep things in perspective. These people will eventually be caught. No matter how bad things get now, it won't last forever.”

Leigh Ann nodded thoughtfully. Jo was right. Nothing ever stayed the same—even when you wished it could be so.

*   *   *

“Thanks for taking care of the locksmith today, Rachel, and for making copies of all those papers I turned over to the sheriff's department. That ended up being a good call,” Leigh Ann said, filling her sister's glass from a soft drink can.

“After what happened to you last night on the way home from Melvin's, I think they might be even more important than we thought,” Rachel said.

“Nothing about this mess is simple or clear cut. Pierre and Wayne obviously lied about the money, so there's something else going on.”

“What now?” Rachel asked.

“We need to get some damning evidence, anything the police will accept that'll also clear me of any wrongdoing.”

“That's going to be tough,” Rachel said. “Leigh Ann, do you think you and I will ever be able to settle down with nice guys and live happily ever after? The guys we choose … Well, the word ‘pricks' comes to mind.”

Leigh Ann laughed. “There are some gems out there.”

“Like Melvin?” She saw Leigh Ann nod, and continued, “You used to go for those ultra-macho guys—like Billy Ray Jackson who went on to play pro football, or Jake Faulkner, who's now racing cars down south. Melvin … seems like a stretch.”

“He's more of a man than either of those guys, Rache. Believe it.”

“Too bad he doesn't have a cool-sounding name.”

“What difference could that possibly make?” she said, laughing. “Besides, ever heard of Mel Gibson?”

“True,” she smiled. “But Melvin's not at all high impact, you know?”

“Make up your mind—not high impact or pricks?”

Rachel laughed. “Good point.” She leaned back in her chair. “How are things going between you two? Is it getting serious?”

“No, that's something it can never become. It's just too complicated,” she said. “But when I'm with him, I feel like a whole woman again, Rache. It's the most amazing feeling in the world.” Leigh Ann stared at the soda can in her hand, lost in thought. “There are lines neither of us will ever cross, though. We both carry a lot of baggage.”

“You guys don't have much of a future unless you can be open with one another.”

“Some demons are hard to expose to the light, sis, and I have this Kurt thing hanging over my head. Friendship is as far as it can go between us.”

“But you'd like it to be more.”

“Someday, maybe, but I'll keep what I have for now.”

“If things are right, don't let him slip away, Leigh Ann. You've finally found a man who isn't attracted to you just because you've got big boobs.”

Leigh Ann laughed, allowing herself to feel relaxed for a moment. Then she sighed and told her sister about finding Kurt's lucky coin.

“I thought that was missing from the stuff the police gave you when his body was released,” Rachel replied.

“It was. I got back Kurt's wallet, key chain, and credit cards. I also checked the list of items the police kept as evidence, but that was mostly the clothes he was wearing at the time of his death.”

“So you're thinking his killer took the lucky quarter?”

“I'm positive Kurt had it with him when he left on that hunting trip, but I haven't seen it since,” she said. “Now, out of the blue, it turns up in my glove box? What other explanation could there be?”

Rachel considered it. “He didn't have the Jeep with him that day, did he?”

“No. I did. The three of them went in Pierre's SUV.”

“Then I have no idea how to explain this,” Rachel said at last. “So what do you want to do about it?”

“I honestly don't know,” Leigh Ann said, and sighed. The phone rang; Leigh Ann looked at the caller ID, saw it was Jo, and answered immediately.

“Is everything okay, Jo?” she asked quickly, knowing Jo never called after hours except in an emergency.

“Two detectives from the sheriff's department came by and asked me some questions about you. It was just routine, they said, but they wanted to know about you, your marriage, and Kurt. I told them you came to work for me
after
your husband died, and that I'd never met you or him before that moment, so I couldn't help them,” Jo said, sounding a bit anxious.

“That's true,” Leigh Ann confirmed.

“Once I told them that, they wanted to know about your spending habits, whether or not you had a boyfriend now, and if so, how long you'd been involved with him.”

“What did you say?” Leigh Ann asked quickly, hoping Jo hadn't ended up sending the cops to Melvin's doorstep.

“That I know virtually nothing about your private life, other than the fact you share your home with your sister.”

Leigh Ann breathed a silent sigh of relief. “Who came to question you?”

“Detective McGraw, from the county's violent crimes unit, and Sergeant Knight, the same officer who spoke to you the other day at The Outpost. It sounds like a lot more than just those papers you mentioned finding. What's going on, Leigh Ann?”

Jo sounded worried now, so she gave her a quick update. “Sooner or later, they'll discover the truth about Kurt and what's going on over at Total Supply. I'll make sure of it.”

“Let me know if you need any help,” Jo said.

Leigh Ann hung up and filled Rachel in.

Rachel said, “I wish we'd thrown out that box of Kurt's instead of turning it over to the cops.”

“It's what I get for trying to be honest and playing by the rules,” Leigh Ann said.

“Someone wants to make sure you get the blame for whatever Kurt did or didn't do. You're going to have to start digging even deeper into his past.”

“I don't even know where to begin.”

“Maybe with this?” Rachel said, holding up the small key that had been in the box with Kurt's papers. Leigh Ann was startled.

“Rachel! What did you do?”

“I kept it.”

“Aw, jeez, Rache,” Leigh Ann whispered.

“Hey, you kept the revolver.”

“True enough. But why the key?”

“I'm sure it has something to do with Pierre and Wayne. Think about it, sis. They found out Kurt was stealing from them and Kurt ended up dead, but they still haven't found the cash. That's why one of them cleaned out that storage compartment, and why they kept asking you about Frank Jones.”

“Let's assume they did find out what Kurt was doing. They couldn't turn him over to the cops maybe because they had their own secrets to hide. Now I've become a liability because I've started nosing around. I'm drawing unwanted attention to them and Total Supply.”

“So they've got to make it look like you're the bad guy.”

“I have half a day off tomorrow, I think I'll pay them a visit,” Leigh Ann said.

“You're going to drop by and just say hi? Oh sure, Leigh Ann, that's a great idea,” Rachel said sarcastically. “That won't seem suspicious at all, walking into the enemy camp.”

Leigh Ann shook her head. “I was planning to play the dumb blonde card and go in to buy a humane squirrel trap. They're a ranch and farm supply place, so they'll be able to get one for me.”

“Be sure to talk to Wayne. I think he's sweet on you.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Leigh Ann said. “I'll chitchat, then naturally let him know that I went up to the attic to chase out a squirrel and found a stash Kurt had hidden up there. I'll say that it was a bit of cash and several business folders. Then I'll watch his reaction. If he doesn't say anything, I'll ask if he and Pierre are still interested in Frank Jones, just in case I happen to come across something with that name.”

“Detectives have already questioned them about that. Wayne's sure to know you're trying to play him,” Rachel warned. “What you're doing could be really dangerous.”

“The police are checking up on me and seriously exploring the possibility that I shot Kurt. I've got to do whatever I can to help myself.”

The doorbell sounded. Leigh Ann went to the door and saw two men standing outside, pistols on their belts. One was Sergeant Knight. Her stomach sank.

Leigh Ann reluctantly opened the door and gave the sergeant a nod, then glanced at the other man, a slender, dark-haired man in his early thirties wearing a gray jacket, light blue shirt, and tan slacks. “May I help you?”

“Mrs. Vance, this is Detective McGraw,” Knight said. “He's with our violent crimes division. We'd like a moment of your time. May we come in?”

She stepped back and waved them into the large, open space that combined the living room, dining area, and kitchen. “What's this all about, detectives?” she asked, trying to sound confident, or at least not intimidated. McGraw had penetrating pale blue eyes and sharp, narrow features that reminded her of a hawk, for some reason.

Seeing Rachel at the dining table, McGraw said, “Is there someplace we can speak in private?”

“Sure. How about my office?” Leigh Ann suggested.

“That sounds fine, ma'am,” McGraw said, eyeing Rachel a moment longer than necessary.

Leigh Ann led the police officers down the hall, to the first room on the left. She closed the door once they were inside, knowing full well Rachel would cross over to the sofa and listen in anyway.

“What can I do for you?” she asked, now a little more in control, hopefully.

McGraw spoke first, his voice softer than she'd expected. “Sergeant Knight recently learned that your husband had a bank account at the Rocky Mountain Bank in Cortez, just over the state line. Two days before he died, your husband withdrew a sum close to fifty thousand dollars. Do you know what became of that money?”

“No, sir. If I did, I'd have a nicer car, new furniture, and this season's heels,” she said seriously.

The two detectives exchanged a look.

McGraw continued to speak softly, though his expression had hardened a bit. “We've also followed up on that storage locker he rented in Farmington. It was closed two days
after
his death by someone who posed as him. How do you explain that?”

“I discussed that with Sergeant Knight. As I told him before, that wasn't me. Frankly, I'd have a hard time passing as my late husband. He was taller,” Leigh Ann responded, straightening her back, which projected her breasts even more prominently. If Rachel could distract him, maybe she could, too.

“Do you find this amusing, Mrs. Vance?” McGraw replied, his voice no longer soft, and his expression cold, almost glaring. Knight, however, was unable to hold back a smile.

“No. It's your methods I find … humorous, as does your companion, obviously. You knew my answers to these questions already. I have no idea who it was, but clearly it wasn't me. I'm not going to confess to any crimes I didn't commit. Should I get an attorney?”

“Do you think you might say something that will incriminate you?” McGraw snapped.

“Listen carefully, detectives,” Leigh Ann said, more annoyed than worried now. “I did
not
harm my husband, and I'm
not
a thief. Look closely at my lifestyle—my bank records, my two credit cards. Do a credit check. My meager income goes to bills—the regular kind, like food, water, gas, and so on.”

“The bank account was in your name, too,” McGraw said.

“Kurt never said a word about it to me, and you won't find my legitimate signature on any checks or application forms. I assure you I never saw a dime of that money, and, no, I have no idea where it is right now.”

“So you've said,” McGraw answered, and shrugged.

“I am
not
Kurt's killer. If I were, wouldn't I have just kept my mouth shut and let things lie?” she said, no longer concerned about showing her anger.

“Interesting that you're now proposing that your husband's death wasn't an accident. Sergeant Dale Carson mentioned that all three partners frequented a local shooting range and recommended we check out Wayne Hurley and Pierre Boone's association with that facility. He suggested that perhaps the weapon that killed your husband was rented or purchased there, maybe a private sale that was never recorded,” McGraw said.