Perfect Victim, The (36 page)

The sheri
ff'
s chair came forward
a
long with the
tw
o hundred and
f
ift
y
pounds of lawman
.
McEvoy swung his gaze to Add
i
son and then back to Randal
l.
"Why in the hell don
'
t
y
ou people just tell me what you want instead of beating around the bush all goddamn day?"

Putting his hands on the desk, Rand
a
ll leaned forward
.
"We want to see a police report f
r
om November 17, 1974."

An emotion he couldn't put a name to flickered in the other man
'
s eyes. "What police report?"

"We
'
re looking for a police report
f
rom November 16 or 17
,
1974, involving Agnes Beckett
,
" Addison sa
i
d
.

"
Doesn
'
t
r
ing a bell
.”

Randall's temper stirred
. "
Let me refresh your memory
.
She was sixteen years old. A minor
,
Sheriff, admitted to Good Samar
i
tan Hospital
i
n Dayton after being beaten and
r
aped."

In his peripheral vision
,
he saw Addison stiffen
.

The sheriff's face reddened. "I
'
m not sure where you're getting your information, Talbot, but I don't remember any such thing ever happening
i
n my town.
"

"It happened right here in your tidy little town, Sheriff, and we'd like to see the report," Randal
l
said icily
.

McEvoy didn't flinch
. "
Siloam Springs is a small town
.
If something like that happened
,
I'd know about it. Nothing like that happened here. Not in 1974
.
Not ever."

Addison broke in. "Do you keep archive files? Would you
mind looking for us? Surely there's a file or a police report for something as serious as a rape."

"I don't think that's possible."

The initial burst of real anger cut through Randall. "Why not?" he asked.

McEvoy grinned. "For one thing, you can't rape a whore."

Raw fury speared through Randall. Without considering the repercussions, he reached across the desk. Addison gasped when he grabbed the sheriff's collar and hauled him out of his chair. "I'll have your badge for that, you son of a bitch!"

"Back off, city boy, or I'll give you a lesson in small-town law enforcement you'll never forget." McEvoy's voice was ominous and low, like the rumble of a storm in the minutes before it wreaked havoc on an unsuspecting town.

Their faces mere inches apart, the two men stared at each other in impasse, the only sound coming from their heavy breathing and the shuffle of boots against tile.

"I want to see that goddamn file," Randall said.

McEvoy shoved him. "Get your fucking hands off me!"

Randall stumbled back, catching his balance on the chair. McEvoy's hat tumbled to the floor. Tobacco juice dribbled down his chin.

"You're just aching to spend the night in my jail, aren't you, city boy?" He wiped his chin with the sleeve of his shirt, leaving a dark green smear.

"If you were going to arrest me, you would have done it by now," Randall said, praying his instincts were right.

Addison stepped between the two men. "We just want to see the report, Sheriff. Please. It's important. Agnes Beckett was my mother."

McEvoy rounded the desk, his eyes raking over her threateningly. "There is no report. That never happened. I suggest you forget about it and go home."

Randall's hackles rose. Stepping forward, he eased Addison aside, keeping himself squarely between her and the sheriff. "We have the resources to force you."

Taking his time, the sheriff adjusted his belly over his belt
.
"You can send a whole army of big-city lawyers, but they sure as hell ain't gonna find no police report from 1974."

"Why not?" Addison asked.

McEvoy's eyes glinted, as if he were a rodent who'd succeeded in stealing the cheese without getting crushed. "The records building burned to the ground in 1975. Everything inside, including one of the deputies, went with it
.
"

Randall was aware of Addison sinking into the chair next to him. He struggled against the urge to comfort her
.
Instead, he watched McEvoy, hating the type, knowing he'd met too many men like him in his lifetime. "You can bet we'll check it out
.
"

"Not here, you won't
.
" The sheriff picked up his hat, swung anger-bright eyes to Randall. ''Take your big-city attitude and get the hell out of my town before I arrest you both just for the fun of it
.
"

"That son of a bitch knows something.” Randall started the engine and swung the rental car onto the street
.
"He would have arrested me if he didn't
.
"

Even in profile, Addison could see the anger etched into his features, the tight clench of his jaw, the low, ominous brows. "I'm glad I didn't have to bail you out of jail, Talbot
.
"

He shot her a dark look. "That fire is a little too convenient."

"You think McEvoy is involved?"

"I bet the farm he's in it up to his tobacco-stained teeth. The son of a bitch."

She raked her hands through her hair and turned in her seat to face him. "So where does this leave us?"

He breathed out a frustrated sigh. "The hospital might be a good place to start."

"I've tried getting records from Good Samaritan in the past with no luck."

"You've never seen my Magnum, P.I., impersonation. Works every time."

"Dirty Harry meets Magnum, P.I., maybe," she said.

She was thinking about small towns and gossip as they drove past the street leading to the mobile home park where Agnes Beckett had lived. Addison stared at the cluster of mailboxes. Her pulse jumped when she spotted the name Harshbarger.

"Stop the car," she said abruptly.

Shooting her a sideways glance, Randall pulled onto the shoulder. He put the car in park, then looked at her expectantly. "What?"

"I've got an idea."

"Since I'm fresh out, let's hear it."

Quickly, Addison told him about her visit with the elderly Jewel Harshbarger during her previous trip to Siloam Springs. "She's lived in this town her entire life."

"She might know something about the rape." He studied her for a moment. "You ever consider going into the private detective business?"

"Careful, Talbot, or you're going to give me a compliment."

"Yeah, I wouldn't want it to go to your head." Grinning, he put the car in gear and pulled onto the street. "Nothing worse than a P.I. with a big head."

She liked his smile, damn him. Even if he was going back to D.C.

"Turn the car around," she said. “The trailer park is right down the street."

By the light of the sodium-vapor street lamp, Randall knocked for the third time, cursing when no one answered the door. Dusk had settled, bringing with it a wind-driven chill that invariably found its way to the bone.

"She's not home," Addison said.

"Doesn't look that way."

She'd made a valiant attempt to stay upbeat throughout the ordeal, but Randall didn't miss the fatigue and frustration etched into her features. He knew their lack of progress was wearing her down. If only they'd get a lucky break.

"She wasn't home last time I was here," he said
.

He looked at Addison, only to find her eyes on the adjacent mobile home. Compassion stirred in his chest
.
For the first time he realized fully how long and grueling this search had been for her
.
Not only did she have to deal with the fact that someone was trying to kill her, but that the woman who'd given birth to her—and everyone else involved with her adoption-had ended up dead.

"I'm sorry this didn't work out," he said.

"It
'
s okay. We
'
ll think of something else."

"
Aside from checking with the hospital, I'm fresh out of ideas, Ace."

"Then, let
'
s go to the hospital
.
"

"It's late. Let's check into the motel and see if we can
—
"

"Don't
.
" Anger sparked like quicksilver in her eyes. "We had an agreement
—
"

"That wasn't what I was going to suggest
.
" But he had to admit, the idea of getting her into bed appealed to him immensely. "I was going to suggest we try to come up with a game plan. Think this thing through.
"

She turned away
,
hugging he
r
self against a gust of wind. "Right
.
"

Randall knew his announcement that he would be returning to D
.
C
.
had upset her
.
Frankly
,
it was bothering him
,
too
,
particularly since they
'
d slept together
.
But what were his alternatives? Run from his demons indefinitely? Give up a career he'd invested twelve years of his life building? Drag her down with him?