Thirty-One and a Half Regrets (21 page)

“Unless he was forced to.” I sniffed, looking up at the bed frame over my head. “How did he know that Crocker’s guys were about to come find me?”

“I don’t know.” Jonah paused. “But I do know one thing: Bruce Wayne would never hurt you, and he wouldn’t allow anyone else to either.”

“I know.” I blinked to keep from crying. “Do you know the secret code?”

“No, not yet, but I’m meeting a guy tomorrow who might be able to help.”

“Be careful, Jonah. I’d hate it if you got hurt helping me.”

“Hey, Bruce Wayne is my friend too. I want to find him as much as you do. Besides, people are more likely to share information with Reverend Jonah than they are with a police officer.”

“Still…”

“One more thing that might be on your side: Crocker’s men are getting irritated. They understood his need for revenge, but they think it’s taking too much time and effort. There’s some grumbling in the lower ranks that might actually bring about his downfall within.”

“If only we could be so lucky.”

“I’ll let you know if I hear anything. Be careful, Rose.”

“Bye, Jonah.”

I laid under the bed for several minutes, telling myself that as long as I was under it, I could worry as much as I wanted over whatever I wanted, but as soon as I crawled out, I had to let it go.

I couldn’t ignore the fact that Bruce Wayne had run to Crocker’s guys a month ago. He could very well be there now. But Jonah was right. Bruce Wayne would never hurt me. After the last time, he’d promised to tell me if he was in trouble and I’d learned he didn’t take promises lightly. I had to trust him.

I also realized that I’d more than likely told Jonah more about our location than was wise. I needed to let Mason know. I started sliding out from under the bed, when something shiny caught my eye. I reached for it, and my hand jerked back when I realized what it was. Tucked between the bed slats and the box spring was a gun.

Why was there a gun under Dora’s bed?

I found Mason in the office, still absorbed in his work. I stood in the doorway and leaned against the frame for nearly a minute before he looked up.

A tired smile spread across his face. “Hi.”

“Hi. I found out a few things I think you should know about.”

He set his pen down on his legal pad and leaned back in the seat.

I moved into the room and circled the desk, resting my bottom on the edge of the desk so that I was facing Mason. “I found my bag and unpacked it. You put my purse in there. Thank you.”

“I thought you might need it.”

“My cell phone was in there.”

He watched me, unconcerned. “I put it in there so it wouldn’t get lost.”

“I had a missed call from Bruce Wayne.”

That got his attention. He bolted upright. “Did he leave a message?”

“Yeah.” I played it for him, watching his face, surprised by how little he reacted.

“This is all there is?”

I nodded. “But look at the time it came in. A little before Crocker’s guys showed up at the motel.”

His mouth pursed. “I noticed.”

“Mason, there’s something else.”

He looked up at me, waiting.

“My phone rang immediately after I played the message and I answered without thinking. It was Jonah.”

He looked startled at first, then relieved when I mentioned Jonah’s name.

“I asked if he had any information about Bruce Wayne, and he didn’t but he did find out something about Crocker’s guys.” I shifted my weight. “They’ve been recruiting a lot of new people and they needed something to help them recognize each other. They all wear St. Jude’s medallions.”

Mason blinked. “How did he find out?”

“He didn’t say. It must be one of the sources he’s been contacting about Bruce Wayne’s whereabouts. But Thomas has a St. Jude’s necklace. He was wearing it on Halloween night. And I found one on my front porch after it was trashed. The police found one in Miss Dorothy’s backyard after the break-in.” I paused. “And there was one on Bruce Wayne’s dresser.”

His squeezed his eyes shut and leaned back in his seat, rubbing his forehead. “Damn.”

“Did you know about the St. Jude’s medallions?”

He shook his head. “No. We knew there was something, but we didn’t know what.”

“Jonah also said there was a secret code or password, but he hasn’t found out what it is yet.”

He stared at the wall for several seconds before looking up at me. “We don’t either.”

“There’s one more thing.”

He chuckled. “You provide one more clue we’ve been searching months for, and I’ll deputize you on the spot.”

“What?”

He shook his head. “Never mind. What else?”

“I found a gun stuffed underneath Dora’s bed.”

His mouth gaped. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope.”

He stood and moved around the desk. “Show me.”

I led the way upstairs and Muffy trotted along behind us, probably confused about why we kept going up and down the stairs. When we reached Dora’s room, I got to my knees and pointed under the bed. “There.”

He dropped to the floor and scooted into the small opening between the floor and the bed frame. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

“I wonder if she bought it for protection.”

“If she lived out here alone, she might have.”

“No, I’m not talking about that. I’m wondering if someone was after her…if maybe she was murdered.”

He slid out, still on his back, and looked up at me. “When you told me about your birth mother, you said she died under mysterious circumstances.”

I lifted my eyebrows. “Good memory. She died in a car accident. Her car ran off the road and into a tree. According to my aunt, the brake lines looked like they’d been cut, but the Henryetta Police messed up the investigation.”

He grimaced. “They do have a reputation.” He moved back under the bed. “Can you hand me a towel or a piece of cloth?”

I grabbed one of the long-sleeve T-shirts he’d packed for me and handed it to him. When he re-emerged and stood, he was holding the gun wrapped in my shirt.

“Who do you think killed her?” he asked softly. “Something in your voice tells me you have an idea.”

“Momma. I think Momma killed her. They had argument and then Dora crashed on her way home.”

“When this Crocker mess is behind us, I’ll help reopen the investigation, okay?”

I was surprised how much that meant to me. “Thank you.”

“Come downstairs and I’ll show you what I’ve been working on.”

Muffy and I followed him to the office. He put the still-wrapped gun in the drawer of the office desk and motioned for me to come around and join him. He gestured to the spread-out papers. “Like I said, I’ve suspected for a while now that there’s a leak somewhere in either the police or sheriff’s office. What I didn’t tell you is that it’s tied to Crocker, and I’m certain it started long before his arrest. In fact, as far as Crocker and his men were concerned, his arrest should have never happened. They had a source who clued them in on any ongoing investigations and helped keep the heat off them. And in the cases that
did
make it to trial, witnesses suddenly changed their testimony or disappeared.” Mason leaned against the desk. “Crocker could have used his informant to find you yesterday, but we can’t be sure since the Henryetta safe house is so well known.”

“Why would a deputy or police officer give them information?”

“Money. We estimated that before his arrest, Crocker was the third biggest industry in Fenton County. He actually had some legit businesses that hired a lot of county residents, many of whom have since lost their jobs.”

“I’ve heard a lot of people think he’s innocent.”

“There are two sides to Daniel Crocker. His public persona as the guy who sponsored Little League teams and donated money to church raffles, and the very dark side of him that a lot of people chose to ignore or disbelieve.”

No wonder so many people thought he was framed.

“Guys like Crocker don’t get as far as they do without help, and I’m sure he’s supplemented the income of more than one law enforcement official. But I think this goes deeper than some guy on patrol giving Crocker’s guys a head’s-up. I think a high-level official is involved, and I’m determined to find out who.”

I remembered our conversation after I was arrested for obstruction of justice for investigating Bruce Wayne’s case when I was a juror. I had asked Mason why he was an assistant district attorney. He told me that he wanted to make the world a better place and put the bad guys away. And, for some reason, the fact that he’d started this investigation before he ever knew Crocker had it out for me was even more admirable. He really did believe in fighting for justice.

“What Crocker
didn’t
count on was that the state police would start their own investigation without him learning about it. The state police also suspected that Crocker had inside help, which is one of the many reasons they didn’t clue the Henryetta Police Department in on the bust.”

“But Weston’s Garage is in Henryetta city limits. Why investigate the sheriff’s office? Wouldn’t it make more sense for the source to be in the local police department?”

“We thought so, but then a few interesting cases popped up before his arrest—some break-ins and an assault. They all occurred outside of city limits, which would implicate the sheriff’s office. When I made that connection, I reached out to Jeff. I’d been investigating the cases on my own, but Jeff is as eager to find the source as I am, especially if he can pin it on the Henryetta police. There’s no love lost between the two departments. We’ve been meeting regularly to discuss our individual findings.”

“I had no idea.”

“No one does. Or so we thought until last night.”

“The break-in at your office.”

He nodded. “We’ve kept this between the two of us, so no one should have even known this investigation existed. I kept most of the files in a safe at home, but I had a few at the office. They were missing after the break-in. Along with your files.”

“I don’t understand. Were they after the investigation files or mine?”

“Or both?” he asked. “Or was one a cover for the other? We don’t know—at least not yet.”

I sat down heavily on the desk chair.

“I’ve been going through these cases one by one, trying to find a connection and I just haven’t yet. Both law enforcement agencies are involved at this point.”

“Could there be a leak on both sides?”

“Or maybe somewhere else? Like I said, no one knew about this investigation other than Jeff and me. We didn’t even tell the sheriff or the DA. It wasn’t out of suspicion, more a
the less people who know the better
decision.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “We planned to take our findings to both men.”

“But could it be one of
them
?”

He sighed. “The sheriff is a good ole boy but he seems to be on the right side of justice. And I’m fairly certain
someone
is lining the DA’s pockets. I just thought it came from higher up the food chain, from a guy like J.R. Simmons.”

“If it’s someone higher up, are we safe?”

He looked out the window and shook his head. “After yesterday, Jeff and I worried about that too. When I told Jeff about this farmhouse, he jumped on it. To be safe, he’s told everyone else—including the sheriff—we’re at another location. In fact, Jeff has set up decoys at the other location so we’ll be notified in case it’s compromised.”

“So who’s our immediate threat? Crocker or the informant?”

“Possibly both.” He took a deep breath. “I’ve been going back through the files and notes trying to connect a high-level source to the cases. So far I have nothing.”

I stood and pressed my hands to his chest. “If I can do anything to help, let me know.”

“Thanks.”

“I’ve got my own list of
very important
things to accomplish. Mine is focused on the house. I’m washing bedding,” I teased. “I thought you’d want the front room with the view, and Muffy picked Dora’s room for us.”

His eyebrows lifted slightly. “Okay.”

After giving him a quick kiss, I headed down to the basement to transfer the laundry. The washing machine was done, but the dryer was still running. I leaned against a folding table and took a moment to look around. Gray stone walls lined the space and I didn’t see any windows other than one in a door at the top of a set of stairs that led to the back of the house. The hot water heater and furnace took up one end of the basement, but a row of wooden shelves stacked with boxes was on the other. Two were clearly labeled
photos
, which must have been what Mason had seen.

I wandered over to them, suddenly curious. I pulled one of the boxes down and carried it over to the folding table. I stared at the folded top for a long moment. Did I really want to explore the contents? Was I ready to see the photographic evidence of the life I’d almost had?

The dryer dinged, catching me by surprise. I had come down here to move the sheets to the dryer so I’d have a bed to sleep in, not to open a Pandora’s box. I put the warm bedding on the folding table and moved the wet laundry to the dryer. As I folded the sheets, my eyes kept returning to the box. Why
didn’t
I want to look inside?

I’d convinced myself that I didn’t want to know anything about Dora or the life I could have had. Knowing would be like rubbing salt in my wounds. But what if I found something inside the box that killed my fantasies about Dora and Daddy? Would that be worse?

After I folded the last piece of bedding, I rested my hand on top of the box, closing my eyes. If I had learned one thing over the past few months, it was to face my fears instead of letting them control me. Because when I really examined the source of my hesitation, it was fear. I was afraid of the past.

It was time to conquer that fear.

I piled the stack of folded sheets on top of the box, then hauled them up to the living room. After I stacked the sheets on the sofa, I set the box on the old wool rug and sat cross-legged beside it. Muffy curled up next to me, pressing her little body against my leg, giving me comfort.