Through the Evil Days: A Clare Fergusson/Russ Van Alstyne Mystery (Clare Fergusson and Russ Van Alstyne Mysteries) (18 page)

“I confessed.” Her lips curved up. “I didn’t repent. I don’t think what we did was a sin. Was it conduct unbefitting a priest?” She shrugged. “That’s the question.”

Russ sat down heavily on one of the long benches lining the walls. “Sounds like the damn army.”

Her boots thunked across the floor as she walked toward him. “Actually, that’s what the Rules are based on. The Uniform Code of Military Justice.” She sat down next to him.

“When did you find this out?”

“Friday.” She gave him a regretful half-smile. “I should have told you right away, but there was Amber in the car, and then all the hustle of moving into the cabin, and then I just wanted to enjoy some time alone with you that wasn’t…”

“I know.” He took her hand. “So. What are you going to do?”

“I have no idea.” She tilted her head back until it hit the pine-sheathed wall. “If I’m tried and convicted, it’ll be a huge black mark on my record. I may never get another parish again.”

He wanted to say,
You see? This baby is screwing up everything.
He wasn’t that much of an idiot, however. And it sure as hell wouldn’t make Clare feel any better.

“If I resign, I’ll never have another parish in the Diocese of Albany again. I could possibly look elsewhere, but you’re committed to staying in Millers Kill as long as the police department needs you.”

“Uh. About that.” He shifted on the hard wooden bench. “Remember when you asked me what I was talking to Lyle about?”

“Yes…” Her voice was wary.

“He and I barged in on an aldermen’s meeting on Friday. One we hadn’t been invited to. They’re considering shutting down the department. To save money.”

“What?” She sat bolt upright.

“Doing away with the whole thing. Having the state police cover the three towns instead.”

“Good God! That’s a terrible idea! Why didn’t you tell me about this before?”

He smiled a little. “I just wanted to enjoy some time alone with you that wasn’t…”

She sagged back against the wall. “Good Lord. We’re a sorry pair, aren’t we? If it falls out for the worst, we’ll have no jobs, no home, and a baby on the way.”

“Look on the bright side. At least there won’t be anything keeping us from moving to a better climate.”

She sat up again, twisting toward him. “Russ, you’ve got to fight this. I mean, besides it being the wrong thing for Millers Kill, think of everyone in the department without their jobs. Without health insurance. Harlene. Hadley Knox. All the part-timers who make ends meet with their traffic work. It would be a disaster for them.”

“I know. Believe me, I know.”

They sat side by side for a moment in the cold, empty room. Through the slatted shutters protecting the windows, Russ could see it growing dimmer outside. “C’mon,” he finally said, standing up and pulling Clare with him. “We’ve got to get back to the cabin and start packing before we lose the light completely.”

“Some honeymoon.” She pulled her hood up. “We might as well have booked a cabin on the
Titanic.
”

He turned off the lights as she opened the door. The outdoors was a glistening rectangle of gray. “Could be worse,” he said. “It could always be worse.”

6.

In the past two years, Hadley had never once wanted to keep working when her shift was over, so arguing with Lyle MacAuley over the radio was a novelty.

“You two are already in overtime. One more hour and you go to triple time, and we can. Not. Afford that. Over.”

She keyed the mic. “Look, we still haven’t hit everyone on the smurfing list. Somebody’s got to know something about Annie Johnson’s location. Or the meth house. Over.”

“A team from the FBI is going in to talk to this LaMar guy.”

The radio squealed as Hadley signaled at the same time. “The Feds? What are they doing in this case?”

There was a pause. Either MacAuley was waiting for her to signal “over,” or he was thinking up new ways to rip a strip off her. Finally the radio crackled on again. “The Feds are involved because racketeering is a federal crime. We don’t have all the pieces yet, but it looks like LaMar is into something a lot bigger than cooking up ice in Washington County. He’s being held in federal custody without bail at Fishkill.” His voice took on a solicitous tone, as if he were working customer service. “As to the rest of your concerns, Officer Knox, Eric can complete the interviews after he’s done helping me, and the chief’s coming home this evening. Does that make you feel better, Officer Knox? Do you approve of those arrangements? Over.”

She looked at Flynn. He was struggling not to smile. She keyed the mic. “Yes, sir. Over.”

“Good! Now let me remind you that running the department is above your pay grade, Officer Knox! Log out and go home. Do not pass Go and do
not
collect two hundred dollars. MacAuley out.”

She slammed the mic into its holder. It fell out. She slammed it in again and held it there. “Goddammit.”

Flynn slanted a sideways glance at her. “You’re pretty invested in this, huh?”

“Don’t you think you should pay attention to your driving? And how come you’re always the one behind the wheel, anyway?” Which was stupid, because she didn’t want to drive in this slop.

Flynn being Flynn, he didn’t take offense. “I want to find her, too.”

Hadley’s temper deflated. “God. She’s only eight years old. I keep picturing Genny in the same situation. Taken away someplace. Scared. Sick.”

“If LaMar’s being held without bail, he’s got some powerful motivation for cooperating. And if he’s really the one running the operation, chances are good he’ll know where we can find Annie Johnson.”

“
If
the Feds cut him a deal.
If
Annie really works for him.
If
she’s the one who took Mikayla.”

Ahead of them, a Camry took the right onto Veterans Bridge too fast and slid across both lanes. Flynn slowed and reached for the light-bar switch, but the little car spun up a shower of slush from its rear wheels and righted itself. Flynn relaxed. “I’m glad we’re not on call this afternoon.” He downshifted and held the cruiser steady at thirty. “It’s gonna be nothing but fender benders and off-road skids. People ought to stay off the roads if they don’t have a heavy vehicle with four-wheel drive.”

“Some us aren’t that lucky, Flynn.” Hadley slouched in her seat. “With my car, I figure I’m doing well if I can get out of the station’s parking lot.” She owned a twelve-year-old Escort with enough miles on it to have gone to the moon and back.

“Why don’t you let me drop you at your house? We’re going right past Burgoyne.”

She waved her hand. “That would be great, but how do I get to work tomorrow?” She thought about the lousy roads. Thought about the likelihood of her getting stuck between the station and her house. “Actually, you know, that
would
be great. Granddad can drop me at the station tomorrow. He’s got this ancient Pontiac that weighs as much as a tank.”

He hummed in agreement. It wasn’t until he was turning into Burgoyne Street that she realized Flynn had offered to help her out and she hadn’t turned him down flat for fear things might get personal. It was working with him the past three days, she supposed. Somewhere between getting caught rescuing a doll and running down fake licenses, she had gotten … comfortable with him again. This morning, he had gone into the Stewart’s while she tanked up the cruiser, and she hadn’t thought twice about accepting the coffee he bought her. It was nice.

“You’ve got a visitor,” he said.

Hadley sat upright again. Dylan’s rental car sat in Granddad’s driveway. “Oh, for chrissakes,” she said. Flynn pulled the squad car as close to the curb as he could get, given the lousy plow job the road crew had done. As she slid open the plexi divider to get the parka she’d tossed in the backseat, Flynn said, “Hadley…” His voice was alert. Tense.

She dropped back into her seat. The front door was open, and Dylan was shepherding the kids onto the porch. They were carrying their sleepover backpacks.

“Oh, no. Oh, that son of a bitch—” She was out of the cruiser and across the lawn in five strides, heedless of the wet snow spattering her uniform blouse and soaking the bottom of her trousers. “Dylan! What do you think you’re doing?” She pounded up the porch steps. “Kids, get inside.” Granddad was standing in the doorway, looking miserable. She shot him a glare before turning to her ex. “Where do you think you’re taking my children?”

Dylan gave her a patronizing smile. “We’re going to have a sleepover at my hotel.” He beckoned to Hudson and Geneva, who were looking at their father, then their mother, then back to their father.

“Oh, no, you’re not.”

“The Weather Channel was saying there’s a major storm front stalling out right over upstate New York. Snow and freezing rain. Lots of power outages expected.” He squatted down, bracing his hands on his knees. “What do you guys think? Do you want to be here when the power goes out? Or at my hotel? They’ve got generators to keep things going no matter how bad it gets outside. Plus, they have a pool…”

Hadley felt the situation sliding away from her, like that Camry losing control on the bridge. “Tomorrow’s a school day. No sleepovers on a school night.”

“But Mom, it’s probably gonna be a snow day!” Hudson complained. “Dad’s got cable TV at his hotel! And you can play video games right on it!”

“Tell you what, Honey—if the weather’s good enough, I can bring them back tonight. Surely you can spare them for the rest of the day.”

“No, I can’t!” A gust of wind sliced through her uniform blouse, and she shivered convulsively.

Dylan laid his hand on Hudson’s shoulder. He kept his smile pleasant, but his eyes narrowed as he looked at her. “Why not? What could be more important than letting Hudson and Genny spend time with their dad?”

“Actually, they’re coming to my folks’ house for Sunday dinner.” Flynn walked up the porch steps and handed Hadley her parka. “You ought to get changed, if we don’t want to be late.”

“Yes,” she said, grasping the lifeline he’d thrown her. “Everybody inside so Mom can get changed.” She took Genny’s hand and dragged her into the house, trusting Flynn would have her back.

And he did, because a second later, Hudson and Dylan followed her, with Flynn bringing up the rear. Granddad slammed the door shut, and there they all were, a knot of surprise and suspicion and relief all clustered together in the living room.

“I’ll be right back.” Hadley looked into Flynn’s eyes, hoping he could read her message.
Don’t let him leave with the kids.
Flynn nodded, a motion so small she would have missed it if she hadn’t been so intent on his face. She pounded up the stairs and into her bedroom, leaving her door wide open so she wouldn’t miss what was going on downstairs.

“Who are you?” Dylan asked.

“He’s Kevin Flynn,” Hudson answered. “He helps coach my cross-country team.”

“Minutemen for the win,” Flynn said. She heard something that sounded like slapping hands as she locked her gun and belt away.

“Well, Kevin, I’m Dylan Knox. Hudson and Geneva’s
father.
”

“Are we really going to your house for dinner?” Genny asked.

“It’s my mom and dad’s house, but, yes, you are, sweetheart.”

“But I want to go to Dad’s hotel.” Hudson hadn’t whined like that since he was three. Hadley had forgotten how obnoxious it was. Flynn said something—she missed his words as she pulled a sweater over her head, but his tone was drier than before. Hudson mumbled a reply.

“Look,
Officer
.” Dylan was doing his do-you-know-who-I-am act. “I’m sure visiting
Mom
and
Dad
for
Sunday dinner
is a breathtaking, once-in-a-lifetime experience, but I’ve come all the way from L.A. to spend time with my children—”

“That’s great, man. Spending time with your kids is hugely important.” Flynn sounded cheerfully oblivious to Dylan’s condescension. He went on as Hadley wriggled into her jeans. “Have you guys been having fun with your dad? What have you been doing?”

She couldn’t hear how Hudson answered, but Genny piped up loud and clear. “We watched TV.”

“Tomorrow—or Tuesday, if the storm doesn’t clear out tonight—you three should go on the Audubon Society winter nature walk. It’s a super-easy trail, and you can see all sorts of animal tracks and birds and sometimes animals themselves. Last time I went, I saw a gray fox and an owl.”

Hadley, sitting on the bed wiggling her socks on, almost laughed aloud at the thought of her ex on a nature walk.

“We’re going to spend some quality time at the Algonquin Waters.” Dylan’s social superiority sounded even more strained than usual. “You’re probably not familiar with it. I imagine a cop’s salary doesn’t stretch to luxury resorts.”

Hadley stepped back into her wet boots, grimaced, then tossed another pair of socks and her sneakers into a tote bag.

“Nope. Never stayed there. But I did take part in a sting operation there last fall. It wound up in a standoff with an army SWAT team. Our guns were out, their guns were out, we’re all shouting, ‘Put your weapons down!’”

Hadley ran downstairs. Hudson was hanging on Flynn’s every word. Dylan looked like a toddler who had been forced to share a toy. “Then what happened?” Hudson asked.

“He’ll tell you the rest of the story in the car.” Hadley gave Hudson and Genny a little push. “Scoot. We don’t want to make the Flynns wait.”

Granddad opened the door so fast it sent a swirl of cold air through the room. “S’long! Use your good manners!”

“Do we get to ride in the police car?” Genny was already headed for the porch.

“Until we get to the station.” Flynn followed her. “Nice meeting you, Dylan!”

Hudson dug in his heels. “But I want to go with Dad! I want to play video games!”

“You can see your dad again tomorrow. He can come over and help you with your homework.” Hadley leveled her best laser-eye gaze at her son. “Now go get in the car.”

He sulked out the door.

“I have a right to see my kids,” Dylan said.

“You don’t have the right to disrupt our plans and take them off without consulting me.” Hadley picked up her parka from where she had tossed it over a chair. “What, were you hoping to be gone with them before I got home?”