The Trophy Hunter (16 page)

Her memory flashed back to their lunch at the
Buckhorn, when she’d asked this question and he’d diverted the
conversation.
Leave it alone, for now.
Instead, she asked,
“Are you getting any counseling for Lori?”

“Counseling?”

“She was raped. You can’t just pretend it
never happened. Her mother is missing. You’re all that’s left of
her world. Lori needs professional help.”

He didn’t answer immediately. When he did,
his tone had a detached quality. “She doesn’t look on it as rape.
She thinks she loved him. And he loved her.”

Diana felt the flush of anger rising up her
neck to her cheeks.
Love?
“I hope you’ve set her straight
and explained that love is not like that. I’ve read the police
reports.”

His reply was calm, not exactly sarcastic,
but Diana could imagine his eyes cold as he said, “You think it
would be helpful for Lori to think of herself as a victim?”

“I think it would be helpful if
someone
explained to her that a married man old enough to be
her grandfather locking her up in a shack and having sex with her
is not love.
” She expected Rogart to hang up at this point.
He couldn’t help but hear the fury in her voice, could he?

“You are so good at putting things into
perspective. I was hoping, when the time is right, you could talk
to Lori. Woman to woman.”

She’s not a woman. She’s a child.
“You
think? Considering that she holds me in such high esteem?”

“I don’t mean any time soon. We’ll have to
take things slow.”

“What things are you talking about? I’ve
explained to you that I can’t be your attorney.”

He cut her off. “Our relationship has nothing
to do with your giving me legal advice.”

“We don’t have a relationship.” She
enunciated the words slowly, with as much conviction as she could
muster.

“But we will, Diana. Goodnight for now. Sleep
well.”

“Wait─”

But he’d hung up. Her mind was screaming.
Why didn’t he clean off the mirror? Why would he want me to see
it? Didn’t he know how it would make me feel?

Chapter 28

Diana couldn’t shake the creepy feeling the
evening had dumped on her. Rogart’s explanation of the writing on
the mirror─blaming it on Lori─didn’t feel right. Lori was probably
disturbed and confused.
But would she be brazen enough to go
through my personal belongings and leave a message like
that?

Finally she decided that waiting until
morning to clean off the mirror was not an option.

After she removed the offensive writing with
glass cleaner, she still felt wide awake. She wanted to call Jess
and run it all past her. A pregnant Patty Strickland turning up at
Darren Rogart’s was a biggie. Why hadn’t he let Jess know? For all
he knew, Jess was still out there looking for the girl.

Diana picked up the phone in spite of the
hour, then replaced it.
I’ll have to tell her about his being
here for dinner. She’ll have my ass on a platter.

You’ll have to call her eventually.

In the morning.

But Diana felt beyond wired. Her mind raced
around the Rogart maze with no out in sight. How could he let his
daughter go on thinking rape was an expression of love? He almost
seemed to condone what happened to Lori. What kind of father could
think like that?

She remembered Joe Flannigan’s outrage when
he spoke of the assault on his granddaughter. Was that really all
for show?

Why didn’t Rogart express any of the usual
sentiments she expected from the parent of a rape victim? He’d been
quick enough to condemn his father-in-law as a child-molester.
Something about Darren Rogart didn’t track.

But the feel of his lips, the smell of him …
the look. Oh, what delight it would be to flaunt him in front of
Greg.
See, you asshole, somebody does want me.

She shook her head to clear the childish
vision.
You are pathetic!

Maybe a warm shower. That usually does
it.

Tig rubbed around her bare feet as if he
wondered what she was doing up at midnight.

“I am a whole person,” she said to her naked
reflection in the clean bathroom mirror.

She turned on the hot water, flipped the
ceiling fan switch, then stepped into a steaming shower. She
scrubbed as if she were washing Rogart off her skin, out of her
heart. It felt like the right thing to do.

After drying her hair and putting on fresh
PJs, Diana slid into her plush robe and looked for Tigger. He
didn’t come to her call. She could hear his
mau
coming from
downstairs.

Without turning on the lights, she followed
Tigger’s voice to the kitchen. Then a noise against the side of the
house sent her scurrying to a kitchen window. Nothing but the black
night against a white vinyl fence illumined by her security light.
Activated by a motion sensor. She’d closed the cat door for the
night. Had the cat somehow gotten it open? “Tigger?”

“Mau.” The yellow tabby came strolling in
from the laundry room. “Mau.”

“Was that you banging on your cat door?”
asked Diana. “Wanting out?”

“Mau.”

“I’ll take that as a
no.”
But he
wasn’t out, and banging on the cat door wouldn’t set off the motion
sensor. She clutched the green velour robe around her, suddenly
chilled. As Tigger rubbed against her leg, Diana reached down and
picked him up, holding him close as she walked into the dark living
room.

Outside in the street she saw the rear end of
a silver truck as it pulled away from the curb in front of her
house.

Flannigan?
She dropped Tigger and
hurried back into the kitchen. Jess’s number was on speed dial. She
pushed it.

Jess answered on the third ring. “Diana?” A
pause as the significance of the hour flushed sleep from her voice.
“What’s wrong?”

“Flannigan was here again,” said Diana. “I
think he tried to break in.”

“Call the cops. They’re just over on Quincy.
They’ll get there before I can.”

“He’s gone now. What could I tell them? My
sensor light went on, and then I saw the back end of a silver
truck?”

“Are you sure it was Flannigan? Remember,
there are two HUNTER trucks.”

“Do we know that for a fact?”

“We do. I checked out HUNTER 1 and it’s
registered to Joe Flannigan. HUNTER 2 still comes up Larry
Strickland.”

“There’s something else, Jessie.” Diana’s
voice shrank to a whisper.

“Spit it out already.”

“Darren Rogart was here this evening. With
his kids.”

A disgusted snort from Jess. “Jesus, Diana.
DIdn’t you listen to a thing we said the other night? Winston will
be so pissed.”

“Okay, okay. I was supposed to return his
trust document.”

“Did you feed him … and the kids?”

“Yes, but─”

“Is he still there? Is that why you’re
whispering?”

“He had his kids with him. Of course he’s not
still here.” Diana growled.

“Just asking.”

“Jess, Patty Strickland’s at Darren’s. He
claims
she
found
him
. And she’s pregnant. Due any
day.”

“So he doesn’t need me anymore. God forbid he
should call and let me know.” Jess paused. “No way was she whoring
on Colfax in that condition. Having me go there was a setup for
sure.”

“I’d bet on Flannigan,” said Diana. The words
jumped from her mouth, the negative thoughts on Rogart cancelled
out by the sight of the silver Ram. “He could’ve had somebody leave
that message for Darren. The sick bastard probably blames us for
his losing the grandkids.” Part of her was screaming, You’re
defending Rogart again. He’s still got his hooks in you.

“How would he even know Darren had hired me
to look for Patty?”

“Flannigan probably talks to Keith and Lori.
Darren can’t watch over them every minute. One of them may have let
something slip.”

“You’re pretty quick on the draw to defend
him,” said Jess, a cynical note creeping into her voice. “What
makes you think Darren’s kids know he hired me? Why would he tell
them?”

“He probably wouldn’t, but they could’ve
heard him on the phone with you. They’re not stupid. Lori seems
quite fond of Patty. The kids know her as ‘Trisha.’ I’m not
defending Darren. I think he’s got some problems. But Flannigan’s
the real sicko.”

“Psycho?” asked Jess.

“I don’t know.” Diana thought again of
Rogart’s odd response to Lori’s rape─the
love
connection.
“My gut feeling is that neither Rogart nor Flannigan is fit to
parent a child.”

“Woo,” said Jess. “That must’ve been some
dinner. He feed
you
raw meat?”

“In his dreams. I’d like to turn it all over
to Children’s Services, but I don’t have anything other than
questionable comments.” Diana paused to think. “What I’d really
like is to interview Rena Flannigan when her husband’s not there to
intimidate her. What do you think?”

“I think you have an overactive imagination,”
said Jess, her tone going slack.

“Wh … at?” The sound of Jess hanging up on
her jolted Diana into a twilight zone.

Sleep out of the question, she went
downstairs and put on a pot of coffee.

Twenty minutes later Diana’s doorbell rang.
She looked through the peephole in the front door. Jess looked back
at her.

As Diana opened the door, Jess put an index
finger to her lips, then drew Diana out onto the front porch in the
1:00 a.m. chill. “I think your house may be bugged,” whispered
Jess. “Let me take a look before you say anything more. We already
know there’s more at stake here than simple child neglect.”

“Child neglect is never simple.”

“Just shut up, will you? Let me take a look
around.”

“What would even make you think that?” Diana
whispered.

“Process of elimination. You haven’t been
robbed. Or attacked─yet.”

“Thanks, Jess. I really needed to hear
that.”

“If Flannigan heard you say something that
compromised your professional integrity, he’d have something to use
against you to get even.”

“Even if he did, he couldn’t use it in
court.”

Jess rolled her eyes. “Get in the house.
Quietly, please. I’m gonna check for bugs, okay?”

“Whatever.”

Diana watched Jess return to her car and grab
a couple of small, black cases. Bug detectors? The idea seemed
implausible, even for Joe Flannigan. She patiently followed Jess
back inside the house.

Jess took a small device out of one of the
cases and began walking slowly from room to room. Diana followed
close behind. “What’s that?”

“What do you think?” Jess snapped at her. “Go
sit somewhere. You’d make a flea nervous.”

Diana ignored her and continued to follow,
eyeing the little black box for some sign of life. None
appeared.

After the full tour, Jess stopped and turned
to her. “The good news is I can’t find any bugs.”

“What’s the bad news?”

“If somebody hooked up a lineman’s telephone
to your line from the outside, then removed it when he was done,
there’d be no way to ever know for sure.”

“Oh, great.” Diana remembered the time Greg
had walked in on her shortly after they’d separated, claiming the
front door had been unlocked. Could he have been messing around,
trying to spy on her? No immediate purpose came to mind. Why hadn’t
she gotten the security system repaired?

A cold chill filtered through her warm robe.
“I’ve had the feeling─several times in the last few months─that
somebody had been in my house. I’ve discounted it, just chalked it
up to fallout from the shitload that landed on me last
November.”

Jess returned the bug detector to its black
case and regarded Diana soberly. “You’re entitled. Are you still
having those … feelings?”

“The last one was after I woke up from a
nightmare. I thought I heard a crash of something breaking. I
thought it was in the dream until I went in the bathroom and found
my L’Air du Temps bottle broken. Tig was looking kind of guilty, so
I assumed … but that bottle’s been on the tub shelf since we moved
in. Tigger never bothered any of my stuff before.”

Jess frowned. “That was the last time you
noticed anything … not as you left it?”

“Except for tonight. Something set off that
motion sensor. And I heard banging on the side of the house.” Diana
paused as she watched Jess take a similar-sized black device out of
the other case she’d brought from her car. “What’s that?”

“That’s my VCD-42,” replied Jess, heading for
the stairs.

“I thought you said there were no bugs in the
house.” Diana followed Jess up the stairs at a rapid clip.

Jess topped at the hall door to the master
bath. “This where you kept the perfume bottle?”

Diana nodded and watched Jess push into the
room, then sweep the VCD-42 back and forth as she moved. To Diana’s
horror, the device began to flicker. Then as Jess held it higher,
toward the ceiling, it emitted a steady, bright orange glow.

“VCD,” whispered Diana, hating the logic that
was coming at her like a Mack truck. “Video camera detector.”

Jess stood on the commode, then reached up to
the ceiling and detached a small object no larger than a button.
She held it out in the palm of her hand for Diana to see.

Diana eyed the thing warily, as if it might
bite.

“Jesus!”

“I’m going outside for a minute. There has to
be a monitor somewhere fairly close.”

As Jess left the room, Diana huddled on the
commode, trying to compose her thoughts. The idea that someone had
recorded her image in the bathroom made her want to vomit.

There was no way that she could imagine Joe
Flannigan doing something like that, much less Darren Rogart. Not
by the remotest stretch. Did she have a disgruntled client
somewhere? More likely, the ex-spouse of a client whom she had
represented successfully. Or a batterer whom she’d had locked up
while she’d whisked his wife to safety.