Guilty as Sin (46 page)

Kate shook her head, staring blankly at the wall. Her lips moved but no sound came out. “Arthur Dorsey,” she said softly. “His mother thinks that’s what happened. Maybe Emerson…” She cut herself off, threw her hands in the air. “I don’t know. All I know is that the Bludgeoner used the
same cream that was sitting in my dresser drawer, and he put
my
necklace around Tricia Fuller’s neck.”

And maybe others, Tommy thought, grimacing as he remembered the ligature marks on the other girls’ necks. Kate looked so small, so shocked, he wanted to take her in his arms.

“Emerson would have provided an easy scapegoat,” Tommy said.

CJ shook his head again. “You two have been watching too much
CSI
. Nine times out of ten, the simplest answer is the right one.”

“And sometimes it’s not,” Tommy shot back. “Are you telling me that you won’t acknowledge the possibility that this could be more than a coincidence?” He shook his head. “Then again, you FBI types aren’t exactly known for thinking out of the box.”

CJ shot him a glare, then leafed through the folder one more time. His brows knitted and he uttered a soft curse under his breath.

“What?” Tommy asked.

“I missed this the first time through. It said Erin Flannery came in a few days after her uncle was found with Michael. Sheriff Lyons wasn’t around to take a statement, so they told her to come back later.”

“What did she say?” Kate asked.

“That’s just it,” CJ said. “There’s no record of her statement.” He looked up at Kate, then Tommy. “I was planning to talk to her anyway, since one of the few details Tricia remembers is her kidnapper bringing her a sandwich from Erin’s restaurant. I can ask her about this too.”

“
We
can ask her,” Kate said, pushing to her feet.

“I can’t have you interfere with official police business—” CJ started.

Tommy silenced him with a raised hand. “You know we’ll question her on our own if we have to. Might as well get the same information at the same time.”

CJ made an exasperated sound but didn’t protest further. “Fine. But when we get there, I’ll ask the questions.”

T
hough Kate had eaten Erin’s food several times this week thanks to the woman’s generosity toward the volunteers, this was the first time she’d gone inside the restaurant Erin had taken over from Mary Monroe three years ago.

Kate’s mind was racing too fast to notice more than the barest details. But she did register that Erin had changed the place substantially from a homey mom-and-pop diner. Erin had replaced the old-fashioned counter with a long mahogany bar. Behind it was a flat-screen TV mounted to the wall, tuned to a local station.

At this time of day, between the lunch rush and the dinner crowd, there were only a few tables with customers. Erin herself seemed to be the only one working the floor.

“I’ll be with you in just a moment,” she said as she caught them out of the corner of her eye. She finished taking an order and turned to them, her bright smile fading to wariness when she recognized them.

“What’s up?”

“We were hoping to ask you some questions,” CJ said.

Erin’s gray eyes narrowed. “About what?”

“About Tricia Fuller’s kidnapping.”

“Why would I know anything about that other than what I’ve seen on the news? And since my brothers are both
already in jail, there’s no way they had anything to do with it—”

“Jesus, Erin, we’re not here to accuse you or anyone in your family of anything,” CJ snapped, then closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he spoke again, his tone was gentler. “Please, it won’t take long, and it’s possible you have information that could help.”

Erin cocked an eyebrow. “Wow, the sheriff asking a Flannery for help? Isn’t this a day of firsts. Let me put this order in and get someone to cover the floor.”

She returned a few minutes later and directed them to her office in the back. “Sorry it’s a little cramped in here,” she said as she closed the door. Kate didn’t miss the way she skirted around CJ, giving him as wide a berth as possible given the confines of the small room.

Kate and Tommy perched on the couch tucked against one wall. Though she didn’t dare give in to the urge to scoot closer and take his hand, she took comfort in his big, solid presence beside her. The sight of the necklace, passed down to Kate after her grandmother’s death, had sent her reeling. But even the sound of Tommy’s voice on the phone when she’d called him with the news, the fact that he’d dropped everything to be with her then, went a long way in soothing her.

He had better things to do, she acknowledged with a pang of guilt. Like trying to trace the name behind the shell corporation that owned the land. But even her guilt couldn’t overcome the amazing feeling of security she got from knowing he was there for her in any way she needed, no matter how big or small. It had been so long since she’d been able to fully trust, fully depend on someone. She’d forgotten how good it could feel.

CJ leaned against one end of the desk while Erin stood
at the other end, arms folded as she leaned back against the wall.

“Before we start,” CJ said as he pulled out a digital recorder from his pocket, “you need to know that everything we talk about here has to remain confidential. I don’t want any information getting out that could jeopardize the investigation.”

“No problem,” Erin said.

CJ gave her a hard look. “I mean it. This case is getting a lot of media attention. I can’t have you and your family trying to run off and sell a story somewhere.”

Erin gave him a long stare, full of meaning Kate couldn’t begin to decipher. “Someday you’re going to stop lumping me in with the rest of my family,” she said finally. “I promise. Whatever we talk about won’t leave these four walls.”

CJ nodded, apparently satisfied. “Unfortunately, Tricia didn’t see her captor closely enough to give us a description, but she did mention he brought her several things he thought she’d enjoy. One of those things was a sandwich off your menu.”

Erin’s head tilted in inquiry.

“It was the…” CJ paused a few moments, flipping through his notebook. “Ah, it’s the grilled chicken with roasted red peppers, arugula, and provolone. Any chance you remember who bought one on Monday?”

Erin gave him a helpless look. “That’s one of the most popular items on my lunch menu. This time of year with the Labor Day crowd, I might sell a hundred of them or more a day. Wait.” She pushed away from the wall and went over to her computer. “I can run a report for you that links order details with credit card numbers.” The sound of keys tapping filled the office.

“Your system can do that?” CJ asked.

“How do you think I manage my food buys if I don’t know what’s selling?” she replied peevishly.

CJ lifted his hands as though in surrender. “Just a question,” he said as the printer on Erin’s desk hummed to life. “What about security cameras, surveillance video?’

“Mary had one installed years ago, but I never replaced it when I did the renovation. I figure, it’s Sandpoint. Nothing really bad ever happens.” Her gaze shifted to Kate, her eyes opening wide in horror as she realized what she said. “Oh my God, Kate, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay,” Kate said. “But speaking of bad things, and that thing in particular, we were also hoping to ask you a few things about the night my brother was kidnapped.”

Erin’s expression went wary again.

CJ told her about the note they’d found in the case file about her going to the sheriff’s station to make a statement. “You never went back.”

“I called three more times, but I never was able to talk to Sheriff Lyons,” Erin said sharply. She shrugged. “I finally gave up. It wasn’t like they’d believe me anyway. No one around here puts much weight on what a Flannery has to say.”

Kate’s interest piqued as something seemed to ripple between the other woman and the sheriff. “Well, I’m not from around here, and I’d like to hear what you have to say,” Kate said.

“I don’t think Uncle Emerson was capable of kidnapping and killing your brother,” she said in a rush.

“The evidence—” CJ said, shaking his head.

“I know all about the evidence,” Erin broke in, “and I can see how it was pretty damning. Look, I’m not even claiming that Emerson wasn’t capable of murder. God knows what he did those years in Viet Nam and afterward. But based on what I saw earlier that day, I don’t think he was physically capable of pulling it off.”

“How do you mean?” CJ asked.

“Well, first off, he was drunk as a skunk by two in the afternoon that day.”

Tommy made a scoffing sound. “No offense, Erin, but from what I knew of your uncle, that was pretty much what he did every day.”

“No kidding, but he’d hurt his back a week before, so in addition to the usual handle of bourbon, that afternoon he was also popping OxyContin like they were Tic Tacs. He passed out around six and was still totally out of it when I drove him home later that night.”

“What time was that?” CJ asked.

Erin looked at the ceiling, searching her memories. “Nine? Ten o’clock?”

Kate exchanged a look with Tommy. Michael had been taken shortly after midnight.

“On top of that he had two ruptured disks in his back,” Erin continued.

“And enough Oxy in his system to make sure he was feeling no pain,” CJ said.

Erin shrugged. “Even if he’d regained consciousness, does it really seem possible that he could have driven down that road, all the way to the Becketts’ house on the lake without crashing into something? Then drag an able-bodied boy from the house, get him back to his place, and then drag him another hundred yards to the hunting shack where he was killed?”

A knot settled in the pit of Kate’s stomach. While inconclusive, everything Erin said made sense. “Someone else could have stolen the truck,” she murmured, almost to herself.

“I left it in the driveway with the keys in the ignition. It certainly wouldn’t have been difficult,” Erin said. She
swallowed hard. “And I know this isn’t a popular opinion to express, especially in this town, and Kate, I hope you’ll forgive me, but for all of his faults and bad behavior, Uncle Emerson—the way he hurt your brother…”

Kate nodded. She knew exactly what Erin was talking about.

“Emerson wasn’t wired that way, at least, I don’t believe he was. He was a bastard to most people, but he was always sweet to me and my brothers, no matter how drunk or stoned he got.”

Kate saw the sadness in Erin’s eyes. As much as Emerson might have been a drunk and a derelict, it was clear Erin had had affection for the man. All these years Kate had never once considered that Michael wasn’t the only innocent victim in what had happened.

CJ scrubbed his hand over his chin. “If everything you’re saying is true—”

“I wouldn’t lie—” Erin snapped, immediately on the defensive.

CJ held up a hand. “Scratch that.
Assuming
what you say is true and the former sheriff fell down on this investigation, this still doesn’t give us anything that points us in the direction of another suspect, or if he’s connected to Tricia’s kidnapper.”

They let out a collective, frustrated sigh, then Erin grabbed the customer activity report off the printer and handed it to CJ. “Hopefully you’ll find something in here that will help. I’ll let you know if I think of anything else that I didn’t tell you.”

Kate and Tommy stood and followed Erin back to the main room. The place was still mostly empty, but a few customers had taken seats at the bar. As they started toward the door, she heard Erin say, “Hey look, Tommy, you’re on TV!”

Kate automatically turned to the bar, surprised when instead of footage of him storming away from reporters from earlier in the week, there was a picture of Tommy in his football uniform from Idaho State.

The feed switched back to the anchor, and Kate felt her stomach flip over when she recognized Walsh. Then it started to churn as the screen flashed a picture of a teenage Kate. “Can you turn it up?” she asked Erin.

“… to sources Kate Beckett and Tomas Ibarra had struck up a summer romance the summer Beckett’s brother, Michael, was kidnapped and murdered. Those familiar with the case will remember that Beckett was left in charge of her brother that night, but it was not widely reported that Beckett was with Ibarra at the time her brother disappeared.”

“Crap.” Kate swallowed, feeling like the floor was shifting under her. It was okay, she tried to tell herself. No, it wasn’t going to be fun to have to live through all of this again, but this was old news.

As long as they didn’t find out about—“Now, in what is a shocking development, particularly given Beckett’s recent history, it looks as though she and Ibarra have rekindled their romance.”

Kate heard Tommy swear viciously next to her, but she couldn’t tear her eyes from the huge TV screen. It showed a couple locked in a passionate embrace. Though the video was grainy and the couples’ faces were partially obscured, Kate knew without a doubt she was looking at security camera footage from the hospital.

The shot cut to Tommy, in front of her townhouse earlier that morning.

She didn’t even get the words out before his voice came blaring out of the TV speakers: “I’m having a sexual relationship with Kate Beckett.”