Head to Head (27 page)

Black said, “Claire, it’s understandable that you thought Thomas was your brother, especially if your mother took the Landers name and told everybody she married the man.”

“I guess so. I’m not sure about anything anymore.”

“Is there anything else you can think of that might help us, Mrs. Wakefield?”

“I know she’s not a jinx, like she thinks.”

“A jinx?” Black said.

“Yes, that’s why Annie wouldn’t stay here for long, afraid something terrible would happen to me if she did. Of course, that’s a bunch of hooey. So I suspect she’ll try to push you away, too, especially since she obviously likes you. I hope you won’t let that happen, Doctor, not if you truly want to help her.”

“I’m not easily pushed around.”

Still reeling from the revelations about my past, I listened to them talk around me, glad when my cell phone rang. I took it and walked a few feet out into the yard. Behind me, on the porch, Aunt Helen said, “She needs somebody with the training to really help her deal with all the losses in her life. She hates doctors, you know.”

“Yeah, I noticed.”

“That’s probably because after Zachary died, her captain at the LAPD kept sending her to the police psychologists, and she hated them and said they were all quacks.”

Nothing like having your soul stripped bare and flogged to death right in front of your face. I usually do pretty well until somebody mentions Zack, then I fall apart unless I push the memory down deep in the dark, where I don’t have to deal with it. There are some things I have to keep buried if I want to survive, despite what Black thinks. It was going to take me a lot of time to sort through all this. I almost dreaded answering the phone for fear it was just the next piece of horrible news crouching in wait for me.

It was Bud. “Hey, Morgan. Where the hell are you?”

“Hartville, believe it or not.”

“Thought you could use some good news for a change, so I gave you a buzz.”

“You are so right on. Tell me quick.”

“Charlie’s thinking about reinstating you, so get your butt back home and wait for my call.”

“What changed his mind?”

“I’ll tell you when I give you back your badge and weapon. Just get back up here ASAP and stay close to your phone.” Then he was gone.

I walked back to the porch, feeling like a brand-new person, with a spring in my step. Even the shock of Aunt Helen’s revelations faded at the prospect of getting back to work. I couldn’t quit smiling. “Gotta go, Black. Charlie’s having a change of heart, and I just might be back on the job before the day’s out.”

“That’s great,” Black said with zero enthusiasm.

Aunt Helen, on the other hand, hugged me warmly and told me how happy she was that I was going back on duty. Then she said softly, so Black wouldn’t hear, “I’m sorry I kept all this from you, Annie. I thought it was for the best; I really did.”

“It doesn’t make that much difference, but I’d like to know more about my real dad someday.”

“I’ll find out everything I can about him and call you,” she said.

Black said, “Mrs. Wakefield, I don’t know how to thank you. You’ve helped us a great deal. If you remember anything else, will you call me? I can give you a number where I can be reached at any time.”

“Well, I guess you’re going to gloat and be obnoxious,” I said to Black after we’d left Aunt Helen and climbed back into the chopper.

He concentrated on adjusting his headset and strapping himself in. He handed me my seat belt. “I like your Aunt Helen. She’s good people.”

“Yeah, so what do you make of all this? It seems pretty strange to me, especially the fact that Helen kept it from me all these years. I don’t understand that.”

“She probably meant well. But something doesn’t sit right about that guy Landers and his boy.”

“What difference does it make? I’m just glad he’s not my father if he was that weird. He’s dead, anyway.”

“I still want Booker to check it out, see if the boy’s alive somewhere. This time I’m asking your permission first. What do you say?”

“Do whatever you want. All I care about is getting back to work. Let’s go.”

Black took the controls, and as we lifted off and scared the hell out of Aunt Helen’s cows again, I lifted my hand in farewell. Aunt Helen stood waving good-bye beside the fence, her dress whipping around in the wash of the rotors, her other hand holding down her blowing hair.

We made it back to Cedar Bend ahead of a massive storm front that promised strong wind and rain from the thunderheads building in great blue-black mounds over the entire south end of the lake. The air was heavy with humidity and full of the smell of rain and heat and ozone. I sat outside on Black’s balcony, with my cell phone on the table right in front of me, and tried to will it to ring. Black was inside his office, canceling some appointments so he could keep me company. I told him not to, that I wasn’t going to be staying much longer, but he ignored me, as usual.

I had crime scene pictures spread out in front of me and was trying to read through the reports Dottie had brought over, but all I really wanted was to hear the “Mexican Hat Dance” song. When it finally started up, I grabbed for the phone so fast, I almost knocked it off the table.

“It’s a go, Morgan. I’ll pick you up at your house in thirty minutes, weapon and badge in hand. Got it?”

“Got it.”

I smiled, absolutely ecstatic, until Black walked outside and I saw the expression on his face.

He said, “I take it that was Bud.”

“Yes. I’m meeting him at my house in half an hour. I’m now officially reinstated.”

“Congratulations.” Again, he clearly wasn’t thrilled out of his mind at my good fortune.

I changed the subject. “I’ve been going over the crime scene reports Dottie left, trying to find something that ties them all together.”

Black changed it back. “I guess this means you’re shoving off?”

Yeah, that pretty much was what it meant, so I began to gather up the papers strewn all over the table. I spent some time stacking them all nice and neat and orderly and not looking at Black.

I hesitated, feeling guilty somehow. Then I decided to just get it over with. “Look, I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, I really do. I was wrong about you from the beginning, but it might be better to cool it between us as long as I’m working on this case.”

“So that’s it? Tough luck, Black. Nice meeting you, but I don’t need you anymore, so kiss off.”

“Don’t make this difficult. I’m going to concentrate on solving Sylvie’s murder. That’s the best thing I can do for us—find the killer and bring him in—and then we’ll see where we stand. Next time they could pull my badge for real. Surely, you understand that?”

“And I’m supposed to sit here and do nothing until you decide if you want to come around again?”

“I guess that’s about it. Let the police handle it. I’ll keep you informed.”

Black stared hard at me for a moment, then said, “Okay, Claire, if that’s the way you want it. Let me know if you need my help on anything else. Take one of my Cobalts home. It’ll outrun any reporters following you.”

First, I was surprised, then relieved that he didn’t plan to cause some kind of ugly, recriminating scene.

“Okay, I’ll leave these reports here for you if you want. Thanks for lending me the boat. Thanks for everything; I mean it.”

“Yeah. I’ll call down to Tyler.”

I left in a big hurry, feeling like a heel because I was so unabashedly eager to get home and meet Bud. Tyler had the boat gassed and ready, and within minutes I was away from Cedar Bend and on my way. The lake was choppy, the sky almost black and low with storm clouds roiling over the hills around the lake. It felt good to be out on the water, and I bounced over the waves at full throttle.

The wind whipped through my hair, and I prayed that Harve had been able to shut the media out of our private road. Everybody thought I was with Nick Black now, and the paparazzi would stick to him like glue. Now it was easy for me to understand why he’d bought a resort down here, away from major news outlets. But Bud should be waiting for me at my house, and he’d clear out any pushy reporters hanging around long before I even got there.

As I rounded a jut of land and headed into my cove, I saw Bud’s white Bronco parked at my dock. He was leaning against the front fender, totally immaculate as always, both hands stuffed in his pants pockets. No reporters in sight. I smiled, pleased to see him. Things could get back to normal now. Black’s face filled my mind, and I recalled the way he touched me, the way my body responded to him, his determination to make me face my past. He’d helped me already, making me get it out and talk about it.
Stop it, Claire
.
Put him out of your thoughts and focus on the case.

Bud strode down the planks to meet me with his usual loose-limbed saunter and easily caught the lines I tossed to him. He was wearing his sheriff’s department rain slicker, and I wished I had mine. I hadn’t been able to find it for at least a month. Guess I was going to get wet.

“Another of Black’s baubles, I presume?” he said, looking the boat over. “Wow. Think he’ll give me one, too, if I bat my long eyelashes and say ‘pretty please’?”

He was grinning, so I let it pass. “It’s borrowed. Got my stuff?”

Bud held up a blue plastic grocery bag as I stepped onto the dock. “You’re back in business, Detective.”

“Thanks.” It felt good to pull out my badge and clip it to my belt. It felt even better to have the weight of the Glock under my palm. I shrugged into my leather shoulder holster and slid the gun into place and felt whole again. “Okay, what’s this all about? Charlie wouldn’t put me back on this soon if something hadn’t gone down.”

“They found another body in Ha Ha Tonka State Park. He wants us both at the scene, pronto.”

“Same M.O.?”

“Yeah. Decapitation, silver duct tape, the little, half-round flesh cuts, the whole works. Charlie and the crime team are already there. The whole park’s cordoned off.”

“Let’s take the boat. It’s faster.”

Ha Ha Tonka State Park was a big draw with the tourists, especially hikers and outdoor enthusiasts. It was heaven on earth for geologists who got off on sinkholes and craggy caves and walking across natural bridges and peering off soaring bluffs. It had miles of trails with spectacular scenery and the ruins of a turn-of-the-century stone castle hanging at the edge of a cliff overlooking both the Niangua River and Lake of the Ozarks. The castle drew lovers like a king-sized bed in Cancun.

Devastated by fire decades ago, the shell of the old castle became visible in the distance, and when Bud and I got closer, we could see the great granite bluffs rising out of the water and the castle’s white stone water tower, which was still intact. I slowed the boat as we neared the lower parking lot at the entrance to the park. Ha Ha Tonka was Osage Indian for “Laughing Waters,” but I had a feeling nobody was laughing at the moment.

I killed the motor and let the wash slide us up onto the sand. Connie O’Hara saw us and started walking down the rocky beach in our direction as we scrambled out of the boat. There were reporters gathering behind the yellow crime tape blocking off the entrance road, with three police officers keeping them at bay.

“How you been, O’Hara?” I said when she reached us. She didn’t look so good, tired, as if she hadn’t been sleeping.

“Don’t much like what’s goin’ on around here.” O’Hara glanced at the press. I could hear the distant drone of their voices.
Hey, everybody, another dead woman! Happy days are here again! Roll those cameras; dance those jigs!
O’Hara searched my face. “Thought that was a pretty bad scene that happened to you out in California.”

“Yeah, thanks. I’ve got it together now. Where’d he leave the victim?”

“In the old water tower. They’ve been waiting for you before they bag her.”

Bud had already started up the footpath that led to the castle. I caught up with him, and when we reached the upper parking lot, we took a right and the castle ruins loomed up in front of us. Looked like the last scenes of
Rebecca,
after Mrs. Danvers set fire to Manderley and burned herself up in it. A hulking shell of white granite and limestone, one wall still rose three floors, with the chimneys and window arches intact. I was surprised Black hadn’t bought the place and restored it.
Stop it. Don’t think about him.

Officers lined the trail that led from the castle ruins to the crime scene. The water tower lay farther up the cliff, on a path that wound very close to a bluff that gave new meaning to straight down. We walked quickly along the weathered board walkways, which had been constructed with side railings for the safety of park visitors. I looked over the precipice and remembered that some guy had thrown his wife over the side into the deep blue-green spring bubbling below, but that was before my time. Unfortunately for the hubby, she got caught on scrub brush clinging to the side of the rocks instead of sinking forever into the water and out of his life. Foiled by nature. Wish this case was that easy.

Charlie Ramsay stood at the base of the fifty-foot water tower. An iron gate usually closed off the interior steps to discourage tourists and hikers from climbing to the top of the tower, but it was open today, the black metal chain and lock lying on the ground. It was a square stone structure, reminiscent of Tuscany bell towers or the English keeps of King Arthur’s time. I half expected to see Merlin standing in one of the three windows high atop, a black robe with lots of crescent moons and stars swirling around him, his hands outstretched to work his wondrous magic. Or was that the guy in Harry Potter?

“Well. About time, Claire. Annie. Which is it gonna be?” People were definitely having problems knowing what to call me.

“Claire.”

“You doin’ okay?” Charlie added for my ears only. His way of apologizing for taking my badge. I nodded.

A couple of Missouri State Highway patrolmen were standing around inside. Dueling jurisdictions and clashing sabers. I recognized O’Hara’s husband and gave him the obligatory solemn nod. He was a big, broad-shouldered man of German and Irish extraction, who looked like he should be on top of the Matterhorn wearing a black-and-red argyle sweater and blowing on a long pipe about cough drops.

I concentrated on Charlie. “Is it Brandenberg’s head?”

He made a little shrug, took a nervous draw on the pipe he was holding. “Young woman. Blond. Sorry, you’ll have to ID her.”

I said, “Okay, but I haven’t seen her in years.” I saw Shag inside, edging around the body with his camera. He moved to his right, and I could see the body propped against the back wall, long blond hair flowing down over the face and nude torso. This time the duct tape was crusted black with blood. I could see some of the little half-moon wounds cut into her breasts and stomach. He’d struck again, all right, and right under our noses.

“Have they moved her?”

“Not yet.”

Bud and I slipped on gloves and protective booties and watched where we stepped. There was a lot of blood pooled around inside. The enclosure was about twenty feet by twenty feet, and a flight of steps led up into the tower. Nothing was in the room except the victim. She sat on the dirt floor, looking straight at us. It looked like the perp had combed her hair down over her face. I recognized the duct tape and the tilted angle of the head.

“He must’ve taken a vacation in sunny Southern California, killed Brandenberg, then brought her head back here for this one.” Bud scratched his chin. “He targeted an old friend of yours for a reason. Do you think he’s after you because you’re investigating?”

“I don’t know.” I looked at Charlie. “Has Gil Serna turned up?”

He nodded. “He finally showed up at a private rehab clinic in Acapulco, Mexico. So he’s pretty much off the hook. This victim’s probably from around here, looks in her thirties, athletic. Should have been able to put up a fight.”

I moved closer and squatted beside the body. Just like in the bayou, bluebottle flies had found the corpse and were everywhere, their buzz loud in the stone room. The heat was oppressive inside, and the smell of congealing blood was enough to rock me back on my heels. It was like being buried alive with the victim. “It’s the same perpetrator, no doubt about it.”

Shag nodded. “The tape’s wrapped the same. I think it’s the same roll. We finally got the L.A. evidence, and it matches up, too. This perp gets around. Likes blondes with long hair, like me.” He grinned. Halfheartedly, though, no Ha-Ha in the Tonka today.

“Are you ready to pull back the hair?” Charlie said to Shag.

“Yeah.”

Bud lifted it up and held it, and my breath left me. I looked away. The face was damaged some and smeared with blood, but I recognized her. “Yeah, it’s Freida.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes, she had that scar on her chin. She gashed it when we ran the obstacle course.”

I was glad when an excited shout came from somewhere up the trail. I stood up, and backed away from Freida’s staring eyes, and went outside, eager to get out of there. I sucked in fresh air. The wind was brisk now with the impending storm and heavy with the smell of rain and the sound of fluttering leaves.

“We found the victim’s clothes,” said O’Hara’s husband. I think his name was George.

“Maybe he finally slipped up,” I said, as a young deputy headed toward us with a brown paper evidence bag. “An ID on the body might tie him to the victim.”

Bud took the bag and pulled out a red backpack, then unzipped it and took out a black T-shirt. I looked down at the T-shirt, then grabbed it out of his hands. My mind reeled in horror. I staggered back, my eyes on the fluorescent orange cutoff shorts that Bud pulled out next. Bile rose and burned the back of my throat, hot and caustic.

“What?” Charlie asked me. All the men looked at me, and when Bud took a step in my direction, I turned away and leaned over, bracing my hands on my thighs. I felt like I was going to throw up. “These are Dottie’s clothes. Oh, my God, this is what she had on the last time I saw her.”

“No, it can’t be,” Bud said, frowning down at the shorts in his hands.

I looked at the University of Missouri Tiger paw print on the shirt, brought it to my nose, and smelled Clinique, Dottie’s perfume. I looked toward the water tower, visualized again the woman left in the dirt, the lean athletic body, muscled hard from kayaking and running and lifting Harve. “Oh, my God, it
is
her.” Then I thought of Harve, alone at home. This would kill him. It was killing me. I put my palms over my face and took deep breaths until Charlie came up close to me. His voice was gruff. “You’re absolutely sure? There are lots of shirts like this around here.”