Jayne Ann Krentz (28 page)

It took nearly half an hour to get through the log for the night of Kaitlin Sadler's death. Hannah was privately on the verge of conceding defeat when Rafe paused at a license plate number.

“Huh,” he said.

She looked up quickly. “What?”

“We've been concentrating on plates and vehicles connected with the Thornley campaign.”

“So?”

Rafe sat back slowly and shoved his hands into his back pockets. He studied the open logbook. “None of them left and returned during that two-hour window. Maybe we've been coming at this from the wrong angle.”

Hannah did not like the dark excitement in his voice. “You think maybe whoever left to meet Kaitlin borrowed someone else's car?”

“Maybe.” Rafe hesitated. “But there's another possibility. From what we can figure out, Kaitlin was acting on impulse that night. She had made up her mind to leave town in the morning. She needed cash in a hurry. We've been going on the assumption that she tried to sell the blackmail tapes to someone from Thornley's camp. But there was another potential market for those tapes.”

“What market is that?”

“The media.”

“Well, sure.” Hannah tossed aside the pen. “But why would anyone in the media murder her after agreeing to buy the incriminating tapes? The last thing a journalist would want to do is get rid of his source. He'd want backup for his story.”

“Not if,” Rafe said slowly, “he planned to use the tapes to blackmail Thornley himself.”

Hannah drew a breath and let it out carefully. “The news of Thornley's interest in lingerie never appeared in the media. You think that's because some journalist who attended the reception that night kept the tapes and has been using them to blackmail Thornley all these years?”

Without a word, Rafe took one hand out of his back pocket and rotated the logbook so that she could see the entry he had marked.

“Not
some
journalist,” he said quietly. “One Kaitlin knew well enough to call in a hurry that night. One she had reason to believe might be interested in handling a sleazy story about Thornley. An old acquaintance she thought she could trust.”

Hannah looked down at the name written next to a license number. Stunned, she glanced quickly at the notes she had been making. The vehicle had left the reception shortly after midnight. It had returned at one-forty-seven
A.M
.

“A journalist,” Rafe went on very quietly, “who might have known that Arizona Snow had a habit of hiding in the shadows to make notes about events at the institute. One who might have decided that even though no one in town ever paid any attention to A.Z.'s conspiracy theories, it would probably be a good idea to steal the log for that evening.”

A chill of disbelief numbed Hannah. “You think Kaitlin tried to sell the tapes to Jed Steadman?”

An hour later Hannah paused halfway across the sunroom to glare at Mitchell, Rafe, and Arizona. All three of them glowered back at her.

“What the heck are we supposed to do now?” she demanded. “The big idea was to take the evidence to Jed Steadman and let him run with the story. Now it looks like he's the chief suspect.”

Arizona shook her head and made a
tut-tut
sound. “Should have guessed the local media were involved in covering up institute actions. Explains a hell of a lot, if you ask me. No wonder they've been able to maintain a cloak of secrecy over their activities up there.”

“If we're right, this has nothing to do with the institute,” Hannah said with a patience she did not feel. “It's a simple case of blackmail and murder. It looks like Kaitlin called Jed that night. He went to meet her on the path above Hidden Cove. Maybe she offered to cut him in on the blackmail deal. Or maybe she simply wanted to sell the tapes to him outright. Either way, he saw a golden opportunity to cash in on the compromising videos.”

“But he figured he'd better get rid of Kaitlin,” Mitchell said. “Probably didn't trust her to keep her mouth shut. Or maybe he didn't want to split the potential profits two ways.”

Rafe massaged the back of his neck. “The bottom line here is that we don't have any hard evidence for any of this.”

“You got my logs,” Arizona reminded him.

“No offense, A.Z., but we need more than that to take this to the police.”

“We've still got the option of turning the story over to the media,” Hannah reminded him. “Not the
Eclipse Bay Journal
, obviously. But maybe one of the Portland papers will be interested.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Rafe tapped his finger on the arm of the wicker chair. “I was counting on Jed going with the story and doing the basic legwork because it was a hometown scandal. He had the best reason to get excited about it.”

“He'll get fired up about it, all right,” Mitchell said morosely. “Probably sue us.”

Hannah looked out over the bay. “I wish we had a little more to go on here. Rafe is right. We don't have any hard evidence.”

There was a short, stark silence behind her.

“You know who you're looking at now,” Mitchell said eventually. “If nothing else, you ought to be able to use what you've got to scare the hell out of Jed Steadman. Make sure he knows that if he makes one false move, a lot of folks will be watching. That should keep him in line.”

Arizona grunted. “Why not call up the Thornley crowd and tell them we know who's been blackmailing their candidate all these years? That would stir things up a mite.”

“I'm not so sure Jed has been blackmailing Thornley,” Rafe said thoughtfully.

Everyone looked at him.

He sat forward and folded his arms on his knees. “When you get right down to it, there's no evidence that Steadman has been living above his income. If he's getting cash out of Thornley, where has the money been going?”

Another silence greeted that observation.

“Well, shoot and damn,” Mitchell muttered. “Why would he commit murder for the tapes and then sit on them for eight years?”

A cunning light appeared in Arizona's eyes. “Why waste time prying a few bucks out of a small-time state pol when you can hold your ammunition and use it on a genuine U.S. senator?”

Hannah heard a collective intake of breath.

“You know something, A.Z.?” Rafe's smile held no humor. “For a professional conspiracy theorist, you sometimes make a lot of sense.”

“She's got a point, all right.” Mitchell whistled softly in admiration. “Everyone knew from the start that Thornley would probably go all the way to Washington.” He glanced at Rafe. “You know Steadman better than anyone. Think he's into that kind of long-range planning?”

“Maybe,” Rafe said thoughtfully. “He always likes to talk about the importance of timing and planning.”

Hannah clasped her hands behind her back. “If Jed has been sitting on those tapes all this time, he must be getting a little antsy now that the big payoff is almost within reach. No wonder he freaked when Rafe and I returned to Eclipse Bay and people started to talk about the past.”

“The question is, What do we do with all this guesswork?” Mitchell asked of the room at large.

Rafe looked out over the bay. “We get a little more information, if we can.”

Hannah swung around in alarm. “What are you going to do?”

“There's a town council meeting tonight. They're going to be discussing the pier renovations. Jed will cover the session. It will probably run late.”

Understanding hit her. She took an urgent step toward him. “You're going to search his house, aren't you? Rafe, you can't take that risk. What if a patrol car goes past his place while you're inside and you're spotted? If you get caught you'll be arrested for breaking and entering. You could end up in jail.”

“Now that would be ironic,” Rafe said. “Be the fulfillment of a long-standing prophecy.”

“That is not amusing.” She whirled around to face Mitchell. “I'm sure you don't want him to take this kind of risk. He's your grandson. Help me out here.”

Mitchell stroked his chin. His expression of wolfish anticipation was uncomfortably familiar. “Well, I sure wouldn't want him to take such a dumb risk on his own. Reckon I'd better go with him to keep him out of trouble.”

Hannah looked from his face to Rafe's and back again. She groaned. “Well, shoot and damn. This is a fine time for the two of you to decide to bond.”

Mitchell studied the big house from beneath the branches of a dripping tree. Jed Steadman's home stood dark and silent in the fog-drenched gloom. “You thought about what we're going to do if we set off an alarm?”

“Doubt if there is one,” Rafe said. “Not many people here in Eclipse Bay are worried about crime.”

“If we're right about Steadman, he isn't exactly a typical resident of our fair town. You and Hannah have made him nervous lately. He might have put in an alarm. All I want to know is if you've got a backup plan in case we run into one.”

“You think I'd do something dicey like this without figuring all the angles first?”

“Just tell me what we're supposed to do if we trigger an alarm.”

“We run like hell.”

Mitchell nodded. “I was afraid of that.”

“You want out before we go inside?”

“Hell, no. Haven't had this much fun in years.”

Rafe smiled slightly to himself. “I was afraid of that.”

Getting inside was easy. Maybe a little too easy, Rafe thought as he slid the unlocked bedroom window open. He eased one leg over the sill and paused for a few seconds, listening to the silence.

“What's the matter?” Mitchell demanded.

“Nothing.” Rafe got the other leg over the sill and stood inside the bedroom.

He was conscious of an eerie stillness in the house. A lonely quality permeated the darkness around him. He was only too well acquainted with this bleak, melancholy sensation. He had been aware of the emptiness collecting in his house in San Diego for a long time before he had made the decision to move to Eclipse Bay. Maybe this was how any man's home felt when there was no woman in it to soften the edges and warm the shadows.

“Now what?” Mitchell whispered after he climbed through he window.

“You take this room. Look for a wall safe. I'll go see if I can find a study or a home office. Got your gloves?”

“Sure, but we're not exactly experts at this kind of thing. What if he realizes later that someone went through his belongings?”

“Give him something more to worry about,” Rafe said. “If we don't turn up those tapes, giving him a good scare may be the only tactic we've got to use against him.”

He left Mitchell in the bedroom and went swiftly down the hall. He stopped in the doorway of another bedroom and clicked on his penlight. The room was beyond spartan in its bareness. It looked as if no one had ever slept in it. He opened a closet door. A mound of old camping equipment was piled inside.

He closed the door and went on down the hall to the next room. A quick glance revealed that Jed used it as an entertainment center. A massive television set took up a large section of one wall. Several thousand dollars' worth of speakers and other electronic equipment were positioned around a large recliner cushioned in black leather.

A wastebasket sat next to the recliner. Rafe glanced inside and saw a small heap of trash. A little square of yellow paper and a bit of foil clung to the side of the basket.

Rafe aimed the penlight closer to the candy wrapper. It looked identical to the one he had discovered beneath the tree at the end of the Harte cottage drive. It wasn't conclusive proof that it had been Jed who had kept watch on the house that night, but the evidence was mounting.

“Rafe.” Mitchell's voice echoed softly from the other bedroom. It was husky with urgency. “You better take a look at this.”

Rafe swung around and hurried back down the hall. “What is it?” He rounded the corner and aimed the penlight at Mitchell, who was standing in front of a chest of drawers. “Find something?”

“It's what I didn't find.” Mitchell waved a hand at three open drawers. “There's nothing in here. Cleaned out.”

“Are you sure?”

“Have a look for yourself.”

Rafe went to the closet and yanked it open. Three shirts hung limply in the far corner. A pair of worn slippers sat on the floor. The rest of the space was empty. The door of a small safe built into the closet wall hung open. There was nothing inside,

“Looks like he packed up and left.” Mitchell hooked his thumbs on his belt. “Maybe he figured out we're on to him.”

“How could he have known?”

Mitchell shrugged. “Small town. He might have seen Arizona's truck parked at Dreamscape this afternoon. Wouldn't take much for him to put two and two together. He's got to know you're one of the few people who takes her seriously. Maybe he figured out that she was helping you look into the Sadler girl's death. Wouldn't be a real big leap for him.”