Lie Catchers (14 page)

Damn. The way he looked at her, directly into her eyes and intensely focused, reminded her of Parker. In fact, with the wrinkles, white hair and a slightly hunched shoulder line, Chet represented an older version of his son. Comforted by the thought, she said. “It’s natural. I answered my own question.”

They walked down the stationary aisle where Liv chose a couple of print ribbons and a package of printer paper. Three townies stopped Liv to ask about her wound and express their concern about a shooter on the loose in Petersburg. Over the last several days, customer traffic in The Smiling Coho had doubled and her phone rang incessantly. Commiseration and concern for their own safety were always the topics of conversation.

Ironically, by his absence and Nilson’s stalled investigation, Parker grew in stature as the man with the power and skill to find the person who shot Liv. Each conversation ended with: “Is he coming back?”

When Liv and Chet were alone again, she rested her arms on the store’s signature green pushcarts, desperate for answers.

Clearing his throat, Chet said, “He hasn’t called me, Liv.”

“You’d think he would, just to see if you were on duty and all.”

“He knows I’ll do my job. Remember, I worked security for more years than he’s been alive.”

Liv nodded. “I get a daily two-sentence e-mail: ‘I’m still at it; say hi to dad.’”

“Uh-huh.”

“Until this morning, that is.”

“Oh?”

“Last night I wrote him that I was tired of being cooped up and I’m going dancing Friday night.”

“Uh-oh.”

Liv ran her palm along the cart handle. “I was half serious. The other half wanted to get a rise out of him.”

“Hmm.”

She licked her lips. “Seemed to work. No message this morning.”

Chet quietly turned to look at the rack of assorted pens.

“When he works in his office, what is his job like?”

He picked up an expensive pen. “Parker served ten years as a CIS, a computer information specialist. Network issues and data recovery were his specialties. He consults with other experts, travels sometimes.”

“And his nights?”

Chet smiled and fingered the pen. “He plays a guitar. Likes to listen to Bluegrass. Enjoys action novels and movies.”

Liv sensed the store grew quiet as she waited for Chet to finish. She held her breath.

Squinting at the pen, as if to estimate its quality, Chet said, “He isn’t with anyone now, Liv. But he was. Which is why he assigned me to you.”

“What?”

Chet inhaled slowly, the sadness in his expression so profound that Liv gasped. He put the pen back in the display as if to underline the end of this topic. With a stiff smile, he said, “I’ve said more than I should. Let’s get those errands, done, what do you say?”

Liv blinked, feeling the heat of embarrassment on her face. “I…I…” She touched Chet’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t…I’m prying, aren’t I?”

With a smile, Chet said, “The shooting is upsetting, Liv. All of Petersburg is on edge. I am sure my son is working hard on the case.”

Waving a hand, Liv said, “Of course he is. But I think he should come back here to help Nilson.” She sighed. “I can’t help feeling that somehow I’m responsible for Parker staying in Fresno.”

“You?”

“I was a distraction. I thwarted his investigation.”

Chet frowned. “You did?”

“Maybe.” Liv squeezed her forehead, thinking about the chart in her desk drawer and her complaints about Parker to Ivor. “I questioned his methods.”

“Oh?”

“None of us helped him very much. I can see that clearly now with Nilson in town. He’s turned off everyone, whereas at least people liked Parker.
I
like Parker.”

Chet put his hand on the edge of the cart and struck a listening pose.

“I…I’ve had a lot of time to think while I recuperated. I could have helped him more. A lot more.”

“You are an informal leader in this town, Liv.”

Though Liv felt a shiver of pleasure at the notion, she said, “I’m holed up at my desk or clerking in the store all day long. People don’t know me, but I wish they did. This venture I have in mind, the salmon oil pill? It will only be successful if I can get the town’s help.”

Chet raised an eyebrow. “You’ve had a steady stream of visitors these past three days.”

“Don’t you think that’s about the drama of being shot and general concern for a sick person?”

He shook his head. “They talk to you about suspects, about the Federal agents, both Parker and Nilson, and Petersburg’s reputation. They listen to your opinions with interest and respect.”

Waving her hand at the idea, she said, “I can gossip with the best of them.”

“They know what you write, along with the piece on Sing Lee.”

“They do not.”

“TJ Hawk. I’ve heard them talk about your articles.” He smiled. “Parker told me he read ‘Never Step Out with A Gumshoe.’”

“What?” Liv covered her face.

“He thought it was clever and funny.” Chet’s expression turned serious. “With some uncomfortable truths in it, too.” The twinkle returned to his eyes. “I’m just saying they know you better than you realize.”

“Shit. Here I was thinking I was the town enigma.”

Chet chuckled.

“Norwegians stay out of each other’s business unless asked,” Liv said, wearily.

“That’s for sure.” Chet put his hand to his chin. “You raised an interesting point about appreciating Parker now that he’s gone…and Parker’s glaring contrast with Nilson. One thing I know for sure. Parker wants to get back to Petersburg and solve this crime. His career depends upon it.”

“But he’s a whole lot safer in Fresno, Chet. You have to agree.”

“I’d say budget issues and Parker’s computer savvy motivated his boss’s decision to keep Parker in Fresno.”

“I’m more comfortable with him in Fresno.”

“And he’d rather be here.”

Liv nodded, staring at the pencil display while her brain whirled with Chet’s ideas.

She smiled, turned to Chet and reached out to pat his face. “Come on partner. We’ve got work to do.”

Why was Liv hiding her money in Sitka?

Parker and his cursor blinked at an amount that seemed too large for the earnings of a store clerk and free-lance writer. Another thorny issue: her biggest deposit was recent, shortly after Ev’s body was found.

He closed his eyes, now strained from viewing tax statements, credit cards accounts, social security deposits, real estate assessments and stock records. Ten suspects to scrutinize, each with a quirk in his or her money stream. He’d failed to find a criminal in Petersburg and now, hunkered down with his usually faithful Internet, he’d only eliminated two people from the list, one a ten year-old. Nilson’s reports came back bristling with terse observations after hours of interviews with, it seemed like, every person in Petersburg. The man was a dynamo. Yet, not once had he gone to the Landing for a beer, eaten dinner at the Hanson’s, or sat with Jenny late at night to learn the meaning of ‘Uff da,’ or some other Norwegian saying.

I sit here on my duff looking for meaning in numbers, with a speed and skill Nilson could never match, yet I’d rather be in Petersburg talking to people
.

With a click of his mouse, Liv’s e-mail message replaced her number history. He refused to count the times he’d reviewed her words, trying to read between the lines as well as understand his reactions to her sentences.

She was going dancing, even with her arm hurting and a shooter on the loose, and he was sure Nilson wouldn’t consider talking her out of it. Parker’s father might try, but his chances of success were slim. Hell, she’d never heed Parker’s warning not to go, not to expose herself to danger. Not to shine when he wasn’t there to witness her luminescence. Not to dance with other men. Not to be a woman whose snappy repartee masked secrets.

Why was Liv hiding her money in Sitka?

The last grain of sand dropped to the bottom of Parker’s hourglass, so he rolled his chair back, and rose, grabbed his phone and punched Pepper’s number.

“Hey, Park,” she answered, brightly

“ʼLo, Bitch Three.”

She chuckled. “Thanks for reminding me of my place in the birth order.”

“Kids good?”

“All off to school. It’s only ten a.m. and I’m exhausted. The twins have decided they’re vegans and in protest, Charlie is inordinately vocal about enjoying meat. Every meal is a battle royale.”

Parker laughed. Pepper’s ten-year old twins tested their mother and their thirteen year-old brother on the hour. How Pepper managed single motherhood and a home-office consulting business was a puzzle to him.

“Are you in your cubicle?” she asked. “I hear voices.”

“Yup, I’m in Fresno.”

“Dad said you left him in Petersburg on guard duty and went to Seattle.”

Parker sighed. “He called you.”

“Every Sunday. You were right to take him with you, Park. He’s loving the fishing, and pulling active duty has put him over the moon. You’re a genius!”

“Thanks. I might have found a way to tug Dad out of the doldrums, but I’m getting nowhere with the case.”

“You got shot at, Park.”

Parker could tell she was miffed about hearing the news from their father first. “I meant to call, but in the hub-bub…”

“Why are you in Fresno?”

“Research.”

“Did they pull you off the case, the droids?”

“I’m still working it. From my office.”

“Leaving your girlfriend in Pop’s hands.”

Parker sighed. “She’s not my girlfriend, Pepper.”

She was quiet for a few moments. “It’s okay if she is, Park. Two years is enough time to mourn Bernadette. Hell, Bernie’d be pissed if she knew you’d been celibate this long.”

“I have not—”

“Oh, shut up. I’m not stupid. Bernadette was killed in Afghanistan and you think you’re to blame. Now your Petersburg gal gets shot on your watch, ramping up the déjà vu thing. There’s a little part of you that’s relieved to be a desk jockey again, at one with the numbers.”

“Christ, Pepper. I’ve got enemies who would be nicer to me.”

“What are sisters for? You called me, remember, hunting for perspective, probably.”

Parker grasped the neck of his hourglass and grinned. It was both wonderful and awful to be so close to Pepper. “Now I know how you make the big bucks as a consultant. You going to bill me for this harangue?”

“You bet.” She pulled in a breath. “I can’t believe I’m telling you this, Park. I want you to go back there, even if I’m worried about your getting shot at again. Dad is fond of this girl and he’s decided he likes the way you handle people.”

“What he enjoys is the fishing.”

Pepper laughed. “That, too. I’m just saying. Go back.”

“The check is in the mail, Pep. Hugs all around, including the vegans, even if they smell funny.”

Hoisting the hourglass like a stubby baton, he pondered Liv’s e-mail message. Was Pepper right…should he have made a stand with Oldshack to be sent back? What was scaring him most: failing at finding Ev’s killer or failing to protect Liv?

He opened a desk drawer and lifted a snapshot of him with Bernadette, cheek to cheek, smiling for the photographer. The background blurred behind Bernie’s short, curly brown hair, cherubic face and brilliant brown eyes. She looked more like an elementary school teacher than a fearless CIA agent whose assignment put her in Afghanistan, hunting Bin Laden. It was Parker’s information about funds flowing from Pakistan to terrorist cells in the Khost province that led to the CIA setting up a listening post there. Six agents, including Bernie, got sent to the site, all killed by a turncoat Jordanian in an early morning massacre, every single agent riddled with bullets in a matter of minutes.

She’s been gone two years but I still can’t forgive myself for the part I played in her death.

Go back to Alaska, his sister had advised. But Pepper hadn’t seen Liv’s blood dripping from her shoulder wound, blackening the gravel in the alley.
She could have died because of me.

Though he wanted to return to Petersburg in the worst way, his gut told him that Liv’s well-being depended on his staying away from the town...and her.

****

“You write the letter, Ivor. Better that it comes from a representative of the law.” Liv stood at Ivor’s office window, relishing the rare warmth of the sun on her back.

He held up his index fingers. “With these? Forget it. I’m slow and definitely not creative.” Pointing to the newspaper, he said, “I shouldn’t have to remind you that regular folk wrote the 1932 complaint to the US. Federal Marshal, which gave it impact.”

Liv sighed and leaned against the warm window. “The letter failed. Gus, alone, investigated Sing Lee’s murder. As far as we know, the cavalry did not come to town after the Feds received the citizen’s plea.”

Ivor held up the editorial page of the
Petersburg Pilot
and pointed to Liv latest installment on the Sing Lee murder. “At least your Gus knows enough to hang around Sing Lee’s Country Store and talk to the people. Special Agent Nilson makes
appointments
.”

“He’s stubborn all right, and a loner. Reminds me of you
and
me.” Liv turned to face Nordic Drive, her palm on the window, absorbing the heat. She let out a breath. “On a sunny day like today, Nilson should be out there with our people, shooting the shit. But, no. He’s got to make appointments and hammer at people for precisely an hour at a time on his turf.”

Ivor nodded. “Mallen complained to me about S.A.’s use of their lounge as an inquisition chamber, upsetting Jenny. I’d freed up a room in the Municipal Building for Nilson and the task force, but he refused to use it. I’m insisting on his moving there before Jenny has a heart attack.”

“Uff da. And here I thought Parker was too laid back, too chatty with people. Was I ever wrong.”

“Whoa. I’ve got to write this down.” He picked up his pen and pretended to write. “Liv Hanson admits she’s wrong.” Offering his pen to her, he said, “You better sign this.”

She gave him a backward wave. “Selfishly, I want him to come back, but that puts him in danger.”

“You, too,” he said.