Nowhere Safe (12 page)

“And Verna’s. Which she had a fit about losing. None of us likes Rosamund much, but Verna can’t stand her, and she won’t forgive Rosamund for helping destroy her things. Verna’s said that enough times for me to believe it. And as I recall, you blamed Rosamund for the fire first, before you blamed Stefan.”

“I was just talking,” July said airily. “Verna might have been upset about losing her things, but Stefan wasn’t. You remember? He was just silent. Like he was afraid to open his mouth and give himself away. And Dad and Dash saw
a man
running away.”

“They saw a figure running away,” September corrected her. “Look, I really don’t want to play devil’s advocate, here. I just need more than a feeling before I can lay the fire at Stefan’s feet.”

“But now, there’s this other thing, too. Someone tying him to a pole, almost naked, leaving him there? There’s something going on with Stefan. I can’t be the only one who feels that way.”

She wasn’t. September sensed something was up as well. She just wasn’t as quick to rush to judgment. She couldn’t afford to in her job.

“My partner’s talking to him some more,” September said, sliding a glance toward Wes as he drove. He wasn’t exactly her partner, but it was going to be a while before Gretchen was back and she had an actual, bona fide one again.

“
You
need to talk to Stefan, Nine. You know him.”

“Yeah, well . . .” She wasn’t going to go into the whole problem about being semirelated to him.

“Call Dad,” July suggested. “He wants to know more about the fire. Tell him about Stefan.”

That was the last thing September planned to do, but she hedged on the phone with July in order to end the conversation. She didn’t want her father suddenly believing Stefan was responsible before there was any proof. That would be the worst, and it would give Braden another reason to be more in her life than he already was, something she absolutely did not want.

When she was off the phone, she ran through the previous conversation she’d had with her father before taking his call yesterday. It had been several days earlier. He’d reached her on her cell phone, and when she’d answered, he’d said, “Hello, September,” in that stiff way of his that never ceased to put her on edge. “Thought I’d see how you are.”

“I’m fine, Dad,” she’d told him.

“Have, uh, you talked to August recently?”

This was damn near a mantra with her father. “If you want to talk to Auggie, you should call him yourself.”

“I’ve tried calling, but he never seems to be available.”

Of course he knew Auggie was avoiding him; Auggie was always avoiding him. She diverted him by saying, “Since you asked, Jake and I are doing fine. We’re moving my furniture into his house this weekend.”

“Oh? That’s good, if it’s what you want.”

“Yep, it’s what I want.”

“You’re giving up your apartment?”

Since she hadn’t known he even knew she lived in an apartment, September had to mask her surprise. “Can’t see any reason to hang on to it.”

Her father had then made noise that it was okay that she was seeing Jake Westerly, but he certainly hadn’t felt that way in the beginning of their relationship. Jake’s father, Nigel, had once worked for Braden, and they’d had a falling out over September’s mother, with the result being that Nigel had been abruptly fired. Not that Nigel and Kathryn had been involved. They hadn’t been. But Nigel had been first on the scene of the single-car accident that had killed Kathryn and he’d been unable to save her. Based on his own tendency toward infidelity, Braden had assumed they’d been together as the accident had happened near the Willows, the Raffertys’ winery, where Nigel worked.

After he was fired, Nigel had then purchased a vineyard and winery of his own, which he renamed Westerly Vale Vineyard, that was just down the road from the Willows. This had created even more conflict between the two men and their families. Recently Nigel had turned Westerly Vale over to Jake’s brother, Colin, to run, and Braden had put July in charge of the Willows. Both sides were trying to get over the past, it seemed, with Braden making nice with the Westerlys ever since September and Jake had become a couple. She was glad for the thawing of hard feelings and she hoped the trend would continue. Because of the enmity between their families, September had never told her father how she’d hooked up with Jake for one night in high school. In fact, she’d never told any of her family except Auggie, who, it turned out, had known all along.

But there was no question that the accord between the Raffertys and the Westerlys was a work in progress, as was the continuing drama the Raffertys played out among themselves. After a recent family dinner that actually drew Auggie in, and where September dating a Westerly wasn’t even the biggest news, Braden had been trying very hard to tear down the fences he’d erected himself in a fury of patriarchal control. Years before he’d almost lost Auggie completely in the process, and September had just been hanging around the fringes herself. Because she worked for their father, July had come to an uneasy peace with him, but even she had her issues. Their older brother, March, was the only one who seemed to have no problem with their father, but that was because he was a chip off the old block—autocratic, stern, and unrelenting to a fault—and he worked directly with Braden in his myriad of other financial endeavors.

That recent dinner had also been the scene of another revelation: the introduction of their half brother, Dashiell Vogt. July had brought him with her and initially they’d all thought she was dating him. Instead, they found out Dash was Braden’s son through his affair with the family’s one-time Rafferty housekeeper, Anna Marie Vogt. Anna had left her job without ever telling anyone, Braden included, that she was pregnant, but after his mother died Dash decided to look up his father. He’d introduced himself, and his claim, to July first, and then July dropped the bomb on the family all at once, which did not go over well with Evil Stepmother Number Two, Rosamund, among others. Braden had immediately denied Dash’s existence, but in the end, DNA didn’t lie.

Now, September felt Wes’s gaze on her and she looked his way as they pulled into the parking lot of the strip center mall that held the Stafford Animal Clinic. She could see the sign for T.J. Maxx on a wing of the building set at a right angle to the clinic.

“This is it,” she said as Wes parked.

“Yep.”

They both climbed out of the car and headed inside.

Lucky circled the parking lot of Twin Oaks Elementary in the Nissan, searching for the source of that noxious aura. She’d left the California plates on the car as Mr. Blue had said they were good, but knew they would be more memorable than Oregon ones, in case anyone was watching. Still, the Nissan was a better choice than the truck, which was definitely too identifiable. If a cop ever attempted to pull her over, however, no matter what vehicle she was in, she was going to make a run for it for all she was worth. Her fake ID wouldn’t hold up for long; technology was just too advanced. Right now, she had Mr. Blue’s .38 in her glove box, too, so, with all those strikes against her should she be caught, she was one of the safest drivers on the road.

She’d dressed in a pair of black slacks, her only pair as she tended to wear jeans, T-shirts, and casual jackets or jogging gear as a rule. She’d had to buy herself a blouse, light gray and conservative, at Macy’s. She’d thought about how she would approach the school and had changed her mind. She wasn’t going to apply for a job, after all. She was going to present herself as a parent who was moving to the area and wanted to preview the school. No worry this way that someone might actually try to look up her employment record.

She gave a last check to her appearance in the rearview: the swept up light brown hair, fake pearl earrings, heavy face makeup, eyeliner and mascara, pale pink lips. She forced a smile at herself and recognized the cautiousness in her hazel eyes. She didn’t think that could be helped.

On her way to the school, she’d turned down the street that would take her past Stefan Harmak’s house. Maybe tonight she could find a way to sneak in with the .38. The thought of shooting him in cold blood bothered her more than she cared to admit. She didn’t mind taking the sick fucks out, but she definitely preferred a more indirect method. Not that she couldn’t do it. She could . . . she had . . . but generally only if they attacked her first.

As she’d drawn close to the Harmaks, she’d seen that the newspeople had dispersed for the moment. More pressing stories were always developing. Didn’t mean they wouldn’t be back, though. Stefan’s mother’s car was in the drive and as Lucky drove by, her heart jolted a bit to see the woman herself come outside with Stefan walking behind her, head down, in jeans and a sweatshirt, both of them heading toward her vehicle.

As soon as Lucky could, she turned onto the nearest street, pulling into one of the driveways, then backing out. She’d then faced back in the direction she’d come just in time to see Stefan’s mother’s car shoot past. Were they going to Twin Oaks? That was the direction they were taking. Even with her different look, Lucky had worried that she might run into Stefan at the school, so she’d followed them, hoping that wasn’t the case.

It wasn’t. Stefan’s mother turned before she reached the school and, at a distance, Lucky had followed them. Stefan and/or the police hadn’t found his van yet, apparently, as she’d had the impression he didn’t want to be anywhere near his mother and yet they were carpooling.

They drove to a nearby Albertsons grocery store. Lucky had stayed back, watching through her windshield. Stefan’s mother climbed out of the car and stared back in at her son through the open driver’s door, clearly pissed. It appeared she wanted him to get out of the car and go in with her, and she wasn’t moving until he did. With great reluctance and a slamming of the passenger door, Stefan stalked after her but stayed about ten feet away.

Lucky had smiled faintly, pulled out of the parking lot, and driven directly to Twin Oaks, reasonably sure that Stefan was otherwise engaged for the time being.

Now she walked toward the front of the school, mentally practicing what she would say. There was a guard at the door as she entered, which made her heart flutter a bit, but he just smiled at her as she made her way to the front counter and offices.

A woman at the desk with flyaway dyed brown hair and a harried look glanced up at her. “May I help you?”

Lucky launched into her rehearsed tale. “My name’s Alicia Trent and my husband and I are moving to the area. Our son, Joshua, is a fourth grader, and he’ll be finishing up at his school in Phoenix in December. I wanted to learn something about each elementary school.”

“What would you like to know?” She shot a worried look toward the guard and there was something about it that made Lucky realize he was a new addition. Possibly because of what had happened to Stefan.

“Could you tell me a little about the principal and your teaching staff?”

“Amy Lazenby, our principal, is absolutely great. Everybody loves her. But I’m not sure she could see you right now. She’s really busy.... Umm . . .” Her eyes tracked back to the guard again. “Our assistant principal, Dave DeForest, might be available. He could tell you about the fourth-grade teachers.”

She swiveled around in her chair and looked at one of the closed doors behind the counter. “Just a minute,” she said, then got up from the chair and, walking as if her knees seriously hurt, moved with an effort to the door and gave it a light knock. There was a soft rumble from an impatient voice within and the woman shot Lucky a smile, holding up one finger, before disappearing inside the room.

Lucky wasn’t picking up the noxious sensation she had earlier. Maybe her quarry wasn’t even here today. Maybe it had come from one of the kids’ fathers instead of a teacher. All she knew for certain was that it had emanated from a man bent on ill deeds; she knew that feeling—scent—well.

Her eyes traveled over the flyers and posters and notes stuck into the bulletin boards that lined the walls surrounding the central desk. She realized a “Fun Night” was scheduled that very evening, a fund-raiser of some kind with a Halloween theme. As the woman made her way back to the counter, Lucky read the nameplate on her desk—MARYANNE. “Would Joshua’s potential teacher perhaps be at this ‘Fun Night’?” Lucky asked her as she reseated herself with a long sigh.

She glanced at the poster. “Oh . . . yeah . . . Most all the teachers attend, if they can. The kids love it. We’re just, umm . . . It may have to be canceled.”

“Oh?”

But Maryanne didn’t elaborate. Instead, she said, “I’m sorry, Dave is busy right now, too. You could wait . . . or maybe come back later?”

“Do you have some paperwork I could look at? A listing of staff, maybe . . . or a calendar of events . . . ?”

“Oh, sure.” She yanked open a drawer and fingered through some files. “I might need to print off another yearly calendar.” Muttering to herself, she slammed the drawer closed, got up again, and made her way slowly toward a back room whose door was open. Lucky could see a bank of file cabinets as Maryanne disappeared within.

Dave DeForest’s office door suddenly opened and he called out impatiently, “Maryanne?” Then louder, “Maryanne?” When his gaze fell on Lucky he stopped short.

“Could I help you?” he asked, his whole manner changing as he came toward her with a smile.

Yeah, asshole,
Lucky thought, knowing the paunchy man with the receding hairline liked what he saw. “Are you Mr. DeForest? I’m Alicia Trent. I’m doing a little research on your school in case my son goes here.”

“Ah, yes.” He, too, looked at the guard, a line drawing between his brows. Thinking a moment, he stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels slightly. “I’ve got a little bit of time, as it turns out.”

“Wonderful.” Lucky smiled with an effort. He wasn’t the man she sought. She was reading nothing from him other than the fact that he found her attractive and suddenly had lots of time to spend with her. But he was just the kind of male she couldn’t stand: bullying, self-important, convinced he was God’s gift to women. She didn’t need her sixth sense to pick that up.

Once more she launched into her tale about her mythical husband and fourth-grader, finishing with “. . . so, we’re deciding between two houses, and one of them’s very close to Twin Oaks.”

“Well, whichever house you decide on, you can still choose us as your son’s elementary school. We’re all part of the same school district and we have some flexibility. On this side of town, Twin Oaks and several other elementary schools feed into Brandyne Junior High and Rutherford High School. All great schools. On the other side, the elementary schools feed into Sunset Junior High and Laurelton High. The only issue is the bus route. If you buy on the other side of town, and want to come here, you’ll have to drive your son.”

“So, it doesn’t matter where we buy, as long as it’s in Laurelton.”

“Well . . . we like to think Twin Oaks is the best, of course,” he said with a slow smile.

“Of course.”

“May I say, you don’t look old enough to have a fourth-grade son,” DeForest said.

Lucky eyed him sharply, worried for a moment before she realized he was just paying her a compliment, awkward as it sounded. Before she could respond, Maryanne trundled back with a sheaf of papers. “Gotta have that surgery or I’ll be in a wheelchair before Christmas,” she muttered. “Here’s the school calendar. I don’t have a full staff listing at hand, but I wrote down the names of the fourth-grade teachers. All of them are wonderful.” She slid a look DeForest’s way. “Your conference call is finished?”

“Yes. I was looking for you,” he said coolly.

“I was getting Mrs. Trent what she asked for. My knees, you know.”

DeForest didn’t look like he much cared, though his gaze practically caressed Lucky.
Horny old dog,
she thought. She’d been down this road too many times to count, but sometimes horny old dogs could be useful to her.

“Can anyone attend Fun Night?” Lucky asked. “If it comes off?”

“Oh, it’s definitely on,” DeForest declared, shooting Maryanne a dark look. “We’re very old-school here, so to speak. It’s one of our primary fund-raisers, along with our silent auction in the spring, but the kids just love Fun Night. You can buy tickets at the door,” he told Lucky. “Bring your son, and husband,” he added as an afterthought.

“We don’t know that it’s really going to—” Maryanne began, looking at the guard.

“We had a strange thing happen,” DeForest cut her off, his attention on Lucky, “and it got some parents worried. There was talk of postponing Fun Night.”

“What happened?” Lucky asked, her pulse running light and fast.

Maryanne and DeForest exchanged looks and then he said reluctantly, “Someone pulled a prank on one of the aides. Tied him to a basketball pole, out in the playground.”

“It was on the news,” Maryanne said.

“That was at this school?” Lucky asked, pretending to be shocked.

“It was a prank. Nothing more,” DeForest assured her quickly.

“Do they know who did it?” she asked.

Maryanne shook her head and rubbed her knees. “That’s why we have the guard now. Amy wanted to be sure everyone was safe. You know, with the way things are now. If one of those psychos should come in here, I’d be a sitting duck with these knees. Couldn’t help myself, let alone the kids!”

“Let’s not get hysterical,” DeForest said. “It was just a prank. We brought the guard in just to calm fears so we could still have Fun Night. I hope this doesn’t put you off, Mrs. Trent.”

“No. It’s all about protecting the kids,” she said with a nod.

“Here, here,” DeForest said.

“Let’s face it. There are some dangerous sickos out there,” Lucky added, getting into her role.

“You can say that again,” Maryanne declared.

“I hope you’ll come,” DeForest said.

“I might. But I’d be by myself. My husband and son are still in Phoenix.”

A smile spread across DeForest’s fleshy face. “Don’t let that stop you. I’ll be by myself, too.”

Maryanne’s head jerked around and she murmured, “I thought Patti was coming with you.”

“She’s not sure,” he said stiffly.

Lucky left them eyeing each other like adversaries. She hadn’t picked up any vibes, but maybe her quarry was still in the building, just too far away for her to feel him. Or, maybe he was a parent. Either way, she thought she might show up for Fun Night and see if she could pinpoint him. If Stefan Harmak decided to attend, of course, things could get too risky.
You have to get rid of him once and for all,
she reminded herself. From the news reports she’d seen, it didn’t appear that he’d revealed that he’d been abducted by a woman, which gave her extra camouflage—except if she were to come face to face with him.

Climbing into the Sentra, her gaze traveled to the closed glove box and the gun that she knew lay within it. Though shooting him wasn’t her preferred way to kill Harmak, it might be the most effective way to get the deed done.

Tonight,
she thought.

 

 

The girl behind the circular counter at Stafford Animal Clinic had long brown hair tucked behind her right ear to show a line of silver studs marching along the inside shell of her ear. There was another stud beneath her lower lip that glimmered under the floodlights above the counter. “Can I help you?” she asked, just as loud, frantic barking broke out somewhere in one of the back rooms.

September and Wes showed her their identification and the girl’s eyes widened. Wes said, “We’d like to speak to someone about an ex-employee named Ben Quade.”

“Umm . . . there was no Ben Quade. We had a Bill Quade for a while, but he quit. Well, actually, he was kinda let go.”

“Do you know why?” September asked.

She looked behind her, to the closed doors beyond. “Umm . . . I don’t want to get anybody in trouble, but . . . he was caught trying to steal something.”

“Ketamine hydrochloride?” September tried.

“Oh, you know.” The girl relaxed. “Good Dr. Amato caught him and told him to get out. Bill was pretty pissed and dropped some F-bombs and left.”

“Dr. Amato is one of the vets here?” September asked.