Walleye Junction (33 page)

*   *   *

Kyle and Emma stepped out onto the porch at the same time Macy was parking the car in front of Francine Long's house. Emma was dressed casually in jeans and a T-shirt, and Kyle was wearing fishing gear. Macy checked the car's mirrors. The street appeared to be empty. She grabbed her bag and opened the door. Given his aunt and uncle's involvement in her father's murder, Kyle Miller was the last person Macy expected to see with Emma Long.

Neither Kyle nor Emma waved as Macy walked up the driveway. Emma leaned in and said something to Kyle. Macy thought she may have said
be brave
. Kyle smiled slightly.

“Detective Greeley,” said Emma, holding out her hand. “You've met Kyle Miller.”

“I have,” said Macy, noticing that Emma's hair was wet. “Emma, I need to speak to your mother again. Do you know when she'll be home?”

“I'm expecting her anytime now.” Emma tilted her head to the front door. “We just heard the news about what happened at Dr. Whitaker's Clinic. Do you think he's going to be okay?”

“He's in the ICU. The prognosis is very good.”

Emma looked relieved. “They're saying it was the same man who'd tried to rob him for drugs on a previous occasion. You'd think they'd have more security.”

Macy noticed Kyle seemed to be a little uncomfortable. He kept glancing up the road toward town, probably fearful that he'd see Francine's car.

“The world would be a very sad place if doctor's offices started needed security guards,” said Macy. “Kyle, I know you get asked this a half dozen times a day by someone at the Walleye PD, but have you heard anything at all from your cousin Sean? We really need him to come forward. The longer he stays away the more guilty he looks.”

“It's really upsetting for me too,” said Kyle. “I don't understand what's got into Sean. I've sent him a dozen texts begging him to come home, but so far I've heard nothing.”

They all looked up as a car passed by the house.

“I best be going,” said Kyle. He turned to Emma. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“I'm the one who should be thanking you for the ride home,” Emma said.

“Anytime,” he said, shaking Macy's hand once more before moving away from the front porch.

The sunlight caught his face. Macy noticed bruising around his nose and eyes.

“Looks like you've got quite a shiner there,” said Macy.

Kyle cracked a smile as he headed toward a new pickup truck that was parked along the road.

“Entirely my fault,” he said. “I accidently ran into a drunk guy's elbow.”

*   *   *

Emma and Macy sat at the kitchen table drinking coffee while they waited for Francine's return. The back door was open and a fresh breeze blew through the house. A wet bath towel hung on the back of one of the kitchen chairs. The remnants of what looked like breakfast for two were stacked next to the sink. Kyle had not only given Emma a ride home, it appeared that he'd stayed in the house while she showered and then sat down for breakfast with her. Macy wanted to ask why Kyle had been in the house but knew when to keep her mouth shut. Kyle wasn't a suspect. Emma's private life was her own business.

“I know what you're thinking,” said Emma.

Emma had a cup of coffee in one hand and a smartphone in the other. Macy was pretty sure this was her standard pose. Macy picked up her own cup and took a sip.

“I'm in no position to judge other people's choices,” said Macy.

Emma cracked a smile. “You think we're seeing each other.”

“It crossed my mind.”

“We're not. We're just friends.”

“I'm just telling you how I saw it. How other people will see it.”

“Two people can talk,” said Emma. “It doesn't have to mean anything.”

Macy wasn't sure where this conversation was going. For some reason Emma felt compelled to explain the situation to Macy, when she really should have been talking to Kyle. There was something about Kyle's demeanor that made Macy think that he might be interested in being more than friends with Emma. He'd tried to hide it, but he'd been hanging on her every word and gesture.

“Like I said,” said Macy. “I'm in no position to judge, but I saw how Kyle was looking at you. You may only see him as a friend, but I'd guess his feelings are stronger.”

The front door opened and Francine bustled into the kitchen. She went straight to her daughter, holding her tight in a long hug.

“It's over sweetheart,” said Francine. “The man who died at Peter's office was wanted in connection to the investigation.”

Emma glanced over at Macy. “Is this true?”

Macy frowned. She'd hoped Joel Edwards's name would stay out of the public domain for a little longer, but as Francine was once employed at the doctor's office, it wasn't surprising that she'd been told the news already. Macy chose her words carefully.

“Joel Edwards was wanted for questioning because he was a convicted felon who'd become friendly with Carla Spencer in drug rehab. He'd not checked in with his parole officer in the two weeks since your father was kidnapped. As of yet there's no physical evidence to link him to your father's murder.”

Francine put her purse on the table and took off her jacket. Her cheeks were flushed. It almost looked as if she'd been running.

“Everyone was saying that he was the third kidnapper,” said Francine.

“I'd like this to be over too,” said Macy. “But we have to make sure we get this right.”

Macy apologized to Francine for coming to see her without making an appointment.

“There have been a few developments,” said Macy. “I thought it best that we speak again.”

“I need to get to the hospital to see Peter,” said Francine.

“Peter Whitaker is in the ICU. I'm not even allowed to see him. It's come to our attention that your husband may have been working on a feature about prescription painkiller abuse. We've received two anonymous e-mails on the subject. The source implies that this story is the reason your husband was kidnapped and murdered.”

Francine unwound a scarf from around her neck and sat down in the empty chair.

Macy continued. “According to Emma, it was a subject that interested your husband greatly.”

Francine nodded. The color in her cheeks was quickly fading.

“Over the past three years, eighteen of Dr. Whitakers patients have died from taking drugs he prescribed to them. It is the second highest fatality rate in the state of Montana. He's settled out of court with patients' families for $2.4 million.”

“I didn't know,” said Francine.

Emma finally spoke up. “But this seems so straightforward to me. It's clear that Joel Edwards was involved. He probably wanted money for drugs. The fact that my father's story might have been about Whitaker is irrelevant.”

“At this point I'm still considering all options,” said Macy. “From a legal standpoint, Dr. Whitaker has done nothing wrong. None of the deaths of the patients under his care were ruled suspicious. At the moment I'm trying to establish whether this morning's events at his clinic are linked to the kidnapping or just a tragic coincidence. According to their drug rehabilitation counselor, Joel Edwards was highly dependent on Carla Spencer's support in rehab. It may be that her death pushed him over the edge.”

Francine looped her scarf back and forth around her hands as Macy spoke.

“Mom,” said Emma. “Is there something you're not telling us?”

Francine spoke softly. “Sometimes I got a little frightened working at that clinic. Some seedy characters came through that office. They were always trying their luck. I think it's called ‘shopping.' They'd go to multiple offices looking for a doctor who was willing to prescribe them painkillers even when they didn't need them. They could be very intimidating. Peter had a lot of cash at the office so he could never be too careful.”

“Why was there so much cash?”

“A lot of patients paid in cash.” Francine's smile was limp. “Sometimes I felt more like a bank teller than a receptionist.”

“What does Whitaker do about the patients who are
shopping
for drugs?”

“He always sees them. He once told me that it's impossible to tell whether someone's pain is real or imagined until they've been examined thoroughly.”

“And does he give them what they came for?”

“If Peter felt their pain was genuine he wouldn't deny them relief.”

The doorbell rang.

“That will be my friend Sarah,” said Francine, rising from her chair. “If you'll excuse me, I have to go. She's giving me a ride to Collier. I may not be able to visit Peter, but I feel I should be there for him.” She wound her scarf back round her neck and grabbed her jacket. “Emma, I'll give you a call later and let you know when I'll be home.”

*   *   *

Macy picked up her phone and called Lou Turner as soon as she was in her car.

“Are you still at the Whitaker's office?” asked Macy.

“Just wrapping things up here.”

“I just spoke to Francine Long. According to her there were a lot of seedy characters moving through Dr. Whitaker's office. She said that they were ‘shopping' doctors to see who'd prescribe them painkillers.”

“Might be why Whitaker normally has a security guard on duty.”

“Where the hell was he this morning?”

“He had a flat tire and called in to say he'd be late,” said Lou. “Showed up an hour ago with a spare on his car, so I don't have reason to doubt his story.”

“We should still check. What company does he work for?”

“Flathead Valley Security.”

“Kyle Miller works for the same company.”

“Kyle Miller isn't a suspect. He's got a solid alibi.”

Macy started up the engine and pulled away from the curb.

“I'm just leaving Francine Long's house,” said Macy. “You should know that Kyle was on his way out the door when I arrived. He and Emma appear to be close.”

“I'm surprised Francine let him in her front door.”

“Francine didn't get home until after he was gone.”

“Did he do or say anything suspicious?”

“Maybe. When Emma asked about what happened at Whitaker's office, the question of security came up. Emma was surprised that there was none. Kyle was standing right there and said nothing. He must know that his company handles Whitaker's security.”

“Might be something else,” said Lou. “Kyle would have realized then and there that someone at Flathead Valley Security screwed up big time, and he didn't want to admit his company's culpability.”

“I hear you, but he has ties with the kidnappers and Dr. Whitaker, and he may know Joel Edwards through his church group visits to the homeless camp. We should look into it further. Did the security guard have any reason to believe that his car was intentionally vandalized? He may have heard something. Someone may have been seen in the neighborhood.”

“For all we know it was Joel Edwards that flattened the tire,” said Lou. “Delaying the guard's arrival at Whitaker's clinic would have cleared the way for him.”

“Anything from Gina and the patrol officers we sent to the homeless camp?”

“Nothing so far, but I got word they're on their way back into town.”

“Okay,” said Macy. “Let's meet up at the station in a half hour and compare notes. I still need to read the witness statements from the clinic.”

“I'm going to be a little late coming in,” said Lou. “I think I'm going to pay the security guard a visit. Give me a call if Gina has any news. Last I heard Ryan was waist deep in Joel's car. He may have something to report as well.”

*   *   *

Macy checked the messages on her phone as she wove between the desks inside Walleye Junction's police department. Aiden had been trying to get in touch since the previous day, but she hadn't had time to return his calls. Her phone rang as she was writing him a message.

“Just a second, Mom,” said Macy.

Macy ducked into the incident room. She slumped down into a chair and closed her eyes for a second.

“Macy,” asked Ellen. “Are you there still?”

“Barely. I closed my eyes for a second and almost drifted off.”

“I've just returned home from Luke's doctor's appointment.”

Macy's eyes popped open.

“Is he okay?”

“Yes, it was a routine visit. Flu vaccine.”

“I forgot that was scheduled for this week. How'd he take it?”

“Like a trooper,” said Ellen. “All was forgotten by the time we arrived at the ice cream parlor.”

“That's my boy,” said Macy.

“Any chance things are winding down with the investigation? It would be nice to have you home.”

“We're running out of suspects, so it's just a matter of time now.”

Ellen laughed. “Do you always arrest the last one standing?”

“Something like that.” Macy looked up. Ryan was out in the hallway making faces at her through the glass partition.

Macy was dead tired but smiled anyway. “Mom, I gotta go,” she said. “I'll call you later. Give Luke a hug from me. And don't worry. I'll be home soon.”

“I love you sweetheart.”

“Love you too.”

*   *   *

Ryan swept into the room and grabbed the chair next to Macy. He took a sip of coffee from a large takeaway cup. The barista had written IAN in capital letters across the side.

“Someone out there loves Macy,” said Ryan, cozying up to her. “Was that Aiden on the phone or have you already moved on?”

“Ryan, don't be awful. It was my mom.”

Ryan looked disappointed. “That's no good. I can't make fun of Ellen. She won't invite me to your place for Thanksgiving anymore.”