Jeffery Deaver - Solitude Creek

‘Was it a tough divorce?’ O’Neil asked. Good delivery, Dance thought. They’d rehearsed the line on the drive here.

‘Oh, yeah, really mean. It was awful. They said really bad things about each other.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Dance offered.

‘It totally sucked, yeah.’

Dance added, ‘Hard about the money too, I imagine. The alimony payments?’

‘Oh, yeah. I think they called it something else.’

‘Maintenance,’ O’Neil chimed in. Of the two of them, Dance and O’Neil, he was the only one with first-hand experience of the dissolution of a marriage.

‘Oh, yeah, that’s it. They don’t know that I know. But I heard them talk. Really big checks. Like fifteen thousand a month.’

Dance assumed that, while child support would go on as long as Trish was under eighteen, maintenance payments would terminate upon the death or remarriage of the ex-spouse. So Martin would save nearly two hundred K a year. For a man living in a small house in the valley, presumably with limited income, that could be a huge windfall.

Motive number two.

And Martin would have known Michelle would be at the club. He would have given instructions to the unsub to make sure the girl was safe.

Or would he?

Dance felt her gut flip. If the girl had died too, was her father the beneficiary of her will? Would he have gotten the entire house and estate back?

Then Trish was saying, ‘It’s, like, too bad Dad’ll lose all that.’

‘Too bad... what?’ Dance asked.

‘I mean, he does okay at his job but he could really use that money. Trying to go back to school and everything.’

Silence for a moment. The girl’s words spun like a top through Dance’s thoughts.

‘Your mother was paying your father alimony?’ she asked.

‘Yeah.’

O’Neil asked, ‘Why did your parents get divorced?’

Trish looked down. ‘My mom kind of cheated on him. And he’s such a nice guy. Really cool. But Mom, she just sort of... you know, she ran around a lot. And not just with one guy but a bunch of them. Dad worked part time to raise me and put Mom through school. He didn’t finish his degree. So when he found out she’d been cheating on him and went for the divorce, the judge made her pay alimony. I mean, maintenance. Man, I don’t know what he’s going to do now for money.’

Frederick Martin’s motive for killing his wife vanished.

Dance would have TJ check out the facts but she’d be very surprised to find any variation. It was obvious the girl was telling the truth.

‘Well, thanks for your help, Trish. I’ll let you know if we find anything else.’

‘You really think somebody hurt Mom on purpose, to get out of the club?’

‘It doesn’t seem likely, what we’re learning,’ O’Neil said.

‘If they did,’ the girl said, ‘I don’t really blame them. What happened that night, the panic and everything, it wasn’t human beings doing that. Like you can’t blame a tornado or an earthquake. They don’t think, they don’t plan on doing anything bad. They just happen.’

At her desk, O’Neil beside her, Dance answered the phone. ‘’Lo?’

‘Boss.’

‘TJ. On speaker with Michael,’ Dance told him.

‘Hey, Michael. I love it when people say they’re on speaker. Think of all the juicy things they were about to say but can’t.’

‘TJ?’

‘I pulled strings and got into the courthouse. Yes, on Sunday. The girl’s story checks out. Trish. It’s confirmed. I read the settlement agreement and court documents, talked to the lawyers. Frederick Martin had zero to gain if his ex was gone. He had negative to gain — except it’s not like you gain anything negative. You know. Anyway, it’s going to cost him a lot now that she’s dead. Michelle didn’t leave much to her daughter either. The house, in trust, is hers but it’s mortgaged to the throat. Trish gets a small stipend. Somebody named Juan got the rest but it’s only fifty K. Not worth killing for. Yep, I said Juan. I’m betting the pool boy.’

Dance sighed.

‘Good theory, though, boss. You’ve got two more fatalities at Solitude Creek. Maybe they were the intended victims.’

O’Neil said, ‘We thought of that and I looked at them, TJ. One was a college student, one was a woman in her twenties — there with a bachelorette party. No motive that we could find.’

‘Back to Square A. You need me in the office, boss?’

‘No. Just track down that company in Nevada, the one doing the surveying at Solitude Creek. Give me an update in the morning.’

‘Will do, boss.’ He disconnected.

O’Neil seemed preoccupied.

Dance looked at the time. She said, ‘Oh, wanted to ask. You do any more thinking about Maggie’s talent show? Tonight at seven?’

We might have plans. I’ll let you know. Bring a friend?

‘Oh, I should’ve mentioned. Can’t make it. Tell her I’m sorry.’

‘Sure. No worries.’

Together they walked out of the office and made their way to the exit. Dance noticed the Guzman Connection task-force conference room was dark, Foster, Steve Two, Allerton and Gomez gone for the night.

In the parking lot O’Neil and Dance walked to their cars, parked beside each other.

‘What a case, hmm?’

‘Yep,’ he replied. They stood together for a moment. Then he said, ‘Night.’

That was all. She nodded. They got into the cruiser and the Pathfinder respectively, and without another look they drove to the highway and turned in different directions.

A half-hour later she was home.

‘Mom!’ Maggie was waiting on the front porch.

Dance had called and told her daughter she was on the way. But Maggie looked agitated. Had she been concerned that Dance was going to be late? Or was she troubled that her mother had shown up on time and there was no excuse to miss the show? Even though Maggie’d changed her mind about singing Dance knew she wasn’t looking forward to it.

‘Give me a few minutes and then we’ll be on our way. Go get dressed.’

Her daughter had a special costume for the event.

Together they walked inside and Maggie disappeared into her room. Dance kissed Boling.

He whispered, ‘How’re you feeling?’ Touching her face gently.

‘Fine. You?’

‘My bandage’s bigger than your bandage.’

She laughed and kissed him again. ‘We’ll compare bruises later.’ She saw Wes and Donnie on the back porch. They weren’t playing their game but intently looking over a Japanese comic. ‘Hi, boys!’

‘Hi, Mrs Dance.’

‘Hey, Mom.’

‘We leave in fifteen. Donnie, you want to come to Maggie’s class’s show? At the grade school. It’s at seven. We can have you home by nine.’

‘No, that’s okay. I’ve gotta get home.’

Wes slipped the comic into his book bag.

Dance had a sip of the wine Boling had ready for her, then headed upstairs for a shower and a change of clothes.

She stripped off her outfit, which she now detected smelled of smoke — oil and rubber smoke. Might be destined for the trash. She ran the shower and stepped under the stream of hot water, feeling a one-two stab of pain: the right side of her torso from the pulled muscle and her cut cheek. She let the water pound her for five full minutes, then stepped out and toweled off.

Examining the facial injury, she noted that the cut would leave a scar and that the bruise was striving to conquer more of her face. Probably should have had it looked at in the ER, after all.

She thought wryly of the curious dynamics of her life. Caught in a stampeding herd of theme-park patrons, squeezing into an elevator car to rescue a pregnant woman and a choking victim... and now off to a ten-year-old’s talent show.