Beverly Connor - Dead Past

“I’ll call him tomorrow. I think he has his hands full right now with Councilman Adler missing.”

“So I guess everything is at a standstill again,” said Jin.

“Until tomorrow,” said Diane. “All of you go home and get some rest.”

She hung up the phone and turned to Frank. “At least we’ve made the Indiana cold case squad happy,” she said.

“I’ll bet,” said Frank. “It’s early. Why don’t we have a quiet several hours of rest, maybe a little TV, and who knows what else? Maybe a little cold pizza.”

“That sounds good to me,” she said, grinning at him.

As soon as the words were out, the phone rang. “Don’t answer it,” he said.

“I’d like not to, but…” She picked it up.

“Diane, this is Cindy. I’m sorry to bother you. Is Frank there?”

“Yes, Cindy. He’s right here,” said Diane.

“Your ex,” she mouthed to Frank.

He frowned and took the phone.

“Is Kevin all right?” he asked. As he listened, his frown deepened. Finally he said, “I’ll be right there.”

He hung up and turned to Diane.

“It’s Kevin. He got his collarbone and arm broken playing hockey and he’s in the hospital. They have to operate on the arm. I have to go.”

“Of course. I’m fine here. I’m going to sleep and won’t wake till morning,” she said.

He kissed her. He smelled like aftershave-the kind that smelled so sexy to her and she could never remember its name. She wished he could stay. A day off for him was such an unexpected gift. She wished she had been here when he got home.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Don’t be. I understand,” she answered. “I’m sorry Kevin’s hurt. Give him my best.”

He kissed her again and left. Diane watched as he walked down the hallway and down the stairs. She sighed, locked her door, turned off the lights, and went to bed.

Sometime during the night she awoke. She didn’t know what had awakened her but she had an uneasy feeling. She looked at the picture of the chambered nautilus on the wall. No reflection of fire. That was a relief. What then? A dream? She got up for a drink of water and looked out the window. The reflection of the streetlights sparkled off every surface. Ice. It had been sleeting again. Maybe that’s what it had been, the sound of limbs breaking under the weight of the freezing rain. Maybe, but something else tugged at her mind. Something she was forgetting, that was just now making its way to the surface.

In the distance through the barren trees a spot of light shined brightly at her and then was gone. As she watched, the light flickered bright again, and again, moving back and forth in some pattern of activity. She was certain it came from the direction of the burned-out house. Her stomach knotted. Who could be at the crime scene in the middle of the night, and what were they doing?

She dressed quickly in warm clothes and boots and left her apartment building. She considered taking her car but decided not to. Sleet was falling, icing over the streets. She walked across the street, past the darkened houses and into the small copse of trees. Except for her, there was no one about. She stopped just before coming out of the woods and looked across the next street at the charred rubble of the meth house. She could now see moving shadows cast against the surrounding trees by a light shining up from the blackened hole in the ground that used to be the basement. How perfectly odd.

She took her phone from her pocket and called the police station. She told them who she was and what she saw. They said they would send someone to investigate. She would stay here and wait.

In the darkness, as she looked at the sad rubble of so many lives, a realization flashed through her mind like someone flipping pictures. She understood what the evidence meant-the evidence she and her team had overlooked because they didn’t understand it. The silver charm and the blond hair. They were planted on the bodies of Blake Stanton and Eric McNair as memorials to one of the victims killed in the explosion and fire. She knew who murdered Stanton and McNair, and why-and she knew where Adler was. She took her phone again and tried to dial out. This time she had no battery. She had forgotten to plug in the charger.

Diane looked around for anything to use as a weapon. She found a broken branch. Perhaps not heavy enough, but it would have to do. She walked across the street to the blackened house site. The charred wood creaked as she knelt down and looked inside the burned-out basement. She saw Adler tied to a chair, his mouth bound with duct tape. In front of him someone had lined up photographs leaning against a log of charred wood. She knew who they were-not a name, but she had seen them before.

Diane took a step back, but she was jerked backward. She fell; the back of her stitched and tender head hit the snow-covered ground. She was dazed. She tried to get up, but was pushed back down. Her weapon was gone. Diane tried to focus her eyes. When the momentary blur went away she was staring down the barrel of a gun.

The sad-faced woman looking for her daughter held it, the woman who had appealed to her in the coffee tent and showed her pictures of her daughter-the same pictures now in front of Adler. The woman she saw walking to her car alone from the Student Learning Center when they were looking for Star.

“You aren’t going to take this away from me,” she said. “This is all I have left.”

“Catherine, don’t do this. Dr. Fallon’s not the bad guy here.” It was Archie Donahue.

“Archie,” said Diane, “I was so hoping you weren’t part of this.”

“I know you were. I came to see you today to explain,” he said. “Catherine’s my sister. Kimberlyn was her daughter, my niece. She was the girl who was pregnant. We didn’t know, but the baby would have been Catherine’s only grandchild.” He stopped and almost cried from the pain. “That was her hair you looked at. That was our Kimberlyn’s hair.”

“I am so sorry,” said Diane.

“Catherine, let’s get out of the cold. Let’s talk,” said Archie. “Please.”

“Get up,” Catherine said.

“The police are coming,” said Diane.

“No, they aren’t,” said Archie. “I knew you’d call for back up. I used my partner’s car number and cancelled it. They’ll figure it out sooner or later, but it’ll be too late.”

Too late for what, wondered Diane. Archie helped her up off the ground and led her toward the adjacent house, the one that was empty because of renovations from the fire damage. So, this was where they had been hiding out.

Inside the house was barely warmer than the outside. The only lights were from the glow of lanterns. Catherine pushed Diane down in a chair.

“It’s not too late to stop this,” said Diane.

“I don’t want to stop it,” said Catherine. “I want that son of a bitch to know what he’s done. I want him to sit down in that burned-out shell that my baby died in and know what he did to her.”

“You think he was involved in the meth lab?” said Diane.

“I know he was,” said Archie. “McNair and his cousin Eric were up to their necks in the business. His wife doesn’t have money. Catherine lives next door to them. She knows the wife,” said Archie. “McNair was in Adler’s pocket. Adler isn’t clean. Why do you think he gutted the drug unit?”

“I know this is hard…,” said Diane.

Catherine slapped Diane across the face. “You don’t know anything,” she spat at her. “You don’t know anything.”

“Catherine!” said Archie.

Diane looked into her hate-filled eyes. “I know exactly. Someone worse than Adler and McNair killed my daughter, so don’t you dare tell me that I don’t know.”