Дэвид Балдаччи - Walk the Wire

“He was,” said Judith. “I made him some tea to help him calm down. That’s when he told me what happened.”

Decker eyed Kelly, who looked both concerned and confused.

“Did you tell anybody else about this?” asked Jamison.

“No,” said Robert. “Look, it’s the government. I don’t want to get mixed up in any of that. I’m just a farmer. We want to be left alone, that’s all.”

Judith said excitedly, “Do you think this has anything to do with Ms. Cramer and Pammie?”

“It might,” said Kelly, while Decker sat back and stared at the ceiling, lost in thought.

Jamison said, “Did you know Pamela and Irene Cramer?”

Judith nodded. “I knew Pammie pretty well. She didn’t like it here. Our son is only one, so he’s not in school, but I helped out Ms. Cramer some in the schoolroom. I helped the last teacher we had, too.”

“Did Cramer ever say anything to you that seemed odd? Did she mention the Air Force facility?”

“No, never.” Judith paused. “She did ask me where in the Colony I lived.”

“And you told her?” said Jamison.

“Yes. It was funny, though.”

“What was?” Jamison said quickly.

“Well, we practice communal living here. And with a lot of Anabaptist colonies, everyone usually lives in little houses next to each other or attached. I know this because my second cousin is a Hutterite, lives in North Dakota, too, only not near here.”

Decker was now eyeing her steadily. “And your point?” he said.

“Well, here there’s enough land for all of us to have our own place, and we each grow some of our own crops. We contribute most of it to the Colony, but we get to keep some for our own use. And folks can grow different things that they might like, that the Colony doesn’t grow collectively.”

“And your point?” Decker said again.

“I told Ms. Cramer about that. And it was just funny what she said. She said to maybe not do that. To maybe not grow our own food.”

“Why would she say that?” asked Jamison, glancing at Decker.

“I don’t know. She never said.”

Decker said urgently, “Where did she teach class here?”

“In the little schoolhouse next to the building where we have the egg production,” said Robert.

“Did she have an office there?”

Judith nodded. “In a room in the back.”

Decker rose. “Can you show us? Now?”

Doris, the Colony teacher, answered their knock. She was in her fifties and dressed like the other women at the Colony but with a different color and pattern for her skirt and scarf. Behind her they could see students ranging in age from six to teens, sitting in separate clusters in the middle of the large room. They all looked at the visitors with both interest and puzzlement.

After Judith introduced Kelly, Decker, and Jamison, Doris explained she was filling in for Cramer.

“It was so terrible about Irene,” she said in a low voice.

“Yeah,” said Decker distractedly. “Look, we need to see Cramer’s office.”

“Oh, all right. It’s this way.”

She led them past the students. Several of the younger boys looked up at the giant Decker in awe, while several of the teenaged boys watched the pretty Jamison every step of the way.

Doris opened the door to a small room and ushered them in.

It was ten-by-ten with one window. A small desk sat in the middle of the room with a straight-back chair slid into the knee-hole. Two metal file cabinets were set against one wall.

On the desk was an ink blotter, a Rolodex, a stack of books, and what looked to be some student journals.

Doris and Judith left them there to look around.

“What are we looking for?” asked Kelly.

“Anything that will help us,” replied Decker.

“Well, that’s kind of vague.”

“Decker thinks that Cramer’s murder might be tied to something in her past. Before she came here.” Jamison glanced at Decker. “Old sins cast long shadows, or something to that effect.”

Kelly looked intrigued by that. “So, before she came here, then? Which is maybe why the Feds are interested?”

Decker nodded. “Yes. I think finding out the reason she came here in the first place will go a long way toward helping find who killed her.”

“So are you thinking her murder had something to do with her past?”

“It’s certainly possible,” noted Jamison.

“Works for me.” Kelly slid open the desk drawers and looked through them, even checking underneath each one. Jamison started going through the books and journals, while Decker popped open one of the file cabinet drawers and began searching.

“Nothing here,” said Kelly, a while later.

“Same here,” said Jamison as she put down the last journal, while Decker was still poring through the file cabinets.

Jamison sat down at the desk and pulled the Rolodex toward her.

“Funny thing to have these days, especially for a young person.”

Decker looked up from the cabinet drawer. “Anything in there?”

Jamison flipped through some of the cards starting with the letter A . “They look to be all empty,” she said. “Why have an empty Rolodex on your desk?”

Decker walked over, took it from her, and started going through each card. Finally, near the end he pulled one out that had some writing on it.

“What letter was that under?” asked Kelly.

Decker said, “I think Cramer was trying to be cute. It was under X , as in ‘X marks the spot.’ And I guess she was counting on the fact that almost no one would search every card.”

“Well, she didn’t count on you,” quipped Jamison.

“What does it say?” asked Kelly.

Decker read off the card. “Lesson Plan C dated December 15th of last year.”

“Any idea what that might mean?” asked Jamison.

In answer, Decker raced back over to the file cabinet, quickly searched through the material there, and pulled out a scheduling binder. He flipped it open to December.

“Okay, on December fifteenth, she’s written the name ‘Bud,’ Green Hills Nursing Home, Williston, North Dakota.” He looked up. “And there’s an address and phone number.”

“Why would she have that written down in a lesson plan?” asked Kelly.

“Well, considering the subterfuge with the Rolodex, she probably didn’t want it listed on her phone but still wanted it around to refer to.”

“Williston isn’t that far from here,” said Kelly. “You want to go check it out?”

“Yes, but call first and see if they have anyone named Bud there.”

Kelly took out his phone, looked at the number on the page, and made the call.

He spoke into the phone for a bit and then waited for about a minute. “They’re checking,” he said. Someone came back on the line and he listened for a few moments. He clicked off and looked at them. “They don’t have anyone named Bud living there. Nor anyone who lived there recently with that name.”

“It might be a nickname,” said Jamison.

“Which means we need to take a trip to Williston,” said Decker.

They left and climbed into the SUV.

“You think this might finally be a break?” said Kelly.

“From your lips to God’s ear,” replied Decker.

“I’ll take a little divine intervention about now,” chimed in Jamison.

“Looks like a nice enough place,” said Jamison as a little over an hour later she steered the SUV into the parking lot of the Green Hills Nursing Home.

They climbed out and went inside. At the front desk was a young woman dressed in blue scrubs.

“May I help you?”

Kelly showed his credentials, as did Decker and Jamison. That got them referred to the supervisor on duty, a woman in her fifties with short, white hair, a portly frame, and a disagreeable look on her face.