Дэвид Балдаччи - The Guilty

“Why didn’t you stay in jail?” asked Robie. “Safer in there for you.”

“Yeah, that’s what someone would say who hasn’t been in a jail cell. It’s not a lot of fun. Besides, I would rather be out here protectin’ my family in case there is some nutjob out there gunnin’ for me.”

“That’s why we’re here.”

“Even so. They’re my responsibility.” He paused. “I know all of this has been a surprise for you. My bein’ married. And havin’ a young son. I hope you and Victoria have been gettin’ along okay. I could understand if there’s some friction there.”

“It’s been fine,” said Robie. “She’s very nice. And I know she loves you very much. And she’s a great mother to Tyler.”

“Yes she is. I’m a very lucky man. Never thought I’d have a second shot like this at happiness.” He grinned like a schoolkid.

Reel said, “Dan, you still haven’t answered one big question for us.”

Dan settled his gaze on her. “Let me guess. Was I or was I not drivin’ the Range Rover that night?”

“You get an A plus. Now an answer would be even better.”

“The fact is, I don’t remember,” said Dan.

Robie and Reel exchanged a glance.

“And you don’t believe me?” said Dan.

Robie answered. “Doesn’t matter if we don’t. And by the way, we don’t. It’ll only matter to the jury. And no one sitting on it will believe that you can’t remember whether you were in the Range Rover that night or not.”

“Are you protecting someone?” asked Reel.

Dan looked at her sharply. “Like who?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking. We know that Victoria, Tyler, and Priscilla were out of town. So who else might be deserving of you falling on your sword?”

“Nobody, because I’m not protectin’ anyone. Maybe I was out that night. Or maybe the two witnesses didn’t see what they thought they saw. I’m not the only one who drives a Range Rover in Cantrell. Clancy had one, too.”

“Damn,” muttered Robie. He stood abruptly.

So did Reel.

They headed out together.

Dan called after them. “Where the hell are y’all goin’?”

Neither one answered him.

The stench of the burned house was still thick in the night air.

They approached Clancy’s destroyed mansion from the front, after having left their car on the other side of the road.

Robie and Reel slipped through the partially opened gates and headed up the walk.

He said, “I don’t know why I didn’t put two and two together before.”

“Range Rovers. How close is this one to your dad’s?”

“Pretty close, if I’m remembering correctly. I only saw it once when I was here the first time.”

They had eaten dinner late, and the time it had taken to drive here meant that it was nearly dark. The low hum of insects, the slithery movements of creatures in the nearby woods, the occasional bark of a fox, and the sounds of something large plopping in the not-too-distant water were their companions as they made their way to the garage.

When they reached it and went inside, Reel said, “So that’s the Bentley where he died?”

Robie nodded. “And there’s the Range Rover.”

They both headed to the rear of the SUV.

Robie had illuminated their path with a flashlight he had brought. The lights in the garage, they had found, were not working.

“There it is,” Reel said, pointing to the hole.

Robie knelt down and examined it more closely.

“Looks like a pistol round all right. And it’s not that old. No rust.”

“So this is the vehicle that was fleeing the scene where Sara Chisum died.”

Using his jacket so as not to mess up any latent prints Robie opened the rear hatch of the Rover and noted the exit hole on the inside of the door.

“My round went through. Let’s see if we can find it.”

They searched for half an hour, being as careful as possible not to disturb any forensics.

But there was no slug.

“That means whoever was driving this knew I’d hit the Rover and when he got back here he searched the back and found the round.”

“But didn’t bother to hide the site of the entry,” noted Reel.

Robie closed the rear hatch door and nodded. “Well, you’d have to take it in to a body shop. And then they might alert the police.”

“So stick it in here and hope nobody notices?”

“Probably,” said Robie.

“Next question. Who was driving it? Because that person murdered Sara Chisum.”

“Pete?” Robie looked around, as though the youngest Clancy would somehow walk into the garage.

“If so, why?”

Robie said, “He found out she knew about the folks his father was blackmailing. Maybe she was blackmailing him. Or wanted a piece of the action. He gets pissed, drives out in the Rover, and kills her.”

“That’s one theory,” said Reel, not sounding convinced. “Although he said he didn’t like guns.”

“And you believed that?”

“Not necessarily, no.”

“What then?”

“We still don’t know who your father is protecting. And I doubt it’s Pete Clancy.”

Robie said, “We’ll have to let Sheriff Monda know about the bullet hole. It’s material evidence in a murder investigation.”

“Right. We’ll see if the guy can manage to investigate this without getting his panties in a wad. But Pete doesn’t have any money, so maybe the good sheriff won’t get scared off like he did with the Wendells.”

Robie walked over to the Bentley and peered inside.

Reel joined him, looking over his shoulder. “Your dad’s prints, hair, and a boot mark in the mud next to the vehicle?”

“Yes.”

“Prints are problematic. It’s not nearly as easy to plant them as TV and the movies make it out to be.”

“He could have been in Clancy’s car before.”

“But they weren’t friends.”

“But I don’t think they were enemies either, up until what happened with Victoria.”

“Did Victoria ever tell you what all that was about? Her and Clancy?”

Robie took a minute to fill her in on what Victoria had told him earlier.

“Well, I guess I can understand that. The lesser of two evils. She didn’t want your father to know about her past. So she caved in to Clancy’s demand. Damn, what a piece of work that guy was.”

“Yeah, well it cost him in the end.”

Reel tapped the top of the Bentley. “Do you really think Pete killed Sara?”

“Anyone could have taken the Range Rover. The garage door is off its roller. Keys were probably hanging on a hook in the kitchen or maybe kept in the garage somewhere. But no, Pete doesn’t strike me as smart or methodical enough to have done this. Slit his father’s throat? Gunned down two young women? Framed my father? Sold us a bill of goods? Hell, he couldn’t even blackmail Wendell without nearly getting killed. Then he runs like a scared kid only to come back with his tail between his legs begging for protection. If he is behind it, the guy is one lucky SOB.”

“And he might be.”

“Or he might be innocent and clueless,” commented Robie.

“Well, he’s sitting in a jail cell right now. Why don’t we go ask him?”

“And you think he’ll tell us the truth?” Robie said skeptically.

“Depends on how we ask him.”

They left the garage and walked toward the main house, which was now merely a jumble of caved-in walls and a partially collapsed roof.

“The bigger they are the harder they fall,” noted Reel. “It’s why I never wanted to be rich. Too much shit to take care of. Eventually, what does it matter anyway, right?”

“Meaning you can’t take it with you?”

“No, meaning you get old and someone, usually your family, is trying to take it away from you while you’re still breathing. Not how I want to spend my golden years.”