J. Black - The Survivors Club

His answer: “I know what you did.”

Jaimie could access the money. No problem with that. Briefly, she thought about calling Michael. But she knew what he’d say. She knew he’d tell her not to do it. And she had to do it. Adele was hers. Adele was more than just a dog—she was the embodiment of what they’d done. Everyone else had gotten a tribute, a prize, except for her. Even Chad, and he didn’t even know why. Just for buying the cougar, he had been given a surfboard, stolen out of Peter Farley’s house. But what did she get? Nothing. So she took her own tribute, her own prize. George Hanley was going to be hers. She’d found him, she’d targeted him. So what if she couldn’t do anything for at least a year?

He was hers, and she’d been cheated out of it.

She tried to tune out the fear she felt. But her mind kept going back to one question: Who would know about the Survivors Club?

Whoever it was, was male. She was pretty sure of that. Even if he disguised his voice with the helium.

But was she really that sure? Couldn’t it be the woman cop?

Was this a trick? Was she trying to lure her out there? Maybe she should talk to Michael.

She needed to get the ten thousand out, though. That would take time. But if this was for real, Jaimie was not going to let whoever it was kill Adele.

She loved Adele.

Jaimie would go and take out the money, first. Then, if she needed to meet this person, if this was really on the up-and-up and somebody had figured this out and it wasn’t the Patagonia cop and if it wasn’t the Tucson cop, then she would go out there.

She ran out to the truck. The hand holding the car alarm button shook so badly she missed the first time. Then she was in the truck and taking off for Wells Fargo.

“Now what?” Danny asked Tess as they drove back to the sheriff’s office.

“I have no idea.”

“It’s confusing, that’s for sure. So what are we thinking here? You really think he killed his wife?”

“It would be hard to prove.”

“Yeah, but what do you think?”

Tess said, “I do. I think he killed Karen, and I think that her nephew was collateral damage.”

“Why, you think?”

Tess stared out at the blacktop winding through the golden hills. The sun baking the windshield, even though it was only April. “He was tired of her? He wanted to be rid of her?”

“Wouldn’t divorce be easier?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe he liked killing her. Maybe he liked getting away with it—you know, like that guy—”

“Drew Peterson?” Danny said.

“He reminds me of that guy. And don’t forget, Karen was five months pregnant.”

Danny whistled. “You think he didn’t want a kid?”

“Who knows?”

“Damn, I can’t imagine that. If that’s true, I want to kill that motherfucker.”

Tess could feel the violence in her usually easygoing partner. Coiled up, ready to strike. The new father—protective.

He darted a glance at her. “What do you think?”

“What do you think?”

“I think he did it. Maybe because of the kid.”

Tess could see Danny’s knuckles white on the steering wheel. She said, “What about George Hanley? Do you think he killed him, too?”

“If he’s a killer, he might get off on it. First the daughter, then come back and finish off the dad. But why now?”

Tess agreed. “There was a long time between the two killings.”

“Yeah. Maybe George had figured it out about his daughter.”

Tess could see that. “You think maybe George contacted him?”

“What, and told him to come clean? How dumb is that?”

“I don’t think George would be that foolish.”

“Me either,” Danny said.

When they got in, they went straight to Bonny. They shut the door and went through it, piece by piece.

At the end of it, Bonny said, “What about Steve Barkman? You think Poole’s good for him, too?”

Tess and Danny looked at each other.

Tess said, “Could be. We’re also looking at Michael DeKoven for Hanley.”

Bonny leaned back. “You saying you think two people could have killed him. And neither one of them is a cartel?”

Danny said, “Might as well throw in the Zetas, Sinaloas, and Alacráns. Hey, it’s a party!”

“Jesus,” Bonny said. “George Hanley couldn’t buy a break.” He looked at Tess and then at Danny. “So who killed Hanley? That’s your case. That’s who you two should care about.”

Tess looked at Danny.

Danny looked at Tess.

“If you had to bet. DeKoven, or Poole?”

She leaned forward. “I could be wrong, but I think it was Poole.”

“The question is,” Danny said, “how do we find him?”

He’d shopped at the Safeway in Continental, so he might be in the Green Valley area. All they had was the description of a white truck—Pat didn’t know one truck from another—but fortunately, Tess knew everything about the truck except for its license plate.

That was because the truck had been muddy up to the wheel wells. She didn’t see the rear of the truck, but she guessed that he’d either muddied the plate or switched plates. What Tess did know was what he looked like, how he moved, how he talked. That broad red face, that friendly smile—open as the outdoors. He probably would continue to play the good old boy; he fit it so well. The other thing she had to go on was that he had been on Jaimie’s property at least once before, because he knew where she hid the key to her house. He had a sociopath’s easy way of lying—completely believable.

Tess wondered what he had been doing in Jaimie’s house.

She called Danny. After chatting about Elena—“She smiles at me!”—and how well Theresa was doing and the family’s participation, his brother surprising them with a homemade cradle—Danny listened to her theory. “So how are we gonna find this guy?”

“I have no idea. We have an Attempt to Locate out there, but unfortunately, there’s not much to go on. Wish I’d seen his license plate.” She thought about it. “If we’re right, he met up with George Hanley at Credo.”

“Which meant George went out especially to meet him. In the late afternoon when no one was around.”

“We need to get a photo of him. I’m sure there’s one from when he worked homicide in Phoenix.”

“Or his California DL.”

A half hour later they had a five-year-old picture of Wade Poole. A half hour after that, Tess drove out see Peter Deuteronomy.

This time the dog must have been inside. When Peter saw her he came out without his rifle. Tess was clearly making progress.

“Peter!” she called from her car, which she had once again parked diagonally so that the engine block was between him and herself. She’d opened the door and stood behind it. Better safe than sorry.

“What do you want now?”

“I want to ask you something about your friend George Hanley.”

“I don’t tattle on my friends. So you’d better go away.”

“Tell you what.” Tess rose and walked out from behind the car door and stood there so he could see her hands were away from her weapon. Just in case. “I think a bad guy killed George. The thumb drive you gave me showed that he was investigating someone, and that’s who I think killed George. You do want to help find George’s killer, right?”