In Seconds

“Damn, I’d like to think Pat got in a swipe here and there.”

“Against two?”

Myles rolled his eyes at Jared’s heavy skepticism. “You can’t allow me the comfort of one harmless fantasy?”

Puzzled by his response, Jared leaned forward. “How does it bring you comfort if it isn’t what really happened?”

“Forget it.” Myles gave Linda a look of exasperation, but he knew she wouldn’t necessarily agree with him. Although she used to complain about Jared all the time—the mess that surrounded him, his obsessive tendencies, his literal nature—she’d gained a great deal of respect for him over the past two years. Since he had no wife or children with whom to spend his evenings, and would work 24/7 if left to his own devices, she and her husband invited him over for dinner probably twice a week. Other times, she brought him leftovers for lunch.

“I must be hanging out with him too much,” she admitted, “because what he just said actually makes sense to me.”

Myles threw up his hands. “Fine. Let’s face the bitter truth, shall we? Pat had no chance from the beginning. Now tell me about your interviews.”

When they exchanged a questioning glance, Myles had to acknowledge that he was the one acting strange today. He was as tense as Jared had accused him of being, and had been ever since he’d seen Rex standing in Vivian’s kitchen only hours after he’d made love to her at the cabin.

“No one in the other rentals saw anything,” Jared explained. “C.C. is the closest neighbor, but there are trees secluding both residences. And she was vacuuming, had no idea Pat was even showing the cabin.”

“Wouldn’t you know it? With all the folks in Pineview who pay a little too much attention to their neighbors, our murder occurs next to someone who pays no attention whatsoever.”

“It’s a rental. One of several in the area. She sees a lot of people come and go,” Linda said.

“Did anyone along the drive to the cabin spot a vehicle that didn’t belong? That seemed to be going too slow or too fast?”

Jared shook his head. “’Fraid not.”

Myles glanced longingly at his coffee cup. After being amped up on adrenaline for so many hours, he was hitting the skids, but he’d had enough caffeine for one day. “Delbert called me yesterday. Said you already talked to him.”

“Yes. A few times,” Jared said. “He’s been very cooperative.”

“He has an alibi?” Myles hadn’t wanted to ask Delbert where he’d been at the time of his stepfather’s murder, not when he didn’t really consider Delbert a suspect and he had investigators who could do it for him.

Linda took over. “He was at work. Several people have confirmed his presence there, including his boss. But he let me take pictures of his bare torso to show there isn’t a scratch on him.”

Myles rearranged the piles of paper on his desk as he digested what he’d been told. “What about Gertie?”

“No alibi.”

“She’s still in the running for number-one suspect?”

Jared stood. “Why wouldn’t she be? I don’t rule anyone out until I have a reason.”

Myles massaged his temples. “I know.”

“So…do you have what you need for your meeting with the mayor?”

He’d hoped for more. “If that’s all you’ve got.”

“That’s it for now.”

Jared reached for the files, but Myles said to leave them. He wanted to read the interviews himself, get a feel for what people were saying.

He was alone in his office and in the middle of Jared’s notes about his first conversation with Delbert when Deputy Campbell appeared. “Hey, you got a minute?”

Myles looked up. “Sure, what do you need?”

“Trace over at the auto shop wants to know what to do with that Toyota truck Harvey brought in.”

Myles had been planning to go there. “The owners haven’t shown up?”

Campbell popped the top of the soft drink he’d carried in with him. “Trace hasn’t heard from them.”

Myles closed the folder. “Didn’t they ride back with Harvey?”

“No. They said they had a friend picking them up.”

What friend? When he’d been there, they acted as if they were going to ride with the tow. Damn. Had they slipped away already?

“Thanks.” Once Campbell left, Myles went out to retrieve the pad of paper he kept in his car. He’d found “Ron Howard” and Peter Ferguson suspicious enough that he’d written down their registration information. Maybe he could contact them through Quentin, Peter’s older brother…?.

It took minimal time and effort to access a reverse directory. Soon he had the phone number for the residence in Monrovia and a man on the phone who claimed to be Quentin. But, judging by his voice, he was at least fifty years older than Peter.

This couldn’t be the brother Peter had referred to, could it? Maybe it was his father.

Myles explained who he was and what he wanted, but he didn’t get any farther before the man said, “You must’ve run across the fellows who stole my truck.”

The hair on the back of Myles’s neck stood on end. “What are you talking about? It didn’t come up as stolen when I ran the plates.”

“Because I don’t drive it much anymore. I didn’t realize the damn thing was missing until this morning.”

15

Vivian’s hand shook as she used a prepaid calling card Rex had in his pocket and dialed Ellen’s number. She’d agonized over every call she’d placed to her old home since Virgil went to prison. Partially because she couldn’t decide if her mother was as complicit in her stepfather’s murder as she suspected. Partially because reaching out to Ellen felt disloyal to her brother. And partially because any contact increased her desire for resolution, which always seemed to be just one step away—no matter how many steps she took in order to achieve it.

But none of her earlier anxiety could rival what she felt now. Before, the worst she had to worry about was how well she’d be received, and she’d felt fairly confident her mother would, at a minimum, be cordial. Ellen was always cordial, to everyone. Soft-spoken and unconfrontational, she was too indecisive to stand up and fight, even for her children.

Still, the image she projected created an appealing illusion, one of a loving mother wrongfully accused. At times, Vivian was so tempted to believe in Ellen’s innocence, so tempted to reunite and rebuild what they’d lost, that she doubted every decision she’d ever made concerning her mother. Ellen claimed that, at the time Virgil was arrested, she believed the police because of his temper and the fact that he’d threatened more than once to kill Martin if the abuse didn’t stop. He also didn’t have an alibi for the night it happened; he was downstairs in his bedroom, sleeping, and the gunshot didn’t even wake him up.

Vivian hadn’t been home, so she had no idea what happened.

Once Uncle Gary’s marriage fell apart years later, his ex-wife’s conscience finally got the best of her—or she was looking for revenge. Either way, she came forward to tell what she knew and the police began to realize what Vivian’s heart had insisted all along—they had the wrong man. Almost as soon as Gary fell under scrutiny, he confessed that Ellen had asked him to do it. He told detectives that she came to him, insisting Martin would kill her or one of the kids if he didn’t step in. He’d also said she’d offered him half of the insurance money if he’d make Martin disappear for good. Because he was in debt and losing his house, he felt this provided a way out for both of them.

But it was impossible to prove what he’d said. Ellen did give Gary a sizable portion of the money. Was that a payoff for murder? Or because she wanted to help him keep a roof over his family’s heads, as she claimed? It could