Heart of Ice

in order.

Whenever it is that I damn well decide to retire, that is.

Jason Howard signed in the visitors’ log requesting to see inmate 43992, Mitch Crawford. He noticed on the sign-in sheet that visitation outside of his lawyer had been sparse.

“Didn’t know you were a friend of Crawford’s. You’re about the first one. His dad never knew a stranger, but this little jerk doesn’t seem to have much in the way of any loyalty reserves. That’s what I think, anyway,” Jeffery the Jailer disappeared down the corridor, leaving Jason in the processing area with its library table, Formica, and, oddly, a collection of framed Winslow Homer prints.

Jason knew what he was doing was at best, out of the ordinary. At worst, grounds for some kind of disciplinary action. He didn’t care. He’d grown weary of having Emily treat him as if he was the coffee-fetcher. She seemed to go to Chris Collier for everything.

Discussions they’d had should have been between the sheriff and me.

He could do more than look over phone records. He didn’t want Emily’s job, just the kind of respect from her that indicated she knew he wasn’t a pimply-faced kid anymore.

Jeffery the Jailer came lumbering into view. “Says he’ll see you. Trial coming up. Maybe you’re here to wish him luck?”

If Jeffery was fishing for information, Jason didn’t offer any.

“Something like that,” he said.

Even if he hadn’t been a deputy, there was no search required. The Cherrystone jail was old-school, with visitation carrels separated by one-inch-thick safety glass. Chris took a seat in an orange molded-plastic chair and looked toward the door.

At the end of the row of carrels, a woman was talking animatedly through the glass. He could only see the back of her head and it was moving back and forth like a slingshot.

“Damn you, Luis, I’m not doing this again,” she said. “I’m done with you!”

Luis Guzman was the only other man in the jail.

That must be Mrs. Guzman, he thought, recalling a name he had seen above his on the sign-up sheet. Give ’em hell, honey.

Mitch Crawford approached from the other side of the room. He no longer looked like the self-absorbed prig that most said he was. His clothes were far from designer; he wore light blue pants with a drawstring waist and a T-shirt that hung loosely over his frame. His skin looked somewhat ashen and sweat beaded along his upper, unshaven lip. He slid into the chair and picked up the phone.

“What do you want?”

“I just want to talk to you.”

“Are you stupid or something? Without my lawyer, I’m not saying a word. You people have had it in for me from the minute Mandy went missing.”

Jason did feel stupid just then. The visit could get real ugly, when he’d only come to try to get a better handle on the Tricia Wilson deposition.

“I’m here about your wife,” he said, pausing, “your ex-wife, Patty.”

“You mean Tricia? That lying bitch!” Mitch’s eyes flashed hate.

“So you say. But can you prove it?” Jason held his tongue. He wanted to end the sentence with a snarky dude. He could see in two minutes why everyone hated Mitch Crawford. “Can you?”

“No. My word against hers. The jury will probably believe her. They always take the word of a woman. They can turn it on, you know.”

“Seems she might have come in to some money,” Jason said. “You wouldn’t happen to know how she could have got her hands on fifty grand?”

“That lowlife bitch? She’d have to blow a lot of guys to make that kind of money, so, no, I don’t know where she could have come up with it. You tell me.”

“Hey, I’m fact-finding here. Let’s go over a few more things. Your computer. Anyone have access to it? Housekeeper? Other family members?”

Mitch shook his head. “No. We run a tight ship at home. I tried to keep Mandy from pissing away our money. You know, tried to keep her on a short leash.”

I’ll bet you did.

“OK, I know that you’ve said you don’t think Mandy was having an affair with anyone, but, of course, we know otherwise. So who do you think it was? Who was she cheating with?”

Mitch Crawford’s face went scarlet, his lips white.

“You don’t think I’ve tried to figure that out? I’ve thought of everyone that bitch came in contact with. Maybe she was boning the mailman? Her doctor? Someone at work? I have no goddamn idea! If I did, I’ll tell you one thing, I wouldn’t be here under false murder charges. They’d have me here for the real thing. I’d kill the guy who screwed my wife and screwed my life.”

“This isn’t about pride. This is about finding out what happened the day Mandy disappeared. You know, the day your wife and unborn baby were murdered. Don’t you want to know, even if just to save yourself?”

A smile came over the inmate’s face. “Of course. I want to clear my name. I don’t want people thinking that I was some pussy who got cheated on by his no-good wife.”

“All right. Question.”

“What?”

“Who had access to your home computer? Think.”

Mitch stared through the glass panel. “I told you no one. We lived alone. We didn’t have cleaning staff. I did keep extra house keys at the dealership, if that makes a difference. I liked to take new cars home, so it was always easier to have some spares around.”

Jason brightened a little. “Now we’re getting somewhere. Who had access to your house keys?”

“No one except Darla, of course.”

“The girl you were banging?” Jason hated the term, but as Mitch Crawford thought of himself as some tough ladies’ man, he just went for it.

“Yeah, her. I’m not proud of it.”

“Did she have anything against Mandy?”

Mitch shrugged. “Just mad that she got everything she wanted. She had me, you know.”

An hour later, Emily found Jason in the front office talking with Gloria. He barely glanced at her. She could feel a chill in the air and knew it had nothing to do with the weather outside.

“I need to talk with you,” she said. “In my office, if that’s OK?”

Emily looked at Gloria, then back at Jason.

“All right. This sounds serious.”

They faced each other across her desk.

“Jason, I understand you went to the jail to see Mitch Crawford. What in the world were you thinking?”

“Were you spying on me or something?”

“God, no. Cary McConnell called. He says that his client called. This isn’t how we run a case. You know that.”

Jason’s eyes were downcast.

“You’ve been treating me like some kind of lackey around here, Sheriff.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“You do. You go to Chris for everything. He doesn’t work here. I do.”

Emily knew Jason was right and she felt so foolish for not considering his feelings, and even more so for not recognizing that his ability was far beyond coordinating witness statements and helping Gloria with the monthly case reports.

“Jason, we’re a team. You and I.”

“Treat me like a member of your team.”

“Fair enough. Did you find out anything when you saw Mitch?”

Jason told her about the house keys being under Darla’s control and Emily wondered if perhaps she’d been wrong about Darla. Maybe she had been the one threatening Samantha Phillips.

“Want me to go over there and check it out?” Jason asked.