Brick thought about this for a moment, seeing how upset Mo had become just retelling it. “Natalie never told you what she had to talk to you about?”
Mo shook her head. “We never spoke after that. Natalie was arrested, and evidence was coming out about her. Even if she told me what might have been going on in that house.”
“What do you mean, about what was going on in that house?”
Mo looked away for a moment.
“I realize this is hard for you—”
“Thomas and Tricia were my family. I hate talking about personal details of their lives. I hate that because of what happened, their personal lives have become media fodder.”
“They were having problems,” he guessed. “I would imagine the stress...”
She nodded, some of her anger visibly evaporating. “I think it might have been more than the pregnancy and even Joey’s health.”
“You don’t think Thomas and the nanny were—”
“Having an affair?” She shook her head adamantly. “But something was wrong. Tricia wouldn’t talk about it and neither would Thomas—not that I tried very hard. I was so intent on proving Natalie guilty and getting justice that I wasn’t there for my sister when she needed me the most.”
“That’s why you want to believe that she didn’t kill herself,” he said. “Could there have been another man?”
Mo hesitated a little too long. “She and Thomas had been together since college. They were the perfect couple.” As if sensing his skepticism, she said, “He idolized her. He was so excited about the baby. He was a wonderful father.”
Brick kept driving, wondering what he’d gotten himself into, when she cried, “Stop! Down there.”
Backing up, he drove down the side street until she told him to stop again. By then she was out of the truck. He swore, threw the pickup into Park and went after her, thinking she was already breaking their deal.
Instead, she rushed over to an older house with a long three-wire clothesline behind it. The day’s wash flapped noisily on the line except for the spaces where it appeared someone had removed items randomly.
A woman came out of the house brandishing a broom. “Don’t even think about it. What is this, some kind of scavenger hunt?” she demanded. “You’re not taking any more of my clothing.”
Brick quickly introduced himself. “We’re looking for the woman who stole the clothes off your line. Was she dressed like a nurse?”
The woman nodded. “I couldn’t imagine why a nurse would be stealing my clothes.”
“Can you tell me what she took?” Mo asked. “And describe the items?”
The woman lowered her broom and thought about it for a moment. “A pair of my black active pants, my favorite flowered shirt, a pair of jeans and my husband’s hooded sweatshirt. It’s navy. The flowered shirt is mostly red.”
“Thank you. Did you see her leave? What she was driving? Which way did she go?”
The homeowner shook her head. “I saw her taking the clothes and ran outside but she disappeared around the side of the house. Wait. I did hear what sounded like a motorcycle engine. Does that help?”
Brick nodded. “It does, thanks. How long ago was that?”
“Thirty minutes ago, maybe longer.”
“We’ll do our best to get your clothes back for you,” he said and turned toward the pickup.
They were back in the pickup when Mo said, “She’ll ditch those clothes as soon as she gets some money. I hope that woman doesn’t hold her breath about getting them back. She’ll dump the motorcycle first—if she hasn’t already. She’ll be looking for a vehicle. One that won’t be missed for a while.”
Brick shot a look at Mo as he started the truck. “You make her sound like a hardened criminal. What if she’s innocent and now has people chasing her who want to do more than hurt her? Maybe she’s just trying to stay alive as best she can.”
“That’s exactly what she’s trying to do. She’s running for her life.”
Brick’s cell phone rang. He thought it would be his father. He’d already ignored three calls from him. Instead, it was the deputy from the hospital.
“I heard you’re looking for the patient that got away,” the deputy said. “I hope you find her. The marshal wants to have my head over this.” He explained that while he was getting examined for the wound on his head, he heard that an attendant’s purse had gone missing about the same time that Natalie took off. “She thinks the patient who escaped took it.”
Brick told Mo.
“Ask how much money was in the purse,” she said.
He did and hung up. “Just over a hundred and fifty dollars.”
“So Natalie has some money. Now all she needs are wheels,” Mo said. “If I were her, I’d be looking around bars, cafés, places where everyday people work and don’t worry about their vehicles being stolen.”
“Anyone ever mention that you think like a criminal?”
Mo smiled. “Thanks. There’s a bar up ahead. Pull in.”
As Brick did, his cell phone rang again. This time it was his father.
HUD STARTED TO leave another voice mail on his son’s phone when, to his surprise, Brick answered. He’d come back to the office to find out that not only had Natalie Berkshire taken off before the Billings homicide detectives arrived, but his son had broken suspended homicide detective Mo Mortensen out of jail.
“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded the moment his son answered the call. “You spring a woman you don’t know from Adam. A woman who is in our jail because she attacked you? Are you trying to end your career before it even starts?”
“I’m on leave, remember.”
The marshal swore. “What is that noise in the background?”
“I’m standing outside a bar waiting for Mo.”
Hud wanted to scream. “Mo, is it now? Brick...” He let out an angry breath. “I hope the bar doesn’t have a back door. Why did you bust her out of jail?”
“She’s going to help me find Natalie.”
“Are you crazy? You said
