42
The house in St. Croix was empty. Hannah wasn’t home. Neither was Olivia. Chris stood on the porch with his hands on his hips. Water pounded on the metal gutters, and the wind felt like ice on his wet clothes. He was alone in the rain, with nothing but the gauzy orbs of house lights dotting the streets. The town felt abandoned.
He’d spent years in the city, surrounded by people. The empty land of the country had always scared him. Now he realized he’d been a fool. Being with Hannah, being with Olivia, had changed everything. The only thing that mattered was for them to be safe. With him. What scared him more than anything was the idea of losing them again.
He walked through the downpour to the St. Croix church. Inside, he called for Glenn Magnus, but no one answered. The downstairs lights were dark. He heard the vibration of the bells, humming in the wind. He checked the sanctuary, which was lit only with dim wall sconces, and he almost missed the single worshipper on her knees in the pew nearest the altar.
It was Hannah.
He didn’t want to interrupt her, but he wondered what she said to God in her private thoughts. He’d never been a believer himself, but she always told him she prayed for him anyway. For him, for Olivia, for her family, for her town, for the women and children who had no one on their side. He tried to imagine whether she had added herself to the list now, but he didn’t think so. That wasn’t Hannah. She would pray for everyone else, but not for herself.
He stared at the cross hanging over the altar, and the thought came to him unbidden.
Hannah felt his presence. She saw him at the front of the church, and her face lit up in a smile. When she saw him now, she didn’t think immediately of the past, the pain, the break-up, the murder, the fear. For a millisecond, those things didn’t exist, and she simply reacted with a brief, instinctive moment of joy at the sight of him. He smiled, too.
They met halfway in the aisle.
‘You’re late,’ she said. ‘I was worried.’
‘I’m fine.’
She stared into his eyes as if she were looking for something. ‘You didn’t go back there, did you?’
‘Where?’
‘To Kirk’s.’
‘Of course not.’
Her face softened with relief. ‘I’m glad. I didn’t think you would.’
‘Why do you ask?’
Hannah hesitated. ‘We need to talk.’
‘I know. There’s a lot I need to tell you. I may know what happened to Ashlynn.’
She glanced at the doors to the sanctuary. Her eyes were nervous. ‘Tell me quickly. We don’t have much time.’
‘Why not? What’s going on?’
‘They’ll be coming soon.’
‘Who?’
‘The police.’
‘Why?’ he asked. ‘Is Olivia okay?’
‘She’s fine.’ Hannah pulled him gently into an empty pew. ‘Tell me what you found out.’
Chris struggled to arrange his thoughts. ‘Ashlynn told Tanya Swenson that she had proof that Florian and Mondamin were involved in what happened in St. Croix. She suspected her father of orchestrating a cover-up. Somehow it involved not only Vernon Clay but Lucia Causey, too.’
‘The special master in the litigation?’ Hannah asked. ‘You think she falsified her report?’
‘Florian has long arms,’ Chris said.
‘Lucia’s dead. She committed suicide last year, but Ashlynn thought she was murdered.’
Hannah shook her head. ‘What did Ashlynn find out?’
‘I’m not sure, but I can think of two people who would want to make sure she didn’t tell anyone.’
‘Who?’
‘One is this man Aquarius. He left a trail that leads to Vernon Clay
‘What plans?’
‘That’s the problem. Nobody knows.’
‘Who’s the other?’ Hannah asked.
‘Kirk Watson.’
She tensed and glanced at the closed doors of the church again. ‘Kirk’s dead.’
‘
She didn’t stop to explain. Something made her bolt to her feet. Chris stood up, too, and he heard sirens wailing on the highway. It was just as she’d predicted. The police were coming.
‘What’s going on?’ he said.
Hannah pulled him toward the front of the sanctuary. ‘Don’t say anything to them, Chris. Not yet.’
They exited into the church lobby. Outside the glass doors, three squad cars from the sheriff’s department screeched to a stop on the street. The sirens were loud enough to make him cover his ears, and then they cut off into stark silence. The light bars revolved on the tops of the cars. Silver rain blew sideways as officers in yellow slickers climbed out of the vehicles and headed for the church steps.
He saw someone else with them. A man in a black trench coat with a fedora. It was Michael Altman.
Chris and Hannah stayed in the lobby as the county attorney came inside from the rain. His face was dark. The police officers with him filed downstairs. Chris didn’t think they were looking for the church party room. They were heading for Johan’s apartment.
‘Mr. and Mrs. Hawk,’ Altman said, dusting water from his hat. ‘You always seem to be around when I have trouble.’
‘What are you doing here?’ Chris asked.
‘I’m looking for Johan Magnus.’
‘Why? What’s going on?’
‘Someone murdered Kirk Watson this evening.’
Hannah stiffened but said nothing. Chris found that his own heart was ice-cold. He didn’t care that Kirk was dead. He only cared about protecting Olivia. ‘How did it happen?’
‘Someone hit him in the head,’ Altman said, ‘and then finished him off with two gunshots. One to the head, one to the genitals. Very personal.’
Hannah covered her mouth. Chris felt queasy, too. Altman watched both of them carefully, studying their reactions.
‘That sounds like someone with a grudge,’ Altman added. ‘Like maybe someone whose daughter had been assaulted recently.’
‘You think I did this?’ Chris asked.
‘I don’t know, Mr. Hawk. Where have you been this evening?’
‘Out.’
‘Alone?’
‘Mostly.’ He didn’t want to get George Valma into more trouble by calling on him for an alibi. He also hoped that the rain had long ago washed away any evidence that he’d been outside Kirk’s window the previous night.
‘Doing what?’
‘Researching Lucia Causey,’ Chris said.
‘Check my phone records. You’ll find that I’ve been making inquiries about her for most of the last two hours. You can probably get a track on my laptop Internet settings, too. I’ve been hooked up to a limited-range wireless network in Barron. Feel free to check it out.’
