There's no rational way to explain insight, but the two things came together in my head with the impact of colliding continents-the secondhand image of a shelf of much-used briefcases lining JoJo Rothman's garage and Jennifer Rothman telling me innocently enough that the best place to hide something was in plain sight.
I jumped like someone waking from a nap and headed for the door.
'What's the matter?' Ames whispered harshly, following me toward the door. 'Where are you going?'
'Take everyone back to the house right after the funeral,' I returned. 'Delcia, Michelle, Guy Owens. Everybody, understand?'
Ralph nodded, but he looked puzzled. 'Why?'
'Don't ask questions. No time,' I said over my shoulder as I fought open the heavy door. On my way to the car, I fumbled in my pocket for the much-used Alamo map which I had stuck there more out of habit than necessity. I glanced down at the map as I went, getting a fix on Carefree and what looked like the quickest way there.
The Fiat didn't much like being hot-wired, but it started and ran again. I sped north along Scottsdale Road, not daring to go too fast because I couldn't stand any official scrutiny. At what looked like one of the last outposts of 7-Eleven civilization, I whipped into the parking lot and stopped beside a phone booth long enough to locate the Rothmans' address. Then I went on.
Alamo's map didn't include any kind of detail of Carefree, and the first road I saw leading off to a residential area had a guard shack. It was time to try bluffing.
I swung in to the shack and whipped out my Seattle P.D. badge. 'The Rothmans',' I barked at the youthful security guard in my most officially intimidating fashion. 'How do I get there?'
Police badges work wonders. I don't think he even looked closely enough to see that it was from out of state. He pointed up the hill behind him. 'Up there. Take the first right and then the second left. Third house on the right. You can't miss it, but they're all the funeral right now, sir.'
'I know. I'll wait.'
I drove away from the guard shack, feeling the clammy sweat under my armpits, still not knowing whether I was right or wrong. Until I turned right as directed. Until I saw Ralph Ames' Lincoln Town Car pulled off to the side of the road and parked beside someone else's mailbox. I parked there too. I glanced in the window of the Lincoln as I walked by. Rhonda's purse was there, lying on the front seat. So was a large brown envelope.
As I approached the Rothmans' sprawling house, I was surprised to see that one of the doors to the three- car garage had been left open. If what I suspected was true, JoJo and Marsha were putting far too much faith in their puny security guard, since both Rhonda and I had managed to breach that perimeter without any difficulty.
But then another thought crossed my mind. Maybe JoJo and Marshal hadn't left the garage open. Maybe somebody else had. As a warning.
I walked directly up the driveway, my feet crunching noisily in the gravel, afraid that any skulking around on my part would alert one of the other residents. I knew that as soon as I stepped out of the bright sunlight into the shadowy garage I would be temporarily blinded, but I had to do it. It was the only way.
'Rhonda?' I said. 'Rhonda, don't shoot. It's me. Beau.'
Behind me, the garage door silently began to go shut. I turned toward where I supposed the control panel would be, and there stood Rhonda Attwood. Just as the door went shut, darkening the garage completely, I caught sight of the. 38 in her hand.
'What are you doing here?' she demanded. The icy control in her voice chilled me despite the warmth of the interior of the garage.
'I came looking for you. You're making a mistake.'
'There's no mistake,' she said firmly. 'I found what I was looking for.'
'What? Money?'
'See for yourself.'
The overhead light came on and again I saw what I expected. There were ten briefcases in all, lined up and sitting open on the floor between a silver Jag and a white BMW. Each case was full of tightly banded bills. No wonder JoJo Rothman had been such a successful developer. He must have always had a ready supply of cash when some kind of bargain showed up in the real estate market. He was a dealer and a money launderer at the same time. That cut out several expensive middlemen.
'You're making a terrible mistake, Rhonda. Listen to me.'
She shook her head stubbornly and kept the gun trained on me. It didn't help to know that I myself had loaded the. 38 with its lethal cargo of bullets. I could see one other thing as well. She was wearing gloves, sheer latex gloves, so whatever prints they found on the gun would be mine-and Zeke's, too, the poor guy.
'You've read the diary?' I asked.
'Enough of it to know what went on,' she returned coldly.
'And you think killing them will make it better?'
'It will make me feel better,' she whispered fiercely. 'I know now how she did it, how she got Joey under her thumb and kept him there.'
'How?' I asked, lifting one foot and putting it down a few inches closer to her. 'How did she do it?'
A ragged sob escaped her lips, but the gun didn't waver. 'It's all there, in the book.'
'Rhonda,' I said. 'Tell me. How did she do it?'
'She seduced him, that's how!' Rhonda spat out the words with such ferocity that a small drop of spittle landed on my face. I didn't brush it away. I couldn't risk any sudden movement that might distract her. I couldn't risk doing anything that might break her concentration. Instead, I slowly shifted my other foot a few inches closer.
'When?' I asked.
'He was just a baby,' she sobbed. 'It was molestation at first, just touching. That started when he was nine and she was seventeen. The other came later. Why didn't he tell me? I would have done something…'
'And then she threatened him if he told.'
Rhonda's startled blue eyes met mine. 'How did you know?'
'Because that's the way it works. That's what abusers do. They terrify kids into keeping quiet, into not telling their ugly secrets.'
'She turned him into her slave. Wrecked his life. Made him do her dirty work.'
'Joey's probably not the only one,' I said, inching another half step closer. Rhonda was only about four feet away now. If she pulled the trigger, I was a dead man.
'Not the only one?' she asked, her voice faltering.
'What about that kid she sent after us the other night? Probably him, too. Believe me, Joey wasn't the only one. It never works that way.'
'She's a monster. I swear, I'm going to kill her. And JoJo, too.'
'No,' I said.
Suddenly she noticed where I was. 'Stop,' she commanded. 'Don't come any closer. I'll shoot.'
'Let the law take care of them, Rhonda.'
She laughed, almost hysterically, and I was afraid I was losing her. 'They think they're above the law and they probably are.'
'No,' I insisted. 'Not this time. How did you get in here, Rhonda?'
'Why do you want to know?'
'Did you leave any fingerprints on the briefcases when you opened them?'
'I wore gloves,' she answered coldly.
'Good,' I said. 'Then close them and put them back, just the way you found them.'
'Why? Why should I?'
'Because as soon as you turn Joey's notebooks over to Delcia, she'll be out here with a search warrant within forty-five minutes. They don't know you've found the diary, but if they're going to run-with all this money here, I'll bet that's the plan-they'll do it as soon as they finish with the funeral. We don't have much time.'
'I don't need a search warrant. All I have to do is wait here and shoot them when they show up.'
'But you'll go to prison. Premeditated murder.'
'It doesn't matter,' she spat back.
'That's where you're wrong, Rhonda. It matters. Guy Owens has changed his mind. He and Michelle are
