Beneath the Bones (26 page)

Joanne felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment, and she was surprised to see Marshall color a bit as well.

“That’s the first question I asked myself when I came to,” she admitted. “I didn’t have an answer then, and I don’t have one now.”

“Perhaps the killer feared you’d already called for backup and deputies were on their way,” Dale said.

“Maybe,” Marshall replied, “but it doesn’t take long to cut a throat and carve a simple design into a body, especially when your victim is unconscious.” Both Joanne and Dale stared at him, and he quickly added, “Not that I have firsthand knowledge of such procedures.”

“Did the owners of the house wake up?” Dale asked. “Did they turn on the back porch light or anything?”

Joanne shook her head and instantly regretted it when the motion made the throbbing worse. “Believe it or not, the Duvalls slept through the whole thing.”

“My guess is the killer set the café on fire to draw away the deputy guarding Debbie and to keep the rest of you busy,” Dale said, “which means she was the intended target. That makes poor Tyrone what? An unexpected bonus?”

Dale’s voice held barely restrained anguish, and Joanne knew what her friend was thinking. If he hadn’t gone to Tyrone for information, the man might still be alive today.

“I believe Tyrone went to Debbie’s last night hoping to get a look at some action,” Joanne said, “and the killer discovered his presence and decided to take out a potential witness.”

“He got more than a look,” Marshall said. “He got an extreme close-up.”

Joanne ignored him. “There’s nothing to indicate Tyrone was targeted on purpose. The killer would’ve had no way to know he would be there.” Joanne had hoped to reassure Dale, but she could see that he didn’t feel any better.

“Maybe,” Dale said. “But it seems like an awfully big coincidence, doesn’t it?”

“One too many, if you ask me,” Marshall said. He seemed to debate with himself a moment before adding, “I spoke with Tyrone yesterday afternoon. It was … how I learned that Lenora had gone for a drive with the Porter boy.” He held up a hand. “And before either of you ask, neither Lenora nor I lied to you last night. The truth needed no alteration.”

“Perhaps you told the truth as you believed it,” Dale said. “But how do you know Lenora didn’t lie to us —
all
of us?”

Marshall glared at Dale for a long moment, but then his anger drained out of him. His shoulders slumped and he averted his gaze.

“My daughter has been missing since last night. I’m not sure when she left exactly, but she took one of the cars — a BMW. No one saw her go, and though I have every eye I own in the county looking for her, so far no one has reported seeing her.”

Joanne didn’t ask if he had any idea where she’d gone. If he had, he’d have already checked there. Instead, she asked, “You’re sure she left alone? There
were
a lot of people at Sanctity last night.”

“There are
always
a lot of guests,” Marshall said. “But they are all accounted for. And to answer your next question, she left of her own free will. None of the alarm systems in the house or garage were activated, and no one could’ve forced Lenora to give them the access codes.”

Considering what little she’d seen of Lenora last night, Joanne could believe it. “In this case, maybe your daughter going missing really
is
a coincidence.” She thought of her conversation with Althea Cross last night, a conversation Marshall was evidently unaware of. “The two of you seemed to have a strained relationship. Did you have an argument yesterday? Maybe she left because she was mad at you.”

Marshall stiffened. “I’d know if my daughter was that angry with me.”

“You didn’t know she’d gone parking with Ray Porter,” Dale pointed out. He spoke with more compassion that Joanne expected, but then she realized the two men had something in common. They’d both lost wives. She wondered if Dale knew the truth about Charlotte Cross’s disappearance. He must, she decided. “There are many things we don’t know about the people in our lives,” Dale continued. “Things we often don’t want to know, and so we turn a blind eye toward them. There are so many frightening things in this world, but of them all, the most terrifying is the truth.”

Marshall regarded Dale for a long moment, then said, “You sound like a man who speaks from experience.”

Dale replied with a brief smile. “I wish I wasn’t.”

“I’ll inform my people to start looking for Lenora,” Joanne said. “Just in case.”

Marshall looked like he wanted to argue, but in the end he merely nodded.

Silence descended on the three of them after that, and for a time they watched Joanne’s deputies poke around the blackened ruins of the Caffeine Café.

“This is going to break Debbie’s heart when she learns about it,” Dale said. “Ever since she lost her husband and son, this place was all she had. It was her whole life, a way she could give a little something back to the community Carl took so much from.” He turned to Joanne. “She doesn’t know yet, right?”

“I didn’t think she was ready to hear about the fire,” Joanne said. “Not in the state she’s in.”

“I’ve been reconsidering my earlier thoughts on Debbie’s situation,” Marshall said. “Even with members of the family watching over her, the hospital isn’t a safe place for her. The killer may well make another try for her there. The only place in the world where she’ll truly be safe is within the walls of Sanctity. I propose we remove her from the hospital and take her to my home.”

“But she needs medical care,” Joanne said.

“And she shall receive it,” Marshall replied. “Remember, most of the doctors in this county are related to the Crosses in one way or another. I’ll have no problem finding an excellent physician to stay with her.”

Joanne was reluctant to agree to Marshall’s plan, for the simple reason that she’d be turning over control of Debbie’s protection to the Crosses. But then again, Debbie
would
be well guarded at Sanctity — assuming Marshall was telling the truth when he said he wanted to keep her safe. Maybe he had an ulterior motive for wanting to house Debbie at Sanctity, though she couldn’t imagine what it might be.

“Not to sound callous,” Dale said, “but leaving Debbie in the hospital might be the best way to draw the killer out into the open. It could be our best chance to catch him.”

“I will not allow you to use her as bait,” Marshall said.

Joanne winced as she felt a sensation of pressure behind her forehead that only added to the pain she already felt. Dale must’ve experienced something similar, for he grimaced and took a step back from Marshall. But Dale quickly recovered and shot back. “Since when did you give a shit about the welfare of anyone not clinging to the highest branches of the diseased growth you call a family tree?”

Marshall’s expression became one of poorly restrained fury, and he took a step toward Dale.

Joanne interposed herself between the two men, but before she could tell them to knock it the hell off, her cell phone rang. She checked the incoming number on the display and recognized it.

“If you two can hold off killing each other for a moment, Terry’s calling.” She stepped away from Dale and Marshall, who continued glaring at one another but kept their distance, and she answered the phone.

“Hi, lover,” Terry said. “I don’t suppose your day’s off to too good a start, huh?”

She sighed. “How did you guess?”

“I’m just lucky like that. Your head still hurt?”

“It’s a little better,” she lied. She’d let Terry take a look at it when he’d arrived at the scene of Tyrone’s murder, and while he said she didn’t appear to have a concussion, she should really be checked out over at the hospital. Her reply,
I’ve never been one to follow doctor’s orders. Out of bed, anyway
.

“I’ve finished a preliminary examination of Tyrone’s body, and while I still need to do an autopsy, I can tell you the man was in surprisingly decent shape for someone who lived on the streets. His wounds are exactly the same as those on Ray Porter. I have no doubt the same person killed both men.” His voice shifted from detached professionalism to a much warmer tone. “I’m just grateful the son of a bitch only conked you on the noggin.”

She smiled, but she couldn’t shake the unsettled feeling she had after hearing Terry make the cold comment about Tyrone sleeping forever. “Anything else?”

“Not yet. How about you?”

She told him about Lenora being missing and Marshall’s plan to take Debbie to Sanctity.

“That strikes me as a screwed-up strategy, quite frankly. Can you afford to let him do that? Wouldn’t that count as some kind of unprofessional conduct for your department?”

She frowned, surprised by his reaction. “I know you’re not a big fan of the Crosses, but I’m inclined to trust Marshall on this.” Until she said it, she hadn’t known she’d come to a decision.

“I’m glad you and
Marshall
understand each other so well.” Terry’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

“Look, I don’t know what your problem is, but I really don’t need this shit right now.”

Terry was quiet so long that Joanne thought the call had been dropped. But then he said, “I’m sorry. Neither of us has gotten enough sleep the last couple nights. How about we pretend we didn’t snap at each other, and I’ll call you later after I finish Tyrone’s autopsy?”

She felt like arguing further, but she knew he was right. She was too sleep-deprived and stressed to think straight, and if their conversation continued, one or both of them would eventually say something they’d regret.

“Sure thing. Talk to you later.” Joanne disconnected before Terry could reply. As she tucked her phone back into its belt holder, she thought of what Dale had said about how there were many things we don’t know about the people in our lives. She’d just gotten a glimpse of a different side of Terry Birch, and it was one she didn’t especially like.

She returned to Dale and Marshall, glad to see that both men had refrained from attacking one another, though from the glares they still exchanged, it hadn’t been easy. She told them about Terry’s initial analysis of Tyrone’s injuries, but neither commented. What was there to say? It wasn’t as if the news came as any great surprise.

“I’d like to go get Debbie now,” Marshall said. “The sooner she’s at Sanctity, the sooner she’ll be safe.”

“What do you think, Dale?” Joanne asked.

Dale continued scowling at Marshall, but he said, “As much as it pains me to say this, I think Marshall’s right. It would be wrong to use Debbie as bait, and she would be safest at Sanctity. It’s a good plan — provided Debbie agrees to it.”

“She will,” Marshall said, a bit too quickly.

Joanne didn’t like the sound of that, but she decided not to make an issue of it right then. “Okay, but I have one condition. That I go with you to take Debbie to Sanctity.” Her deputies could handle processing the two crime scenes — the ruins of the café and the Duvalls’ yard. She’d let Debbie down once by not personally protecting her, and she was determined not to fail her again.

Marshall looked for a moment as if he might argue, but then he forced a smile. “Of course. I’d enjoy the pleasure of your company.”

“Thanks for the sentiment, but we’re not going on a date.” She turned to Dale. “What about you? I’d like to hear that you’re going to go home and get some sleep, but I know you better than that.”

He gave her a tired smile. “Actually, that’s precisely what I was …” He trailed off and his gaze flicked to the side as if something had caught his attention. Joanne looked in the direction he was staring, but she saw nothing special, just an empty section of sidewalk.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

Dale didn’t answer right away, and she began to worry that the last couple of days had taken a greater toll on her friend than she’d realized. But then he snapped out of his daze and turned his attention back to her.

“I’m fine. I just had an idea about a … a possible lead. It might not be anything,” he hastened to add. “But I’ll check into it and let you know, all right?”

Joanne frowned. It wasn’t like Dale to be mysterious like this. Not with her, at any rate. She couldn’t help feeling a bit hurt, but she told herself that maybe Dale didn’t feel he could speak freely in Marshall’s presence. She was just going to have to trust Dale, which wasn’t a problem. There was no one on earth she trusted more.

“All right. Give me a call on my cell, okay?”

Dale nodded, but he seemed distracted once more, and he turned again to look at that empty piece of sidewalk.

“Yeah, sure,” he murmured.

Joanne waited a second to see if he would say anything more, and when he didn’t she turned and started heading toward her cruiser. Marshall accompanied her.

“We’ll take my Hummer,” he said.

“Like hell,” Joanne countered. “As of now this is official Sheriff’s Department business. We’ll take my vehicle.”

Marshall sighed. “If you insist.”

She saw Ronnie standing off to the side, keeping a close watch on a couple over-eager TV reporters who were slowly moving closer to the café’s remains.

“Just give me a minute.”

Marshall glanced in Ronnie direction, an unreadable expression on his face. “I’ll wait here.”

She walked over to where Ronnie stood, not far from a blackened pile of debris. He looked over as she approached.

“Yes, Sheriff?”

She was struck anew by his unclean appearance — not to mention his odor — and while she didn’t have a Feeling about it, she knew something was seriously wrong here. But she didn’t have time to deal with it now.
Later
, she promised herself.
Once Debbie’s safe
.

She quickly told Ronnie what she planned to do and asked that he pass word along to his fellow deputies.

“Someone should go out to the Deveraux Farm and take another look around,” she added. “Just in case the killer returned there last night.” The killer had left Ray Porter’s wallet in the barn. Maybe he’d left something of Tyrone’s this time.

Ronnie nodded. “I’ll see to it, Sheriff.” He looked past her toward Marshall, and his eyes narrowed. “Do you have to go with
him
to get Mrs. Coulter?”