Annette Dashofy - Zoe Chambers 03 - Bridges Burned (10 page)

Pete thought about Tierney’s odd reaction to hearing Lillian might have been in the house. “He may not be home yet, but I’ll stop over there now and check. Either way, I’ll dig into his background.” Like why someone who clearly despised the country would move to rural Vance Township.

“Sounds like a plan. How about we meet at your station later this afternoon to compare notes. Say around six?”

Pete moved past the detective, heading for Fort Tierney. “Make it five,” he said over his shoulder.

Ten

Pete had been right about Tierney not being home and wondered how long this business trip would last. Or was he even on a business trip? He’d already lied about one thing. Pete jotted a note to himself to call Mary Lawson at the bank.

In the meantime, he took a stroll through Scenic Hilltop Estates, knocking on the doors of the other four houses. There was no answer at one. He learned damned little at the remaining three.

Stephen Tierney kept to himself. He didn’t even wave to his neighbors, much less engage them in conversation. If he had a dog, he never walked it. If he had a cat or a parakeet or a fish, he never asked anyone to feed it while he was away. He never accepted invitations to parties or picnics. And no one had ever been invited to his home.

Pete asked about any possible connection between Tierney and the Farabees, Lillian in particular, and received the same non-information. No one knew anything.

Stephen Tierney was a ghost who lived in a fort.

With a farewell shout to Bruce Yancy and the state fire marshal, Pete climbed into his SUV and headed back to Dillard.

“Messages?” he asked Nancy as he breezed past the front office.

“My dad called,” she said after him. “He wants you to know Ryan still hasn’t touched those hedges. The rest are on your desk.”

Pete swore under his breath. He might just have to grab a pair of loppers and do the job himself.

With a cup of coffee in front of him, he thumbed through the handful of pink notes. The standard minor complaints. And one from Chuck Delano.

Nancy had scrawled, “He said to tell you he was going snorkeling. Whatever that’s supposed to mean.”

Pete laughed to himself. He crumpled the note and tossed it in the trash. Then he picked up the phone and punched in the number for Mary Lawson at MNB. Lawson’s sultry voice carried a note of impatience after Pete had identified himself. Yes, she knew Stephen Tierney. No, she didn’t know anything about him. They ran in different social circles. No, she didn’t know about his travel itinerary. However, she happily transferred Pete to Tierney’s office.

At the same time Tierney’s phone was ringing in Pete’s ear, the station’s other line also rang. Pete let Nancy get it.

Instead of a secretary or another—what was he?—Investment Group Manager picking up, Pete’s call went to Tierney’s voicemail, which stated he would be back in the office Monday morning. That was more information than he’d gotten from anyone else.

Nancy appeared in his doorway as he hung up the phone. “Detective Baronick is on line two.”

“What’s wrong with the intercom?” Pete asked.

“It’s broken.” She turned on her heel and clomped away.

Pete sighed. He punched the button for the other line and picked up. “You’re fast. What have you got?”

“Nothing.”

Apparently Baronick was having as much luck as he was. “No one home?” Pete couldn’t imagine why anyone wouldn’t want to spend all day lounging around a room at that dump.

“He’s checked out.”

Pete sat up. “What do you mean? He claimed he didn’t have anyplace else to go.”

“He does now. The kid at the front desk didn’t know squat, but I managed to persuade him to fork over the phone number Farabee had given him.”

“Give it to me. I’ll call him.”

“You don’t have to. I already did.”

“And?”

“He answered.”

Pete pressed his fingers into the center of his forehead. “Damn it, Wayne, quit playing games.”

Baronick chuckled. “You’re gonna love this. He’s moved in with your girlfriend.”

Zoe stood in the feed room doorway watching as Maddie brushed George, the schooling pony.

After Holt had left for the hardware store and Mrs. Kroll had gone to visit her husband at rehab, Zoe discovered she had little to amuse a ten-year-old girl other than more of her landlady’s cookies. So she and Maddie walked out to the barn. Zoe distracted the girl by pointing out a circling hawk, a groundhog out in the pasture, one of the boarders riding off in the distance—anything to keep her from looking across the valley toward Scenic Hilltop Estates.

The chocolate palomino gelding had been loafing in one cool corner of the indoor arena, swishing flies with his flaxen tail. He offered no resistance when Zoe approached him, halter in hand. Small enough to not intimidate, big enough that even a small adult could take him for a spin, good old George could be trusted with youngsters who didn’t know you shouldn’t hug a horse’s back leg, as well as rank beginner riders. He was probably close to thirty years old and had seen it all, done it all.

Maddie started out shy and standoffish with him. But after Zoe showed her how to hold a peppermint candy flat on her palm and George gently lipped it from the girl’s hand, Maddie was enthralled.

Zoe handed her a brush and rubber curry and showed her how to groom the already spotless pony.

Next, Zoe demonstrated how to saddle him and put on the bridle telling the girl to watch closely because tomorrow, she’d have to do it herself.

Maddie’s first riding lesson consisted of learning to steer and the importance of “whoa.” The girl’s ear-to-ear smile told Zoe she’d made the right decision bringing her here. As a treat, Zoe clipped the long lunge line to George’s bridle, taking control from her student, and clucked him into a jog. Maddie’s giggles floated into the rafters as she clutched the saddle horn and bounced around and around the circle.

Lesson over, Zoe stripped the tack from the pony, tied him to a metal ring on the wall, and stood back while Maddie groomed away the saddle marks.

The young Miss Farabee beamed at Zoe. “That was fun.”

The other boarders started drifting in as Zoe helped Maddie put George in his stall. Perfect timing. Initial spills and mishaps tended to be less painful when there wasn’t a crowd of seasoned riders watching. Zoe always preferred the first few lessons with a greenhorn be private. However, with the pony munching some hay, Maddie busied herself meeting the other kids. And the other kids had a chance to see who their donations would be helping. Thankfully, they were wise enough to not mention Maddie’s recent traumas.

Zoe glanced at her watch. Three o’clock. The afternoon had gotten away from her. “Come on, Maddie. Time to get back to the house.” Zoe hoped Holt had returned. She had to be at the ambulance garage in Phillipsburg by four.

They strolled the farm lane from the barn back to the house rather than the overgrown footpath.

“My mom would’ve liked it here,” Maddie said.

For a moment, Zoe tried to think of some way to change the subject, but her own advice to Holt came back to her. “What was she like?”

Maddie paused to pluck a wildflower. “She was pretty. And she liked to be outside.” Clutching the blossom, Maddie extended both arms and spun as if pretending to be a helicopter. “Mom hated when I played my computer games. ‘Go outside and be a kid,’ she’d say. I bet she’d like to ride George.”

“I hear she liked to sing to you.”

“Uh-huh.” Maddie stopped spinning and staggered a little. “When I was little, she sang songs from cartoons to me. But she sang grownup songs, too. I kinda like those better.” She stopped for a moment and fingered the flower. “You know, sometimes I think I’m gonna turn around and she’s still gonna be here. Everyone tells me she died, but I don’t feel like she’s really gone.”

The old emptiness Zoe was so familiar with sucker punched her in the solar plexus. Again. “I know what you mean. I lost my dad when I was little. Littler than you. And I still feel that way some days.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh.”

Maddie sighed. “I never got to say goodbye. I hope she knows I love her.”

Zoe swallowed the lump of tears in her throat. “She knows.” Zoe put a hand on the girl’s shoulder, and they walked the rest of the way in silence.

When they topped the hill behind the house, Zoe spotted Holt’s red Ford.

“Dad’s back,” Maddie said, her voice light once again. “Wait until he hears what I did today.” She took off at a run.

Zoe followed, but after a few yards, the girl stopped and stiffened. Zoe slowed and eased up beside her. “What’s wrong?”

Holt’s Ford was parked next to Zoe’s Chevy. Angled behind both trucks idled a white Lexus. A man wearing an expensive-looking business suit stood at the open driver’s side door, a few feet in front of Holt, who had his fists planted on his hips and his jaw jutted.

At that distance, Zoe couldn’t hear what the two men were saying, but it was clear they weren’t discussing the weather. Holt Farabee looked like he was on the verge of throwing a right hook, while the other guy appeared to be trying to talk him out of it.

“Who is that?” Zoe whispered, more to herself than to Maddie.

“Mr. Tierney,” the girl replied in a voice low and remarkably full of venom for one so young. “Our neighbor.”

Zoe eyed Maddie. “Tierney? The guy in the fort?”

Maddie blinked. “Huh?”

Zoe shook her head. “The house with the big fence.”

“Yeah. Dad hates him.”

Zoe stared down at the girl who didn’t take her eyes from the two men. “Why does your dad hate Mr. Tierney?”

Maddie puckered her mouth. “I don’t know for sure. I’ve just heard Mom and Dad mention his name when they were fighting. But as soon as they knew I was in the room they’d quit. When I ask questions, they say it’s nothing for me to worry about. Or it’s grownup stuff. Like I’m too little to understand.”

While they watched, Tierney put up both hands as if surrendering—or preparing to block a punch. He said something else, slid into the Lexus, and headed down the farm lane toward Route 15.

Maddie took off down the hill at a gallop. “Dad!”

By the time Zoe reached Holt, he’d swept his daughter into his arms, lifting her off the ground.

For a moment, the girl hugged him tightly, but then she squirmed free. “I’m too old for that now, Dad.”

The fury had vanished from Holt’s face, replaced by the love of a father. “Excuse me. I forgot.” He playfully tugged Maddie’s ponytail. “What’d you and Zoe do today?”

She started chattering away, telling him about George and brushing and saddling and riding and trotting… Zoe didn’t think Maddie bothered to take a breath. Holt shot a furtive glance at Zoe with a hint of a grateful smile on his face.

Maddie continued to prattle on about everything and everyone she’d encountered in the past few hours as Holt reached into one of his toolboxes, removing a bag from Brunswick Hardware and Plumbing Supply. He punctuated his daughter’s rambling with an occasional “Uh-huh.”

Zoe tagged along behind them toward the back porch. She had a long list of questions for her new housemate. Was he able to find a water heater and all the supplies he needed? How much would it cost?

What was going on between him and the fort guy?

But she would wait until Maddie wound down for the first ones and was out of earshot completely for the last one.

Zoe’s chance came as soon as they stepped into the center hallway.

“All right, munchkin,” Holt said to his flush-faced daughter. “Why don’t you go upstairs and get cleaned up? I have to take some stuff down to the basement. Then you can tell me the rest over some of those cookies—if you didn’t already eat them all.”

“No, there’re some left. I’ll be right back.” Maddie turned and charged up the staircase with all the grace and delicacy of a herd of stampeding elephants.

Holt turned to Zoe. “Thank you. It seems like a long time since I’ve seen her like that.”

“My pleasure.” Zoe feigned a bow. “I have to get ready for my shift at the ambulance. Is there anything I can help you with?”

“Nope. I got everything I need at the store.”

Which answered one question.

“And I have a dolly in the back of my truck, so I shouldn’t have any problems getting the tank down to the house.”

“There’s an outside entrance to the basement. You’ll only have to go down two steps instead of the whole flight, which is probably a better way to get it inside.”

“Great.”

“I’ll go out and unlatch the door.”

Holt scowled. “Out?”

“There’re old wooden bulkhead doors secured with a hasp and a pin from the exterior. Then there’s the interior door with a slide bolt you can open from the inside.”

Holt shook his head. “You gotta love old houses.”

Zoe started to turn away, but her curiosity stopped her. “Holt?”

“Yeah?”

“Maddie and I saw you talking to that man in the Lexus. Is everything all right?”

Zoe caught a glimpse of a deep crease between Holt’s eyes before he ducked his face away from her. “Everything’s fine. He’s our old neighbor. Must have spotted my truck and stopped to express his condolences.”

Something about the tone of Holt’s voice made the words sound sour on his tongue. Zoe wanted to press him, but she doubted he’d share anything more.

Confirming her suspicion, he turned and strode toward the basement stairs. “Go ahead and open those outer doors, okay?”

“Yeah.”

Zoe headed outside. As she started around the side of the house, the rumble of an engine and the crunch of tires on the gravel lane drew her back. Vance Township PD’s Ford Explorer with Pete at the wheel pulled in behind Holt’s truck. She watched as Pete stepped out and stormed down the path to the backyard. His posture and the look on his face would have scared the crap out of her if she’d been a criminal.

“Where is he?” Pete demanded.

“Who?”

“You know damned well ‘who.’ Farabee.”

“He’s in the basement getting ready to put in a new water heater.” Provided she opened the outer doors for him. “What’s wrong?”

Pete loomed over her, striking his I-mean-business pose. “Putting in a new water heater? As I understand it, you’ve moved him in here.”

“Well…yeah.”

“First it’s pony rides for the kid. Then you want to hire him to do some work. I recall I warned you against both of those ideas.”

Zoe’s spine stiffened. “
Warned
me against them?”

“And now you’ve taken him and his kid in like a couple of stray cats.”

She opened her mouth to give Pete a large piece of her mind when she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Beyond Pete, Maddie stepped off the porch, her eyes wide.

Pete had only started unloading on Zoe when he noticed her gaze shift and her face go white. He followed her gaze and saw the little girl.

Damn it. How much of his stupid rant had she overheard?

Zoe stepped around him, tucking her shoulder to completely avoid any possibility of brushing against him as she passed. “Maddie? Are you okay?”

From the look on the kid’s face, she’d definitely overheard part of what Pete had said.

“Dad hollered up from the cellar. He needs you to unlock the door,” she said to Zoe without shifting her gaze from Pete.

“Go back inside and tell him I’m on my way.”

The girl continued to watch Pete for a moment then disappeared back inside.

Zoe spun on him. “You happy now?”

“I didn’t know she was there.”

Zoe stomped past him, again giving him wide berth. He followed her alongside the house to a pair of sloped and weathered wooden doors. A vintage wood wheelbarrow was propped against the stone foundation next to them. She yanked what appeared to be a broken screwdriver from the hasp securing the doors and flung one open with a
whomp
.

Inside, Holt Farabee pushed the second one open. “I thought you got lost,” he quipped but caught sight of Pete and froze. “Chief Adams?”

The picture of the two of them, Farabee and Zoe, standing there at the cellar door, at ease with one another—and both perturbed with him—sent a stabbing pain through Pete’s temple. “Farabee, I need you to come down to the station. I have some questions for you.”

Zoe crossed her arms and stepped between them as if shielding her new best friend. “What kind of questions?”

“Zoe—”

“What. Kind. Of questions?”

The soft thud of footsteps behind him drew Pete’s attention.

“Dad?” The little Farabee girl jogged up to join her father and Zoe.

Oh, great. Nothing like a ten-year-old in a ponytail to make Pete feel like an ogre. He fixed Zoe with a look he hoped said,
Work with me here
. Lowering his voice he told her, “The kind of questions I don’t want to ask in front of his daughter.”