Edge of Midnight (24 page)

Because the reason for hiding was over. She was grieving over some loss and couldn't face socializing. She was a recluse who didn't want to encourage neighbors. Coming from California, she didn't like the political climate of conservative Kansas. Coming from California, she was afraid a neighbor would ask if she'd found a spiritual home yet.

Or she'd thought the danger was over.

After getting the name of the Realtor from Pearl, Ida couldn't see any harm in paying him a visit. How could asking questions get her in trouble? Laverty Realtors was a husband-and-wife team with an office on Fourth Street. Rich Laverty greeted her with a smile, like she was a real person with real money who wanted to buy a house. What a joke! Her biggest hope was to keep her job so she could make car payments.

“If I can't interest you in a property,” Rich scooted back his desk chair, “what can I do for you?” Round, ruddy face with beginning jowls, putting on weight through the middle. Wiry, reddish hair sprinkled with gray.

“The house you sold out by the cornfield.”

He nodded. “Applegate place. It's the original farmhouse, you know. Generations of Applegates farmed that land.”

Ida knew that Laverty, like a number of people in Hampstead, came from a farming family that no longer farmed. He shook his head sadly. “Farming's never going to be the same. Small farmers are going out of business right and left. It's just too damn much.”

“I know a lot of farms are in trouble.” Ida sat in a wheeled armchair that was so comfortable she wondered if she could take it with her.

“An understatement. Farmers are trying to sell land. Neighboring farmers don't want it, they can't afford it. Farmers are throwing in the towel. They just can't hack it, or they're going bankrupt.”

“It's a sad thing,” Ida said. Osey had talked about this as though it was a personal tragedy. Pasture left to grow weeds. In a generation or two, even the landscape will change. The prairie will be lost.

“Tell you the truth, I didn't think that place would ever sell. The house isn't much, and it's way the hell out, isolated and right by that damn cornfield. You can smell the damn corn all the time until the combines come in to harvest. Which should be any day now. They're late this year.”

“Something about it appealed to Ms. Oliver,” Ida said. “What was it she liked about the place? The isolation?”

“Beats me. I never even met the woman who bought it.”

“You never met her? Didn't you sell her the place? Oh, you mean Hattie handled this one.”

“Nope, it was me. Only sale I ever made where I never met the buyer.” He let his chair tilt back with a squeak. “Say, would you like some iced tea? I can rustle us up some real quick.”

“No, thanks. Just tell me how you can sell a house without ever meeting the buyer.”

“The Internet. We've been doing that a bit lately. Keep up with the times, you know. We stuck in a picture of that sucker, with all the particulars, on our Web site and, by God, if it didn't pay off. She's the first, mind. But hell, one's all you need, right?”

“Right,” Ida said. “Kelby saw the information and…?”

“Yep. Sent me a fax, asked if it was still available. Wanted more pictures. I fired them off. She decided she wanted it. Didn't even quibble over price. Just went with the asking price. I faxed her a contract, she signed and zipped it back by overnight mail.”

“Didn't you think that was odd?”

“Hell, Ida, I've been in this business for years. Nothing anybody does makes me think it's odd. There was a little more to it. All kinds of papers back and forth. Inspections, permission for small plumbing repair, stuff like that, all by fax and phone and overnight mail. I did talk with her on the phone. Seemed like a nice woman.”

“Did she tell you why she wanted to move here?”

“Nope. And I didn't ask.”

“What did she like about the house that made her want to buy it?”

“I didn't ask that either. It's a real personal thing, buying a house. One place just speaks to a person, you know? No rhyme nor reason most of the time.”

“You must have seen her when she picked up the keys.”

“Not then either. She opened an account at First National on Main Street, had money transferred. She had me make arrangements for her to pick up the keys there. She even asked me to have somebody available to open the house when her furniture arrived. Did that myself. Stood on the porch and unlocked the door for the movers.”

Ida thanked him, said if she was ever in the position of being able to afford a house she'd call him, and left, convinced Kelby was running from something, or hiding from something. Or someone. Or she had mental problems. After her shift, Ida went home to the apartment at Vermont and Sixth Street. Two bedrooms and one bath. Second story of an old house with a steep peaked roof. Her living room ceiling went from seven feet at the walls to fourteen feet in the center. The downstairs half of the house was occupied by two guys, a doctor and a lawyer who were rarely home.

She peeled off her uniform and put on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. This business of not returning calls from a frantic sister was something else that didn't sit right. Of course, she didn't know the situation, and it could be that one sister did something unforgivable and the other one wanted nothing further to do with her. Or something like that. Even she got twisted up in the pronouns, but there was something hinky here and her mind wouldn't let it alone. Even as a kid, she had to pick at knots and untangle them. This was the same. If it didn't make sense, she wanted to know why. Generally, if you figured out the why, the whole thing unraveled and it made some kind of sense, although sometimes weird.

Ida got down the tallest glass in her kitchen, filled it with ice, and poured in Coke from a liter bottle. She shoved the bottle back into her almost empty refrigerator and went to the living room where she'd set up her desk with her computer. Okay. After placing the fan so it would blow directly on her and glugging down a few good swallows, she turned on her computer and searched for whatever she could find under the name Kelby Oliver.

Name, address, and phone number for Berkeley, California. Insurance broker. Divorced. No children that Ida could find. She made a note of address and phone number and kept searching. After three hours, she sat back, rubbed her eyes, and stood up to refill her glass. Kelby had served jury duty on the Lily Farmer case, a young woman raped, beaten, and murdered. The suspect was found guilty and sentenced to prison with no possibility of parole.

Was this connected with Kelby's fear? Did she have doubts about the man's guilt? Feel they had convicted an innocent man? Was he innocent? The guilty man still out there? Could that be what Kelby was afraid of?

It didn't strike Ida as the answer. Kelby was all the time looking over her shoulder, like somebody was coming after her. The guy who committed the murder was behind bars in California, not in Kansas chasing her down. If he was innocent, the guilty party would have gotten away with murder, counting his lucky stars. And why had she moved here? Bought a house without even seeing it, except for pictures on the Internet, moved in and kept to herself. Had her groceries delivered, didn't talk with the neighbors. That said the woman was hiding. From what? Or whom?

Although, Ida might understand Kelby hiding from Pearl. Especially Pearl, mad because she had lost property waiting for the seller to get more desperate and reduce the price.

Something here that Ida was missing. Another hour at the computer didn't get her nearer an explanation. She picked up her phone and dialed Kelby's California number, got an intercept and the recording that the number was no longer in service. She tried information in Hampstead and found out the local number was unlisted. The sister's name was Faye. What was the last name? How the heck was Ida going to find it?

She took a long swallow of the Coke. Well, there was the firm where Kelby had worked. Personnel records might have next of kin. Yeah, but that could get her in serious trouble. She considered the pros and cons. The cons definitely outweighed the pros. What the heck.

By the time she got what she was after, the Coke was down to tiny slivers of ice in a melted puddle. She dumped it in the sink and looked at her watch. Nearly four
A.M
. What time was it in Pennsylvania? Two hours later? Too early to call. Changing the angle of the fan, she lay on the couch and closed her eyes and slept for three hours. Eyelids at half-mast, she punched in the number for Faye Turney. A woman answered, said she was Faye when Ida asked. Ida explained she was a police officer.

“Oh my God. I knew it. Something's happened.”

“Ma'am?”

“I felt it in my bones that something was wrong. I just knew she—”

“Ma'am, if I could just—”

“Oh my God, what was it? Did he kill her?”

“Who?”

“Kelby! Isn't that why you called me? To tell me she's been hurt? Or worse?”

“Nothing's happened to her, ma'am. You called and asked us to check on her.”

“Yes, yes. And you said she was all right. Was that a lie? Has she been in trouble all along?”

“Ma'am, if you would just calm down—”

“Calm down! She's my only sister!”

“Yes, ma'am. I just need to ask you some questions.” Ida could hear hyperventilation.

“Why? What questions?”

Ida went into some nonsense about needing to know Faye was actually Kelby's sister, that they couldn't simply give out information to just anyone who asked for it. “I'm sure you understand.”

“I guess so. What is it you want to know?”

“Why did Kelby move to Hampstead?”

“Where's Hampstead?”

Ida's eyebrows shot up. What the hell? Maybe this woman wasn't a sister after all. “It's in Kansas, ma'am.”

“I don't know where she went. She wouldn't tell me, said it was better if I didn't know. All I have is the phone number, and she told me never to use it, that she'd call me. But it's been so long, and I haven't heard, and I just had to make sure she's all right.”

Ida heard the woman blow her nose. “She's mad at me, isn't she? That's why she won't call. She's mad at me.”

“Uh, why did she move here and not give you her whereabouts?”

“To get away, of course. That awful jury ordeal. Just the most gruesome, awful thing. They had to look at all these pictures and listen to what that awful man had done to that poor girl. It upset her. Gave her nightmares, you know? It got so bad she started seeing a psychiatrist.”

“What was the doctor's name?”

“I don't know. Somebody there. You know, where she moved to. What did you call it? Hampstead?”

“You're talking about the Lily Farmer trial?”

“That was it. They weren't allowed to read newspapers or watch the news, but she had me collect all the newspaper articles for her.”

“Why?”

“Oh well, I'm not really sure. I never am with Kelby. She does things her way, you know? I think she might have an idea of writing a book about the whole thing.”

Ida thought it was too bad she couldn't interrogate the psychiatrist. Well, they always played the confidentiality card anyway. “She left Berkeley rather abruptly—”

“She certainly did. I told her to come and stay with me, but she was afraid he'd find her here. And I have two small children. She didn't want to put them in danger.”

“Who?”

“My children? Well, Shelly and Greg, but why—”

An inkling of why Kelby might not have called her sister was becoming clear. Ida'd only known the woman ten minutes and already she was exhausted. “No, ma'am, not the children. Who was Kelby afraid of?”

“Well, the stalker, of course.”

Stalker.
“Who was stalking her?”

“This man. He kept calling, in the middle of the night. Leaving messages. Threatening her. Turning up wherever she went. Following her. Telling her he was going to kill her. She was terrified.”

“She notified the police?”

“Certainly. But they weren't able to do anything. Finally, she decided the only way to be safe was go someplace where he couldn't find her. That's why she just up and moved. She had no ties with anyone in that place. She thought he couldn't find her there and she'd be safe.”

“Who was the stalker?”

“She wouldn't tell me. She said I was better off not knowing. That way I wouldn't be in any danger. Or the children. You're not going to tell her I talked to you, are you? She told me never to talk about this.”

“No, ma'am, I won't tell her.” Ida thanked the woman, hung up, and sat back. A stalker explained Kelby's behavior, looking over her shoulder all the time. She was making sure her stalker wasn't breathing close behind.

Ida brushed her teeth, then got in the shower. Tell the chief? The chief might want to know why Ida was invading the privacy of a citizen. She was pretty sure Chief Wren didn't look kindly on that sort of thing.

Tell Osey? She thought about that as she toweled dry. If she were going to tell anybody, Osey would be the one. He was her partner—for now, anyway, unless he got pissed at her. He wouldn't get all hot about it.

Okay, so tell Osey. And tell him Kelby was scared out of her skin and needed protection. And he'd say, protection from what? And she'd say, the stalker she was scared of. And he'd say how do you know about a stalker. And she'd have to tell him she called Kelby's sister. And how did she find the sister? Well, a little hacking she was sure would be frowned on. And she was kind of sure she maybe should have gotten permission before she started digging into innocent people's lives.

On the other hand, if she did nothing, the stalker might catch up with Kelby.

She stewed about it all during her shift. When she got off duty, she went in to see the chief.