In Close (7 page)

“You have no say in what I do!”

“You need to address the problem, not mask it,” he said.

She was sure he meant well, but his response irritated her. “And how am I supposed to address the fact that I have to watch someone cut my mother into pieces with a chain saw whenever I close my eyes?”

He hesitated. He must have heard the bite in her voice, but he didn’t react to it. She detected a hint of empathy in his face as he added the tea bag to the water and set it in front of her. “Let’s try this first.”

Convinced she wouldn’t get him out of her kitchen until she’d drunk the darn tea
and
listened to what he’d found, she sank into the closest chair. “Tell me.”

He didn’t ask her to clarify. He knew what she was talking about. “In the morning.”

“Now.”

“It’ll only upset you when I’m trying to help you relax.”

“The truth has to be better than what I’m imagining.”

“Not necessarily,” he said, but he must’ve understood that she needed to assert her will on
something.

Taking the seat across from her, he spoke in a somber voice. “Les is an oily bastard. An attorney.”

Claire couldn’t remember Mr. Weaver ever telling her what he did for a living. But he’d handed over quite a chunk of money—five thousand dollars—so she assumed he wasn’t hard-pressed. “And that makes him untrustworthy from the get-go?” she said with a weak chuckle.

“It was more the look of him. He just…didn’t fit the stereotype.”

She grimaced at the taste of the tea, but he leaned forward and stirred in a spoonful of sugar. Then it wasn’t too bad. “Not every hunter does.”

“Exactly. So I ignored what my instincts were telling me and asked him a few questions.”

“Like…”

“Had he been in the area before? Did he still hunt? That sort of thing.”

The hot liquid soothed her despite the suspense. “And?”

“He didn’t talk like a hunter, either. I asked him about previous hunts, but he wouldn’t elaborate. Every hunter I’ve ever met can give you a list of where he’s been and what he’s bagged.”

“Maybe killing David soured him on the whole experience.”

“That’s what he wanted me to believe. He even told me that after David died he got rid of every gun he owned. Said he can’t bear to even
look
at a firearm.”

“I can understand why.”

“Me, too. Except…”

She shifted, trying to brace for what he had coming. “Except…”

“He’s still got a whole gun cabinet filled with them. That’s hardly getting rid of all his guns.”

Cradling the mug, Claire concentrated on the smooth ceramic and the way it transferred warmth to her cold hands. “How do you know he has that many if he told you—”

“I saw them through the back window. They were right there in the living room, next to the couch.”

“Shit… Why would Weaver lie?”

Isaac rubbed his chin as he answered. “He wasn’t expecting me to check.”

“But he volunteered that information, correct?”

“I believe he wants to appear more contrite than he feels—”

“Prick!”

“—so that no one looks any closer.”

She studied Isaac from beneath her lashes. “He killed David on purpose.”

“That’s my guess.”

“This changes everything.”

“It could.”

Or it could lead nowhere. She’d learned, long ago, not to get her hopes up. “We’d have to prove it, find someone in Pineview who has some connection to him. And that might be easier said than done.”

“Not if we get the sheriff involved again,” he said. “Someone needs to take a look at his phone records, and that requires a subpoena.”

“Do you think one lie over whether or not he still owns guns will be enough to get a judge to sign off? It’s such an invasion of privacy. He’s an attorney. That’ll make everyone cautious.”

“I’m going to do some more research first, see if I can come up with more on him.”

With a nod, she forced herself to finish her tea. But when she stood to carry her cup to the sink, he took it from her and rinsed it himself.

“Feeling better?”

“A little.” It was true. But she was pretty sure his presence and his support had more to do with it than anything else.

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14

D
ust motes swirled in the late-afternoon sunlight pouring through the window. Claire watched them shimmy above the table as she sat in April’s kitchen, awaiting the glass of iced tea April had offered her. Far too warm, even in her skirt, sandals and lightweight top, she shifted uncomfortably. If April had air-conditioning, she wasn’t using it. She’d turned on a fan when they walked through the living room, but it wasn’t enough.

There were other signs of cost-cutting. Drab, well-worn furniture. Sheets in place of blinds. Tattered rugs covering the wooden floor. The house itself was so old it still had a cast-iron stove in the corner. But it was clean and well-maintained and smelled like fresh paint. And it was only a block off Main Street. Grandma Bigelow, who’d taught piano lessons most of her life, had owned it for sixty years before she passed away. Now April rented it from Roger Bigelow and his son Clyde, who also owned a big cattle ranch outside town.

“I can’t believe it’s taken you so long to come to me.”

It was April who’d broken the silence, but this wasn’t even close to what Claire had imagined she’d say. “Excuse me?”

Ice clinked against glass as April put her drink down. “After what I told the police years ago, I expected to hear from you sooner.”

Claire wasn’t sure how to respond to this. “I’m sorry, there’s nothing in the case files about you or anything you said.”

April’s expression bordered on belligerent. “My statement has to be there. I signed it and everything.”

“I’m telling you, there’s nothing from or about you.” At least not in the accordion file Claire had found at the studio. She’d read everything twice.

She blinked. “How do you know? The police might not be telling you everything.”

“I’ve seen the files.”

“All of them?”

“I think so. What I read seemed pretty exhaustive.” When she explained about what she’d discovered at her mother’s studio, disgust curled April’s lip.

“Why should I be surprised my statement went missing?” she said.

“What does that mean?” Claire asked.

“We live in a small town where everyone knows everyone else.”

“You’re saying you think someone deep-sixed it?
On purpose?
”

“As a favor to a friend, namely your father. He’s an important figure around here these days.”

Since the inheritance. He hadn’t been important before he became wealthy. He’d worked by the hour in a gun shop. But Claire didn’t like the tone of April’s voice; it made her defensive even though April was right—Tug had more power now than he’d ever possessed. “What did it say, your statement?”

She pursed her lips, studied Claire, then smiled. “You can’t guess?”

“That Roni was responsible for my mother’s disappearance?” Maybe the police hadn’t bothered to keep her statement since it was so obviously sour grapes.

She chuckled as she took the seat opposite Claire. “Bingo. But you’re wrong about everything else.”

“What do you mean?”

“You think I said it just because I hate her and would love to get her in trouble.”

Claire sipped her iced tea. “There’s never been any love lost between you.” Especially after April’s father hanged himself in Copper Grady’s old barn.

“No kidding. Don’t know how
you’ve
been able to stomach her.”

Roni had her moments, but she could be sweet and surprisingly generous, and she’d been consistently supportive. Even when she was difficult, Claire muddled through for the sake of keeping peace in the family. What good would it do to reject her stepmother? Did she want to end up like April? Bitter and lonely and estranged? “Leanne and I have both gotten along with her.”

She shrugged. “No accounting for taste, I suppose. Still, I expected you to have more sense than your silly sister seems to—”

Claire stood. “I didn’t come here so you could bash my sister.”

April’s palm smacked the table. “You didn’t come here for the truth, either. Your mind’s already made up, so why’d you want to talk to me?”

Because she was trying to expand her search in hopes of actually learning something that would make a difference.

Curling her fingers around the edge of the table, Claire took a deep breath. “Do you have any facts on which you’re basing such an accusation against Roni?”

“You mean other than believing she’s capable of it?”

Claire shoved a hand through her hair. “How can you say that?”

“I saw what she did to my father.”

“Your father had a hard life. I—I’m sorry about what happened. But depression did him in, not Roni.”

“
Desperation
did him in. The head games she played did him in. And that started when he met her.”

They could argue about this all day, but what was the point? Claire wasn’t close enough to that situation to know what was true and what wasn’t. “Tell me why you think she killed my mother.”

“She wanted her out of the way.”

Claire sank back into her seat. “Why?”

“Roni hated your mother. She was jealous of her years before she acted on that jealousy.”

Shoving the tea aside, Claire leaned forward. “Don’t state it as a known fact because—”

“I’ll state it any way I like,” she interrupted. “And if you really want to do right by your mom, you’ll listen.”

Claire almost stood again, but she figured she’d come this far, she might as well hear the rest. Then it would all be out, and there’d be one less rock to look under. Clenching her jaw, she said, “Tell me what you have to say.”

“They were having an affair. That wasn’t conjecture on my part. I heard all the shit she said.”

“But Tug and Roni weren’t even particularly good friends.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” April touched the condensation on her glass. “They worked at the gun shop together.”

This was it? What she was basing everything on? “Of course I know that, but—”

“They fell in love, Claire.”

“According to you. I’m not sure I believe it.”

“Trust me. Roni wanted him. But there was one problem. Tug already had a wife.”

“And Roni already had a husband.”

“She wasn’t worried about that. She’d toyed with his heart until she had him so beaten down he wasn’t the same man he’d been when I was young. Why he loved her so much, I can’t even guess, but part of his anguish came from knowing he had no chance of keeping her. My dad, God rest his soul, didn’t have the same…
prospects
as Tug.”

The fan in the other room stirred Claire’s hair as it moved from side to side but did little to cool the kitchen. “You’re talking about the money my parents had just inherited.”

“Yes.”

Claire had expected to hear something like this and yet it grated on her. “Do you have proof?”

“Once I began to suspect, I wanted to know for sure. So I hacked into her email account and read their messages. They were pretty hot.”

“But no one’s ever accused
him
of cheating.” Except her. Hadn’t she just asked him and Roni at the salon?

“They hid it well. It’s too bad your mother didn’t do the same.”

The burning in her throat threatened to choke Claire. “You’re saying you think my mom was having an affair, too.”

“Of course. Don’t you? Why would so many people point a finger at her if it wasn’t true?”

“Because they’re searching for answers they don’t have, so they come up with the only explanation they can.”

She drummed her fingers on the table. “If that’s what you want to believe.”

“Why
shouldn’t
I? You didn’t hack into
her
email account, did you?”

April didn’t respond immediately. When she did, her voice was softer. “No. That part is pure conjecture.”

Claire wished she’d never instigated this conversation. “So, according to you, Tug and Roni were having an affair and so was my mother. But if they’d both found happiness with someone else, why didn’t they simply divorce? How does that situation develop into murder?”

“Far too easily, I’m afraid. Roni was making Tug feel like a desirable man, the only man for her, and you and I both know how susceptible he is to that.”

Claire gave no indication whether she agreed with this or not. Being attractive to the opposite sex had always been important to him. The way he dressed, far younger than his age, said as much. But April didn’t know Tug, not really.

“As long as he could provide the lifestyle she craved—the lifestyle
my
father failed to provide—he’d be her heartthrob.”

Even though she wished she could prevent it, the mansion Roni lived in courtesy of her mother’s inheritance popped into Claire’s mind. She and Leanne had each received ninety thousand, which they’d spent on their houses and on school, but Tug had kept the bulk of Alana’s inheritance. “So you think it was all about money.”

“That, and he didn’t want to lose you and Leanne.”

Leanne’s words during their last argument came back to Claire. Her sister had stopped short of accusing Tug of murder, but she’d also said he wasn’t sad about losing Alana because it meant he wouldn’t have to worry about being separated from her children. Did a consensus make that true?

No. She was allowing this to go too far. April hated Roni and Tug. She had a vested interest in describing them in the worst possible light. And Claire was letting her. “You don’t know how he felt about us so don’t pretend you do—”

“You’re wrong there, too. He wrote what I just said in one of those emails.” April picked up her glass, stared at it in the light of the sun and took a swallow before setting it back down. “He really cares about you, if that makes you feel any better.”

It didn’t. Claire was sick inside. “Most stepparents don’t go to such lengths to keep their stepchildren.”

“But he wasn’t going to get any more. Roni had herself fixed when she married my father. He already had the four of us. She didn’t want a fifth mouth to feed. And Tug couldn’t have any of his own.”

Claire nearly dropped her glass. “What did you say?”

April watched her more closely. “You mean the part about Tug being infertile? You didn’t know?”

He wouldn’t admit it. She suspected the reason for that was his ego. He didn’t want to be perceived as damaged goods or less capable, less attactive to women. But she
did
know. That was the problem. She’d overheard her own mother say it, and that lent April’s whole terrible story more credibility than she wanted it to have. “Who told you?”

“It was in one of the emails. I’m guessing he sent it before she told him she couldn’t conceive, because he was trying to reassure her that she didn’t have to worry about getting pregnant.” She tore at some loose skin on her lips with her teeth, apparently struggling to recall the specifics. “If I remember right, he said something like, ‘All I ever dream about is making a baby with you. But even with Alana out of the way, you need to know it wouldn’t be possible.’ Then he went on to say that when his first wife couldn’t get pregnant, she dragged him to the doctor and they learned he had a low sperm count. He claimed that’s why she divorced him.”

When Claire merely stared, slack-jawed, April grimaced. “I really didn’t expect this to shock you quite so badly. You have to believe
someone
killed your mother. Who else could it be?”

Anyone. Joe. His brother. His wife. A…a stranger. A psychopath.

“Just be glad you weren’t the one to read those sickly sweet emails,” April told her. “I get a cavity just remembering them. But it was the sexual ones that really grossed me out.”

Claire lifted a hand to stop her. “Spare me the details, please.”

“No problem. I’ve already blocked them from memory.”

It seemed a bit convenient that she could remember so much about the other ones, especially after fifteen years. “Do you have copies of those emails?”

“No. I was afraid my father would see them, and—” her voice wavered “—I didn’t want him to be hurt.”

April had lost a parent, too. Claire sympathized. But that didn’t mean it was right for April to blame Roni. “So she never figured out that you knew?”

“She didn’t have to figure it out. Several months later, I accused her of it.”

Claire folded her arms. “If she’s so diabolical, weren’t you afraid of what she might do to shut you up?”

“She hadn’t killed anyone at that point. I knew she was a selfish bitch, but I never dreamed she’d go quite so far—until it happened. That convinced me pretty fast.” She pushed her lip to one side so she could reach a different spot with her teeth. “I’ll never forget where I was when I heard the news that your mother was missing. I was sitting in my father’s trailer, crying. He was drunk, passed out yet again, but the TV was blaring in the background, showing the police going in and out of your house.”

“You immediately knew Roni was responsible?”

“Of course. That’s why I went to the police.”

But there was no record of her contact with the sheriff’s department. Claire would have to ask Myles if he knew anything about it. “If you weren’t scared before, you should’ve been then.”

“I was. But I was married at the time and didn’t feel so vulnerable. As the days, months and years passed, and she got everything she wanted, I realized I wasn’t at risk. She doesn’t consider me a threat. If what I knew could hurt her, she would’ve been in prison long ago.”

“I still can’t believe you’ve stayed here.”

“Where would I go?”

“You have siblings elsewhere in Montana.”

“But this place is all I know. And my children’s father works for the fire department. Scott wouldn’t let me take them away even if I wanted to move.”

Claire counted the rotations of the fan. The steady
swoop
sounded like a propeller circling in her head. “So you’re telling me she doesn’t have to worry because you have no proof those emails ever existed.”

April sat as straight as the chair. “The police should’ve confiscated her computer. But they didn’t.”

“No copies, like I said.”

Her gaze fell to the table. “No copies. Just what I can remember, what I told you.” Her eyes lifted to meet Claire’s. “You don’t believe me, do you?”