In Close (Bulletproof #3)(79)
Author: Brenda Novak

“By admitting the affair, he could be hoping to cast more blame on Tug. Maybe he was afraid we were getting too close to the truth.”

“Or that could be the very reason he didn’t come forward at the time.”

“It wasn’t until he saw me talking to Carly Ortega across the street that he changed his mind. Could be he was nervous about what she was saying to me and it convinced him that he had to handle the situation differently this time around.”

Isaac made a clicking sound with his tongue. “I don’t know…?.”

Because he wasn’t aware of Leanne’s part in what took place, and she couldn’t tell him without betraying her sister. But…the more she thought about it, the more convinced she became. Joe had acted strange in the past. He hadn’t even acted all that normal at Peter’s. They weren’t about to let her go until she saw what they wanted to show her. That had spooked her pretty badly. What would’ve happened if she’d acted skeptical instead of devastated by the knowledge that her mother had been unfaithful? Would she still be walking around today?

“His brother definitely didn’t like that he was including me. He kept saying it was a risk. Like you said, he could’ve meant that more literally than I took it. Maybe Joe was making a last-ditch effort to throw us offtrack.”

“And here we’d decided he’s so noble.”

She nodded. This theory also offered an alternative explanation as to why he’d been so “kind” about keeping what Leanne had done to himself.

“Remember the inconsistencies David listed in the files?” Isaac asked.

Claire assumed he was about to bring up Leanne’s absence from school. But he didn’t. He’d never said much about it, probably because of what she’d already admitted to him. And Leanne was so young at the time he couldn’t see her playing any meaningful role in the mystery.

“He mentioned Joe’s lack of an alibi,” he said.

He was talking about David. “See? Joe had opportunity. And he was working very close to our house that day.”

Isaac rubbed his hands over his face. “I think it’s time to call my P.I. to see what she’s been able to uncover on Les Weaver. Hopefully, she’ll have details that’ll help.”

“You’re already expecting results? Have you given her enough time?”

“The way things are going, there might not be anything left of Pineview if she doesn’t come up with answers soon.”

Claire wanted to laugh, but it really wasn’t funny. Her house had been trashed, many of her personal mementos destroyed. His had been burned to the ground. She was estranged from every member of her family and was losing money every day she didn’t work.

Isaac was right. What would be left when this was all over?

With Claire out of town since the fire, Jeremy didn’t know what to do with himself. So many things were changing. He didn’t like it; it frightened him, made him jumpy.

Usually after work he headed over to River Dell. These days, no one used the old park at the end of Claire’s cul de sac. If he went in the back way, he could hide his car in the trees on the far side and walk along the bank of the creek until he reached her place. Because she didn’t expect anyone to be looking in, and there were no roads with any traffic, she rarely bothered with blinds, except in her bedroom. She pulled those down every night, but he often got to see her finish work at the salon, eat, watch TV, maybe visit with her sister. Sometimes he even followed her to Laurel’s or to the book group.

He’d gone to her place as soon as he left Hank’s yesterday and today, but both times he’d found her house locked up and empty. He wasn’t sure when she might return. The firefighters had finally put out the forest fire; it’d taken them most of two days. But Isaac wasn’t around, either. Claire had to be with him.

If she was with me, I’d never bring her back. It’s too dangerous here.

He drove through town a couple of times, then stopped at the store to spend the change someone had left on one of the tables he’d bussed at Hank’s. Fortunately, he wasn’t hungry because he didn’t have much money and there wasn’t any food at home. He’d been smart enough to have a burger for dinner, even though it was only four o’clock when he finished work.

He could afford a candy bar, but after he ate it he couldn’t think of anything else to do. Tuesday afternoons weren’t all that eventful in Pineview. Add to that the fire, and how worried everyone had been about it spreading—and the whole town was tired. Everyone seemed happy to go straight home, although it wouldn’t be dark for four and a half hours.

Jeremy put on his brakes as he passed the Kicking Horse. There were a few cars in the lot. He could always come back later. Maybe things would pick up. But it wasn’t a place he usually went. He’d avoided it in the past because he hadn’t wanted to run into his father. He avoided it today because he didn’t want to run into his father’s friends.

That left him with no distractions. And he was running low on gas. Time to head home whether he wanted to or not.

“Hi, Dad,” he called as he walked in. His father couldn’t answer, but playing this game had worked last night. It felt better to pretend. Pretending meant he could be nice and his father would be nice in return. It also meant he didn’t have to face what had really happened.

He kept that up for an hour or so, told his father all about his day and Claire being gone and the fire getting put out, but eventually he ended up pacing outside the door to the crawl space. He needed to go under there to make sure he’d done a good job burying the body. He’d tried to check last night, but it’d been too soon. He’d merely stood by the door and cried.

It was still too soon, but he couldn’t let it go any longer. He also wanted to check that he hadn’t left anything behind. His father used to say he’d forget his head if it wasn’t attached to his body.

Gathering his nerve, he quit pacing, unfastened the locks and opened the door. But he barely poked his head inside. A quick peek was all he could stomach.

Fortunately, he couldn’t detect anything other than the dank odor he smelled every time he went under the house. He figured that meant his father had enough dirt on top of him. He couldn’t see much of a mound, either, even when he pointed a flashlight right where he’d done the digging.

He shifted his light to the suitcase. He should’ve buried Alana at the same time, but he’d been so tired. And he kept picturing her with empty sockets and clumps of hair falling off her scalp and feared he’d have nightmares about zombies if he disturbed her. The last thing he wanted was to wake the dead.