Читать книгу Full Tilt - Rick Mofina - Страница 18

10

Rampart, New York

The grill of Reddick’s patrol car filled Kate’s rearview mirror for several miles after she’d left the rest stop.

Driving to town, she bit back on her tears and her anger at Rampart police but mostly at herself. She was churning with rage and an underlying ache, because she’d never been this close to Vanessa.

I’ve got to think clearly.

Kate looked at the time.

Even with the drive to Syracuse she had a few hours before her early evening return flight. Enough time to check into the other part of the case.

Carl Nelson.

She’d become so consumed by the necklace that she’d overlooked his role. She knew nothing about him, the man the local press had named as the second fatality in the fire, the reclusive computer expert. Remembering his long hair and beard from the driver’s license photo Brennan had showed her, Kate thought Nelson fit the image of a creepy eccentric. What part did he play in this? What was Vanessa’s relationship to him? And what about the rumors of a suicide note?

Kate needed to talk to Nelson’s family, neighbors and coworkers.

Stopped at a traffic light, she was glad to see Reddick had backed off. Kate concentrated on her GPS and entered Carl Nelson’s address, 57 Knox Lane, which she’d memorized from his driver’s license.

Is going there a smart move after what happened at the scene?

This is a democracy, and people have a right to talk to other people, she thought, searching her mirror for any sign that Reddick was still tailing her.

Nothing.

She headed for Nelson’s neighborhood and came upon his home, a modest ranch-style house with a neat yard and a detached garage.

And a Rampart police car parked out front.

Kate cursed to herself and let out a long breath.

She wanted to knock on the door, talk to anyone who was there, and Nelson’s neighbors. She wanted to do her own digging for answers, but not with a cop sitting there eyeing the quiet street.

Kate bit her lip, taking in the house as she drove by slowly, knowing the cop was likely recording her plate. No, this wasn’t going to work. Kate rolled down the street for a few blocks, coming to a gas station.

Maybe somebody at the station can tell me about Nelson and point me to people he worked with at the call center.

When Kate stopped and signaled at the intersection, she spotted another Rampart patrol car parked on the street.

Reddick again.

He’d been watching her.

Un-freaking-believable. Okay. She got the message.

Kate headed for the interstate and Syracuse.

As she put Rampart behind her she refused to be knocked off her feet. There were other ways she could pursue this. It took about sixty miles for her to calm down. She stopped in Watertown at a Sunoco to fill up then went to a Burger King for a coffee and a muffin. She sent Reeka and Chuck a message.

Worked it out with Rampart PD. Not going to be charged. Heading home.

After sending it, Kate looked at Grace’s face, the background image on her phone, and checked the time. She should be home with Nancy.

Kate pressed her number.

“Hi, Nancy, it’s Kate.”

“Hi, how’re things going up there? Did you have success?”

Nancy was aware of Kate’s tragedy and her lifelong search for answers.

“A bit, but it’s complicated. I’ll tell you about it when I get back.”

“Would you like to talk to Grace—she’s right here?”

“Yes, thanks. And, Nancy, thank you for doing this.”

“No need to thank me, here she is.”

“Hi, Mom!”

“Hi, sweetie, how did school go today?”

“It was fun. We learned about butterflies, it was so cool.”

Kate cut a lonely figure in the corner of the restaurant. Listening to her daughter tell her about her day was a balm, briefly pulling her mind from Rampart, the death scene and the questions that troubled her.

* * *

The flight to La Guardia was delayed.

Kate waited in pre-boarding, too tired to think or do much else but look at her phone and older photos of herself with Vanessa when they were children. There they were, sisters, hugging at Christmas. There was Vanessa on the sofa, looking so small and smiling so big. Her new angel necklace glinted in the flash. Kate blinked at the memories before closing the images.

Later, as the jet finally lifted off, Kate contended with the aftershocks of self-reproach for messing up. Then she considered Brennan and his reluctance to escort her to the scene.

Why wouldn’t he do it?

Seasoned detectives she’d known would’ve had no trouble with her request, which indicated to her that Brennan was either a rookie or being overly cautious, or that something more was going on.

Well, there’s no way I’m letting this go.

When the plane leveled she shut her eyes for a few tranquil minutes.

* * *

When Kate got home, Grace was asleep in Nancy’s guest room, which smelled of lavender and loneliness.

“You can let her spend the night, if you like.”

“Thank you, Nancy, but we’ve imposed all day.”

Kate caressed Grace’s cheek, kissed her softly. She stirred and groaned, “Hi, Mommy...love you,” as Kate hefted her into her arms.

“Oh, you’re getting so heavy.”

Nancy got the door, carrying Grace’s backpack, and followed Kate back to their apartment. After Kate put Grace into bed, she returned to her living room and put five crumpled twenties into Nancy’s hand.

“What’re you doing, Kate? I can’t take money from you.”

“You’re always helping. Take it. Please.”

“Now, listen to me.” Nancy put the money into Kate’s hand, closed it and held her hands firmly around it. “Ever since my Burt died, I lost my way. We have no children, no family, well—you know. You and Grace arrived in my life like an answered prayer. I’m here to help you whenever you need it. You mean more to me than you’ll ever know.”

Kate found a depth of warmth and love in Nancy’s kind face that came as close to a mother figure as she’d ever known. Kate hugged the older woman, holding on for a moment.

“Thank you. I’d be lost, too, without you.”

“Okay, good night. Now you get some rest and let me know if I can help with anything.”

Kate took a hot shower and made a cup of raspberry tea, glad that she’d have another day off to recover. Still, something was niggling at her.

I’m forgetting something.

Before going to bed, she went through her unopened emails. Most were routine and could wait. Then she came to one from Reeka, sent only minutes before.

Be in the office tomorrow for an important meeting at 10 a.m.