Circle of Influence (A Zoe Chambers Mystery) (22 page)

TWENTY-ONE

Pete was having no luck. He’d been to the high school. Logan Bassi was on the excused absentee list, but Pete had them check anyway. The school secretary looked up the boy’s class schedule and sent a student office-helper—a bored-looking girl with pink hair and a pierced lip—to confirm his absence.

As expected, he wasn’t there.

Pete left his card in case anyone spotted Logan.

The sky had turned a deep steely gray, and a few snowflakes drifted through the air with the promise of more. The temperature had climbed into the low thirties, but that only set the stage for another snowstorm.

Pete checked his notes and pulled out of the school’s parking lot. He made stops at the homes of several of Logan’s friends. No one claimed to have seen him since the funeral. And none of them led Pete to believe they were lying.

Zoe’s hand rested on the doorknob of Rose’s kitchen door. So close to freedom, and yet she felt trapped. Baronick had only learned of Logan’s disappearance minutes ago—thanks to Rose and Sylvia and their big mouths—and he hadn’t placed any phone calls since he’d arrived, so Zoe still had a shot of tracking the kid down before all hell broke loose. If she could only escape the detective’s questions.

“I have a busy day ahead,” she said.

Baronick’s smile vanished. “I do need to speak with you about a few things, and it’d be better to take care of this sooner than later.”

“Are you placing me under arrest?”

“What?” He scoffed. “No. Of course not.”

“Then if I’m not under arrest, you can’t detain me.”

The smile crept back onto his face. “I don’t want to arrest or detain you. I just want to chat. Why make it difficult? I could sure use your cooperation.” His gaze shifted to Rose and to Sylvia. “All of you. We all want the same thing, after all. To find out who killed Jerry McBirney.”

“Not really,” Sylvia muttered under her breath.

Zoe snorted.

“What was that?” Baronick said. “I didn’t hear you.”

“I said Zoe has to go to work.” Sylvia’s voice rang out.

“I’m aware that she’s on duty tonight. But not until four o’clock,” Baronick said.

A chill snaked its way down her spine. The detective knew her schedule. That couldn’t be good.  “Um, yes, but I also manage the farm where I live. I have work to do there before my shift begins.”

“Fine. Then let’s talk right now, so you can be on your way. Is there somewhere I can buy you a cup of coffee?”

“In Dillard? No.”

The detective glared at her. “There’s coffee at the police station. We could go there.”

Sylvia cleared her throat. “You said she wasn’t under arrest.”

“She’s not.”

But if Sylvia built up her usual head of steam, Zoe feared they might all end up at the station. “Okay, just wait a minute. If you’re that intent on talking to me right now, we can sit in my truck. You won’t even have to spring for coffee.”

He nodded. “That’ll do.” He turned his attention to Sylvia and Rose. “Ladies, I’m sure you can find something to occupy your time. I’ll get to you both shortly.”

“You know where to find me,” Sylvia said. Without giving the detective a chance to argue, she snatched her purse from the chair where she’d left it, and pressed past Zoe, out the door.

Rose’s eyes appeared glazed. Too little sleep and too much stress had left her bewildered.

Zoe took her hands. “Go check on Allison. Make sure she’s okay.”

Rose gave a quick nod, glanced at Baronick, and headed for the hall.

“Allison? The daughter? She’s here?”

“She’s in the bathroom, throwing up. She caught the flu from her other grandmother. Very contagious.” Zoe faked a big smile. “I hope you’ve had your flu shot, Detective.”

From the look on his face, she guessed not.

Baronick followed her down the snow-covered sidewalk to her truck and slid into the passenger seat without further invitation. She climbed behind the wheel and turned the key to get the heater running.

“How well did you know Jerry McBirney?” Baronick opened his notebook.

Too well
. “I’ve lived in Vance Township all my life. So did he.”

“Did you get along with him?”

“No one did.”

“So you didn’t like the man?”

She took a breath. “Do I need an attorney?”

Baronick shrugged. “I don’t know. Do you?”

The python-and-rat thing came back to her.

“Let’s try something else. Do you have any idea who might have wanted him dead?”

“Probably lots of people. I told you no one liked him.” Zoe wondered at what point she was incriminating herself. Logan. Rose and Sylvia. “You should pick up a copy of the minutes from the supervisors’ meetings. He wasn’t what you might call ‘popular’ with his constituents.”

Baronick made a note. “That’s a very good idea. I’ll do that. Thanks for the help.”

Zoe relaxed. Maybe she really could steer the investigation somewhere—anywhere—other than Logan’s direction.

“When was the last time you saw Mr. McBirney?”

Tension bit into her shoulders again. “Um. He came to my barn yesterday afternoon.”

“
Your
barn?”

“The one I manage.”

He grinned at her. “The one I’m keeping you from. Sorry.”

What was with this guy? Good cop, bad cop all rolled into one?

“Can you remember what time he was there?”

“About one-thirty.”

“And how long did he stay?”

Too long
. “Fifteen, twenty minutes maybe.”

“Really?” He sounded amazed. “What was he doing there? Did you invite him?”

“No. He just showed up.” Tread lightly. “He wanted to convince me that he wasn’t responsible for Ted’s murder.”

“And did he?”

“Hell, no.”

Baronick chuckled and nodded. “And it took him twenty minutes to try to convince you? And you to say no?”

Sweat beaded under Zoe’s bangs. She turned the heater down. “He could have tried for an hour. I’d still not believe him.”

“I understand.” He flipped back a few pages in his notebook, scowling. Then he flipped forward again. Without looking up, he said, “So tell me about the night Jerry McBirney tried to rape you.”

Between stops, Pete patrolled the streets of Vance Township, searching for that silver Ford Taurus. He found several, but none matched Rose Bassi’s license number. He ran them anyway. Just in case. But every one of them was clear.

Damn it. Pete had been seventeen once. Where would he hide if he wanted to disappear? Winter made it tough. The ice cream joints and the parks were closed for the season. He made a loop past them anyway. Just in case.

The two area campgrounds were both closed. Not to mention it was too cold to sleep out. But he drove through them.

Just in case.

Nothing.

The nausea that hit Zoe had no connection to Allison’s flu. How the hell had Baronick found out about that? Pete? No. Pete wouldn’t tell him.

Would he?

Pete
was
a cop after all.

No. He hadn’t shared the news of Logan’s disappearance with the detective. He certainly wouldn’t have betrayed her. 

But who else knew? It wasn’t something she’d shared with many. Ted and Rose. And Sylvia. They’d been her family back then. No one else.

“Ms. Chambers? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” She swallowed back the bile that seared her throat. “And I’m done answering questions without a lawyer.”

Baronick tapped his pen on the notebook. “I don’t blame you. I understand it was pretty ugly. But, okay, you don’t want to talk about it. We’ll change the subject.”

Zoe swallowed. She needed water.

“Tell me about Logan Bassi’s disappearance. When was the last time you saw him?”

“I’m done.” Her brain spun out of control. “Get out of my truck.”

“Why? I’m just trying to help find the boy. His mother and grandmother are obviously distraught by his disappearance.”

“Yesterday,” Zoe said. “I saw him yesterday.”—
true
—“At Ted’s funeral.”—
half true
—“We were all there.”
True
.

Baronick made a notation. “Do you think the loss of his father might have gotten to him? Made him run off? Maybe he needed some space.”

“Maybe. I have to go. I’ve got work to do. Please get out of my truck.”

“Did Logan feel as strongly as you do that Mr. McBirney is responsible for his dad’s death?”

Zoe drew a deep breath, chasing the fog from her brain. She turned to face the detective and fixed him with her best
I-mean-business
stare. “I can’t speak for anyone else. You’ll have to find Logan and ask him.” She failed to mention that she intended to find him first. “Now, get out of my truck. Because I’m going home. If you don’t get out now, you can come to the farm with me and muck out stalls. But don’t expect me to give you a ride back to your car.”

Baronick sighed. “Really, Zoe, it would be so much easier on everyone if you’d just cooperate.”

“Yeah. Easier on you. Either arrest me or get out.”

He gave a troubled shake of his head and closed his notebook. “You have to know this doesn’t look good for you. Or for Logan. Innocent people don’t try to hide things.”

“Goodbye, Detective.”

He opened the door and stepped out.

She watched as he sloshed back up the snowy sidewalk to Rose’s door. Rose met him there. With the windows up, Zoe couldn’t hear the conversation, but it appeared that she had no intention of letting the detective back in. He held his hands palm up, apparently imploring and cajoling her. A minute later, he turned and headed back toward the street.

Yay, Rose.

Baronick looked up at Zoe as he reached the end of the walk. Probably wondering why she was still sitting there if she were in such a hurry to get back to the barn. But he didn’t come any closer to the truck. Or his car. Instead, he turned and headed down the street toward Sylvia’s house.

Zoe cut the engine and jumped out, jogging to Rose’s door.

She swung it open before Zoe had a chance to knock. Rose caught her arm as she slipped out of her coat and hauled her into the living room. “What did he ask you?”

“About McBirney. Who might have killed him. When I saw him last. That sort of thing.”

“Anything about Logan?”

“Yeah. I told him I saw him yesterday at the funeral. That’s all. Then I kicked him out of my truck.”

“Nothing else?”

“Nothing.”

“Good.” Rose sank to the floor and stretched out on her back, covering her eyes with her forearm. “I want the cops to find my boy. But…”

“You didn’t answer
any
of Baronick’s questions?” Zoe sat down next to her.

“No. Sylvia called me on my cell phone, and we agreed we’d both send him packing. I can’t think straight.”

“Me either. How’s Allison?”

“In bed. Poor kid looks like death. Not much of a fever, though.”

“That’s good.”

Only the soft rumble of the furnace interrupted the silence for several long moments. Then Zoe remembered what she needed to do.

“I have to find Logan,” she said.

“Before that detective does.” Rose pushed herself up to sit cross-legged. “Do you think Pete believes Logan had something to do with McBirney’s death?”

“Yeah, I do.”

Rose rubbed her eyes. “I’m so stupid. I’m terrified my son’s hurt. Lying in a ditch somewhere, bleeding, maybe dead. And the cops think he’s hiding because he killed a man? How moronic is that?”

Zoe longed to comfort her best friend. Tell her everything would be okay. Logan wasn’t hurt. And he wasn’t hiding from the law.

Rose must have seen the doubt in her eyes. “Zoe? Oh, my God. You think he did it, too. You think he killed that bastard.”

“I don’t know.” Zoe swiped away a rush of hot tears. “I don’t want to believe he’s hurt. What else is there? Honestly, if he did kill McBirney, no jury would—”

“Convict him? That’s what you were going to say, isn’t it?” Rose leapt to her feet. “I can’t believe you. He thinks of you as an aunt, for crying out loud. You helped me raise him. How can you even consider—” Her voice broke, and she covered her face with both hands. “Get out.”

Zoe stood, her head reeling. “What?”

“You heard me. Get out. Get the hell out of my house and don’t ever come back.” Rose stormed out of the room.

Zoe’s knees threatened to buckle. She couldn’t catch her breath. This wasn’t happening. None of it. Ted wasn’t dead. Logan wasn’t missing. Rose didn’t despise her.

The kitchen door slammed, and Sylvia bustled in. She took one look at Zoe and froze. “My God. What’s happened? Logan?”

Zoe shook her head. “No.” She sucked in air. “I gotta go.” Brushing past Sylvia, she stumbled out into the gray afternoon, barely noticing the fat snowflakes pelting her tear-streaked face.

She had to find Logan. And if she wanted Rose to forgive her, she needed to prove him innocent.

Snow covered the edge of the road, but the pavement remained wet. The tires of Zoe’s truck hissed against the slop as she drove back to the farm.

She’d stopped at a couple of Logan’s friends’ houses only to learn they hadn’t seen him. They had, however, seen Chief Pete Adams, who was also looking for him. She’d prefer to have been there ahead of Pete instead of trailing his efforts. At least no one mentioned Detective Baronick.

She considered calling Pete, but if he’d had any luck, she figured she’d have heard about it. So Zoe decided to search the only place he wouldn’t know to look—her computer. That’s what Logan was doing the last time she or any of them had seen him. He’d found something there. Something that sent him off—where? To meet McBirney? Or somewhere else? She had to know.

The fat snowflakes had turned the farm into a Currier and Ives print, coating the grass and the pine trees in pristine white. The path to the farmhouse’s back door was becoming slick, forcing Zoe to pick her way down the slight hill. As she approached the enclosed porch, she heard voices. Mrs. Kroll’s laughter rung out.

Zoe’s landlady and Matt Doaks were perched on the wooden bench, sharing a chuckle.

“Matt? What are you doing here?”

“I came to talk to you. You weren’t home, but your charming neighbor’s been entertaining me.”

Mrs. Kroll patted him on the arm. “Such a nice young man. You should come around more often.”

Only if
you
want to date him
. “What did you want to talk to me about?” Zoe said.

He motioned to her door. “Mind if we go inside? I’ve been keeping Mrs. Kroll out here in the cold for too long.”

“It’s no bother. I’m quite toasty.” Mrs. Kroll pulled the afghan she wore as a shawl tighter around her bony shoulders.

“Matt’s right. You don’t want to get a chill.” Zoe glared at him. “Let’s go inside.”

He helped Mrs. Kroll to her feet.

“It was nice meeting you, Matt.” The landlady batted her eyelashes at him like a coquette and excused herself, hobbling off to her half of the house.

“I think your neighbor was flirting with me,” he said as Zoe unlocked her door.

“And you love it.”

“I love all women. All women love me.”

“Not all.”

He grinned. “If I want them bad enough, yeah, they do.”

Zoe fought her gag reflex as she stepped aside and let him pass. How had she ever fallen for him?

Matt stood in the middle of the room and turned in a complete circle, taking it all in. “I like what you’ve done with the place. What do you call this style? Early American garage sale?”

“Shut up.” Zoe slipped out of her coat and pulled off her boots.

“Seriously. It’s—homey.”

“What the hell do you want?”

He approached her, moving like a panther stalking a gazelle. She planted her feet and crossed her arms in front of her. Her insides shifted away from him, as though all her internal organs were plastering themselves against her spine. But she wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of winning this game of chicken.

Matt stopped inches from her, his face tipped downward toward hers. His warm breath smelled vaguely of chocolate. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?”

Zoe avoided looking at those baby blue eyes. Those dimples. Some distant memory of loving the jerk stirred low in her gut. Far away from her brain. She clenched her fists. “Just tell me what you want and leave.”

He brushed a finger against her cheek. It lingered on her lower lip before curling under her chin, tipping her face up. “Every time I see you, I realize all over again what an ass I was.”

“Finally. Something we can agree on.” She hated the slight tremble in her voice.

“Isn’t there some small chance you could forgive me? I never loved anyone the way I loved you. And I know you feel the same way, Zoe. We could be so good together.”