Circle of Influence (A Zoe Chambers Mystery) (7 page)

Rose, on the other hand, became pregnant for the first time before she turned eighteen and again two years later. Rose’s mother and Zoe stuck by her and the babies, helping the young mother who was little more than a baby herself.

Ted was a rebound romance for Zoe. They hung out together and went to the occasional movie. But he never set off fireworks for her the way her first real love had. So when Ted fell hard for her best friend, Zoe stepped aside and watched their love and passion grow. Within six months, they married and Ted adopted Logan and Allison as soon as the legal system allowed.

It was a love story that wasn’t supposed to end. Especially not like this.

Rose drew a deep trembling breath. “I really need you to do me a favor.”

“Anything. You know that.”

“Can you take the kids? I’m trying to make arrangements.
Arrangements
. What a crappy word. Arrange my husband’s funeral. Arrange my life without him.”

Zoe took her hand and squeezed it.

“Anyhow, Logan is like a raw nerve. And Allison has withdrawn worse than I’ve ever seen her. They need to get away from here. I hate to ask. I know you…well, you had a rough night last night, too.”

Zoe didn’t mention the phone call from Logan. Whatever the boy had gotten himself into, his mother had enough to deal with. “Don’t be silly. I’ll be happy to take them. Maybe getting Allison out at the farm and around the horses will get her mind off…things.”

Rose managed a weepy smile. “I was thinking that, too. Thank you.” She flung her arms around Zoe.

Without waiting for the tea or coffee that Sylvia had been preparing, Zoe loaded the teens and their overstuffed backpacks into the old Chevy and rode to the farm in silence. Allison, in the middle, stared at her hands clenched in her lap while Logan gazed out the passenger-side window.

The truck jounced up the farm lane, which circled around to the rear of the house. No one ever came or went through the front door. Zoe parked in her usual spot, and they poured out of the truck, shuffling down the gentle slope of the backyard to the screened-in porch. From there three doors accessed the house—one to the Krolls’ side, one to the center hallway that split the house, and the one for the half Zoe called home. The kids stood waiting as she fumbled with the keys. When the door clicked open, two orange tabbies greeted them.

Logan stooped to stroke the back of the larger cat. “Hey, Jade.”

Jade meowed a response.

Crossing the room, Logan flopped onto the overstuffed sofa and started digging into his backpack.

Allison scooped the smaller cat into her arms and buried her face into Merlin’s thick fur. Zoe smiled. Feline therapy. Maybe that was just what the girl needed.

Cradling the cat, Allison dumped her backpack by the door. “It’s cold in here. Do you have any hot chocolate?”

Those were the first words Zoe had heard out of the girl since this nightmare began.

“Of course.” Zoe tossed the keys onto a small table next to the door. “You know where the pantry is. Help yourself.”

Allison blew out an irritated breath, but with Merlin snuggled in her arms, she trudged to the swinging door, bumped it with her hip, and disappeared into the kitchen. Jade trotted after her.

Zoe tugged off her boots. “Okay, Logan, what was that phone call about? All you said was that you’d done something that was going to get you into big trouble. But if you want my help, you’re going to have to spill it.”

He paused in his rummaging and sighed. His expression was a mix of sheepish and determined. “You know about Gram and the computer, right?”

Visions of Jerry McBirney ranting at last night’s meeting flashed through her mind followed by Ted raging over the accusations against his mother. Had it just been last night? It felt like a lifetime ago.

Ted’s lifetime.

“Some of it,” Zoe said. “It was an old one that the township had replaced, and your grandma took it home for you guys to use.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Gram meant well, but jeez. The thing is a dinosaur. Anyway,” Logan went on, “so, yeah, this old computer’s been sitting over at Gram’s house for a couple months now. Then that dude last night—”

“Jerry McBirney,” Zoe offered.

“Yeah. He starts screaming about it and making threats to have Gram arrested.”

“I know all this. What I want to know is what did you do?”

Logan nodded, keeping one hand in his backpack.

“I got to thinking…I mean, what’s going on? What’s got this dude all bent out of shape? So I start…you know…messing around on it. Like, maybe there’s something on there that McBirney guy doesn’t want anyone to know about.”

Zoe’s chest tightened.
Of course
. That had to be it. “Did you find anything?”

“I didn’t get a chance. I mean, Dad got—you know—last night.” He took a deep, ragged breath and stared down at his backpack. “Are they still going to arrest Gram?”

“I don’t know. Probably.”

“That’s what I figured, too. And they’re going to take the computer, and I won’t get a chance to find out what’s on it. What that McBirney guy wants to keep secret.”

A secret he might have killed to keep. Zoe found it hard to breathe.

“So, I called you. I need your computer.”

“Huh? What?”

Logan pulled a small, black metal box from his backpack and held it up. “I stole the hard drive from that computer Gram took. I need to install it in your computer so I can keep trying to find out what’s on it.”

Zoe’s knees buckled, and she sank down onto the couch next to him. She stared at the innocuous little box. Could this hold the answer to Ted’s death?

“I know you and Chief Adams are good friends.” Logan wrinkled his nose. “I’m kind of putting you in a weird spot. I mean, you’re not going to turn me in, are you?”

Sylvia being guilty of “stealing” the computer was highly questionable. However, knowing the situation, taking the hard drive and keeping its location a secret…there was no question about it. She and Logan would both be in deep shit if they were caught. Pete would have no choice except to arrest both of them.

She’d never kept a secret from Pete before, with the exception of what cards she held in her hand when they played poker together on the odd Saturday night. And the fact that she occasionally entertained fantasies which involved him. Still, this might be her best chance to find out why Ted had been killed.

And to get something on Jerry McBirney.

Jerry McBirney. Okay, so she
had
kept secrets from Pete.

“No, I’m not going to turn you in.”

Logan released a huge sigh.

“I do have one question,” she said.

“What?”

“When you put this thing in my computer, is it going to keep me from checking my e-mail?”

Logan laughed. “No. I’ll set it as a slave drive. Your old hard drive will still be the master. You’ll be able to use your computer same as always. In fact, unless you let someone else play around on it, no one will ever know this extra hard drive is in there.”

Good enough. “Well, what are you just sitting there for? You know where my computer is. Go do whatever it is you have to do.”

A half hour later, and revived by a hot shower, Zoe went downstairs to find her living room empty except for Merlin snoozing on one of the chairs. Zoe scuffed across the hardwood floor in her stocking feet to peer into the front room, which served as her office and reading nook. Mismatched bookshelves overflowing with tomes she hoped to get to someday lined most of two walls. Her favorite recliner, backlit by one of the three nine-over-nine windows, perched next to an ancient fireplace.

Logan sat on the floor by her long computer desk, a do-it-yourself deal from IKEA. It wasn’t fancy, but it had been within her price range. In other words, cheap.

The boy had removed the front of her computer tower and was tinkering with the insides.

“You okay?” Personally, Zoe’d rather deal with the blood and guts of her paramedic life than deal with the innards of a computer.

“Yeah.” He looked up and flashed a smile. “I’m just finishing.”

“Where’s Allison?”

He glanced around and shrugged. “I haven’t seen her.” Then he went back to his work.

Zoe left him to it and crossed the living room with its came-with-the-house used furniture and a small, round dining room table from another excursion to IKEA. She peeked into the kitchen. A century-old add-on to the original circa 1850 farmhouse, the room was long and narrow, but well lit. The refrigerator and stove still worked even though they might easily be considered antiques. An empty mug with chocolate stains on the rim sat on the counter.

But no Allison.

Noticing the kitchen door was unlatched, Zoe peered outside. Boot prints in the snow led away from the door toward the barn. Donning her Muck Boots and goose down barn jacket, she followed the tracks across the yard and down the footpath to the barn.

The veterinarian’s truck sat backed into one of the big open doors. Zoe slipped between the truck and the doorframe. Inside, Dr. Benton crouched next to Jazzel, working on her foot, while his assistant, a young woman—probably a vet student, held the fidgety mare’s head. There was no sign of Allison.

“Hey, Dr. Benton,” Zoe said.

He returned her greeting.

“Have you seen a teenage girl out here?”

“In the feed room,” the assistant said.

“How’s Jazzel?”

Dr. Benton shook his head. “So far, I can give you a three-page list of what
isn’t
wrong with her. I figure we must be getting close.”

Zoe left them with the mare and opened the feed room door. Allison sat on the floor with her back against the wall. Her gloves lay next to her as she tapped out a text message.

“You could do that in the house, you know.” Zoe moved to her side and joined her on the dusty floor.

Allison shoved the phone in her pocket. “I know.”

“How are you holding up?”

Allison shrugged.

“You know if you need to talk—”

“I don’t. I’m fine.”

“Well, in case you change your mind, I’m here.”

Allison jumped to her feet. “I said I’m fine. I just wish everyone would leave me alone.”

Zoe’s climb to her feet was a little slower. She longed to scoop the girl up and hug her the way she’d done when Allison was younger. That hadn’t been all that long ago, had it? At what point had hormones transformed the sugar and spice into venom and ice?

She decided to try a different tactic. “You remember Jazzel, don’t you? Dr. Benton is working on her. Wanna watch?” At one time Allison had wanted to be a veterinarian when she grew up.

Allison responded with another infamous teenage shrug of indifference. But her expression had softened.

A crack in the tough veneer? Zoe jumped on it. “Come on. Let’s see what’s going on. Just for a minute, okay?”

“Whatever.”

Zoe led the way across the riding arena to where Dr. Benton was now setting up a portable x-ray machine.

“You guys need help?” Zoe asked. 

“Now that you mention it, yeah,” the assistant said. “One of you want to hold Jazzel while I help the doc?”

Zoe looked at Allison. Jazzel could be a handful, but the teen had good hands and enough experience to control the mare’s antics. Besides, Allison’s dead eyes suddenly held a spark of interest.

“Go ahead,” Zoe said.

Allison didn’t quite smile, but her face brightened as she took the lead rope from the assistant’s hands.

Zoe turned away to hide her pleasure from the girl. But her joy at seeing a tiny flicker of life in Allison faded as she remembered what Logan was working on back at the house. What secrets might he unlock from that innocent-looking little black box?

Pete glared at the Buick, willing it to speak to him. But it stood before him in the Vance Township Police garage, a silent witness to the events of the previous night.

He’d done a quick once-over on it in the game lands. Here, in the warmth and light, he’d completed a thorough inspection. The evidence he’d gleaned from the Buick’s interior had been bagged and labeled and waited in the box at his feet.

“Were you planning on doing all my work for me?” came a voice from behind him.

Pete turned. “Were
you
planning on waiting until spring thaw to process the vehicle?”

Detective Wayne Baronick of the Monongahela County Police Department grinned from the doorway. Young, good-looking, and cocky, Baronick was a constant source of irritation to Pete. Most annoying was the fact that he reminded Pete of someone. Himself. “Relax, Chief. I come bearing gifts.” He held out a venti Starbucks. “I know you can’t get these out here in the boondocks, so I brought one from civilization.”

Baronick had always been good at sucking up, even as an over-eager cadet at the Pittsburgh Police Academy when Pete had taught the crime scene processing module more than a decade ago. Now, as a county detective, he not only irritated Pete with his ability to charm, but by the fact he was a damned good—and extremely determined—investigator.

Pete snatched the cup and took a long hit of the not-quite-hot-enough brew. What could he expect? The nearest Starbucks was fifteen miles away.

“I was surprised you called us in.” Baronick stalked toward the Buick as if it were prey. “I know how much you hate admitting you need help.”

The detective thrived on pushing Pete’s buttons. Ignoring the effort to rile him, Pete scooped up the box, which held the fruit of his morning’s work. “Did your boys find anything in the snow?”

“Yeah. More snow. You had the only viable source of evidence towed here.” Baronick tipped his head toward the Buick. “What did you find?”

“The usual. Hair. Fibers. Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Prints?”

Pete hesitated. Baronick had been right about him not wanting help. He coveted the idea of being the one to bust McBirney. But a small department on an even smaller budget didn’t have the kind of crime lab that Monongahela County possessed. “Nothing on the steering wheel.”

“Nothing?” Baronick’s eyes sparked with interest. “The car was wiped clean?”

“Mostly.”

“What do you mean? Mostly? Come on, Chief. Don’t make me pull teeth. What’d you find?”

“There was nothing on the steering wheel, the seat belts, or the door handle. But I lifted a partial from the rearview mirror.”

Baronick chuckled. “I love it. Do you mind if I take a look?” 

The arrogant son-of-a-bitch thought he’d be able to find something Pete had missed. Damned kids. “Sure. Be my guest.”

Toting the box of bagged evidence samples in one hand and Starbucks in the other, he left the county detective with the Buick and headed into the office. Instead of Sylvia manning the front desk, Seth Metzger sat there, scowling at the computer screen.

“I thought you were off duty today,” Pete said.

“I am. But these reports need to be filed and Sylvia…”

“Is Kevin still sick?”

“Yeah. I talked to him a while ago. He sounded bad. Real bad.”

“Well, call next door and get one of the township secretaries over here to fill in for Sylvia. I need you out on the street. I want you to question Ted Bassi’s neighbors. Find out if they heard or saw anything last night. Talk to his mother-in-law’s neighbors, too.” He’d have had Seth questioning Jerry McBirney’s neighbors, too, except McBirney didn’t have any.

“Yes, sir.” Seth spun in the chair and reached for the phone.

“And after that, make a new pot of coffee.”

“Yes, sir.”

As Seth punched in the number for the township offices, the other line rang. He jabbed at the blinking button and listened for a moment. “Right away, sir,” he said and hung up.

“That was Judge Mitchell. He said you’d better get over there. Sylvia just turned herself in, and Jerry McBirney showed up. It sounds ugly.”