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“If Butch, Paris and Dean all know her, chances are she’s either related to one of them or she’s local. And since Butch is completely estranged from his family, even the family who took him in, and has been for a number of years, I figure the Wheelers’ relatives are much more likely to possess information that might help us.”
“Seems reasonable to me. Has Finch come up with anything besides those letters?”
“Not yet. But it’s a big property. They have a lot of looking to do.”
The light turned green, and he gave the Jeep Grand Cherokee he’d rented at the airport some gas. “What about Butch and Paris? Anyone talking?”
“No one. All the principal parties are planning to get an attorney.”
Because of what he’d learned about that black garbage bag, he’d expected as much. “They definitely have something to hide. But what? What could’ve happened to bring them all into collusion? I have a hard time believing they’d stick together to protect a serial killer, even one who’s part of the family. That would make them as culpable as Dean.”
“I agree. Maybe one person might let loyalty interfere with doing the right thing, but four? The question isn’t just what they’re hiding but why.”
“It would have to be a compelling reason….”
“Maybe they’re all benefiting from these deaths in some way or another.”
“How? Unless it’s petty robbery. And I can’t imagine that’d be nearly enough incentive.”
“Me, neither. But there’s a common thread in this. We just have to find it.”
Maybe he’d do that when he and the security guard traveled into the Juniper Mountains. Although he’d originally planned on taking Francesca along, keeping her by his side every second, he felt she’d be safe for a few hours, since Dean wouldn’t have any idea where she might be. But, considering what Ray Leedy had seen the night before, he wanted her to know that Butch might be a threat, too; there could be anything in that black bag, including the body of the woman she was hoping to find.
“You’re kidding me,” she said when he finished explaining.
“No. So…this thing is far from over. Keep your eyes open, okay?”
“I will.”
He knew she was about to hang up but, for some reason, felt compelled to stop her before she could. “Francesca?”
“What?”
Don’t ask. Let her meet someone who hasn’t hurt her the way you have. “Never mind,” he said. “I’ll catch you later.”
* * *
What was it Jonah had wanted?
Tempted to call him back to see if she could get him to tell her, Francesca stared down at her phone as she left the sheriff’s station. She was fairly certain he hadn’t been about to make another comment on the case. The energy of those last few seconds had seemed far too personal, as if the world had suddenly shrunk into an intimate bubble that included only the two of them. But if he’d been about to admit that he cared for her, what would she say in return? What did she want from their renewed association?
That was a difficult question to answer because as much as she still loved him, she wasn’t sure it would be wise to hope for a future together. Too many obstacles stood between them. For one, it’d been a decade since their earlier relationship. Those years had changed them both. For another, they lived in different states. Then there was Adriana. Was there room in her life for both of them? Or would it become painful and awkward, eventually making her resent one or the other? She also had to think of her family. If she and Jonah decided to marry at some point, could she really expect her parents and her brother to embrace him?
Her phone flashed to the main menu as if trying to tell her that the past was too big a hurdle to clear. The last thing she wanted was to reunite with Jonah only to go through another breakup. It’d been hard enough the first time….
Dropping her phone in her purse, she told herself she was better off leaving the relationship as it stood. Sure, she’d missed him. But if she’d learned to build a life without him once, she could do it again. She’d be wiser to make that decision now, before she formed as many new memories of him as she had past ones. At least after the last few days she’d be able to remember him in a more positive light. Sometimes one had to be grateful for small things.
Pushing the button on her key that would unlock her car, she took a deep breath. Maybe she wouldn’t have the sense of completion or happiness that felt so tantalizingly close whenever Jonah was around, but that happiness could be just an illusion.
* * *
From the moment she got out of her car, Francesca could feel Butch’s glare. It cut through the summer heat like the searing blue flame of a welding torch as he watched her approach from where he sat in a cheap plastic lawn chair, while his son played on a tire swing that hung from the same kind of rope Dean had brought to her house. She made that connection right away, planned to ask the police to take a sample, since Dean had left that short length of rope behind.
The Impala was gone. She guessed Butch had suggested his wife leave, possibly to avoid the painful process of having half a dozen police officers crawl over the house and yard, searching through everything and anything, including her underwear, tampons and birth control products. It wasn’t like she had to stay. Search warrants were very specific, and since Dean didn’t drive, the judge hadn’t allowed Finch to include the vehicles.
It didn’t look as if the old folks were home, either, which made Francesca wonder whether Finch was having them tailed. If Dean’s parents felt any sympathy for their boy’s situation, they could be meeting up with him right now, passing him money or giving him a lift to someplace they deemed safe, someplace out of reach of the law—like Mexico, which was only a four-and-a-half-hour drive away.
Planning to ask Finch if he’d considered that possibility, she started to skirt around Butch when he came to his feet and stepped in front of her. “Well, look who it is,” he said, raising the can of beer in his hand.
