Cold Black Earth Page 18

  “The murder investigation. Otis Ryle.”

  “Well, there’s two investigations. There have been two murders.”

  She blinked at him. “I guess I’ve been assuming they were done by the same guy.”

  “And they probably were. But they’re still two different murders and two different investigations. You start assuming things, you can assume yourself right up a blind alley sometimes.” Roger took a drink of coffee, frowning as if he were framing the opening words of a lecture. Then he grinned. “Not that the detectives ever tell me what they’re thinking. They still got us out beating the bushes for Otis Ryle, that’s for sure.”

  Rachel waited a second or two and said, “You never answered my question.”

  “What, whether there’s anything new?” He waved a hand vaguely. “Like I said, the detectives never talk to me. The task force is set up in a room over at Warrensburg PD, and they go running in and out of there like they know what they’re doing. Last I heard they were waiting on fingerprint results from Carl Holmes’s truck. And they had talked to everybody that was at the bar with him that night. But I don’t know that they had anything they were really excited about. I think they’re going on the assumption that Ryle, or whoever, is still out there, armed and dangerous.”

  Outside the sun was getting low in the sky, the light starting to go. The three of them sat not looking at each other. Rachel shuddered. “I want it to be over.”

  “It’ll be over before too long,” Roger said, pushing away from the table. “Whoever it is, he’s got too many people looking for him and too much that can go wrong for him. He’s just about done.”

  “Let’s hope so,” said Matt.

  “Gotta run,” said Roger, standing and reaching for his cap. “Keep the doors locked.”

  “Go ahead and do something with Dan tonight if you want. Don’t hang around here on my account.” Matt popped open a beer and tossed the cap into the trash can.

  Rachel set the skillet on the stove. “I already told him I was staying in tonight. I’m making côtes de porc à la moutarde.”

  “More frog food, huh? What is it?”

  “Pork chops. With mustard sauce.”

  “Well, why didn’t you say so?”

  “Because then it would be just pork chops. We’ll have a feast and settle down in front of the TV. Or we could play Scrabble if you want. There’s something we haven’t done in a while.”

  Matt stood with his head slightly aslant, looking at her. “Trying to make sure poor old Matt doesn’t get too gloomy?”

  Rachel opened the refrigerator and pulled out the pork chops. “We’re all pretty gloomy these days. It’s as much for me as it is for you.” She slapped the meat down on the counter and turned to face him. “I’m looking for my family, Matt. I’ve been home for two weeks, and I still feel like I’m a stranger. I’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

  He thought about that for a while and then nodded. “OK. Want some help?”

  “I’ll let you do the dishes.”

  “Oh, yeah, I get the fun part. All right, call me when it’s ready.”

  Rachel set to work, making a production of it; she needed something to absorb her. Along with the pork chops she made potatoes boulangère, potato and onion layers baked in the oven; she sautéed green beans with garlic and made a green salad, and she opened a bottle of a good California pinot noir she had found in Warrensburg.

  “Nice,” said Matt, once they were installed at the table. “I love these potatoes. Margie used to make something like this.”

  They ate in silence for a while. Finally Matt said, “I miss her. I miss her a lot sometimes. But I’m over the guilt. I can be philosophical about it.” He drank some wine. “Mostly.”

  “Billy says it was just brain chemistry.”

  “Well, I’m glad he understands that now. He told me after it happened it was me that killed her.”

  “God, I’m sorry.”

  “It wasn’t much fun. I even had the cops in my face for a while.”

  “That’s what Aunt Helga said. I went and saw her today. Steve was there.”

  “He goes to see her, does he? I thought he’d written her off.”

  Rachel gave him a sharp look and Matt waved a hand. “I shouldn’t talk. Steve and I have had our issues, that’s all. Not my favorite cousin, but he’s OK.”

  “What happened?”

  “Nothing much happened except that we had a difference of opinion.” Matt poured himself more wine with great concentration. “Steve got on the ethanol bandwagon a couple of years back, went around trying to get everyone to sell their land to DAE or contract to sell them all their corn. And I’m not convinced ethanol’s not a house of cards. Right now a lot of it depends on federal subsidies and mandates. It’s not completely economically viable. But these companies that get the subsidies are putting up plants all over the place, selling towns on the jobs they create and all that. And the next time Congress monkeys with energy policy or gas prices go down, the plants will close and the jobs will disappear. But Steve wasn’t having any of that. I think he had some kind of financial stake in it somehow, he never really told me. And you know Steve, he’s always right. So we don’t get the families together for dinner too much anymore.”

  “Mm, that’s too bad.”

  “I got cut off from a lot of people, to tell you the truth. People shy away from a bad-luck family. They’re full of sympathy but the truth is, you scare them. They stop coming around and you don’t see them as often. They drift away and never come back.”

  Rachel thought of Dan saying how many friends Matt had and wondered how good those friends could be. He was gazing at the tabletop and Rachel sat there thinking how much she loved him and how helpless she was to make anything better. “I’m sorry, Matt.”

  He came out of his reverie with a shrug. “It’s OK. You learn who your real friends are. Dan, for sure. And Roger.” Matt laughed, shaking his head. “Shit, old Roger, the doofus. We were never really pals when we were kids, but he’s turned into a good friend. All this shit with my family, Roger’s been there. You have serious trouble in your family, it’s good to have a friend who can mediate with law enforcement agencies.” He shot Rachel a look with mischief in it. “Anyway, if you had to pick two guys to fight over you, you picked two good ones.”

  “I didn’t plan any of this.”

  “Nah, I know. I’m kidding.”

  Rachel sipped her wine and said, “Did you tell Roger about me and Dan?”

  “He asked. He’d heard about it from somebody. I guess somebody did notice you sneaking off yesterday.”

  “Was he angry?”

  “How the hell should I know? We didn’t really talk about it. You and I haven’t really talked about it.”

  “Not much to say. It just kind of happened.”

  “Your love life is your business, Rachel. If it’s what you want, I’m happy for you.”

  “It’s a fling. That’s all it is.”

  “Well, Dan’s a good guy. We been friends a long time, seen each other through some rough times.” When the silence stretched on, Matt’s eyes rose to meet hers. “Dan had a hard time with the divorce. There was a lot of anger. I pulled him off a couple of guys, walked him around the block to cool down a few times.”

  “Do I want to hear this?”

  Matt dismissed it with a flop of the hand. “Dan’s fine. He’s mellowed. He’s realized that fire that made him such a great football player doesn’t do much for you off the field. And he never took it out on Sandy, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “I wasn’t. But that’s good to know.”

  “Dan’s a good man. You could do a lot worse for a fling.”

  “That’s my impression.” Rachel set down her glass. “Roger probably thinks I lied to him last night. I told him I was on my way home from the interstate, which was the truth. But he probably thinks I was coming back from Dan’s and just didn’t want to tell him.”

  “Jesus, Rache
l. Give yourself a break. He’ll get over it.”

  She sighed. “I know he will. Poor Roger.”

  23

  Rachel wasn’t entirely sure why she wanted to talk to Roger; perhaps just because it made her feel safer to have an armed officer of the law nearby. And while she knew she didn’t owe Roger or anybody else any explanations, her conscience was bothering her a little. At best she knew she looked awfully fickle. If there was going to be an ongoing friendship there, he deserved a little attention. She called Roger on his cell phone to see if he could meet her for lunch.

  Roger was on duty but said he could meet her in Warrensburg for coffee at three o’clock. “Afternoons can get busy sometimes. I might have to skedaddle. But unless there’s a sudden outbreak of agricultural criminality I can probably make time for a cup of coffee.” They agreed to meet at one of the franchise family joints along the highway at the north end of town, famed for its pies.

  Rachel got there first and watched as Roger came in and dallied by the entrance with the hostess and one of the waitresses. They evidently knew him and were pleased to see him; Rachel knew that for obvious reasons restaurant people loved having cops in the place, but watching body language and facial expressions she thought there was more to it than that. For all his homeliness Roger had a certain rough charm; he smiled easily and he listened. Women saw that Roger was not going to put the moves on them; he made them feel safe. Rachel felt a brief pang of remorse.

  “Hope I didn’t keep you waiting,” he said, laying his cap on the table and sliding into the booth.

  “I just got here. How are things out there?”

  “Quiet so far.” He was scanning the place, not meeting Rachel’s eye.

  “No sign of escaped madmen?” She tried to make it sound light.

  The waitress arrived with coffee and menus before Roger could answer. Rachel had already ordered coffee, and now following Roger’s lead she indulged herself and ordered a slice of pecan pie. When the waitress had gone Roger said, “If he’s still around, he’s laying low. He only comes out at night.”

  “And what are the chances he’s still around?”

  He grinned suddenly, his mouth twisting. “If I could answer that, they’d give me a medal.” The grin vanished. “Nobody knows, Rachel. And if they tell you they do, they’re lying. Just like after the first time, he could have left the area or he could be hiding out in somebody’s barn. He could be right here in Warrensburg. If he is still here, I don’t think he’s necessarily driving that truck anymore. I think he’s got himself another vehicle, or we’d have spotted him by now.” He took a sip of coffee. “I also think he’s got help.”

  Rachel stared at him. “Somebody’s hiding him?”

  “That would be my guess. I don’t think he’s living in the woods and eating rabbits. Somebody has to be buying the food, helping him keep out of sight.”

  “That’s appalling.”

  Roger nodded. “I think when we get this guy we’re going to find out some interesting things.”

  “You mean . . .”

  “I don’t know yet what I mean. I just think he has to have some help, that’s all.”

  “Somebody he knows from before?”

  Roger frowned into his coffee. “Possibly. Maybe somebody he can terrorize. An elderly person, for example. Psychopaths are good manipulators sometimes.” He raised the cup and looked at Rachel over the rim. “But it’s all guesswork. The only thing we know for sure is, two people are dead.”

  The pie arrived in the depressing silence that followed. It wasn’t much of a consolation. Rachel washed down a swallow with coffee and despite a voice in her head screaming at her to keep her mouth shut said, “You probably heard about me and Dan.”

  Roger stabbed at his pie, his face a blank. “I heard a rumor.”

  “The rumor’s true. I just wanted you to know that I wasn’t lying when I told you I had no intention of getting involved with anyone. This thing with me and Dan just kind of happened, suddenly. It caught me by surprise.”

  Roger shrugged. “It’s none of my business.”

  “I know. But I didn’t want you to think I’d had my eye on Dan all along and was putting you off with excuses. It was just, I don’t know. Chemistry, the moment, whatever. It just happened. I hope it doesn’t affect our friendship. That’s all I’m trying to say.”

  Roger chewed, swallowed and drank coffee, frowning faintly. He set down the cup, clasped his hands like a pastor about to deliver a homily and looked at her. “Rachel, you don’t owe me any explanations about your personal life.”

  “It’s just a fling. I’m going to be leaving again in a few weeks anyway.”

  “OK. Like I say, you don’t have to explain.”

  Wretchedly, Rachel returned to her pie. She realized she didn’t really want it and shoved it away. “Thanks for understanding.”

  He made a gesture of dismissal. “Dan’s a good man.”

  “So are you.” Abruptly Rachel was on the brink of tears. Oh God, no, she thought. Don’t make a scene over this.

  Roger was staring at her, apprehensive. When she had managed to stabilize herself he smiled again, the old crooked smile. “It’s all right, Rachel. Really it is.”

  She flashed him a smile. “I don’t know where that came from. I’m a wreck.”

  “You been through a rough time.”

  “I’m so scared. This thing, these killings. I’m this close to just leaving, going back to Washington or wherever. But that would be running away from my family again.” She had to look away out the window, at an ugly commercial strip in a depressed town, under a lowering winter sky. “I just want to feel safe again. I want Billy to be all right. I want Matt to be happy. I want my childhood back. I want all kinds of things I can’t have.”

  Roger shoved his plate away. “And I can’t give them to you. All I can tell you is, I’ll do what I can to help.”

  “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it, Roger. Matt, too. He’s very grateful for the support you’ve given him.”

  Roger was frowning again, avoiding her eyes. When he looked at her the sympathy and the charm were gone, replaced by a hard opaque look. “I’m working overtime to help you feel safe again. We all are. But right now I have to tell you something that’s going to make things worse.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Remember when we talked about trying to predict who Ryle would go for next, from the quarrels his family had been involved in?”

  “Sure.”

  “Well, I been doing a little snooping, asking around among people who might remember that far back. I talked to Dick Thomas, Ed’s brother.”

  “Yeah?”

  “He told me about the feud between the Ryles and the Thomases. There was bad blood because the Thomases had wound up with land that used to belong to the Ryles. Dick said all that happened was, they bought it from the bank when the Ryles got foreclosed. But he said Otis Ryle, now this was the father, the one who went out to California, blamed Ed and Dick’s father somehow, accused him of scheming to get the land.”

  “Yeah, I heard about that.”

  “Well, what you didn’t hear was that your dad got involved.”

  In the silence that followed, Rachel stared at Roger and felt the freeze creep up from her entrails. “My dad?”

  “You knew he and Ed were friends.”

  “Sure.”

  “Well, Dick says your dad and Otis Ryle got in a fight once, just before Otis took off for California. Dick wasn’t there but Ed told him about it. He said your dad was basically just taking Ed’s side in the feud, but Otis had a nasty temperament and it came to blows. According to Dick, your dad gave Otis a thumping and Otis went away making threats. But then nothing happened and before too long Otis left town.”

  Rachel had worked through the implications before Roger stopped talking. “And it probably means nothing at all. Except that Otis’s son grew up to be a psychopath. And there’s a possibility he’s going around killing pe
ople to settle old family scores.”

  “It’s possible.”

  “How would he know my dad was involved?”

  “He probably wouldn’t. And it’s probably a stretch to think these killings have anything at all to do with things that happened before our Otis Ryle was born.”

  “But two people are dead who had issues with his father.”

  “There it is. The last thing I want to do is scare you for no reason. But I thought I ought to tell you. It wouldn’t be right to keep it from you.”

  “No. I appreciate it.”

  “Matt needs to know, too. You both need to be extra alert till we find this guy.”

  Rachel suppressed a sudden urge to laugh. “This is not real. This is too stupid.”

  Roger’s look was suddenly intense. “It probably is, yeah. But the stakes are real high. I don’t have to tell you that.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “So even if it’s stupid, you need to be real careful. Lock the doors, all of that. Stick close to people.”

  “Check the backseat before I get in the car.”

  “That, too.” Roger waved at the waitress and reached for his cap. “We’re gonna catch this guy before too long, Rachel. Soon. But we haven’t yet.” He settled the cap on his head. “He’s still out there, and he’s close.”

  Rachel sat by herself in the booth for a little while after Roger left. Outside, the light was going and along with it her morale. She floated on dark waters, fighting currents of depression and little eddies of panic. It was time to go out and get in her car and drive home, and she didn’t have the strength.

  She was surprised by the force of the desire that took her at the thought that Dan would be off work by now. Suddenly her resolve to keep him and the romance at arm’s length was vaporized by the memory of his mouth on her body. Her fingers brushed the cylinder of the revolver as she dug in her purse for her cell phone.

  He answered after the second ring. “What are you doing after work?” Rachel said. Suddenly she was sure she was being needy and shameless and pathetic.

  “Whatever you want me to do,” Dan said. “I’m broad-minded.”