Too Many Secrets Page 3

  “Roxy was shot?” Roxanne spit out a bit of the thick, juicy cheeseburger as she ignored most of Patti’s rant and fastened on Roxy’s disturbing fate. She never imagined her aunt had died from anything other than natural causes.

  “In the back, poor soul.” Patti fiddled with her fingers. “Season hasn’t even started yet, but some fool was probably tryin’ to get the jump on a buck.”

  “A hunter shot her?”

  “That’s what they think. Can’t say for certain ’cause they’re not actually sure who did it.” Patti stopped fiddling and drummed her fingers on the table instead. “Can’t think who else it’d be though.”

  “The police are looking into it?”

  “Honey, the only police we got here is Chief Walters and two deputies. They work eight hour shifts each so if there’s trouble somebody’ll be available to handle it. Most of the time the chief doesn’t cover his shift, so’s Bud and Luke end up working twelve hours at a time.” Patti leaned in across the table, “I know this ’cause Luke’s my boyfriend, and he bitches about it all the time.”

  “Then no one’s looking into who shot Roxy?”

  “Didn’t say that. The Staties are supposed to cover any major crimes around here. But they’re so busy givin’ out speedin’ tickets on the turnpike, they’re just as happy to declare it a huntin’ accident and let it go.”

  “Even if it were an accident, shouldn’t someone be held responsible?”

  “You gotta understand the way things work ’round here.” Patti rearranged the salt and pepper shakers. “Roxy’s dead, can’t vote or pay taxes no more, and she didn’t have any important survivin’ relatives, so law enforcement just don’t care. ’Sides, they kinda considered her a troublemaker.”

  “Troublemaker? What trouble?”

  “Don’t know for sure. She wouldn’t talk to me about it. Just know how she didn’t like the deputies hangin’ in here with their buddies. Always gave them a hard time. Luke didn’t take it too well. Neither did his friends. Roxy and the chief didn’t get along either.”

  “I wonder why…” Roxanne’s phone buzzed in her messenger bag. She glanced at the screen. “Excuse me, I have to take this.”

  “No problem, I gotta get back to work, else Janice and Snukie’ll have my head. Nice talkin’ to ya. Let me know if you need anything.” Patti slid out of the booth and cleared the tables which had emptied while they were talking.

  Roxanne punched the talk button on her phone. “Hello?”

  “Ralph Patterson here. Am I speaking with Roxanne Boudreaux?”

  “Yes, Mr. Patterson, I’ve been hoping you’d return my call. I’m in town right now and would be happy to meet with you today.”

  “Oh, sorry, today’s not good. I have some, uh, commitments.” The clank of bowling pins echoed in the background. Ralph Patterson laughed. “OK, I guess you heard that. My bowling team just made the finals, and we’ll be tied up the rest of the day.”

  Shades of The Big Lebowski, what kind of attorney was this dude? Roxanne feared she’d made a big mistake driving all the way up here.

  “I can make it tomorrow,” Ralph continued.

  “Well, um, I’d hoped to meet today,” Roxanne said. “It’s a long drive.”

  “You can’t stay over tonight?”

  “I suppose I could. I hadn’t really planned on it.” Luckily Roxanne had a go-bag in her trunk with a toothbrush and change of clothes. “Can we make it in the morning? I need to be in my office tomorrow.”

  “On Sunday? My gosh, what kind of work do you do?”

  “I’m an attorney, same as you.”

  “Got a big case coming up?”

  “Something like that.” Roxanne saw no reason to explain the upcoming partnership since he didn’t seem the type to understand her hunger for upward mobility. “Mr. Patterson, maybe you could recommend a motel for tonight, close to your office?”

  “Call me Ralph, please. I’m afraid there’s not a hotel or motel room to be had. Everything fills up fast the first week of hunting season.” Ralph paused. “Why don’t you stay at Roxy’s place?”

  “The diner?”

  He laughed. “So you’ve found the diner already. Yeah, it would be rather uncomfortable to spend the night there. No, I meant the house in town or the cabin at the farm. Roxy kept an extra set of keys in the office at the diner. I’m sure Patti could get them for you. Put her on the phone so I can explain the situation.”

  Roxanne signaled Patti back to the booth and handed her the phone. “Ralph Patterson wants to talk to you.”

  Roxanne ignored Patti’s end of the conversation, trying to figure out how early she’d have to leave Oilville to get a full day’s work in tomorrow until she noticed Patti’s silence.

  “So ya decided to stay?” Patti sat the phone on the table.

  Roxanne glanced down to see Patterson had hung up before she could speak to him again. “I have no choice, I guess.”

  “Ralph told me to give ya the keys to Roxy’s place,” Patti paused a moment, looking out the window. “You probably should stay at the cabin. From what I heard, the furnace at the house in town ain’t been workin’ so good.”

  Great. Roxanne preferred to stay in town rather than some cabin on a farm somewhere, but she had little choice. No sense in freezing all night. “Can you give me directions?” She doubted her GPS could find a farm.

  “No problem,” Patti said. “Just lemme get the keys, and I’ll draw you a map. Oh, and Ralph said he’d meet with you at his office tomorrow mornin’ at eleven, right after church. You’ll need those directions too.” Patti disappeared through the swinging doors into the kitchen.

  Shit! If they didn’t meet until eleven, she wouldn’t get back to Pittsburgh until late in the afternoon. Now more than ever she needed Eric to come up with useful cites from the case files. She’d call him tonight after she got settled at the farm so they could go over strategy.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The wind and flurries picked up as Roxanne left the diner, causing tiny bits of snow to sting her face. Wonderful—another concern. Her short jacket and leather boots were not made for this kind of weather.

  Remembering it could snow a half-foot or more, forty or fifty miles north of Pittsburgh, while the city stayed dry, she ran to her car. With her head lowered, she yanked open the door, climbed in, and started it up, cranking the heater, before taking a moment to look over the directions from Patti.

  A few blocks from the diner, spotlights shone on the town municipal building with a sign on the side: Police. Even though Patti said the state police took charge of serious crimes in the area, Roxane decided to make a quick stop in case the local cops knew more than Patti realized. Just past four o’clock, she figured on at least another hour of daylight and could still find the farm before dark.

  In the parking area alongside the building, she pulled into a spot close to the entry with the police sign. The side of the building blocked part of the wind as she hurried to the entrance. Her arm jerked when she pulled on the locked door before noticing a button on the doorframe.

  A buzzer sounded inside and a distorted voice came through a speaker above the door. “Can I help you?”

  “My name is Roxanne Boudreaux. My aunt, Roxy O'Hara, was shot last week. I’d like to know if someone here has any information.”

  “Just a minute,” came the fuzzy answer. A few seconds later, the door opened, revealing a cop in a disheveled uniform, who loomed over her. “C’mon in.”

  A big man, he stood around six-three with thick shoulders above a pumped-up chest over a beer paunch. Walking with the swagger of a cop and tugging at his gun belt, he led Roxanne down a wide hall lined with photos of older men in dress uniforms—former chiefs of police, no doubt. Their stern, unsmiling faces looked severe. Feeling as if they stared at her in disapproval, relief washed over her as she reached the office at the end of the hall.

  The officer rounded a battered wooden desk which sat facing the door. “Take a seat.” He poin
ted to two plastic chairs in front of the desk. He ran his fingers over the light-brown stubble on his head passing for hair. “I’m Luke Meyers. Now what can I do for you?”

  “I was in the area and thought I’d check to see if there’s been any progress on finding out who shot my aunt.” Roxanne hoped her voice didn’t sound as insecure as she felt.

  “So, you’re Roxy’s niece, huh? Never saw you around town before.”

  “I live in Pittsburgh. I’ve never been here before.”

  “Well, the chief’s up at his cabin. So for now, it’s just me ’n another guy coverin’ shifts.” Luke leaned his weight into the old leather swivel chair, causing a loud squeak. “I’ll be honest, the State guys handle the serious crimes like shootings. They don’t tell our chief much, let alone me. ’Bout all I know is they think some hunter tried to get a jump on the season. The guy mistook Roxy for a deer ’n took his shot.”

  “So Roxy was shot by a man?”

  “Well, it’s just a guess on my part, but 95 percent of the deer hunters are men, so…”

  “But it could have been a woman.”

  “Maybe.” Luke shrugged. “But I doubt it. Probably a man ’n probably a stranger to these parts. See Roxy’s land is posted, so whoever the guy was, he wasn’t legally supposed to be there.”

  “Posted?”

  “Yeah, No Hunting signs were up on some of the trees on Roxy’s land along the road. Roxy has, or had, about three hundred acres up there. Half of it’s farmed, half is woods. But the State Game Lands sit across the road from Roxy’s place, so this guy could have missed the signs. Technically he was trespassing but might not have known it.”

  “I would consider shooting someone a more serious offense than trespassing.”

  Luke’s friendly demeanor changed, his eyes became hard, cold orbs. “Of course it is. I was just tryin’ to explain how if he hadn’t been on posted land, he wouldn’t have shot Roxy.”

  Roxanne wanted to calm him before he threw her out. “Look, I’m sorry. It’s been a long day. I’m a little overwhelmed.”

  Luke relaxed. “No problem. Anyway, how long will you be in town? Maybe I can find somethin’ out for you.”

  “I’m planning to leave tomorrow as soon as I meet with the lawyer about Roxy’s estate.”

  “I probably can’t learn anything that fast.” Luke shuffled papers on the desk. “But the autopsy report should come in before long. I’ll try to check on it tomorrow, see if they’ll tell me anything.”

  “Why would they have a problem?”

  “Not the State Police, they’re willing to share little tidbits with us. You see, the problem is old Chester Callahan, Roxy’s neighbor. He found her. He’s one of those people who see conspiracies everywhere. Thinks he’s better’n most of us folks around here, so he made arrangements for someone from DC, from some federal agency or other, to pick up Roxy’s body for the autopsy.” Luke fiddled with a pen on the desk. “No one can figure out why he done it, not even the state guys.” Luke shrugged. “I don’t mind so much keepin’ those state hotshots in the dark, but it sure would be nice to be kept in the loop.”

  “Then you haven’t heard anything at all about it?” Roxanne found his explanation hard to believe, but she knew little about policing in small towns.

  “Not a thing.” Luke shook his head. “The chief is happy to have the whole mess out of his hands. Can’t say I like it though, so I’d be glad to ask around for you. Don’t know that anyone will tell me much.”

  “Thanks, I’d appreciate it.” Roxanne dug through her messenger bag pulling out a small ivory rectangle. “Here’s my card. My cell number’s on it if you find out anything after I leave tomorrow.”

  Luke placed her fancy business card on the desk blotter without looking at it. “So you’re stayin’ the night here? Surprised you found a room this weekend.”

  “I’m staying at my aunt’s cabin.”

  “At the farm? Not at her place here in town? We’re supposed to get six to eight inches over the next couple of hours. You’d be better off staying in town.”

  “I know, but I’ve been told the furnace is broken, so I don’t have a choice.”

  “Well, the roads out that way are the last ones to get plowed and salted, so you’d better get a move on.” Luke picked up her business card looking at it for the first time. He whistled. “You’re an attorney? Wow! That should shake some people up.”

  “Not much to worry about from me. I’m not a criminal attorney or an estate attorney, so I’m more or less in the dark about everything.” Roxanne gave him a tentative smile as he rose to circle the desk.

  “I thought all attorneys were criminals,” Luke said with a cold smirk.

  Roxanne stood, ignoring his snide comment— she’d heard enough smart remarks in the fifteen years since passing the bar. “I guess I’d better get going before it gets any worse.”

  Luke didn’t make small talk as he accompanied her to the exit. “I’ll see what I can do to help.” He held the heavy metal door open. “Be safe now.”

  “Thanks.” She scurried to the warmth of her car without looking back. She never noticed Luke pick up the phone at the main desk.

  * * *

  It didn’t take long to leave the town lights for the narrow two-lane leading to her aunt’s cabin. Tall trees bordered the road on both sides, breaking occasionally for a house or snow-covered field. The flurries had changed to thick white flakes at some point, covering the road faster than her eyes could focus. The Lexus’ headlights barely cut through the blackness as the car crept along the country road. If not for the mounds left on each side when a plow cleared an earlier snow, she’d easily drive into a field without even knowing it.

  Many people left the city on weekends to find this peaceful beauty. At a different time with the right person, maybe Roxanne could enjoy it. Now, she merely felt alone and confused. She’d been focused on her aunt and hadn’t taken time to process the hurt from Richard’s betrayal. As a child, she covered up feelings of hurt or helplessness with anger because anger felt better than admitting weakness. As it became harder to see through the blanket of white in the headlights, she felt the car slip a little, so turned her concentration to the road.

  In the rearview mirror, a faint glimmer of headlights came up from behind. The Lexus CT200 hybrid was a sport model, made more for mileage than traction in snow. She put on the four-way hazards as those headlights filled the car’s interior. The vehicle had to be much higher than hers, a pickup or big SUV. Annoyed, she wound the window down a few inches to wave the driver around.

  Instead, the vehicle pulled closer then clicked on its high beams, nearly blinding her.

  “What’s this asshole doing?” She demanded aloud to the empty car.

  Almost too late, the road sign came into view— a big black curving arrow on a yellow square. Going too fast for a sharp turn, she pumped the brakes, hoping the damned driver behind her got the message.

  Instead, the driver swung out to the left as if the jerk intended to pass her on the curve. What an idiot!

  The truck—or whatever, she didn’t dare turn her head to look—pulled along aside as they entered the turn. Roxanne wanted to give this creep the finger, except she could barely keep her car on the road with both hands on the wheel. The front bumper of the passing truck swerved into the Lexus’ front end to push the car toward the drop-off beside the road.

  Roxanne slammed on her brakes, but the momentum didn’t slow. The car kept moving straight ahead, wheels locked, until it slid over the edge of the road down an incline into the dark.

  “Shit!” Her last thought before a sense of falling— then a white explosion.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Tap… tap… tap…

  Roxanne wished the pounding in her head would stop.

  Tap… tap… tap…

  Swish… swish… trickle… trickle… trickle

  What the hell? She opened her eyes and saw Indiana Jones outside her car window.

 
Tap… tap… tap…

  “Go away,” she muttered.

  Tap… tap… tap…

  “Dammit! I said go away!” She grabbed her head to keep it from exploding.

  “Open the window,” Indiana Jones shouted, miming rolling with his hands.

  “Go away.”

  “The door’s jammed against a rock. You need to crawl out the window,” Indiana Jones yelled through the glass.

  When Roxanne tried to wave him away, her left hand caught underneath a white flimsy pillow. A pillow! She dropped her head to rest against it banging her forehead on something hard. Shit!

  Tap… tap… tap…

  “Come on! You need to get out of there before you freeze to death!”

  Come to think of it, it was cold, but she sat in her car. Had the heater stopped working? She turned to the passenger side.

  Trickle… trickle… trickle…

  Water ran along the floor, lifting the nice rubber floor mats she had specially installed. Where the hell did that come from?

  Tap… tap… tap…

  She turned to glare at Indiana Jones. What the hell was happening?

  He pulled on the door handle. It opened a slit. He yanked, jerking the whole car, causing her head to pound even more.

  “Stop it!” When she tried to yell her voice came out a croak.

  “Look, princess, you can’t stay in the car.”

  Princess? Was it Han Solo, not Indiana Jones? Nah, too old to be Han Solo. She lowered her head slowly against the steering wheel this time inhaling some kind of powder, which caused a coughing fit. Dammit, she wanted to go back to sleep.

  Tap… tap… tap…

  She ignored it.

  Indiana Jones poked through the snow, came up with a large rock to hammer at the window.

  Well, ignoring him wasn’t working. She lifted her head and pressed the window button. With the window gone, the rock nearly smashed her head. “Hey! God dammit! Watch what you’re doing!”