20
After they left Stanley DeWitt, Dawson was too tired to drive home, as originally planned, and it wasn’t comfortable for him to sit in the middle so Sadie could drive. He was too big for that spot. So he suggested they get some dinner, stay over at a motel and head back early the next morning.
He thought Sadie might balk. A motel room was close quarters, and neither one of them had money to waste on renting two when they could get by with one, but, when he mentioned it, she readily agreed. He got the impression she was eager to be gone from Silver Springs for as long as possible. She wanted to be gone for good.
He didn’t feel too great about seeing her go, however. He had no idea if their relationship would progress, but he was enjoying her friendship and support, even if she never gave him anything more. He hated to think of her on the run, always looking over her shoulder for fear Sly would catch up. He also hated that Sly had had her at such a disadvantage—and capitalized on it—for so long. In Dawson’s mind, there had to be a better way for her to escape her current situation than to start over somewhere else, with nothing and no one except her child.
Fortunately, Sly might’ve unwittingly provided her with a better chance to escape. If they could only prove he set the fire, he’d go to prison.
“We need to hire an outside investigator to take a look at the fire evidence,” he said when they were talking about the problem over dinner. “Like I did with the forensic specialist who examined my parents’ bedroom.”
Sadie looked startled by the suggestion. “How? Hiring someone like that costs money, which is something I don’t have.”
“They don’t cost that much.”
“I’m sure they do by my standards!”
“But consider the possibilities.” Pushing his chimichanga platter aside the moment he finished with it, he spent some time on his phone, looking up crime scene investigators that included fire inspectors on the internet and showing those who looked to have extensive experience to Sadie. One of the most promising lived right in LA.
“There’s nothing to indicate rates,” she said as she passed his phone back to him and finished her margarita.
“Ed charged me two grand plus travel. Shouldn’t be more than that. It’s definitely cheaper than moving,” he pointed out. “And if we hire the guy from LA, there shouldn’t be much travel. Just a tank or two of gas.”
Now that Jayden was full and only playing with his bean-and-cheese burrito, she stacked the plates so that he’d have more room to finish coloring his paper place mat. “Still. Moving is later. When I’ve had a chance to save up. Hiring an arson investigator would require immediate money, and even $500 is a fortune to me.”
The waitress came by, so Dawson waited until their plates had been removed. “I’ll loan you what you need,” he said. “I feel that strongly about it.”
She dipped a tortilla chip in the salsa. “Like you loaned me the money for the clothes?”
Dawson had had two margaritas, enough tequila to feel loose and relaxed in a way he hadn’t been relaxed in a long time. The motel they’d rented was right next door, so they could walk over when they were finished, wouldn’t need to worry about driving, which was why he’d allowed himself to drink a little more than he would otherwise.
He gave her a lazy smile as he remembered the panty purchase—and the fact that he’d had the pleasure of removing those panties from her body later.
What he wouldn’t give to do that again...
“What?” she said when he didn’t speak.
He tried to steer his mind back to safer territory. “Doesn’t hurt to call and ask.”
“But how will we know the guy we choose to hire is any good? And even if he is good, what if he doesn’t find anything to prove Sly’s complicity? It’s a risk, you know?”
He straightened in the booth. “I believe we know who did it,” he said, in deference to Jayden.
“So do I,” she said without hesitation.
“Then let’s prove it. We can check with Ed Shuler, the specialist I hired. See if he has any recommendations. He’s an ex-cop, might’ve worked with someone he could suggest. If not, we’ll have to use one of the guys I’ve found here.” He gestured at his phone. “The one from LA.”
She turned her glass around and around on the table, making a solid ring out of the condensation.
“Unless you want to leave town.” He studied her. He was essentially asking if there wasn’t something in Silver Springs she liked and, when she glanced up, he knew she understood that.
“I did want to go,” she said. “I’ve dreamed about it for a long time.”
“And now?”
Her lips curved into a self-conscious smile. “I wouldn’t be in any hurry if...if not for Sly.”
Dawson scooted lower in the booth. “Good. Let’s do it, then. We’ll split the cost.”
She grimaced. “No. I can’t let you bear any of the expense, not when you have so much at risk yourself, what with the farm and your sister and everything. It’ll be a loan, nothing more—and only if you’re positive you can afford to lend it to me without ruining what you’re trying to accomplish.”
“I’ve got a little padding.”
“Okay. But it’ll definitely be a loan. I won’t accept anything else.”
He lifted his glass. “Fine, a loan, then.”
The check came, and she tried to insist on paying for half of it.
“We’re here on business,” he said, handing her credit card back before the waiter could collect the tray.
“Eating Mexican food and drinking margaritas is business?” she scoffed.
“I brought you to LA to meet Angela, didn’t I? I’m covering meals and expenses.”
“Okay. But this feels more like a vacation. I can’t remember a meal I enjoyed more.”
“You’re easy to please.” He liked that about her, liked that she was real and down-to-earth and sensitive to other people’s situations and not just her own.
Something passed between them. Dawson almost reached across the table to take her hand. He thought she might let him, but he resisted. He needed to move slowly, to give her time to acclimate to having a different man in her life. He also needed to be careful. He’d never really fallen in love, didn’t have a lot of experience with it, and he definitely didn’t want to start something if it wasn’t going to work out.
She helped Jayden finish his picture while Dawson paid. Then they walked over to the motel. There were two double beds. Sadie and Jayden would be in one; he’d be in the other. But, as tired as Dawson was, he wasn’t sure he’d be getting any sleep. Long after the lights were out and they were settled in for the night, he found himself staring across the space that separated him from Sadie.
* * *
They were in the truck, driving home the next morning, when Dawson tried to reach Big Red at Safety First. He tried once at eight and once at nine, but it wasn’t until they were nearly to Silver Springs that he finally got through.
Knowing what hung in the balance, Sadie wanted to listen to the conversation. She was praying he’d get good news—in her opinion, he deserved a little—but they’d just pulled over to get gas and Jayden needed to use the restroom.
By the time she took her son into the mini-mart, bought him an apple after they were finished in the restroom and returned, Dawson was off the phone.
“What happened?” she asked.
He removed the gas nozzle from his tank and screwed on the cap. “It was a guy by the name of Oscar Hunt.”
“Who built the shelter for Alex? That’s who saw the vagrant you picked up and mentioned it to Gage Pond at The Blue Suede Shoe?”
Dawson opened the passenger door to lift Jayden into his safety seat. “Yep.”
“Did you talk to him?”
“No, he’s out on a job.”
“He doesn’t have a cell phone?”
“He’s somewhere in the Nevada desert, doesn’t have service. They won’t give me his personal information, anyway. But Big Red said he’d give Hunt my number as soon as they have contact with him.”
“Did you ask if Oscar has ever mentioned the incident?”
“I did. Big Red had no idea what I was talking about, though. Said he doesn’t recall.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“No,” Dawson agreed, but she could tell he was nervous that the lead wouldn’t go anywhere. He had only this Oscar’s sighting of a vagrant fitting the right description and the hope that the forensics specialist he hired would be able to find something of evidentiary value, when all he’d had to start with was a crime scene that’d already been scoured by police. The odds were not in his favor.
“We have only a couple of days to get ready for Robin Strauss,” he said, obviously trying to distract himself.
“From the state?”
He nodded.
“We’ll be ready,” she promised. At least she could help him with that.
* * *
Sly was at the gym on Tuesday morning when his phone started to buzz. Pete was trying to reach him. They both had the day off, were going to the range later. They often went target shooting—if not at the range, where they had to put in a certain number of hours to remain on the force, then out in the mountains, where they shot things up for fun. Although they probably spent equal time developing their skills, Sly took great pride in the fact that he was the better marksman.
Because he was lifting, he let the call transfer to voice mail so he could finish his curls. He would’ve waited to call Pete back until he was on his way home, so he wouldn’t be interrupted and could finish quicker, but Pete seemed determined to reach him. When the phone rang again, Sly slouched onto the weight bench where he’d left his phone and answered.
“What’s up?”
“Where are you?” Pete replied.
Sly straightened his right leg to admire the definition in his quads. He looked good. The Stanozolol he’d been taking was making a big difference. “Charlie’s Fitness, why?”
“I just stopped by your place.”
“But we weren’t supposed to get together until after lunch...”
“I know. I have something to tell you. I hope you’re sitting down.”
This sounded ominous. Sly dropped his foot back to the mats that covered the floor. “Is there a problem?”
“There might be. When I went in to the station this morning to finish a report I was supposed to turn in yesterday, I overheard a snatch of conversation I don’t think you’re gonna like.”
Sly wasn’t too worried. He grabbed his towel, which he always left on the bench with his phone while he lifted, and wiped the sweat from his face. “I’m sure you were getting an earful. Chief Thomas is still pissed at me for what happened at Lolita’s on Sunday, but don’t worry about it. I’m having dinner at his place tonight so that we can discuss my ‘recent behavior,’ as he put it. I’ll just tell him about all the shit Sadie’s been putting me through, how she’s been playing me hot and then cold, sleeping around when I think we’re getting back together and trying to turn my own kid against me, and he’ll understand. What man wouldn’t? Thomas might curse and yell, but he’s always got our backs. That’s what’s important on the force, right? Solidarity. He says it himself all the time—we’re stronger if we stand together.”
“Thomas will come around,” Pete agreed. “He always does. But...this is something else.”
Sly tossed the towel aside. “The complaint Sadie filed against me? I already know about that. Thomas called me first thing.” He laughed without humor. “She’s got her nerve, man, thinking anyone at that station would take her side over mine.”
“No, it’s not that, either, buddy. If you’ll just listen...”
Sly felt his first trickle of unease. What else could there be? “Fine. I’m all ears,” he said. “Shoot.”
“There’s a guy, a Damian Steele, coming from LA. Sounded like he was some kind of forensics specialist, so—”
“Are we still trying to gather evidence on the Reed murders?” Sly broke in, hoping he’d figured it out at last. If so, that was a good thing. He’d love nothing more than to see Dawson Reed go to prison for the rest of his life, or worse. Without him standing in the way, providing food and shelter and work for Sadie, she wouldn’t be acting the way she was. She’d have nowhere to turn, would be down on her knees, begging him to take her back.
“I thought maybe that was the case, too. It’s killing me that he’s running around town as if he’s as innocent as everyone else. But when I looked up this Damian dude on the internet, I found out that he’s an arson investigator. A good one.”
Sly’s stomach plummeted to his feet. “What’d you say?”
“You heard me.” There was a moment of silence, then he said, “That’s not a problem, is it?”
“What do you mean?”
“Sadie’s telling everyone you had something to do with the fire. After what I saw at the diner, I thought... I don’t know. I thought maybe you did do something stupid.”
“Hell, no. Of course not. I’m not an idiot.”
“Whew! I’m relieved.”
“You thought I might have...”
“Not really. You just...haven’t been yourself lately, that’s all. Sadie...she’s gotten inside your head.”
Sly was reeling so badly he was having a difficult time sounding convincing. He’d been so careful that night. But...had he left anything behind? “That’s bullshit. I can’t believe you’d even consider it.”
“Yeah. You’re right. Sorry, bro. Doesn’t matter who comes to town. Just wanted you to know—in case.”
“I appreciate that. So...the department is hiring someone else? An outsider?”
“Not the department. Thomas was surprised by the call. He tried to say we had it covered, but the guy must’ve convinced him he had some right to see the property, because Chief Thomas set up a time to meet him there.”
“When?”
“Noon on Thursday.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said, kicking over his water bottle. “We don’t need no outsider meddling in our business.”
“Yeah. No one likes it much, but it is what it is.”
Sly took a moment to process everything he’d just heard. “The weird thing is...if we didn’t hire him, who did? The fire department?”
“Doubt it. They don’t have the money for that kind of thing, not for a fire where no one was actually hurt.”
“Is it Maude, then? She’s got money. Is she not satisfied with the investigation?”
“The landlady? Come on. She wouldn’t think to call in a specialist. Anyway, her homeowner’s policy will pay to rebuild whether it was arson or not.”
“Whoever invited this guy has to be paying a lot. Someone like Damian Steele is an important man. He’s not going to drop everything and drive out here on his own dime,” he started, then stopped. Son of a bitch! It was Dawson Reed. It had to be.
That prick was coming after him.