Nightwalker

“I have Jessy. And the ghost dancers, of course,” Timothy said. “Jessy, one of these days, I want to go out to Mallaluca and see the family. Maybe we could go out for a festival, and show Sally here the Ghost Dance?” Timothy said.



“Of course,” Jessy said. Mallaluca, the town where some of his distant relatives still lived, was only a few hours away. “That would be lovely. I’ll look into some dates.” She stood, her intention of staying for breakfast forgotten now, suddenly anxious to drive down to the police station and find someone who could tell her more about Tanner Green. She kissed Timothy on the cheek and offered Mrs. Teasdale a broad smile. “You two have a nice day. Timothy, I’ll see you tomorrow. Call me if you need anything.”



She barely said goodbye to Jimmy, she was so anxious to leave. And yet, even as she drove, she felt her heart sinking.



Surely if Tanner Green had a twin someone would have mentioned it. She had to know for sure, though. Because if Tanner Green did have a twin, then maybe she could begin to be…



Sane.



Dressed and ready to leave the house, Dillon paused when the newscaster started talking about Rudy Yorba.



He tried to tell himself that the younger man’s death was nothing but coincidence. Even after more than twenty-four hours, the police still had no leads, and they were asking the public to notify them if they saw a newly damaged vehicle or had any other information that might aid the investigation into the accident in any way.



Accident, hell. He’d been questioning Rudy, and now he was dead. The victim of a mysterious hit-and-run. That was no coincidence.



He left his house and headed to the police station, where he found Jerry Cheever in his office. The detective seemed both disturbed and surprised when Dillon started asking what was going on with the Rudy Yorba case.



“We went through this yesterday,” Cheever reminded him.



“It wasn’t an accident.”



Jerry groaned. “Either way, it’s not my case,” Jerry told him. “I know you have a bug up your ass about this case, but it makes no sense. What could his death have to do with Tanner Green?”



“Jerry, I questioned Rudy Yorba about Green right before he was killed,” Dillon told him. He had no intention of telling Cheever yet that he’d also broken into a garage based on the information Rudy had given him, even if Cheever had basically suggested it.



“Come on, Jerry, what would the man have been doing walking along the highway that late?”



“He ran out of gas, sweet and simple. He was probably walking to the off-ramp, looking for a gas station,” Jerry explained.



“No AAA?” Dillon demanded.



“No, not in his wallet, anyway. There’s just no mystery here.”



“Really? I think there is. These days, everyone has a cell phone, and cars come with roadside assistance.”



“He drove an old car. And without AAA, who was he going to call? A drunk hit him, got scared and drove away. Come on, Dillon, not everything is a conspiracy.” Jerry ran his fingers through his hair, shaking his head. “Don’t I wish this was all related, that somewhere there’s a clue that would give me some answers.”



“Don’t you have anything?” Dillon demanded.



“It’s not my case. I’ve told you that. Go check with vehicular homicide.”



“Cheever, what the hell kind of a cop are you?” Dillon demanded.



For a moment Jerry Cheever seemed about to explode in turn, but then he looked down, gritted his teeth, then looked up again. “It’s departmental organization, and that’s just the way it is. But go and talk to Len Durso. He and his partner got the call. They’re top-notch, and so are the crime-scene team, who’ve inspected the body, his clothing, the road, you name it. If there is a connection, I sure as hell pray they—we—find it.”



Dillon realized that Cheever was looking past him, frowning slightly as he peered through the glass windows of his office.



Dillon swung around and groaned softly. Jessy Sparhawk was standing just outside. Her eyes widened as she saw him, and for a moment he thought she was going to turn around and leave. But she didn’t. Blue eyes wide and captivatingly innocent, she stood her ground. Dillon felt his heart surge and silently cursed himself, wondering again just what it was about this woman that he found so compelling.



He stood as Jerry strode across the room and opened the door.



“Sorry. I don’t mean to intrude.”



“Dillon was just leaving,” Jerry said.



Dillon thought about finding a way to stay, then opted not to. She was going to have to decide that she needed to open up to him. She was going to have to trust him.



Besides, if she wanted to speak privately to Cheever, well…



Ringo could listen in and tell him if there was anything he needed to know.



“Jessy,” he acknowledged politely, and left, deciding he might as well make good use of the time. He headed down the hall to ask the desk sergeant where he could find Detective Durso.



“Sit down, sit down, how can I help you?” Jerry Cheever asked.



Jessy took the chair in front of the desk, while he perched on the edge of it.



“Have you discovered anything more about the murder of Tanner Green?” she asked him without preamble.



He arched a brow and answered slowly. “You know, investigations take time. Unfortunately, we don’t usually solve things as easily as the crime shows would have you believe.”



“I know that. I was just anxious, I guess,” she told him.



“We’re investigating several leads, though,” he told her. “We’re doing our best, and, I’m certain, in the end, that we will discover the truth. Have you thought of anything that might help with the case?” he asked her.



“No. Actually…I’m just curious about Mr. Green himself,” Jessy told him.



“Oh? Why?” Cheever asked.



“I wanted to know if he had a twin, or maybe a brother who looks a lot like him,” she said.



Cheever seemed surprised, but he stood and walked around behind his desk, hit a few keys on his computer, then met her eyes. “Nope. No siblings. He was the only child of Mathew and Virginia Green, both deceased many years ago.”



“Oh,” she said with a noticeable lack of enthusiasm. Great. She had asked, the question had been just as ridiculous as she’d feared, and now Cheever was staring at her as if he was about to grill her once again.



She stood quickly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have taken your time.”



“Why the concern about siblings?” Cheever asked, getting up to see her out.



“I just thought that…well, I haven’t seen anything in the paper about a funeral,” she said, amazed that the lie came to her tongue so easily, even though it wouldn’t stand up to close investigation.



“The body is still being held in the morgue. But there’s a note here that Emil Landon called to say that he’ll handle the arrangements once it’s released.”



“That’s nice to hear,” she said.



“Keep your eye on the papers. I’m sure there’ll be a notice when the time comes,” Jerry suggested.



“Yes, of course. And thank you.” She started out of the office, then hesitated. “It’s kind of strange, isn’t it? That poor guy who worked for the Sun is dead, too.”



“Don’t worry. We intend to find out who was responsible.”



She nodded and left at last.



Dillon hadn’t met Len Durso before, but the cop seemed to be a decent guy. He was a big-enough man that he could have been intimidating, but his response was open and friendly when Dillon introduced himself and presented his card, with the Harrison Investigations logo on it, then explained why he’d come.



“We’ve just started investigating,” Durso said, shaking Dillon’s hand and studying him from under heavy lids, as if he’d heard about him and was intrigued.



“I don’t believe it was an accident,” Dillon said flatly.



“It was a hard impact, killing the guy instantly, I can tell you that. The body is at the morgue—probably in autopsy right now. The M.E. hasn’t signed off yet, but she’s already told me that whoever hit him was going a good sixty miles an hour. There are no tire marks on the highway, so the driver didn’t try to stop,” Durso told him. “We’ll know more when we get the full forensic and autopsy reports.”



“Can you call me to let me know what you learn?” Dillon pointed to the card in Durso’s hand.



“I’m curious,” Durso told him. “What’s your interest in this?”



Durso was being honest with him, more forthcoming than Dillon had any right to expect, so he replied in kind.



“I think it was murder. I think Yorba might have been able to ID whoever killed Tanner Green, and that’s why he’s dead now.”



“You working for Emil Landon?” Durso demanded, seeming to retreat slightly.



“My boss’s call,” Dillon told him. “Landon thinks he’s a target.”



“Yeah? Well, Landon is walking around just fine, and if you’re right, two other men have died in his stead,” Durso said. Dillon decided he’d made the right call, telling the cop that he’d been instructed to take the case.



Dillon said, “I’m thinking it might be some kind of an inside job, with someone from the Big Easy working with somebody from the Sun. Because if it’s not, the Tanner Green murder is the most coincidence-filled case I’ve ever seen.”



Durso studied him gravely. “I’ll look into anything you give me. I met Adam Harrison when he was here on a case a few years back. No one ever talked about the details, but he’s clearly an amazing guy, so anything I can do…For now, tell me how you think this might have gone down. What makes you think it was an inside job?”



“The limo that dropped Tanner Green off at the casino was just out of range of several security cameras. That’s almost impossible to accomplish—unless you know the exact range and angle of view of those cameras,” Dillon explained.