Jo had no scathing last words for this particular murderer, but she found no pity in her heart. Rachel met her eyes one last time, and Jo left the room.
Pam Emerson was leaning against her cruiser, her uniform smartly crisp in spite of her long night. Another cruiser sat next to hers, and Becca could see the silhouettes of two officers inside. Pam spoke into the mic clipped to her shoulder as they emerged through the doors of the hospice. The revolving red lights on the cruiser shut off. Pam took one look at them and cut straight to business.
“Mr. Perry is coming down off his high, and he’s suddenly very talkative about his mama. He’s got a long rap sheet and he’ll face multiple charges, but we’ll need your help making them stick.”
“You’ll have it.” Becca felt the warmth of Jo’s arm in hers and figured she could find strength for this on some future day.
“But Rachel Perry.” Pam stepped closer to them, eyeing the doors of the hospice. “No promises, Becca. We’ll charge her if she confesses today, but we won’t take her in, given her illness. She’s not exactly a flight risk. There’s no statute of limitations on homicide, but I doubt she’ll be prosecuted. If anything, they’ll set it on the docket a year ahead. She’ll be long gone, then.”
“I know.” Becca shivered, but Jo pressed her arm and that pleasant, detached peace descended on her again. “I don’t need a bloodbath, Pam. I just want this investigation added to the official record.”
“That’ll be done,” Pam promised her. “A damn thorough one. I take it I can get ahold of you guys by cell?”
“I’m afraid not.” Jo spoke with the unquestioned authority of a goddess. “Neither of us will be available for the next three days. We’re going to find the most beautiful vacation house on Cannon Beach, and we’re going to rent it. We don’t want to be disturbed.”
“Yes, sir.” Pam’s eyebrows rose, but she smirked. “Guess I’m going to have to live with that. Sounds like an important trip.”
“We’re going to sleep.” Becca spoke reverently. She appreciated Pam’s innuendo, but she wanted no greater excitement than three solid nights of sleep, for them both. She was dizzy with relief at the prospect.
“Three days,” Pam said sternly. “You call me when you get back. Travel safe.” She pointed at the doors, and two other officers stepped out of the cruiser. “If you two don’t want to be around for this, I’d make tracks now.”
“We don’t.” Becca closed her eyes. “We’re going.”
Pam gripped Becca’s arm, then moved past them with the other officers toward the hospice.
Becca turned to Jo and took her hands. “I love you,” she said. “Just in case I haven’t been clear on that until now.”
“I love you back.” Jo wet her lips, and Becca had to smile. Spontaneous displays of affection still made Jo a little nervous, but she was practicing, and their kiss was brief and sweet. “Now, let me take you away from here.”
Becca nodded. “You can take me away, to the ocean. But there’s a place I’d like to show you on the way.”
Chapter Twenty-two
“Joanne. Dearest? I’m honestly not hungry.”
“You will be. Any moment.” Jo was reasonably certain of this as she pulled the BMW away from Top Pot Doughnuts. They had already stopped at Ezell’s Chicken, and the lush interior of the car was filling with enticing fragrance.
She hoped Becca would be hungry soon; she craved that hint of returning normality, nature coming back into balance. The last twenty-four hours were a blur in Jo’s mind, and she wasn’t having to cope with the betrayal of a lifelong friend.
Becca had been silent since they left the hospice. She looked older in the harsh sunlight slanting through the window, but some animation was returning to her face at last. She still had tears to shed for Rachel Perry, and for old lies, old losses. Jo trusted she would be ready for them, whenever they came. “We’re not in any hurry. The ocean isn’t going anywhere, and neither is Mount Rainier.”
“Neither are we,” Becca pointed out.
“True.”
Perhaps the morning of Gay Pride was not the wisest time to try to navigate Seattle streets. Jo braked at another intersection thronging with a rowdy crowd heading downtown.
“If I were driving, we’d be halfway to the mountain by now.” Becca sighed. “I still can’t believe they moved the march from Capitol Hill to Fourth Avenue.”
Jo sighed too, in relief. Becca’s remote melancholy seemed to be lifting. “Becca, that happened six years ago.”
“It’s still a sacrilege. An injustice most dire. Don’t get Marty started on this subject.”
Jo shrugged. “I never went to the march when it was on Broadway, and I don’t go now. I’ve never felt it had anything to do with me.”
“Yeah?” Becca studied her with an odd smile. “Look again. Tell me what you see.”
Puzzled, Jo stared at the laughing men, women, and other genders passing in front of them. “Well. They all seem so young to me, these years. Still lots of white men. But…I like them. I like seeing all their children, their dogs. They look happy today.”
“They’re clan, Dr. Call.” Becca brushed Jo’s forearm with one finger. “Maybe distant kin, but still family, if you choose them. You’re starting to let people into your life. You’re seeing them with new eyes. Me, Marty, Khadijah, Pam. Mrs. Pam, when we meet her. You’re building that clan you’ve always wanted, Jo. I’m happy for you.”
Jo swallowed. “Thank you, Becca. I—”
“Now floor it,” Becca suggested.
“Oh.” Jo saw the cleared intersection and floored it.
Becca kept her hand on her arm as they drove out of the city.
Jo tried not to tramp wildflowers flat with her boots, but missing them was all but impossible. They grew so thick in this mountain meadow it was like wading through a carpet of snarled color. She shifted, balancing the boxes of food in her arms and trying to keep Becca in sight ahead.
“You seem to know where we’re going,” Jo called hopefully.
“I do.” Becca, carrying only a small satchel, gestured toward a copse of distant trees. “Just keep an eye out for the mountain Gestapo.”
Jo took this warning seriously. She kept glancing over her shoulder toward the paved road far behind and above them, leading to the Paradise Inn. The leased BMW was parked just off a side path, reasonably hidden by brush.
The low fence Becca had stepped over so blithely was clearly posted, marking this field as off-limits. Apparently, her beloved was quite capable of felony. Jo understood why the officials who guarded Mount Rainier deemed these lush wildflowers too fragile for human traffic. Her attention was divided between stepping carefully and expecting arrest at any moment.
“This place wasn’t cordoned off thirty years ago.” Becca waited for her at the edge of the trees, panting lightly. “At least, I don’t remember my parents smuggling me down here in their picnic basket, way back then. Come on. Through here.”
That dimple appeared in Becca’s cheek, and Jo would have followed her through the gates of hell. Or to prison, possibly, should any rangers find them in this field.
Jo recognized the tall young trees they wended through as white pine and maple, but she wasn’t well versed in nature and couldn’t be more specific than that. Their cool shade was welcome as the sun crested noon. The long box of doughnuts almost slid off her arm, but she pulled a quick save.
They emerged from the trees, and Jo’s mouth fell open. She had always believed in an afterlife, but she’d never had a clear image in her mind of heaven. This came close.