Finn said, “I’ll meet you there.”
I hung up and stared out into the rain for a moment, the way the water came down, washing the dirt and mud away from my car, erasing where I’d been. There was a spot, though, on my front windshield, a stubborn bug splat that had been there too long to be washed away.
I started the car and thought the case was like that, too. Time had come through and washed away plenty, but like the bug, a few stains were left behind. I wondered if they would be enough to solve two mysteries: Nicky’s death and the Woodsman murders.
For the first time in years, I allowed myself to seriously consider the possibility that justice might finally be given to the McKenzie boys. With that came the darker realization that I had spent the last four years, ever since I found the skull, living in the shadow of the Woodsman.
He haunted my dreams and drove me in a relentless and likely self-righteous pursuit of putting the bad guys away.
Who was I if I wasn’t chasing the Woodsman?
I realized something else, too, as I pulled out of the parking lot and fell in line behind an empty school bus. Putting away the Woodsman meant freeing up emotional energy that sooner or later, I’d need to direct toward figuring out my own head and heart. Bull said I needed to crap or get off the can, and I knew he was right.
Brody wouldn’t wait forever. He wanted a wife, not just a live-in lover and partner. And I wanted my daughter to have stability, to drown in the kind of stable, loving home life that I only got to sip from as a tiny child.
Chapter Twenty-three
Finn waited in the Bellingtons’ driveway. He must have left the station right after our call, whereas I had to make a pit stop at the Conoco station, and then a second at the McDonald’s on the north end of town. Whatever I’d eaten wasn’t finished ravaging my insides. Both stops were uncomfortable enough to make me consider calling the visit off.
But the image of Finn questioning the Bellingtons alone, his baby blues batting at Ellen and Annika, gave me enough motivation to grit my teeth and carry on.
Finn sat in the driver side of his Porsche, a hot ride that was impractical in Cedar Valley. He drove it four months a year, and a Suburban the other eight, and every time I saw the sports car I cringed. He had a way of working that car into a lot of conversations.
I parked as close as I could to the house and together we dashed through the rain to the front steps.
“You really ought to think about getting a stick, Gemma. The Porsche handles so great on these mountain roads,” he said. He gave the car a fond look and I wondered if he was as attentive to his girlfriends, he might have better luck with his relationships.
I ignored him and knocked on the door.
After a long minute, Annika opened the door. She wore an oversize men’s navy sweat suit and tan sheepskin slipper boots. Her long pale hair was piled on top of her head in a messy bun and she looked like she had just woken up.
“Hi, honey, is your mommy or daddy home?” Finn asked.
Annika stared at him a moment and then looked at me. “Gemma?”
“Annika, hi. We have a few questions we’d like to ask your parents, and you, too, if you all are free.”
She nodded and let us in. “They’re in the living room with Grandpa. They thought he might enjoy watching the rain. Sentimental fools, they think he can still enjoy stuff like that.”
We followed her down the same long hall that just a few days before, Mrs. Watkins had led Chief Chavez, Sam Birdshead, and me. The pouring rain and general gloom outside only served to emphasize the cold atmosphere inside and I shivered. Finn noticed and for a moment I thought he was going to offer me his jacket, but he only rolled his eyes and gave me a look.
“Mom? Dad? The cops are here,” Annika announced. The living room was silent and her words fell like thunder.
Terence Bellington jumped. He sat next to his father on the couch. The older man’s wheelchair was folded in, leaning against the coffee table. Across from them, Ellen sat with her legs tucked up under her, a coffeepot in one hand and a mug in the other. She didn’t look up, but kept her attention on the hot liquid she was pouring.
Finished, she set the mug down and said, “A call would have been appreciated.”
I nodded. “I agree, but there wasn’t time. I apologize for disturbing you, Mayor, Mrs. Bellington. Something has come up. We’ll only take a few minutes of your time. This is my partner, Finn Nowlin. You may remember him, he headed the investigation on Nicky’s accident, three years ago.”
Finn buttoned his suit jacket and stepped forward and put his hand out to Terence Bellington. After a moment, the mayor stood and shook it.
“Of course, of course. Have you found Nicky’s killer?” he asked. Like his daughter, he wore a navy sweat suit and slippers.
“No, unfortunately.”
I glanced at Frank Bellington. The elderly man seemed unaware of our existence, let alone his own. He stared in Ellen’s direction but I don’t think he really saw her. Annika was probably right; her grandfather was beyond enjoying much of anything these days.
The Frank Bellington I remembered from my childhood was a boisterous man with a naughty sense of humor and a never-ending supply of hard butterscotch candies. He was attractive and compelling; a businessman who built up an empire selling real estate and properties in what was to become a booming ski town. I wondered again at what had happened between him and Bull, why their weekly poker nights had stopped, why one day Frank was family and the next he was persona non grata.
My grandmother Julia’s words came back to me. Was Frank the man she warned me to stay away from?
“Is there somewhere else you’d prefer we talk?” I asked.
The mayor shook his head. “No, please, take a seat. Coffee? Annika, hon, bring us some more cups, would you? My father is having a good morning. He adores the rain.”
I looked at Frank Bellington again. The mayor saw my skepticism.
“Well, he used to adore the rain,” he corrected. “He’s got his good days and his bad days and lord knows, we try to make the good days count for something. Gemma, I know you understand what I’m talking about; I was so sorry to hear about your grandmother’s diagnosis. Finn, are your parents still with us?”
Finn nodded. “Yes, sir. They live down in Florida. Fit as a fiddle, both of them. They just won a bridge tournament. My dad, he’s great. He can’t keep his hands off my mom, and they’re going on seventy. It gives a man hope.”
“Well, consider yourself blessed. It’s terrible, just terrible watching a parent decline like this,” Terry said.
Annika returned with two more cups and Ellen poured for us. Unlike her husband and daughter, she was dressed to the nines. A soft gray cardigan hung on her narrow shoulders, over a white silk blouse. Her black trousers were cut wide, palazzo style, and her beaded flats looked expensive. She noticed me looking.
“I had a meeting this morning with one of the charities I’m involved with,” she said. “And this evening I’m meeting with Reverend Wyland. I’m sure you’ve heard; we have a funeral Saturday. I expect you will both be there?”
Finn and I nodded.
Ellen continued. “We’ve had an awful time with the Reverend. We are, of course, using the same plot for Nicky but the man is insisting we pay a surcharge for the re-laying of our son. I don’t know how he did things in whatever dark cave he crawled out of back home in Africa, but I simply won’t tolerate that here. It’s not about the money, but it’s the principle of the thing, you see. We have already paid for one funeral for our son.”