"Yes, Verna. You told me."
"And didn't I tell you he brought this on himself?" she asked. "Tearing out all those beautiful trees and digging away at the mountain just to build himself a fancy monument. It looks like Mother Nature decided to get even, didn't she?"
The chief wasn't paying much attention. "Yes," he drawled as he continued to scan the sheet of paper in his hand.
"If you ask me, he's the villain. I feel sorry for his wife."
"You mean ex-wife, don't you?"
"That's right. He got rid of her so he could move on to a younger model. It's criminal, if you ask me. Poor thing. He got her
used to living the high life, and then he yanks the rug right out from under her."
The chief was clearly exasperated. He dropped the paper on the desk and looked at the television. " 'Poor thing'? Didn't you
see that interview they did with her last month? They had to bleep out every other word she said. I think he was crazy to ever marry her."
"But how is she going to get along now?"
"She can get a job and work like the rest of us. Nobody put a gun to her head when she signed that prenup," he pointed out.
John Paul and Avery had been listening from the doorway. They walked inside as Verna was telling the chief it was all a terrible shame. The chief spotted them, did a double take, and stood.
"What happened to you two?"
"It's a long story."
"I'll be happy to listen," he said.
Avery pulled away from John Paul and walked over to the counter. Verna gasped, and her brown eyes widened as she approached.
"My name's Avery Delaney," she said.
"You're soaking wet. What in heaven's name happened to you? You look like something my cat dragged in."
Avery didn't know where to begin. She saw John Paul shake the policeman's hand and sit in the chair he offered. She decided she'd let him do the explaining.
"May I use your phone?" she asked. "I need to call the FBI."
Verna's eyes now looked as if they were going to pop out of her face as she called over her shoulder, "Bud? The lady wants to call the FBI."
"Let her use the phone," the chief said. He was leaning into the desk, listening intently as John Paul explained the situation.
Verna placed an old-fashioned black phone on the counter. "There are showers on the second floor above the fire station and
nice clean cots too. While you make your call, I'll go get a couple of blankets for you folks. Your lips are trembling. You're
gonna get hypothermia if you aren't warmed up soon."
"Thank you," she said. "You're very kind."
Avery picked up the phone and then put it back down. Exhausted, she couldn't remember the phone number to the pen. She
closed her eyes to think about it. Was it three-nine-one or nine-three-one?
Maybe she could call Carter. What was his private number? Then she heard John Paul ask the chief if he had ever heard of a property called Land Between the Lakes.
"Everyone in Colorado has heard about that property."
"How far away is it?"
"Quite a distance from here," he said. "And with all the Lookie-Lous out there, you won't be able to get close. By now, the police have the area sealed off. The best way to see it is on television."
John Paul didn't know what he was talking about. He glanced at the screen.
Nine-three-one. That was it. Avery picked up the phone and started dialing. The receiver was halfway to her ear when she happened to look up at the television. She froze, the phone number once again forgotten.
A local newscaster announced that they had new footage of the disaster from a hiker just outside of Aspen who had captured
the explosion with his video camera.
"The judge's decision was announced at eight-fifteen this morning, granting ownership of the mansion to Dennis Parnell. For
those of you who just tuned in, we repeat, late this morning, the Parnell mansion known as Land Between the Lakes was ripped apart by an explosion."
The phone crashed on the floor as Avery collapsed.
Chapter 26
Numb with shock and despair, Avery couldn't move. Carrie was dead. Carrie, who had given her unconditional love, always, no matter how crazy Avery made her with her career choices.
And Avery had failed her. Carrie would still be alive if Avery had been faster or more clever. All that time wasted running
from point to point for the demented woman on the phone who taunted her with lies that Avery could save Carrie. She should have found a way to rescue Carrie and the other women. Now it was too late.
John Paul held her in his arms and let her ramble as she told him over and over how she was to blame.
Verna made soup and all but force-fed Avery, then led her upstairs and stood like a prison guard outside the bathroom while
she showered. The old woman, hearing Avery's sobs, kept whispering, "The poor dear."
When she was finished, Verna handed her one of the chief's gray T-shirts to put on, then gathered up her clothes to wash.
She hovered over Avery like an anxious mother hen. She sat Avery down on one of the cots and knelt on the floor with her first-aid kit. The cut on her leg wasn't deep, but it needed to be cleaned. She applied a liberal amount of iodine and wrapped the wound in gauze.
When she was finished, she tucked Avery into bed and headed downstairs to fix a cup of hot tea for her. When she turned back
at the doorway to ask her if she wanted a dab of milk in her tea, Avery was already fast asleep.
John Paul was waiting at the bottom of the stairs. "Is she okay?"
"She's sleeping, and that's the best thing for her now. She's all tuckered out."
Nodding agreement, John Paul went back into the station. The chief was on the phone verifying that John Paul was who he claimed he was. When he'd gotten the information he needed, his attitude became more open and friendly.
"The troops are on their way," he said. "I know you've got to be hungry, so I called over to the restaurant, and one of the employees is bringing some food for you."
"Thanks," John Paul said.
"I checked you out," he said then. "You were a Marine."
"Yes."
"I was in the army," he offered. "Went through West Point, then did some duty in Germany. My best friend was a Marine. He died last year, and I sure do miss him. He was a good man."
John Paul wasn't sure why he was telling him his history. "I hear you're good with a gun," Tyler continued. "Do you think trouble's coming this way? Until the FBI gets here, we're on our own."
"If Monk knows where we are, then maybe he'll try to end it here. I don't think he knows, though, and I'm guessing he's gone to ground to reorganize. That's what I'd do."
"We can't be taking any chances," Tyler countered as he stood and crossed to a cabinet on the other side of the room. He pulled
a key from his pocket and unlocked the padlock. When he opened the doors, John Paul smiled. Chief Tyler had an arsenal at
his disposal.
"You like to be prepared for just about anything, don't you?" he asked with approval.
The chief grinned. "Sometimes we get a cranky bear I have to go after."
"You go after them with an M1911?"
"No, that's just a leftover from my army days. Take your pick," he said. Turning to his assistant, he said, "Verna, you go on home to your daughter and stay there until this is finished."
"I don't want to leave that girl alone upstairs. She needs comfort now. I'm worried she might be going into shock."
"She's tougher than she looks," John Paul said. "I'll com- I'll watch out for her."
He'd damned near said he'd comfort the woman, but he'd caught himself in time. What was the matter with him? He didn't have
a clue how he was supposed to make Avery feel better, only knew he didn't want her crying on anyone else's shoulder. None