Chapter 32
As soon as Mitch returned with Dylan and Andrew to the fishing camp, he called John to update him on Hank’s condition, Mary’s state of mind, and Andrew’s transfer of watch care from the neighbor to him. “Poor kid was so glad to see us.”
“‘Us?’”
“Dylan.”
“She went along to Lafayette?”
“I wasn’t going to take her home or leave her out here alone.”
“Nobody knows about the camp.”
“I’m not taking any chances with this bunch, John. When we came out of the hospital, I noticed a car in the parking lot slowly making laps up one row and down another.”
“Looking for an empty space.”
“He passed them up. He wasn’t looking to park his car. Now call me paranoid, or maybe it was just my ops training working overtime, but I was glad we were in a car that wouldn’t be recognized.”
“How would Malone and company have known you were going to a hospital in Lafayette?”
“Come on, John.”
“Walls with ears?”
“Right-o. And these sons of bitches are smart and bold. If they pick up even a tidbit, they’re gonna act on it.”
“I don’t need convincing.”
Hearing the dejection in John’s voice, Mitch asked, “What now?”
“You know Lear. Dogged. Meticulous. He’s been poring over maps of Bayou Coeur, including one that was hand-drawn.”
“By who?”
“A relative of his who fishes it. Anyway, he found a tiny inlet that wasn’t on any of the other maps.
Darcy sent a team to check it out. Sure enough, the investigators found fresh scrapes on a clump of cypress knees, like the kind a hull would make if a boat was dragged across them into the channel. ”
“That’s great! That’s a starting point.”
“It’s a dead end. The area had been swept clean.”
“What?”
“Darcy had personnel combing it on foot and shoulder-to-shoulder. What soon became obvious was that it was too clean. Hardly even sticks on the ground. The culprits had cleared the area from the waterline all the way back to the road.”
“They covered their tracks.”
“They eliminated them.”
“Which is why I brought Dylan here and why I’m keeping her.”
“Till Malone makes a move.”
“Then we’ll see.”
“Okay. There’s gumbo in the freezer. I think some steaks. Help yourselves to whatever you can scrounge.”
“Thanks. I’m also taking a new burner out of the drawer. This one’s probably outlived its healthy life span.”
“Text me the number.”
“Roger that.”
“Mitch?”
“Yeah?”
He was sitting cross-legged on the floor. Beside him was a makeshift ramp he’d constructed out of books. Andrew was rolling his cars down it, delighting when they crashed at the bottom.
Dylan braced herself for an argument. “I need to call my answering service.” When she saw that Mitch was about to protest, she raised her hand to stop him. “A patient may be quickly unraveling to a dangerous level.”
“Do you have patients that whacked out?”
“‘Whacked out’ isn’t a clinical term, but I do have several with severe depression. I need to check to see if anyone is in crisis.”
“Sure.” He reached into the front pocket of his jeans and extended a phone up to her. It was one that he’d only recently taken from the drawer in the sideboard.
“My service may not answer an unidentified caller. Please put the battery in my phone.”
She could tell he didn’t like it, but he came to his feet, told Andrew that he would be right back, and went into the guest bedroom, returning with her phone. “The battery is low, but you should have enough juice.”
“Thank you.”
She typed in her passcode and checked her texts. She had two, but neither was of any consequence. She also had one missed call. From Roland.
First, she called her answering service. Other than John Bowie’s attempt to reach her early that morning, no one had called for her. Which came as a great relief.
Mitch had rejoined Andrew on the floor. Each had a car now, and they were racing them. Smiling over Andrew’s tire-screeching noises, Mitch looked up at her and must have noted the tension in her expression.
He got Andrew interested in a fire truck, then stood up. “What?”
“No calls to my service except for John Bowie’s early this morning.”
“That’s good. No one is in trouble.”
“But Roland called my cell.”
“When?”
“Shortly after one o’clock this afternoon.”
“He leave a message?”
“No.”
Andrew was running the fire truck up and down Mitch’s thigh. He ruffled Andrew’s hair but never took his eyes off her. “What do you usually do when a patient calls and doesn’t leave a message?”
“Call back to see if everything is all right.”
“So call him.”
She nodded and turned away, but he hooked her elbow. “But I listen in.”
“You will not.”
“If I have to play the cop card, I will.”
She pulled her arm from his grasp. “On what grounds?”
“Malone’s employee took a switchblade to three people last night, including me.”
“He may not have even known about it. I told you he reacted as though he didn’t. That El Paso may have been up to meanness that had nothing to do with Roland.”
“So it’s Roland again? I can’t believe—” he began in a raised voice.
He looked over his shoulder at Andrew, who was now involved with guiding his fire truck along the armrest of the sofa.
Mitch came back to her and continued in a moderated but no less truculent tone. “I can’t believe you’re defending him.”
“It’s not about defending him. You have responsibilities and you take them seriously.” She flattened her hand against her chest. “Well, I also have a responsibility to every patient, which I take seriously. That includes Roland Malone, even if he is a criminal.
“Besides, Detective Haskell, think about it. If I don’t follow up, it will make him wonder why. Especially if he knows I lied to him about arriving safely home last night. If you don’t want him suspicious of me, more suspicious of me, you should let me call.”
In frustration, he placed his hands on his hips, but she could tell that her reasoning had made sense to him. “Make the fucking call,” he said, mouthing the eff word.
She moved to the other side of the room for privacy, but it wasn’t needed.
Her call wasn’t answered. After numerous rings, a recording told her there was no mailbox set up for that number.
The tightness in her chest eased. Despite her adamant argument, she had hoped she wouldn’t be forced to talk to Roland and tell more lies.
She went back to Mitch and ungraciously returned her phone to him.
“He didn’t answer. There was no voice mailbox, so I couldn’t leave a message.
” She waited a beat before adding, “And don’t you ever pull that cop card crap with me again.
” She stood there, meeting his eyes, daring him to challenge her.
He didn’t, but asked, “Was this our first fight?”
She turned her back on him, walked to the front door, opened it, and stepped out onto the porch. As she closed the door behind herself, she heard him say, “Guess so.”