Chapter Thirty-Nine
THIRTY-NINE
Tim
Tim didn’t like to judge, but Stacy Peel’s house was seriously lacking curb appeal.
It was the shape, for one thing, the upper floor jutting out over dirty basement windows like an overbite.
The siding and roof were the same shade of cheap chocolate milk.
The patchy front yard, too. There was a trailer in her driveway, though, which meant that Stacy owned a boat.
Maybe she was the type to spend her money on experiences. That, and raising her kid.
“Thanks for meeting with me again,” Tim said as she showed him inside.
“I won’t take up too much of your time.” All Tim needed was to know whether Shana had been right.
At the barracks, she’d said it was a friend of Nicole’s who told her that Woody had been with another woman.
Stacy seemed like the logical place to start.
Stacy told him his timing was good. “Caleb’s at the neighbor’s. She’s got a son his age.”
“That must be nice. How’s Nicole doing? Have you spoken with her?”
“She’s fine, I guess,” Stacy said as they sat down in the living room, the floor of which was littered with toys. “The whole thing definitely freaked her out.”
“That’s understandable. The body, the intruder … it’s a lot. Do these women look familiar?” Tim handed Stacy the photographs.
“I don’t think so?” she said. “But I meet a lot of people through my job.”
“You probably hear a lot of names, too. Does Molly Kranz mean anything to you?”
“Molly Kranz? No, nothing.”
“What about Angelica Patten?”
“Angelica?”
Stacy slumped back against the couch, and Tim felt it. The truth was in her energy. All at once, Stacy looked defeated, like she’d reached her breaking point. Her posture made him think of melting wax.
She turned her heavy-lidded eyes on him. “This is about Woody.”
“I’m afraid so,” said Tim. “What do you know about Woody’s relationship with Angelica?”
Stacy blew out a breath. “Not much. I caught him with her and told Nicole—I had to. Wait.” Though she was wearing a lot of makeup, Tim was confident she’d blanched. “Is Angelica … is she … the body?”
“The victim,” Tim said. “Yeah. That’s her.”
“Oh God. Where’s Nicole?” Stacy’s lethargy was gone, replaced by a frenetic energy. She grabbed her phone from the coffee table and unlocked the screen. “Oh my God, does she know?”
Does she know her husband’s lover is dead and that he’s a suspect? “Not yet,” Tim said. “I haven’t been able to reach her.”
“This can’t get out.” Stacy pushed herself to the edge of the couch. “What Woody did. It was the one thing Nicole asked of him, the reason she hid it from the girls. She doesn’t want them to know.”
Tim could appreciate that. He didn’t want to upset Nicole’s kids either, but they were in their late teens, both practically adults. With an ID on the body, the information was going to be made public, whether Nicole wanted it to be or not.
“I’m afraid that’s beyond my control, now that the next of kin have been informed of the death. What we need from you,” said Tim, “is as much information as possible about Woody Durham’s relationship with Angelica Patten.”
Stacy looked up from the device in her hand.
The intensity with which she held Tim’s gaze made him want to squirm.
“What I know,” she said, “is that Woody broke Nicole’s heart.
He took advantage of a young woman who was probably drunk or high or both, and Nicole’s the one who’s had to pick up the pieces.
All she wanted was for no one to find out.
That’s all she asked. Woody almost destroyed their marriage.
Don’t let him destroy their family too.”
A text popped up on Tim’s phone. Call me.
“Excuse me a minute,” he said, crossing the room to the door and stepping out onto the porch. He pulled up Valerie’s number. She answered halfway through the first ring.
“We just had a sighting of Molly Kranz.”
A trooper had spotted her vehicle near a horse camp seven minutes southeast of Cape Vincent, the car parked behind a stand of trees.
The trooper was close enough to ID the driver, and had put in a call to the barracks.
He’d been about to approach the woman, when a group of after-school riders crossed the road in front of his car.
One of the horses had stopped dead center, needing cajoling from the riding instructor, and by the time the path was clear, Molly had driven away.
“She’s still in the area?” Tim said, incredulous. “She gave us the slip two days ago, and she only got as far as the horse farm?”
“Crazy, right? We put out another alert so that everyone knows she’s close.”
“Good,” said Tim. “We need to get that woman into custody.” Now more than ever, speaking with her was imperative.
He was about to go back in the house when Stacy flew through the front door.
“I have to go,” she said. “I’m sorry. I need to pick up Caleb.”
Tim frowned. Hadn’t she said his timing was good? “OK, Ms. Peel. I just have a few more questions—”
“I’m sorry, I really have to go.”
From the porch of the empty house, Tim watched Stacy Peel dash across the street. She hadn’t even bothered to put on her shoes.