28. The Smoking Gun
Chapter twenty-eight
The Smoking Gun
Ellie makes her way down the sidewalk on one crutch, heading for school this morning with Erin and the Madsen twins. Good boys who offer to carry her backpack.
“Text when you get there.”
“Don’t I always?”
“Humor your father.”
She flashes a smile back over her shoulder. “I will.”
I stand in the doorway until they’re at the corner. I stay there another few seconds, listening to the quiet sounds of the island.
Beth used to say mornings had their own kind of truth.
Today’s truth is that my daughter is limping into school on her own. Annie is waiting for information that hopefully can put Ian away, and tomorrow night this town is going to be turned upside down.
Hopefully we all land on our feet.
My phone rings before I can pick up my keys.
Admiral
“Doc. Good time to talk?”
“Yeah. Ellie just left for school.” I stop beside the kitchen island. “You have news?”
“Not a full book report yet, but Ian Whatever-His-Current-Name-Is does not look like a good man.”
I know that. Still, hearing Admiral say it makes the threat feel larger.
“Yeah.” My hand closes around the phone and I sit down on a stool. “That was already my read.”
“I’m with you one hundred percent now,” he says. “I received Annie’s package last night. “I’ve started sorting the documents. She keeps good records and has good notes.”
“Yeah. She does. Is there any trace of a smoking gun yet?”
“Too early. But, Portland doesn't look like a one-time collapsed project for him. I need more time with this before I can give you anything definitive.”
“And I’m sure that name isn’t the first one he’s made up either.”
“No, I’m willing to bet the farm that you’re right about that.”
“Thanks, Admiral.”
“Don’t thank me yet. We don’t have the full scope yet, or the answers.”
“Roger that. I’m heading into work. Do you need anything from us? Anything we can do?”
“Nothing right now. Go to work. Let him think everything is moving the way he wants it to. You and Annie call me tonight, once Ellie is in bed, unless I call you first.”
“And Doc?”
“Yeah.”
“I brought the guys up to speed last night,” he says. “It’s only right they know one of us has a problem on his doorstep.”
I close my eyes for half a second. These guys have been there for me, for each other for years. And now, this is the second time in a week it’s for me, and the third time in four years.
I owe them.
“Thanks.”
“Enough. It’s just what we do for each other.”
He’s right.
“We’ll call you tonight.”
“I’ll have more then.” And he hangs up.
By the time I get to the clinic, the lights are already on and the coffee is made.
I find Annie in my office with the door half-open, one hand on the phone, the other pressed flat to the desk. She looks up as I step into the doorway and holds up a finger.
“Okay. Thank you, Sheriff. Yes. I’ll tell him. He just walked in.”
She ends the call and sets the phone down.
“Alvarez?” I ask.
She nods. “He called instead of stopping by. Said he didn’t want Ian seeing his cruiser here and getting any ideas.”
“Good.”
“He reviewed everything from the library.”
I walk in and shut the door. Annie draws in a breath. “The recordings are good.”
The words seem too small for what they mean. “So, you can use it tomorrow?”
“Yes. He said the room recording is clear: faces, voices. He said the sunglasses caught enough to help as well.”
“And the content?”
“He says it's a start. There is a lot that can be argued as conjecture. But he does say I didn’t know what was going on in Portland. So, that should help with the crowd tomorrow night.”
She stops and takes a breath. I know she’s thinking about tomorrow.
“He said he didn’t actually admit that he stole money or used faulty materials, but it's a strong circumstantial case. Should be enough for the town to see it.”
I close my eyes for one second. “But it's not enough for Alvarez to make an arrest, though. Right?”
“Correct. We’re going to have to hope Admiral can find something.”
“He called this morning.”
She stands up straighter. “Already?”
“Before I left the house. He got the package last night and has started going through it.”
“Has he found anything?”
“No. He was clear about that.” I step closer, keeping my voice low. “But enough to say Portland doesn’t look isolated.”
Annie gets quiet. “He thinks there are others?”
“Yes. He wants us to call after work,” I say. “After Ellie goes to bed.”
“Okay.”
“One more thing I need to tell you.”
Her expression changes, guarded now.
“He brought the Thirteen guys up to speed last night. Filling in as many holes as he could since Ellie went missing.” I say immediately. “He told them because we’re always here for each other. We help each other.”
She looks away for a second, then she nods.
“Okay,” she says. “I trust your dynamic, even if I don’t understand it.”
“Yet,” I fill in. “You will.”
She looks at me. I want to touch her. We’re moments away from the first patient walking in, so I keep my hands to myself.
“Annie. I’m so proud of you.”
Her eyes shine for half a breath before she shuts it down. “Well. We’re not done, yet.”
“No.”
And with that, the newly installed bell on the front door jingles.
Mrs. Avery comes in with a scarf around her hair and a paper bag clutched in one hand.
“Morning, you two.” She looks between us. “I brought scones because I’m not above bribery for a quick look at my ankles. They are really swollen again.”
Annie smiles, professional and easy. “No bribery necessary. That’s what we’re here for.”
Mrs. Avery puts the bag on the counter. “Then consider it an investment in my community.”
“Oh, Annie, before I forget. I saw Mr. Danvers down at the bakery this morning. He said you two had a productive conversation about the cannery.”
The air suddenly becomes charged. Not enough for Mrs. Avery to notice.
But I sure as hell do.
“He’s very enthusiastic.” Mrs. Avery leans closer. “He said you’ve been looking at the plan again with fresh eyes and think it may be a good option. Is that true?”
Annie closes the chart and gives Mrs. Avery the soft, careful expression she uses with frightened patients who need truth in manageable pieces.
“I’m looking at everything carefully,” she says. “The cannery matters too much not to.”
That is not an endorsement. But it sounds enough like one for the story to fly for now.
Mrs. Avery nods, pleased and worried all at once. “Well, if you think there’s something there worth looking at again. I’ll keep an open mind.”
“Mrs. Avery. I hope the entire town keeps an open mind tomorrow night.”
The rest of the morning doesn't improve. Ian has taken yesterday’s lie and set it loose in town so that every person who gets near Annie brings it up. It gets stronger and grows a little more with each repetition.
A man from the hardware store asks whether it is true Annie has come around on the cannery plan. A young mother says her husband heard Annie may be speaking at the town meeting. She says it like good news.
Each time, Annie keeps her voice even. “The cannery matters too much for people not to come listen. Everyone should come to the meeting, ask questions of their own, and listen carefully before making up their minds.”
Nothing false.
By lunch, I find her in the supply closet with her hands pressed flat against a shelf, her head bowed, taking deep breaths.
I step in and close the door halfway.
“Just give me five minutes, please.”
“You can have three.”
She laughs, no humor in it. “Generous.”
I stand behind her and wrap my arms around her waist.
“He’s weaponized yesterday already.”
“Did you think he wouldn’t?”
“I hoped.”
“He knows they trust you.”
“He knows I have to be careful. If I deny too much, it gets back to him. If I say too much, it hurts tomorrow.” She looks at me then. “I hate sounding calm.”
She slaps her hand against the shelving. “I hate that people are relieved when I don’t tell them no. And I hate how easy it is to give people one pretty sentence and let them build a hope around it. And I’m helping him do it.”
“For one more day.”
She turns in my arms and buries her face in my chest. “I hate it.”
“It’s going to be okay.” I stroke her hair. “We’re going to get there.”
Her hands fist in my lab coat and she pulls me down into a kiss. Sweet and short, and incredible.
I pull back, “Dinner tonight?”
“I’d really like that.”
“I was hoping you’d help me tell Ellie what is going to happen tomorrow. I want her to have the choice whether she wants to be there or not.”
“We’re telling her everything?”
“Yes, I think we need to tell her. She doesn’t need to hear about it in a room full of people. I want her to be able to ask us honest questions and get answers that are simple and direct.”
“You’re right. She deserves that.”
“So do you.”
We leave the closet. I watch her walk out and think Ian has no idea what he has mistaken for weakness.
***
I’m making dinner and Ellie is at the kitchen table when Annie arrives. Homework is spread around her like a small academic disaster area. Her crutch is propped beside the chair. She has a pencil tucked behind one ear and my old academy sweatshirt half-swallowing her.
“Annie,” Ellie exclaims and hobbles over to hug her.
“Hey, hey… crutches,” Annie says.
Ha. See child, it’s not just me.
Annie sets her bag down by the door and comes into the kitchen. “Anything I can do to help?”
“Nope,” I confess. “I think we’re under control. About 20 more minutes before we’re ready to eat.”
I pull out a chair for her and sit beside her. “Hey kiddo. Are you almost done?”
She looks from me then to Annie. “This can’t be good. You’re making the parent face. What did I allegedly do?”
“Calm down. You didn’t do anything,” I say. “Unless you have something to confess I don’t know about yet.”
“Nope. Nothing at all. I’m an open book.” She smirks. “Let me finish this last problem.”
Once she finishes and puts her books away, I start. “So, the town hall meeting to vote on the cannery proposal is tomorrow.”
“I know,” she says.