Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Keeping her head down, Emma slipped out of Eric’s room and started down the hallway toward the exit. She hadn’t made it five feet before she heard the booming voice of the guard behind her. “Pardon me, could you hold up for a minute?”
She froze, then reached for the badge and unclipped it, palming it before facing the officer. Better to be caught with no ID than with one that obviously belonged to someone else. “Yes?”
The cop aimed a thumb toward Eric’s door. “Can you give me some idea of how soon the prisoner will be released?”
Emma casually slid her hands—and the borrowed badge—into her pockets and spied Fran hurrying her way. “I can’t say yet. We’re still running tests. As I’m sure you know, broken ribs can be dangerous if they puncture a lung. We need to make sure we treat them properly.”
“Yes, of course.”
Fran jogged up and caught Emma’s arm. “I’m so glad I found you. You’re needed in room three.”
Emma excused herself from the guard and let Fran half drag her in the direction of the exit.
“Sorry about that,” Fran whispered. “Good cover, by the way.”
“Thanks.”
“Not to change the subject or anything, but I’ve been wanting to ask you about the stuff I found at your farm. Have you had a chance to decide what you want to keep?”
Emma had completely forgotten about the hoof pick, ring, and other junk. She’d swept it under her seat in Matthias’s Jeep. Out of sight, out of mind, she thought. “Not yet. I’ve been busy.”
“I understand, but don’t forget. I’d love to have those few artifacts to add to my collection. You should come over to my house sometime and see it.”
“Sure.” But Emma had no desire to view Fran’s so-called artifacts.
They were only about fifteen feet away when the automatic doors swished open and Troopers Fergusson and Lukan breezed through.
Emma swore and side-stepped into one of the cubicles, which was currently occupied by a young mother and her screaming toddler.
Fran followed her. “What’s going on?”
“Those are the two state police detectives investigating Sonny’s murder,” Emma whispered. “They’re convinced Eric’s guilty.”
The mother called out, “When is the doctor coming in to see us?”
Outside, the troopers passed by. Emma exhaled and smiled at the mother and son. “I’ll find out for you.” She moved closer to the door and peered out at Fergusson’s and Lukan’s retreating backs. They spoke briefly with the officer outside Eric’s room before entering.
Emma stepped into the hall, Fran at her side.
“I’ll go look in on Eric and make up some excuse for needing to be there,” Fran said. “You get out of here before someone else you know comes in.”
Emma pinched the fabric of her scrubs. “What about these?”
“Change back into your clothes and put these and the ID in the bag, then leave it with Sue, the woman who buzzed us in.”
“Do me a favor and ask when the doctor is going to check on the little boy in there.” Emma pointed at the room they’d hid in.
“I will. Now go.”
* * *
Matthias maneuvered the Jeep through the raised arm at the ER parking lot entrance and turned onto the street. “Did you learn anything?” he asked Emma, dressed once again in her own clothes.
She shared Eric’s observations regarding Neidermeyer and Jones. “I really want to talk to Tina again,” she said. “I wonder where she lives, and if she has any glass dividers or sliding glass doors in her house.”
Matthias considered the idea. “I want to ask Patrick Winslow a few questions before we revisit Jones’s assistant. Better we have some solid information to present to her. Or to Fergusson.”
Emma shifted in her seat. “Did you talk to him at the ER?”
Matthias and Emma hadn’t taken the time to compare notes at the hospital. She’d grabbed the bag with her clothes from him, darted into the restroom, returned, and dropped off the bag with the woman manning the desk before they made a hasty exit. “Briefly. He asked where you were.”
“And?”
“I told him I’d left you at the hotel.” Matthias shot a glance at her. “He didn’t see you, did he?”
“No, but it was close.”
No wonder she’d been in such a hurry to bug out of the hospital.
“Did he say anything else?”
Matthias debated how much to tell her and decided keeping bad news to himself was a poor choice. She’d find out soon enough anyway. “He’s more convinced than ever that Eric’s the killer. He also believes Nell helped him.”
“What? Why? Nell wanted Sonny to buy the farm.” Emma raked her fingers through her short hair.
“Okay, maybe she only wants the money to feed her habit. Why would she help Eric, or anyone, kill the man who was going to provide her with a major payday? If anything, she’d want to kill me for standing in her way. ”
Matthias fell quiet. Everything Emma just said was a huge admission on her part. Acknowledging Nell’s motivation for selling the property was to buy drugs had to be gut-wrenching. Even the thought of Nell hating Emma enough to want her dead had to rip her heart out.
He waited until they were almost out of the city before he spoke again, his voice soft. “I know Nell isn’t a reliable witness, but we need to find her.”
“I’m open to suggestions on how to do that.” Emma sounded understandably bitter.
“I know. Let’s find out if Winslow can offer any insight on who wanted Jones dead and go from there.”
She didn’t reply.
Later, Matthias thought, he would place another call to Cassie.
* * *
The construction site at the old Powell farm was remarkably quiet when they arrived. Matthias noted only three pickups were parked where a dozen or more had been on Saturday. Sonny Jones’s death must have all but put a stop to the work.
Two men were working under the hood of a dump truck. A third stood outside the unfinished structure nearest the entrance, talking on his phone.
None of them was Patrick Winslow.
Emma didn’t say a word as she joined Matthias at the rear of his Jeep.
“The other day, they were complaining about being behind schedule,” he said.
She gazed toward the plot where the body had been found. “I guess since Sonny was the one pushing them to catch up, the pressure’s off now.”
“Can I help you folks?” The man who’d been on his phone approached, then pulled up short. “You were here on Saturday.” His tone didn’t sound welcoming.
“We were,” Matthias said. “We’d like to talk to Patrick Winslow. Is he around?”
“He was, but he got a phone call a while ago and took off.”
“Any idea when he’ll be back?”
“Nope.”
Not helpful. Matthias tried again. “Any idea where he went?”
“Nope.”
“Could you give him a message?”
“Nope.”
Matthias glared at him, but he didn’t back down.
“Look, the future of this project is up in the air. The only reason I’m here is because my sister-in-law bought that property.
” He glanced over his shoulder at the house where he’d been standing when they pulled in.
“I’m trying to figure out what trades still need to be brought in to finish the job in case North Star drops the project. ”
Emma stepped forward. “We were told Tina Neidermeyer was going to be taking over the company, and that it would be business as usual.”
“Tina said that? Well, it’s news to me. I take my orders from Winslow, and he’s as skeptical as the rest of us as to what happens next.”
Matthias caught the look Emma gave him and nodded. “Good to know. Thanks for your time.”
The man waved a dismissive hand and returned to his sister-in-law’s house.
“Come on,” Matthias said softly, and, instead of moving toward the Jeep, he strode along the paved strip of road toward the burial site.
Emma followed in silence.
Wooden stakes with ribbons of police tape still fluttering from them surrounded the lot. He stopped outside the perimeter and stared at the ditch where Fran had uncovered Jones’s remains. He’d been so focused on Eric and Neidermeyer and broken glass, he realized he’d overlooked the obvious.
“You’re thinking about something,” Emma said after a few minutes. “What?”
He didn’t answer immediately but continued to mull over what he was seeing in front of him. “For one thing,” he finally said, “why bring a dead body to a construction site only to bury it in a grave so shallow that it was bound to be discovered sooner rather than later?”
Emma caught her lip between her teeth, thinking. “Maybe the killer couldn’t operate the heavy machinery. But that doesn’t narrow down the field much, and it sure doesn’t clear Eric.”
“It does tend to rule out the equipment operators. And probably Winslow.”
When he didn’t go on, Emma faced him, arms crossed. “What else?”
“We’ve been assuming the killer was someone involved in Jones’s business.
What if instead the killer had nothing to do with this development, or with North Star in general?
What if the killer intentionally buried him in a shallow grave here, hoping it would be discovered, and knowing we would jump to the conclusion that the homicide was related to his work? ”
“For example?”
“I don’t know. We haven’t been asking those questions. I think it’s time we did.”