Chapter Thirty-Three
Thirty-Three
“You got a minute?”
Izzy glanced up to see Leanne standing over her desk. The detective’s nose was sunburned, and her hair was a wild mane.
“Sure.” Izzy plucked out her earbuds. “Outdoor crime scene?”
Leanne rolled her eyes. “I’ve been running around to tire places all morning.
” She dragged a chair from a neighboring cubicle and sank onto it.
“Then I made the rounds at used car lots. I’m trying to track down this.
” She pulled a phone from her jacket pocket and set it on the desk near the keyboard. “Any ideas?”
Izzy slid the phone closer, and her pulse picked up as she examined the picture.
“This is the tire from our crime scene, I take it?”
“Duncan’s tire expert in Austin IDed it for us.”
Izzy studied the generic photo, which looked like it came off a website.
“Does it look familiar?”
She glanced at Leanne.
“I was hoping there was a chance you might recognize it from an accident scene or a skid mark you may have photographed,” Leanne said. “Anything strike you at all?”
Izzy shook her head.
“A total long shot, I know.” Leanne tipped her head back. “Damn it. I was counting on this lead panning out.”
“So, the tire places aren’t familiar with it?”
“The ones I talked to know about the brand, yeah. But no one I’ve talked to has a record of putting these tires on any vehicles around here. At least, they couldn’t find any records.”
“What about manufacturers? Do these come standard on anything?”
“No. That’s the thing.” Leanne sighed. “These are specialty tires. Which—originally—I had thought was a huge break for us because they’re unusual. But turns out, that’s making them harder to find.”
Izzy studied the picture and handed the phone back. “Sorry, I don’t recognize it from any cases I’ve worked. And you tried used car lots?”
“Yeah, I was thinking maybe a dealership got a souped-up truck in, and these were a selling point. But that didn’t go anywhere, either.”
“What about lift places? One of my uncles has one of those kits on his truck and you practically need a stepladder to get into it.”
“That’s a good idea.”
“There’s a place in Alpine, I think. It’s right on the highway.”
“I’ll look into it.”
Leanne leaned back and scrubbed her hands over her face. Then she glanced at Izzy’s computer and frowned. “What are you working on?”
“That string of car burglaries. We got some fingerprints this time. The motel manager heard a car alarm and chased someone off. They dropped a vape cartridge, and I was able to lift a few partials.”
“Nice work. Are they in the system?”
“Don’t know yet. I’m working on it.”
Leanne stood up and checked her watch. “Well, I’m starving. I missed lunch.”
“If you’d like to grab dinner, I’m free after this.”
The instant the words were out, Izzy wanted to take them back. In all the months they’d been working together, she and Leanne had never once done anything social. Izzy had been hoping to change that, but now she felt awkward.
“I don’t have time tonight. Sorry. Maybe another time?”
“Sure.” At least she sounded open to it.
Leanne looked at her watch again. “I’m up against a clock. McBride wants a murder suspect by tomorrow morning.”
“He actually gave you a deadline?”
“Nine a.m.,” Leanne told her. “Or he’s yanking my case.”
· · ·
The silver Airstream glinted like a mirror as Leanne pulled up. She got out and looked around, shielding her eyes from the glare as she surveyed the campground. Most of the Airstreams looked occupied, and many of the vehicles beside them had out-of-state plates.
The woman she had come to see was in the center of the grounds rearranging turquoise-colored Adirondack chairs around a firepit.
Leanne walked over. “Hey, Selma.”
She glanced up. “Hey there. Haven’t seen you in a while.”
With her long blond braid and hemp overalls, Selma looked like a hippie version of her mother.
“We’ve got two parties checking in at four,” Selma said. “So, I can only do twenty minutes today. Sorry.”
“That’s fine. Thanks for squeezing me in. Looks like you’re busy.”
Nadine’s daughter managed the most popular glamp site in town, but she didn’t own it.
The Hideaway belonged to a hotelier from Austin.
One of the bitter ironies of Madrone’s transformation into a tourist hub was that outside investors were reaping some of the biggest profits while the locals got stuck with higher prices.
“We’re always busy,” Selma said. “Not that I’m complaining.” She grabbed a crumpled Hershey wrapper off the ground. “I swear, people are such litterbugs. Come on, let’s get some shade.”
Leanne followed her across the campground, which consisted of twelve Airstreams centered around a giant stone firepit where people would hang out and roast s’mores each night. Instead of a yurt, like Michelle had, the Hideaway used a patio with a corrugated metal roof as a dining area.
Selma claimed a red picnic table beside a food counter. “You want a latte or anything?”
“I’m good.” Really, Leanne could have used some caffeine, but she didn’t want to cut into their interview time.
“So, what can I do for you? You said something about an investigation?”
Leanne took the bench seat across from her. “It’s about Hannah Rawls.”
By Selma’s expression, Leanne could tell this didn’t come as a surprise.
“Given everything that’s happened, I’m just taking a look at some things about the case,” Leanne told her. “We’re retracing our steps a bit.”
She blew out a sigh and looked away. “Damn. It’s been so long. Hard to believe.”
Interesting that Selma didn’t immediately start talking about what a travesty it was that Sean Moriarty had been released. Maybe she was one of the handful of locals who harbored doubts about the conviction.
“I’m checking in with some of Hannah’s friends,” Leanne said. “You two were close that summer she died, right? I saw your name in the files, along with some of the friends that were interviewed.”
Selma nodded her head side to side. “We were and we weren’t. I’d say we were more frenemies than friends.”
“Oh yeah?” This was news to Leanne.
“I mean, we were on the volleyball team together and hung out with the same group. But we were pretty different. And we had a falling-out over a guy once, so…you know how that goes.”
“Who was the guy?”
Selma raised an eyebrow.
“Was it Sean Moriarty?”
“You know, you’re the first cop to ask that.”
“Really?”
She nodded. “I always thought it was weird that it never came up.” She shrugged. “But, whatever. I’ve got nothing to hide. Sean and I were together the winter of my senior year.”
Leanne had the urge to get out her notebook, but she wanted to keep the conversation flowing. “He graduated the year before you and Hannah did, right?”
“Yeah, and Hannah always had a thing for him. He was a big football badass, along with her brother. So once him and Jake graduated, I think she just decided to, you know, make her move.”
“So, she and Sean dated after you two did?”
She rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t say ‘dated.’ More like hooked up. Hannah wasn’t really public about it because she didn’t want her parents finding out. But I knew.”
“How did you find out?”
She lifted a shoulder. “I don’t remember. I just knew Sean was lying to me, and I figured it out.”
“This was in the winter? Do you recall when, exactly?”
“I think January or February? So going into that summer, me and Sean were over and me and Hannah were no longer on speaking terms.”
Leanne studied Selma’s eyes. She was being surprisingly forthcoming, so Leanne decided to ask the question that had been percolating in her head.
“Do you think Sean killed her?”
Selma gave her a long, steady look. Another sigh, and she looked away. “You know, no one ever asked me that, either. At least, none of the cops did.”
“Well, what do you think?”
She looked at Leanne. “I never could see it.”
“No?”
She shook her head. “I mean, yeah, Sean could be a hothead sometimes. And he was aggressive. But that was more on the football field. He never raised a hand to me.”
“What about fights with other guys?”
“I never saw that side of him. I know he had his share of discipline issues, but I never saw the kind of explosive temper they talked about during his trial. And we had some arguments, too. It wasn’t like we never pissed each other off.
” She scoffed. “Hannah definitely wasn’t the first thing we ever fought about. ”
“Okay, what about after your breakup? Do you know if there was friction between Hannah and Sean?”
“I don’t know. After he dumped me, I steered clear of them.”
“So, you weren’t with Hannah the night of July Fourth?” Leanne asked.
“No.”
“Any idea, maybe something you heard, about what they might have been fighting about at that time? It came out at trial that they’d been arguing at the Dairy Queen after the fireworks.”
“No idea. But knowing Hannah? I wouldn’t be surprised if it was another guy.”
“You say that because…?”
“Because that’s how she was. And, yes, I know it’s not cool to say this about someone who’s dead, but she was kind of a bitch that way. She didn’t have any loyalty.”
Leanne watched her, hoping she’d elaborate. “Do you have any idea who she might have been seeing that summer?”
Selma tipped her head back and seemed to think about it. “Nothing concrete, no. And police did ask me that at the time. I remember that question.”
Leanne waited, sensing she had something she wanted to add.
“She may have had a boyfriend in Marfa.”
Leanne’s pulse picked up. “Why do you say that?”
“I don’t know. Just conjecture, really.” She shrugged. “I remember she drove down there a few times to go to stuff. I told one of the detectives that, too, back at the time.”
“Stuff? Like, what, you mean parties?”
“Parties, live music. They had a lot more going on there back then. You remember how dead it was here. God, we didn’t even have a coffee shop. It wasn’t like now where there’s actual nightlife in town.”
“So, Hannah would go to Marfa?”
“I remember her going to see a film there or something. And an art opening. She talked about it, just to make sure we all knew. I think she thought it made her sound sophisticated. Which, I mean, it did, right? We were all out here eating Blizzards and drag racing. She’s down there hanging out with these people from Los Angeles or wherever. ”
“So…you think she may have met a man at one of these parties?”
“I don’t know. Maybe? It wouldn’t surprise me. Guys were always coming on to her.” Selma sighed again and looked wistful now. “That was Hannah.”
“How do you mean?”
“There was just something about her. They were like flies to honey.”