Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
EVERETT
After Vivian leaves, I get in my truck while my emotions swirl like a storm inside me. She felt so good in my arms. Sharing everything with her like that…I didn’t know what to expect. I’ve never said those things to anyone.
I thought I was scared to lose her before, but now?
I’m fucking terrified.
My phone chirps in my pocket, startling me back to my truck. Shit, it’s probably Logan.
But when I go to answer, it’s Luke Ballard.
I debate letting it go to voicemail for a second, then fish out my notebook from my coat pocket then slip out my phone.
“Hey, I know it’s late,” Luke says. “Got a second?”
He’s using a firm, no-nonsense tone that makes my spine stiffen.
“Sure.”
“I finally heard back from my contact in L.A. The California Attorney General’s office is building a case against a small group of corrupt cops.”
I squint my eyes shut so I can get my brain in gear, but ideas just splinter in a hundred different directions.
Corrupt cops. As in taking bribes. Enabling criminals. Abusing their power.
Fuck me.
Is Vivian’s ex one of the cops they’re investigating? Is Kent dirty?
“They’re all vice, but I don’t have names, so don’t ask.”
A sick feeling drops through my gut. “Got it,” I say, even though I’m liking this intel less and less.
That the AG didn’t share names with Luke isn’t a surprise. Federal agents don’t work their cases like state or city law enforcement. We strike first, build the case as we go. The feds work in secret, gathering evidence and lining up all the pieces and players well before making any kind of arrest.
I rub down my chin and stare out my rainy windshield. “Any idea when they’ll move forward?”
He barks a laugh. “No. And under no circumstances are you to take it any further.”
The last thing I want to do is jeopardize a federal investigation that will bring down dirty cops, but knowing only half the story doesn’t sit well with me, either. “Understood.”
Ballard and I are ending our call when a brown Buick pulls into the trailer across from Vivian’s. The woman behind the wheel steps out and pops open an umbrella, cowering beneath it in the rain as she shuffles to her trunk.
I should really get on the road, but when I see a row of grocery bags lining her trunk, I jump down from my truck to help her.
“Need some help, ma’am?” I come at her from the side so I don’t spook her.
She turns, squinting. “Goodness. Where did you come from?”
“I was visiting one of your neighbors,” I say. “We actually talked earlier today. I’m Deputy Everett Rumsey.”
“You’re not in uniform?”
“No, I’m off duty.”
Understanding fills her eyes. “Well, I’ll happily accept your offer.”
“Why don’t you go unlock your door, and I’ll follow with these?”
She gives me a thoughtful smile. “Thank you.”
While she walks toward her unit, I gather the three bags of groceries and shut the trunk, then hurry after her. Her long ramp is pasted with sandpaper strips, probably for added traction, and her tidy stoop is decorated for Halloween. She steps inside and I follow.
The layout of her place mirrors Vivian’s. A short hall leads to the living room and kitchen area to the left, with the bedroom and bathroom to the right. Just like Vivian’s, there’s a big window looking into the center of the trailer park, and Mrs. Ovenell’s has a direct line of sight to Vivian’s unit.
“Would you like to talk now? I have fresh banana bread,” she says as I follow her into the simple kitchen.
In the lights, her pale blue eyes have a playful, lively gleam. It could mean she has something to say, or it could mean she’s a lonely old woman and any chance to entertain delights her.
I’m torn. I need to get home, grab Logan from Grant’s house, and get him to bed soon.
Though if I can bang out this interview, that’s one less thing I have to do tomorrow in an already busy day. And Logan isn’t going to mind playing video games with Grant a little longer.
I set Mrs. Ovenell’s groceries on the counter. “If you have time, why not? Please don’t bother with the banana bread though.”
“It’s no bother.” She goes to her cupboards. “Please make yourself at home. I’ll be right there.”
I take in the framed posters of travel destinations lining the walls on my way to the couch. I slip out my notebook and pen from my coat pocket as I sit.
Mrs. Ovenell’s curtains flanking the big window stand open, the glass streaked with rain. A card table with a partially assembled jigsaw puzzle sits below it, with a chair tucked in. A buzz of anticipation dances over my skin. This is exactly the kind of setup every cop dreams of. If Mrs. Ovenell was sitting here on Tuesday, maybe this visit won’t be a waste of time after all.
Mrs. Ovenell carries two plates into the living room and sets them on the coffee table.
“Now, you want to know about Tuesday, correct?”
I break off a piece of the banana bread. “That’s right. Were you home?”
“Yes. I know because that afternoon my daughter picked me up at two to go to the hospital.”
I don’t really want the details of her medical procedure, so I push ahead. “Did you see someone over there?” It’s tempting to want to plant names and details to see if she reacts. But that could mess with her recall, and a defense lawyer would have a field day.
“No.”
Hmm . “When did you find out about the break in?”
“When you called and left me that message.”
Interviewing people is like a dance. Sometimes it’s effortless, and sometimes you stumble, or the music changes and you’ve got to adapt quickly. I have a feeling this interview is going to be more like the latter.
I glance past the card table through the window to Vivian’s trailer. The person who broke in had to have spent a good amount of time inside, and not one person noticed?
“Did you see anyone hanging around or walking by, maybe someone you didn’t recognize? Who doesn’t belong?”
Like a dark-haired woman armed with a screwdriver?
“No,” Mrs. Ovenell says, her lips pursed tight.
I sit back. “Why don’t you run me through your day. Whatever you can remember.”
She gives me a grave nod. “Well, I saw Vivian and that adorable boy of hers at around seven forty-five. She had brought me soup the night before, so I hurried over to return the container before they left for their day. Then I had a new puzzle to work on, so I sorted it and put the edge pieces together. I think I checked in with the hospital at around nine forty-five.”
I take another bite of the banana bread. “What did you do after that?”
“I worked on the puzzle a little more.” She gets up and walks over to the chair which faces the street, her eyes on the expanse of pavement between her row of units and Vivian’s. “I had lunch, then I had a nap before Nina picked me up.”
I almost wince when she says “nap.” I try another angle. “Did you notice anything out of the ordinary that day? Before you left for the hospital?”
“That car was here again.”
My idle thoughts jerk to a halt. “What car?”
“I only got a glimpse, but it was a station wagon.”
I jot this down. “Color?” Shawna drives a recent-model cobalt blue Mazda CX-5.
“I thought it was purple at first, but it was more like a deep red. Maroon.”
My gut bottoms out and the air sticks to my lungs. I blink at my notebook while my thoughts crash together. A maroon station wagon? Hold on a sec.
Could it be the same maroon station wagon Jordy Clarke gunned through the Glory Holes parking lot? The same one he then abandoned at the boat ramp after I chased him?
The timing fits. I cornered that Taurus on Tuesday just after noon. That would have given the perp a good four hours to turn the trailer inside out. It’s tight, but for a pro like Jordy Clarke…...
I try to reel in my rampant thoughts.
Slow it down, Ev. I’m making too many assumptions here.
I glance up. “You’re sure?”
She nods.
I eye Vivian’s trailer through the rain-streaked window, imagining a maroon station wagon cruising past. Why did nobody else see it? And was it parked somewhere in The Meadows during the break- in, or did Mrs. Ovenell witness a cruise-by so Jordy could check if Vivian was gone, then later, he came back on foot?
What about Shawna? Are she and Jordy working together?
My brain is going haywire.
“Can you look at a picture for me, Mrs. Ovenell?” I ask while scrolling my phone for a picture of the Taurus.
“Beverly,” she insists.
“Right.” I show her my phone screen. “Did it look anything like this?”
She cups the phone with both hands and leans back, her eyes fixed on the image for the longest two seconds of my life. “Yes. It was exactly like this.”
I bite back the curse rolling off my tongue with a hard swallow.
Jordy Clarke’s stolen Taurus was here the day Vivian’s trailer got trashed.
Was Shawna with him? Is Jordy her new boyfriend?
When I chased the Taurus to the boat ramp, I saw only one person in the car. Sure, it’s possible Shawna was driving, or even that she was a passenger, maybe sunk low in the seat, but it’s hard to imagine a scenario where, after trashing Vivian’s trailer, Shawna would take off like that. She would have returned to work, not gone on a joyride to Montana.
But even more convincing is that I saw Shawna with my own two eyes when I got to the middle school to pick up Logan. I had to wait for the tow truck, which would have given her a few extra minutes to get there before me, but her being in that Taurus is the least likely conclusion.
Unless Jordy and Shawna trashed the trailer, then Jordy went his way and Shawna went hers?
It’s also possible Shawna had nothing to do with vandalizing Vivian’s trailer. Which would put Jordy at The Meadows alone.
That day at Glory Holes, he was alone in the Taurus. I know that from the footage Nate shared.
What the hell is going on ?
Are Jordy and Shawna tormenting Vivian? If they’re in some sort of relationship, that could tie into a motive.
But if Jordy’s working alone, I’ve got nothing.
Why would Jordy torment Vivian like this?
This isn’t adding up. I’m missing something.
A detail scratches to the surface. “You said ‘again’,” I ask Beverly. “What did you mean by that?”
She returns my phone, and I tuck it back into my pocket.
“I saw it the Friday before that,” she says.
I write this down. “You’re sure?”
“Yes.” She gives me a full head nod, her eyes sharp.
“Did the car park in one of the slots here?” Each trailer has a narrow parking strip next to the front door. Guest parking is available at the end of the park, next to the laundry facility.
“No, it came by then left again almost as quickly.”
“Did you see the driver?”
“No.”
I quiz her some more, nailing the timing and the length of time the maroon Taurus spent in The Meadows. Beverly didn’t see the driver or a passenger. Didn’t see the driver or anyone else leaving the vehicle. Didn’t see anyone entering or leaving Vivian’s trailer. The only link I have is the car.
There has to be more to this, but it’s like grasping at thin air.
What am I overlooking?
An idea is forming, but it’s so bizarre, such a mind fuck…
“Thank you,” I tell Beverly, forcing my attention back to her living room. “You’ve been very helpful.”
“Of course,” she says.
I stand and Beverly follows my lead.
“Do you know if Vivian and Matty will be moving back soon?” she asks me at the door, a hopeful edge to her voice.
“I don’t, sorry.” And if I did, it’s not my information to share, not even with a kind neighbor .
Her eyes fill with a soft warmth. “I would love to see Mateo’s tornado chaser costume for Halloween.”
Tornado chaser, huh? “Thank you again,” I say.
She closes the door behind me. I hurry through the rain to my truck, but once I’m inside, with the rain pounding on the roof only seems to make the questions in my mind spin faster.
Shawna has so far denied entering Vivian’s trailer. Is she telling the truth?
Who is Jordy Clarke?
He hasn’t returned to his job in Idaho Falls. He’s an ex-con who steals and has no problem using violence when necessary. The biggest problem right now is that I don’t know where he is.
Unease ripples through my gut.
I slip out my phone. Vivian hasn’t texted me yet. She should have made it to Ruby Gulch already. Cell service at the cabin is spotty, and she might have decided to put Mateo to bed before texting me, but when she doesn’t pick up, the anxious ache in my gut only strengthens.
I hang up and call Mom.
“Everett?” Her voice is tense with worry.
“What’s wrong?”
“Vivian said she was on her way, but that was almost a half hour ago.”
Icy needles walk down my spine. “I just tried calling her. She didn’t pick up.”
“With this rain?—”
“I’ll drive your way, just to make sure,” I say, failing to keep the edge from my voice. Vivian’s probably just driving slower, or she stopped and forgot to let Mom know.
It’s not what I fear.
“That’s a good idea,” Mom says.
“We’ll see you soon,” I say with confidence I don’t feel. I end the call and dial Zach while starting my engine and pulling a U-turn .
“Hey,” he says as I accelerate onto the wet highway. “I’m still running down Shawna’s story. I think?—”
“I need you to check something out for me,” I say, cutting him off. I give him a summary of what I’ve learned and what I need from him.
“You’re moving at light speed, dude,” he replies. “Does Vivian even know this Jordy guy?”
“I don’t know, I’m trying to track her down.”
He gives a low hum. “You sound worried. Is she okay?”
I fight the dread that has my lungs in a vice. “I’ll call you back.”