Chapter 57
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City Police Station—Sitka, AK
Anya paced back and forth in the small room they used for a women’s jail cell, the cheap slippers they had given her squeaking on the tile floor.
The clack-clack-clack of typewriter keys echoed from somewhere down the hallway.
The flat-pancake jail pillow wasn’t half the size of her own, and her neck was stiff.
The baggy orange jumpsuit felt starched and scratchy, like a cheap Halloween costume.
She wondered if any female prisoners had ever been here before.
The slippers were nice and soft, though.
Her street clothes were folded in a paper bag on the shelf, so she wasn’t sure what the point of making her change into the jumpsuit was.
Maybe just trying to take her down a notch and prove they were in control.
She was half tempted to change back into her own clothes right then and there.
She didn’t like the idea of being taken to Juneau. Thomas might still be here in town, and who knew what would happen to her once the state police took over. Why was she still protecting Thomas, anyway?
The small radio built into the wall picked up only KCAW. They were playing “You Can Do Magic” by America.
Anya decided her best bet was to talk now.
She shouted toward the door. “Hello? Can I speak to Officer Collins? It’s important. Hello?”
After a couple more laps around the small room, keys jangled in the lock.
Collins walked in, sweat circles underneath both armpits. “We’re done questioning you. The state police are taking over.”
“I can tell you who killed Chilton,” Anya said.
Collins seemed to hesitate, then motioned for Anya to follow him. At the door, he took her arm and led her down the hallway to the same room with the one-way mirror where he’d questioned her before. He gestured for her to sit at the table.
She sat down and folded her hands in front of her. “Better get that tape recorder of yours. You’ll need it.”
Collins stepped back out of the room and then returned with the Radio Shack cassette recorder.
“This better be worth my trouble. I’m neck deep in paperwork.
” He set the recorder on the desk and clicked Play-Record.
“This is Officer Ted Collins of the Sitka Police, questioning Anya Baron in the murder of John Chilton.” Collins sounded bored.
“Mrs. Baron, are you agreeing to be questioned without a lawyer present?”
“I am. I want to tell you who murdered John Chilton.” Anya leaned toward the tape machine, speaking slowly and clearly. “It was a man named Thomas, a real-estate man from St. Louis. Gateway Arch Development.”
Collins scratched his chin. The tape recorder hummed. He took a pad and his well-chewed pencil out of his pocket and scribbled something. “This—Thomas—first or last name?”
Anya wasn’t sure. She shrugged.
“You need to say it for the tape.” Collins pointed at the recorder. “You don’t know? How come you’ve never mentioned him before?”
Anya hadn’t mentioned him. “I did mention him before—he came to town to have me sign some papers.”
“No, you said you were signing papers.” Collins wrote something else on the pad. “You never mentioned someone coming to town.”
“He came to my boat with the papers. He admitted to killing Chilton.” Anya could smell Collins from across the table. “He threatened me if I told anyone. Said he’d kill me. He also offered me way too much money for my fishing cabin.”
Collins wrote some more notes, glanced up at Anya, and then stabbed his pencil back into his pocket. “That all?”
Anya didn’t understand. “What do you mean? He killed Chilton. I suggest you go arrest—”
“I don’t think this Thomas exists, and I think you’re wasting my time.
We talked for hours and you never mentioned a word about him.
Then suddenly when you’re about to get transferred to Juneau, you invent this guy and say he’s the shooter?
” Collins pressed Stop on the cassette recorder.
“Tell me another thing, Mrs. Baron. How did your husband die? I hear it was a convenient accident? Men around you seem to be dropping like flies.”
Anya got to her feet and slammed her hands on the table.
Collins reached across and grabbed her wrists.
She’d blown it. He’d tried to get under her skin. Taunted her to get at the truth, and she’d taken the bait. He had her now. She’d killed her husband, and he knew it.
Anya tried to pull away, but the big man stepped around and maneuvered her arms behind her. She twisted her body, trying to free herself—her slippers kicked—only air.
Her wrists stung as the cold steel of handcuffs latched with a decisive clank. “Wait, I’m sorry—but I’m telling the truth. I’m not…”
Collins pushed her back down in her chair, her arms behind the backrest. A sharp pain shot through her elbow. The sleeves of the orange jumpsuit bunched up above the cuffs and the metal zipper-pull pinched the skin of her neck.
The door opened and the older man she’d seen before, the chief, walked in.
She assumed he’d been watching from behind the glass the whole time.
“Let me chat with Anya for a moment, Ted,” he said.
“Gladly.” Collins picked up his pad. “I’ve got actual work to do.” He showed the chief something in his notes, then stormed out of the room.
The chief turned toward Anya. “Hello, Anya, I’m Chief Sam Worlson.”
Worlson closed the door and seated himself across from Anya, placing a cup of steaming hot coffee on the table in front of her. Then he waited silently.
Asshole.
“What am I supposed to do with that, lap it like a dog?”
“Sorry, I’ll take care of that.” Worlson walked around the table and uncuffed her hands.
He sat back down and waited some more.
Anya maneuvered the sleeves of the jumpsuit back down and lifted the warm cup, inhaling the steam. She let out a long slow breath, trying to relax.
Don’t drop your guard. This guy’s just playing good cop.
The clock above the door ticked. Worlson glanced up at it, then back at Anya. His features softened.
Anya broke the silence. “Is Ted married? I feel sorry for his wife.”
Worlson’s brow furrowed. “He’s just tryin to do his job.” His voice was soothing.
Anya’s face went hot. “He shouldn’t be harassing an innocent woman. Maybe you should teach him some manners.”
Worlson exhaled slowly. “Anya, we ain’t got this all figured out yet.
Based on what we’ve seen so far, it sure looks like you’re the one behind it.
If there’s more to the story, like this Thomas fella you mentioned to Ted, spill the beans now.
I’m here to assist you, but it’s clear there’s something you’re keeping from us. ”
He reached into his pocket and removed a package of what looked like cookies wrapped in Saran Wrap, opened it, and took a bite of one.
Anya realized how hungry she was. She raised the styrofoam cup, inhaled, and took a small sip of the hot coffee—obviously fresh from the percolator—and let the cup warm her hands. She needed to pee.
“Have a cookie. My wife baked em last night. Chocolate chip.” Worlson slid the remaining cookie across the table without waiting for a reply.
Anya took a bite of the cookie. Then she lifted the coffee cup, took another sip, and set it back down. “Thomas is real.”
Worlson shifted in his chair. The metal creaked.
“I’ve been in your shoes, facing a mess I didn’t know how to fix.
Back in the day, I was probably your age, caught up in a whole heap of trouble.
But you know what? I managed to turn things around, walked a straighter line, and look at me now.
Sure, I’ve got a bit of a spare tire and enjoy a few too many beers, but I’ve got a good, content life.
I sleep easy, and my wife bakes me cookies.
Things have a way of working out.” Worlson put his hand to the side of his mouth, as if sharing a secret.
“I think she just uses the recipe from the chip package.”
Anya didn’t know what to do with her hands, and her left wrist was sore from the cuffs.
“What’s your point, Chief?” She shifted in her chair—trying to get comfortable, to look confident.
Worlson leaned back and crossed his arms. “Please, call me Sam.” His gaze was steely. “What I’m getting at is that I respect you. You’re a formidable woman, a survivor. I can see your resilience, but in this situation, that strength might be working against you.”
Trying to work your way onto my good side, huh? Lookin for a crack…
“I do what I need to get by. It isn’t always pleasant or easy,” Anya said. “Is this conversation going anywhere?”
Worlson shifted his weight forward onto his elbows and clasped his massive hands together on the table.
He set his chin on top of them. “Now, let’s discuss the things you’re keeping to yourself and the reasons behind it.
Despite the overwhelming evidence, I don’t think you offed that shady lawyer of yours.
But what I think won’t count for anything in court.
Without the truth, you’re looking at prison time for this. ”
“Why don’t you just send Collins back in? He’s an asshole, and he’s dumb enough to think I actually did this, but at least he’s honest about it.” Anya pushed the coffee cup away. “I don’t know what kinda dance you’re trying to do here, but I’m not in the mood. And, I’ve gotta pee.”
The clock ticked, then there was a single knock on the door. It opened immediately without waiting for a response. Collins’s head appeared in the opening. “Chief, state police just called. Their guys should be landing anytime. They asked if we could have all our files on the case Xeroxed for them.”
“Thanks, Collins.” Worlson reached for the coffee cup. “Tell em I’ll call back in half an hour. I want to finish up here first.
“All right, Anya, it’s crunch time. Spit it out now, or we’ll have to let the troopers in Juneau figure this mess out.
” Worlson took a sip from her coffee cup.
“You better believe those Juneau folks won’t be sparing you any time.
You’ll be locked away in Lemon Creek for the next forty years, and I reckon visitors from Pelican won’t be knocking at your cell door much.
” He sat back, took another sip of her coffee, and slid the cup back across the table.
The clock ticked.
Anya didn’t know what to do. She’d made her move, told them everything, and they were still asking for more. She had no more to give.
She pushed her chair back. “I really need to pee.”