In the Clearing (Tracy Crosswhite #3)(55)

CHAPTER 19


Tracy remained alone at the table, feeling light-headed, in a fog that had nothing to do with the beer; she hadn’t finished her one glass. She needed a moment alone to consider what Rosa and Gabriel had told her and to consider it in conjunction with what she knew. Kimi Kanasket had been run over, almost certainly in the clearing in the woods. That’s what Buzz Almond had suspected. That’s why he’d taken all those photographs, why the ground was chewed up. She was kicking herself for not having kept copies of the photographs, or at least the negatives, before she gave the packets to Kaylee Wright, and now she had the irrational fear that Wright had somehow lost them.

She recalled at least three photographs of the damage to Tommy Moore’s white truck, but she couldn’t recall if those photographs captured the tires, or only the damage to the hood and front right fender.

She tried Wright’s cell phone, but the call went straight to voice mail. She left a message and tried the King County Sheriff’s Office, but she was having trouble hearing over the increasingly animated crowd at the Elysian. She put a finger in her ear to cut down the ambient noise.

“She’s where?”

“Tacoma,” the woman on the phone said. “She’s working a missing-person case.”

“She’s back from Germany already?” Tracy said.

“That would appear to be the case,” the woman said.

Tracy left a voice-mail message on Wright’s desk phone. Until Wright called her back, Tracy would just have to be patient, which wasn’t one of her better-developed character traits.

She gathered her purse and the materials Rosa and Gabriel had left her. As she stood to leave, her cell phone rang. She hoped it was Wright, but when she checked caller ID she got that terrible sick feeling that accompanied the realization she was supposed to be someplace and had completely forgotten.

“Dan,” she said, answering.

“Hey. I’m at your house. Where are you?”

“I’m sorry. I got tied up. I’m on my way.”

“I can hardly hear you.”

“I was just in a meeting,” she said, trying to navigate the crowd to get outside and escape the noise.

“This late? Sounds like you’re in a bar.”

“I’m done. I’ll explain when I get there. I’m on my way.”

“Maybe I should just go?”

“No. I’m on my way. Just let yourself in.” She disconnected and hurried to her truck.

It was drizzling by then, and traffic was heavy getting to the freeway because of some construction. On I-5, traffic remained heavy all the way to the off-ramp for the West Seattle Bridge. She tried to think of grocery stores along the way to buy something to cook, but nothing was leaping to the forefront of her mind and, given how late she was, she thought it best to not keep Dan waiting any longer than she already had. A mental inventory of her refrigerator contents consisted of a carton of milk, cottage cheese, yogurt, condiments, and various serving containers from leftover takeout.

As she turned down her street, the drizzle had become a steady rain. Dan’s Tahoe was parked at the curb outside her gated front patio, and Tracy saw that Dan remained sitting in the driver’s seat. She parked in the garage and went back outside, using her jacket as a makeshift umbrella to deflect the rain. Dan lowered his window.

“Why are you sitting in the car?”

“The combination to the gate isn’t working,” he said, sounding irritated.

Tracy had a second sinking feeling. “I’m sorry. I changed it again.” She’d been obsessive about changing the combination since a stalker had assaulted her inside her house.

“Maybe I should just head back to Cedar Grove,” Dan said. “I really should make sure Sherlock and Rex are okay. I told the dog sitter I’d be home tonight.”

“Don’t do that. Please.”

“We’ve both had a long week. Maybe this isn’t a good night.”

“It is, Dan. I got a late phone call from Kelly Rosa about the case in Stoneridge. I met her for a beer to discuss it. I’m sorry. I . . .”

“Forgot,” he said.

“It’s been crazy.” She looked up at the sky. Water was dripping down her back. “Can we get out of the rain?”

He raised the window and got out, following her through the garage to the door leading to the kitchen. He did not carry his suitcase.

Inside, Roger mewed loudly. “Let me get him fed to keep him quiet.” She grabbed a can of food from the pantry and popped the lid. “How’d the depositions go?” she asked, fending off Roger and spooning the food onto a plate.

Dan shrugged. “Some better than others; the president of the company isn’t telling the truth. I caught him in a few lies. Unfortunately, I have to go back next week. I’m really not looking forward to it.”

“We had a crazy development in that murder in Greenwood,” Tracy said. “The son walked in alone and confessed.”

“I thought the mother confessed.”

“She did.”

“Wow. So what now?”

“At the moment we’re sorting through it.”

“Unless one of them recants, you have reasonable doubt no matter what.”

“That’s the conclusion the prosecutor reached.” Tracy went to the pantry, searching for pasta but not finding any.