The Trapped Girl (Tracy Crosswhite #4)(108)

“We don’t have any basis to arrest her.”

“What are you talking about? At a minimum, she’s a suspect in Devin Chambers’s death. She had a clear motive, two actually—the money, and the fact that Chambers was sleeping with her husband.”

Tracy almost laughed. “Motive maybe, but not opportunity—not if she’s been living out here the whole time.”

“Who knows whether that’s true or not? She could have driven up to Washington, killed Chambers, and driven back.”

“Driven in what? That Jeep isn’t licensed and doesn’t look like it would make fifty miles.”

“She could’ve rented a car. She could have driven the aunt’s car.”

“How did she find Chambers?”

“She hired the PI. She drives down into Independence, sets up a guerilla account, gets on public Wi-Fi, and makes inquiries. You said there was a lag time in between her e-mails to the PI and the investigator’s responses. This could be why. She was living out here, off the grid. She had to go into town to get Wi-Fi.”

“Does she look to you like she wants to run anywhere?” Tracy said. “This is heaven for her. No one bothers her. She doesn’t have to deal with a world that has treated her like a doormat. She has her books to read. Mountains to hike. Why would she want to go anyplace else?”

“Because she’s got a kid on the way,” Fields said. “What, is she going to give birth in a cabin?”

It wasn’t a bad point.

“I’m sure Independence has a hospital,” Tracy said. “We don’t have enough to arrest her.”

Fields blew more smoke out the side of his mouth. “Yeah, well, if Strickland decides she’s not talking to us, I’m going to arrest her.”

“For what?” Tracy said, becoming irritated. “You have a missing persons case. Far as I can tell, you found her. There’s no crime in anything that we know that she’s done. Your case is closed. Devin Chambers is my case, and I can’t arrest Andrea Strickland without an arrest warrant, even if I believed I had sufficient cause.”

Footsteps sounded, someone approaching the door. Penny Orr stepped out onto the porch. “Andrea said she has something to tell you.”

Tracy stepped past Fields and followed Orr inside.

Andrea remained seated on the couch, but she no longer looked sullen. She looked shocked and saddened. Before Tracy could say a word, Andrea said, “I killed Devin.”

Tracy’s heart felt like it had leapt into her throat. She glanced quickly at Fields, uncertain what to say, or even if she could get the words out.

“So you killed her?” Fields said.

Tracy snapped back to reality. “Don’t answer that. Don’t say another word.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Strickland said. “I just wanted to punish them for what they did to me.”

“What did I say?” Fields said to Tracy. He removed handcuffs from the back of his belt.

“Andrea, I’m cautioning you not to say another word.” She turned to Fields and raised a hand. Fields stopped. Tracy nodded for him to step back outside.

On the porch, Fields wore a shit-eating I-told-you-so grin. “You see, Crosswhite, you just never know with people.”

“Nothing she says is admissible.”

“The hell it ain’t.”

“We haven’t read her her Miranda rights.”

“So I’ll read them and ask again.”

“Just hang on a second, okay? I’m going to drive down into Independence where I can get cell phone reception and make some calls to get some advice. I’ll find the local sheriff and ask him to take her into custody until I can get an arrest warrant that includes extradition back to Washington State. You don’t need to handcuff her. Where is she going to run? Just read her her Miranda rights and make sure she acknowledges them, but do not interview her. This is my case. Are we good?”

“Yeah, we’re good,” Fields said, smiling. “Like I’ve been saying, this ain’t my first rodeo.”

“Keys,” she said.

Fields tossed her the car keys. Tracy left quickly, crossing the wooden bridge and heading down the dirt path to the rental. She backed the car out and punched the accelerator, leaving a cloud of dirt and dust. She turned onto the paved road and drove down the hill with her cell phone in hand, alternately checking for reception and trying to keep the car on the road. Halfway down the mountain her phone had two bars. She’d missed three phone calls in five minutes, all from SPD. She also had one text message, from Faz.

Alternately shifting her gaze from the winding road to her phone, she read the text.

Call me ASAP. Development in Strickland. Important.

She pulled onto the shoulder and dialed the number. It seemed to take forever for the call to connect.

Faz spoke before she could say hello. “Professor, where the . . . you been? I’ve been . . . hold of you.”

“I’m out of cell range. You’re breaking up.”

“Professor?”

“Faz?” The phone beeped. The call had failed. “Damn.”

She gave a fleeting thought to hitting redial, then decided to get farther down the mountain. She pulled back onto the pavement and navigated the turns. Her phone rang in her hand. She hit the “Speaker” button. “Faz?”