Have You Seen Me?(78)

“Do you think he set the fire as a diversion?”

“Yeah, probably. Maybe to flush us out of the house so he didn’t have to break in.”

Our conversation is cut short by the faint sound of car tires crunching on gravel. It must be the police.

“I’ll go to meet with them,” Roger says, turning to leave. “You stay warm.”

A minute later I hear the murmur of voices and the slam of a door. I slip out of the den and tiptoe on stinging feet to the living room, where I position myself by one of the tall windows facing the river. A minute later, I see the outlines of Roger and two uniformed cops, one male, one female, making their way across the lawn and down the embankment. Still shivering a little, I return to the hearth in the den. Before long I hear another vehicle approaching, accompanied by the whoop of an ambulance.

I try to stay in the present, to focus on the scent of woodsmoke and the crackle of the fire, but my thoughts keep being ripped back to the terror of having my head forced into the water, sure I was about to die.

The ambulance departs, with its siren wailing now. At least two more vehicles come up the driveway almost simultaneously, and shortly afterward, I spot the outlines of three people tramping along the side yard on their way to the riverbank. I’m still by the fire ten minutes later when footsteps approach the den and Roger bursts through the doorway, looking stricken.

“I’ve got news,” he says. “But we need to talk quickly.”

“Why, what’s going on?”

“More cops have arrived,” he says, taking two steps into the room. “And Nowak’s on the way. They’ll want to interview us separately.”

“Do you know who it is?”

“Yes. Not someone from New York. It’s Frank Wargo.”

“Omigod.”

“I didn’t recognize him when they pulled the mask off, but they took out his wallet, and it’s him.”

“So he’s been in the area after all.” I press my hands to my head, my thoughts racing. “He wanted me dead—which means he must be the one who killed Jaycee. And he found out I’d gone to the police.”

“It looks that way. Of course, he might also have been protecting the mother.”

“Has he come to yet?”

“He stirred a bit when they were loading him into the ambulance. I suspect he has a concussion from the blow to his head.”

“God, how did he know I’d talked to the cops? And that I was here tonight?”

His face darkens further. He shakes his head, but I sense there’s something he’s not saying.

“Do you know, Rog?” I ask, my voice almost hoarse.

“No, no. I’m just wondering if he saw you that day in town, going into the police station.”

“Maybe.” I bite my thumb, trying to think if I’d noticed anyone who might have recognized me, but the town had seemed pretty empty that day. “Or someone told him. And it definitely might have been Wargo who shoved me into the street in the city. . . . But he can’t be the one who killed Mulroney. What would the motive be? And how would he have even known I’d hired him?”

Before we can hash it out anymore, a uniformed female officer appears in the doorway next to Roger.

“Ms. Linden?” she says. “I’m Officer Bruin and I’d like to take your statement now.”

“Of course.”

But she’s barely gotten the words out when Chief Nowak, wearing a hip-length leather coat, comes up behind her and my brother. He greets both of us and then turns to the officer.

“Luanne, why don’t I take Ms. Linden’s statement. You can handle Mr. Linden’s. Roger, is there another room I can use?”

He suggests the dining room and the two of them trot off, my brother looking utterly weary.

“You’ve had a pretty harrowing evening,” Nowak says, his voice warm. The sympathetic tone is wasted on me because I saw how little good it did me the other day.

“It was pretty scary, yes.”

“Your brother said you don’t want medical treatment, but I’ll have to have my deputy photograph your injuries before we leave tonight. For now, can you take me through everything that happened, right from the beginning?”

I do my best. It was all so fast, it takes only a few minutes to recount. I also mention the incident in the city and pose the idea that it might be related to the attack here. As I wrap up, I allow myself a moment of perverse satisfaction, thinking that if tonight was clearly an attempt to silence me because of what I know about Jaycee’s death, at least Corbet will stop eyeing me suspiciously.

“I’m so sorry you had to go through all this,” Nowak says. “I take it you’ve heard that your assailant appears to be Frank Wargo.”

I nod.

“Any idea how he might have found out you’d come to us with new information?”

“None whatsoever.” I take a moment to choose both the words and tone I’m going to use next. “What about from your end? Any thoughts on how he gained access to what was in my statement?”

“Both Detective Corbet and I have been very discreet, so no, I don’t know. But I’m going to make it my business to find out.”

As he’s tucking his notebook back into his coat pocket, I briefly deliberate telling him about Mulroney’s death but decide against it. As I’d pointed out to Roger, there doesn’t seem to be a connection. Nowak summons the female officer from the other room and she takes shots of my face with her smartphone camera.