The Last Sister (Columbia River)(82)

Greer and Edwards grabbed Daigle and yanked him back. Greer pushed him away with a rough shove. “Go cool off. If I see or hear of you doing that again, you’re out of a job.” Daigle lurched toward a fir, slammed a hand against it, bent over, and vomited.

The other three men turned away.

“I’m not lying about Harlan,” Billy said in a broken voice from the ground. “He’s psychotic. He threatened to kill Kyle if I also didn’t take care of Nate. He thinks Nate saw us at Sean’s.”

“What about Emily Mills? Does he want Emily dead too?” Zander could barely breathe. “Did you shoot at Emily and Ava McLane yesterday?”

“He didn’t say anything to me about Emily. And I don’t know the other person you said.”

“Why did Harlan want Sean killed?” Zander asked Billy, wincing as Daigle retched again.

“Dunno.”

“You helped him kill a man and don’t know why?” said Greer.

“He said Sean knew about him.”

“Knew what about him?”

“Dunno.”

Zander wanted to kick Billy himself.





33

Sheriff Greer insisted they knock on the door again at Harlan Trapp’s home. Zander was hesitant. It had worked well with Billy, but trying it twice was pushing their luck.

“He knows me,” Greer stated. “And the sheriff showing up on a night when most of the town is out of power won’t surprise him one bit. He’ll let me in.”

“Power’s out over there,” Edwards said.

“Then he’ll be happy I have a flashlight.”

Zander had pulled the sheriff aside after a deputy arrived to take Billy Osburne to jail. “Billy pointed his finger at the mayor. How do you feel about that?”

The sheriff looked thoughtful. “What I feel doesn’t matter. It’s a serious accusation and needs to be followed up.”

“But can you see him doing what Billy says?”

“Fuck no. I’ve known Harlan most of my life. Nicest guy imaginable. I expect we’ll find out that Billy is full of shit, and I look forward to my next discussion with Billy. Hopefully he’ll be more inclined to tell us the truth. Either way, he’s admitted to murdering Nate and Sean Fitch.” Fury colored the sheriff’s tone.

“Think his brother was involved?” asked Zander.

“Next on my list.”

Even with the sheriff’s confidence, the four of them took the same positions as for the door knock at Billy’s. Harlan Trapp’s home wasn’t deep in trees. It was part of a small subdivision with close neighbors. Luckily, no one had fenced yards. Zander and Edwards were close to each other near Harlan’s back door. It was pitch-dark. No lighting at all. The mayor’s little neighborhood looked like a town that’d been lost to zombies.

The sheriff parked in Harlan’s driveway, and Zander waited.

Edwards’s mic crackled. “No one’s answering,” said the sheriff. “And his car isn’t in the garage.”

“Knocking on the back door,” answered Edwards.

Zander exhaled, and they both closed in on the sliding glass door to Harlan’s patio. Edwards rapped on the glass with his flashlight. “Mr. Trapp! You home? Clatsop County Sheriff’s Department.”

A dog barked a few homes away, but no noise came from the house. Edwards repeated the knock and announcement.

“Seems like no one’s here,” said Zander as he finally looked through the door and gave the handle a small tug. Locked. He could make out furniture shapes inside but nothing else.

“Checking windows,” said the sheriff over Edwards’s mic. “Coming around the south side, Daigle’s on the north.”

A few moments later the four of them convened in the backyard.

“I checked the front door,” Daigle said. “It was locked.”

“Same with the back door.”

“I’ll head back to the station and see if Billy will talk a little more,” said the sheriff. “You two get out the word with Harlan’s license plate number and vehicle description,” Greer said to his deputies. “If anyone spots it, they’re to let me know first.”

“I’ll see if he’s at the diner,” said Zander. “That seems to be a meeting place when the power is out.”

“Keep me updated,” answered the sheriff.



Zander scanned the diner but didn’t see the bald head of Harlan Trapp. He took the small hallway to the office and found Dory sitting in a chair, happily flipping through photos. He recognized the folder that Simon Rhoads had given Emily. Zander liked the woman he thought of as Aunt #3. She was a little spacey but good-hearted and kind. She wore the same pale-yellow, thick sweater he’d seen earlier on her sisters.

“Evening, Dory, where’s Emily at?”

Her fact lit up as she saw him. “Special Agent Zander! How lovely to see you again. We need to have you back to the mansion for tea soon—well, as soon as we get power back. One time we lost power for five days. It was horrible.” She held up a picture. “Can you tell which is me?”

The photo of the four elegant women made him smile. “You’re the third. You looked a lot like Madison at that age.”