Winter Counts(67)

She looked me straight in the eye. “I want you to help me break in to her office.”

AT FIRST I THOUGHT Marie was mocking me. She’d never broken a law in her life, not even a speeding ticket, and now she was proposing to commit trespass and burglary.

“You’re not serious? Why would you—”

“Hear me out. Maybe I’m wrong about this, but I don’t think so. Something’s not right with this whole grant thing.”

“This is crazy. You can’t break into someone’s work because you got fired. What if we got arrested?”

“Oh, come on! You’re the one who beats people up when the police won’t do anything.”

She had a point. “All right, let’s even say we could get in to her office. What makes you think you’ll find anything there?”

“The budget and spreadsheets are on her computer, but I know the password. I can check out the department financials, see the expenditures. Maybe there’s nothing, but at least I’d know.”

I went to her refrigerator, got another Shasta, and sat down. “Look, I know you’re mad about getting fired. But this isn’t the way. If she’s pulling some crooked shit, you should tell your father, let him handle it.”

She shook her head. “I thought about that. Calling my dad, asking him to check it out. But he doesn’t want any drama now, not with the election coming up. What if he accuses her, but it turns out she didn’t do anything? I need to get the records first, then I can go to him.”

I shook my head. “Marie, no. You need to step back. I don’t know crap about medical school, but I bet they won’t like it if you get popped with a felony charge.”

“I know I’m right. If you’re too chickenshit to help me, I’ll do it myself.”

Her eyes were blazing, and I didn’t doubt that she’d follow through with her threat to go over there by herself. The woman who’d told me to stop taking the law into my own hands now wanted my help in committing a felony, all because of her enemy. Delia Kills in Water, the one who’d bullied Marie for years but never had to pay for her sins. Maybe it was time.

“Fine. I’ll help you. But we do it my way.”

MARIE WANTED TO DRIVE over there immediately and get inside Delia’s computer, but I told her we needed to come up with a plan. I asked her about Delia’s work schedule and any security procedures at the office. She said that Delia left promptly at five o’clock, and the last employee usually left around six, at the latest. A cleaning person came in once a week, but usually finished by nine. No alarm system or surveillance cameras. Marie still had her key to the outer doors, but I’d have to jimmy the lock on Delia’s office door. This sounded pretty straightforward. We decided to go over there the next night.

“I still think you should let your dad handle this,” I told her. “Sleep on it, see if you feel different tomorrow.”

“I won’t.”

TRUE TO HER WORD, she called me the next morning and told me it was on. So I gathered the tools we’d need: a screwdriver, two flashlights, three pieces of wire, and an old grocery rewards card. And my Spyder knife. Just in case.

We left just after midnight, taking her car because it was quieter and more reliable. I parked a few blocks away so no one would see a vehicle in the parking lot. The area didn’t have many houses, but there was no point in taking chances.

“Remember,” I said, “if anyone’s in there, just tell ’em that you’re picking up some of your stuff and were too embarrassed to come by during the day.”

“There won’t be anybody, trust me.”

“Just check first. Don’t turn on any of the overhead lights, use the flashlight. Once we get in to her office, I’ll stand guard by the back door.”

“Okay, boss,” she said, smiling.

She was a lot less nervous than I would have expected. She seemed happy, jaunty even, not like someone committing her first major crime.

“I feel like those burglars in that movie with the kid when his parents forgot him,” Marie said.

“Home Alone?”

“That’s the one.”

“Hope it turns out better for us than it did for them.”

WE WALKED TO THE BACK DOOR of the tribal office building. No lights were visible from the outside. Marie opened it with her key.

“Hello?” Marie’s voice rang out down the hallway.

No answer.

“I think we’re good,” she whispered. I handed her a flashlight and turned mine on.

We walked down the hall, our beams lighting the way. It was eerie in there, like being in a dim underground tunnel. Marie was quiet now, her cheery mood gone as the reality of our actions became clear to her.

“There it is,” Marie said, pointing her flashlight at a closed door. It had a lever handle lock, not the standard cylinder, which I knew I could open.

“Shit,” I said, pulling out my screwdriver. “Never worked on one of these before. Keep your light on it.”

I grabbed the lever to check the tension and twisted it. To my surprise, it turned all the way and the door swung open.

“I’ll be damned,” I said. Marie shone her flashlight, and I peered inside. Piles of papers, several coffee mugs, a few framed photos. It smelled like Delia’d left some food out to spoil, the odor sickly sweet like a rotten apple. I picked up my flashlight and waved it around the room. Delia’s computer was an older desktop model, set off in the corner.