“Your opposing counsel, Norm Foltz, believes the mine covered up an incident of harassment involving Ruby,” Darrell went on. “It’s unlikely they could have done that without Ajax knowing about it.”
“Again, anything related to the mine or this litigation is privileged,” she said.
“Even if it involves murder?”
“Murder is your concern, not mine.”
“I would think you’d be nervous, given that someone killed the previous lawyer working on the case.”
“I’m not, but thank you for your concern.”
Darrell and I exchanged a glance. We were both thinking we should have brought along an ice pick to chip through her frozen exterior.
“Do you know if Gordon Brink had any kind of relationship with Ajax?” Darrell asked.
“I’m unaware of who this man is or was. Obviously, I have no idea whether Gordon knew him.”
“Ajax was receiving monthly payments of five hundred dollars from an unidentified source. Those payments stopped the same month that Mr. Brink was killed. Was your firm making payments to Ajax? Or was Mr. Brink?”
“I have no idea.”
“Can you find out?”
“I have no access to Mr. Brink’s personal finances, and anything related to payments made by the firm would be privileged.”
“How long did Mr. Brink represent the mine?” Darrell asked.
“Anything about our client relationship is privileged.”
“Even how long you’ve represented them?”
“That’s right.”
“We have reason to believe Mr. Brink visited Black Wolf County prior to his arrival last fall,” Darrell went on. “Is that true?”
“I can’t say.”
“Because you don’t know, or because you won’t tell us?”
“I can’t say.”
“Was he here in connection with your representation of the mine?”
“Anything about our client relationship is privileged. I believe I’ve made that very clear.”
Across the table, Darrell shook his head in frustration. “Well, you’ve been a big help, Ms. Svitak.”
“It’s not my job to help you, Deputy.”
“Even if it means solving the murder of your colleague?” Darrell asked.
“Gordon is dead. That’s not going to change. Right now, my only concern is serving the interests of my client. Are we done?”
“Yes, we are. For now.”
“Then please show yourselves out.”
Darrell stood up from the table. So did I, with more difficulty. We both shook hands with the lawyer. Her grip was cool and limp. By the time we left the room, she’d already gone back to the paperwork in front of her, as if the time she’d spent with us was a nuisance that she’d already forgotten.
On our way out of the house, I had to pee again. Darrell headed outside, and I tried to locate a bathroom. As I checked the doors, I collided with Penny Ramsey, who was coming out of a room that had been set up as a law library. I hadn’t seen Penny since Ajax and I interviewed her the previous December, so I hadn’t even realized that she was still in Black Wolf County.
Seeing me, her eyes widened. Quickly, she glanced both ways down the hallway to make sure we were alone, and then she took hold of me by the elbows. “Oh my God! Is it true about Ajax? He’s dead?”
“Yes, he is.”
“What happened?”
“We don’t know yet.”
Penny covered her mouth with a trembling hand and backed away from me. “I can’t believe it.”
“Do you know something about his death?”
“No. Nothing!”
“It looks to me like you know something.”
I saw her eyes welling with tears, and her fingers nervously caressed the necklace she was wearing. Without saying more, she ran down the hallway, and I saw her disappear into one of the other rooms. The door slammed shut behind her.
I’d only had a moment to look at her, but she’d upgraded her wardrobe, her hair, and her makeup since we met. The Amy Irving innocence I’d first seen at the motel had been replaced by a more polished style. If I’d had to guess, she’d found a boyfriend who was buying her gifts.
Like the expensive gold-and-emerald necklace she’d been fondling.
I was pretty sure I knew who’d bought it for her.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Darrell dropped me back home after dark. I was exhausted, and although I hadn’t told him, I was having sharp pains in my belly as well as a constant dull ache in my lower back. I didn’t know if I was experiencing premature labor pains or if it was something else. Maybe it was just the stress of the day. I went inside and turned on the lights, and then I kicked off my shoes and settled into the living room sofa to see if the pains went away. In a few minutes, they did. I began to feel better.
I thought about putting on a record, or playing my guitar, but at that moment, I didn’t want to do anything that involved getting off the sofa. I was able to reach the phone, and I wondered for the thousandth time about calling Tom Ginn to tell him about my pregnancy. But no. If I heard his voice, I’d want to see him again. I’d probably fall in love with him again. As tempting as that was, there were too many complications to let it happen.
The house was warm. Or maybe it just felt that way to me, because my metabolism was out of whack. The heat and the tiredness of the day made my eyes blink shut. My head fell back against the sofa cushions, and I slept. I had disturbing dreams of being ten years old again, of running through the woods with an invisible monster in the darkness behind me. I kept calling for help, from my father, from my brother, from Darrell, from Tom. No one came to rescue me. I woke up with a start just as I felt the beast’s claws on my skin.
The house was definitely not warm anymore. My unreliable furnace had gone out while I slept. I sat on the sofa, trembling with chill. I checked my watch and saw that I’d missed the whole evening. It was just after midnight.
Around me, something felt wrong. I didn’t know what it was. Call it an instinct. A sensation of dread, as if my nightmare had followed me into real life. Except when I studied the room, I saw nothing to explain it. Everything looked the same.
But something was different.
What?
I struggled my way off the sofa and stood up. Outside, the street was dark. My neighbors were asleep. A fall rain had begun, and the wind blew wet leaves from the big oak tree onto the windows. I checked to make sure that the windows were locked, which they were. I still did that every day, part-habit, part-precaution. I always kept the front door locked, too.
Or had I forgotten tonight?
I returned to the foyer and checked. The door was locked, as it should have been. I opened it and stepped onto the covered porch in my stockinged feet. The rain made a gentle, steady music on the overhang and in the street beyond. The rain on fall nights could last for hours. I listened. I eyed the shadows. I smelled the air for something other than peaty dampness, like a cigarette, or car exhaust, or gasoline. But the entire neighborhood felt normal, a night like any other.
Inside, I locked the door again, but my nervousness refused to go away. If anything, it grew worse. I went to each of the downstairs rooms and checked the other windows, but they were locked, too. So was the door to the backyard. The basement had a dead bolt that was undisturbed, and when I put my ear to the door, I heard nothing. It seemed impossible that anyone could have gotten inside without me being aware of it. And yet that was what I felt.
A presence.
I switched off the downstairs lights and went upstairs. There were only two bedrooms. The smaller room was where I put everything that didn’t fit in the rest of the house, so it was a mess. Eventually, I had plans to make it into your room, but for the time being, you were going to stay in the master bedroom with me. I already had a crib in the corner, and people had been giving me clothes and supplies for weeks.