Walleye Junction Page 11

  “How did he seem the last time you spoke?”

  “He was excited about a new story he was researching for his show, but he wanted to do a bit more work before he told me about it. He was always careful about getting things right. While he found great pleasure in exposing the misdeeds of others, he never took liberties with the truth. He did imply that there’d be a lot of fallout when the story broke.”

  “Your mother says she didn’t know what he was working on.”

  “That’s odd. My parents normally talked about everything. What about his computer?”

  “There’s nothing on it except the research he’d done for stories he’s already covered, the last one being the program on militia groups from a few weeks ago. Judging by what we’ve found so far it doesn’t look like he’s been doing any research for the past two months.”

  “Could he have had another computer?”

  “That’s what I’m thinking, but we’ve searched the house and his office at the radio station and have found nothing,” said Macy.

  “Maybe he had it with him when he was kidnapped. Have you asked my mother?”

  “She told Lou Turner that she knew nothing about another laptop.”

  “Anyone else’s parents and I’d say that was possible, but my mom and dad were close. If there was another laptop she would have known about it.”

  “You’ve been away for a long while,” said Macy. “Things may have changed. Your mother didn’t know that your father bought a gun.”

  “I suppose so.” Emma picked a blossom from a cherry tree and crushed it in her fingertips. “You saw my father die.”

  “I wish I could have done something.”

  “Odds are we’re never going to know what was really going on.”

  “I’m going to do my best to figure it out.” Macy took out her phone and scrolled through the recent messages. Gina was trying to reach her. “Emma, I suggest you try to get your mother to talk more about what your father was up to over the past couple of months. There might be something important that she’s forgotten.”

  “I’ll go through his papers as well.”

  “I thought we’d seen everything.”

  “There are boxes of stuff in the attic,” said Emma. “Some of it dates back years. There’s always a possibility that he stashed something up there.”

  “You’ll let me know if you find anything?”

  “I’d appreciate if you did the same for me.”

  Macy hesitated. “This investigation could take some time. Are you going to be able to stick around?”

  “Provided I find some interesting investment opportunities for my boss, that won’t be a problem.”

  7

  Gina looked up from her computer screen and cracked a smile. “I got us on a flight to Deer Lodge. The associate warden at the prison is arranging for transport when we arrive at the airport. If all goes well we’ll be back here in time for a late dinner.”

  “I owe you a drink,” said Macy. “I wasn’t looking forward to the drive down there.”

  “Neither was I. My back is killing me.” Gina sat up a little taller and stretched. “They’re expecting us at the airport in the next half hour so we’d better get moving.”

  Gina had the homepage of the Montana Brewers Association Web site opened on her computer. Macy leaned in so she could get a better look.

  “Any luck tracking down Sean Spencer?”

  “Sean is keeping a low profile, but his girlfriend, Xtina, has been partying her way through various social media platforms.”

  “Can we please call her Kristina? I can’t say Xtina without feeling ridiculous.”

  “Kristina it is then. According to what I’ve read online, she plans raves for a living.”

  “Sean told Kyle Miller she was an event planner.”

  “That’s a bit of a stretch.”

  “Has Sean used his phone?” asked Macy.

  “Nada. Ditto on his bank card. No sightings on his truck.” Gina scrolled through the list of brewers. “I do have one solid lead that puts Sean in Bozeman. He interviewed at a brewery near the university campus.”

  “Bridger Brewing,” Macy said, pointing to the screen. “I know that place.”

  “Apparently, it’s a good one. Sean put in an application for a bar staff position. The manager liked Sean but didn’t hire him. He wasn’t too impressed that he brought his obnoxious girlfriend along to an interview. His words, not mine.”

  “Was it Kristina?”

  “The manager didn’t get a good look at her because she kept to the far end of the bar, but he could hear her just fine. He thought she may have been drunk or possibly high. He sent over a screen grab from their security cameras.” Gina opened the image on her laptop. “It’s definitely her.”

  Macy stared. “She’s practically mugging for the camera.”

  “Still have no idea what her real name is. Xtina, Kris Kringle, and Kiss Kriss are the online personas I’ve found so far. She’s Latvian and may be here illegally. Anyway, I’ve handed the whole mess over to the tech guys. Hopefully they’ll be able to figure it out.”

  “When did Sean interview at the brewery?”

  “Yesterday morning. No way he could have been around when his parents died.”

  “Could we get an address for him in Bozeman? He must have put something on the job application.”

  “It’s a house twenty miles from town. Local law enforcement is heading there now.” Gina snapped the laptop shut and handed Macy a paper bag. “I picked up some lunch for us.”

  “What, no meal service on the flight?”

  “Flying on the state’s dime, we’ll be lucky if that plane has wings.”

  * * *

  Macy woke from her nap just as the twin-engine aircraft began its descent. She peered out the window. Huge circular hay fields patterned a wide valley that followed a course south along Route 90. To the west, snowcapped mountains flanked Deer Lodge, a town of three thousand residents. It had once been a major transportation hub, but that came to an end when they closed the railroad down. Since then its largest employer had been the Montana State Prison.

  Macy nudged Gina awake.

  “Are you sure someone is picking us up? We could always grab a taxi.”

  Gina yawned. “Don’t worry. The associate warden assured me that someone would be at the terminal waiting for us.”

  Macy opened Ron Forester’s file and read through what she already knew. He’d been an accountant for nearly twenty-one years. His client list included mayors, city council members, doctors, and lawyers. They may have stood up for him in court, but Macy was pretty sure they would have abandoned him to his fate once he was convicted of assault.

  “I feel guilty,” Macy said, closing the file.

  “Why’s that?”

  “My home in Helena is only an hour away from Deer Lodge.”

  “Try not to think about it.”

  “I can’t help it. I miss my son.”

  “Well, we all have somewhere we’d rather be.” Gina paused. “Are you still set on seeing Ray?”

  “Yep,” said Macy, feeling less confident than she sounded. “That’s the idea.”

  “Why are you bothering? If I were you I wouldn’t want to be anywhere near that son of a bitch.”

  “Somehow, I feel I owe it to my son. He is Luke’s father.”

  “I think you’re carrying guilt that isn’t yours to carry,” said Gina. “Ray is the one who committed the crime, not you.”

  “He confessed, but he’s yet to show any regret. He’s only sorry he got caught.”

  Gina gave Macy a harsh look. “Are you waiting for some sign of remorse?”

  “I guess I want him to be the man I once knew and respected.”

  “That’s not going to happen. Not where he is anyway. They’ve got him in solitary twenty-four seven. His fellow inmates want him dead, and the guards aren’t too fond of him either.” Gina brushed some crumbs from her trousers. “I heard his request for a
transfer to a privately run prison has been denied three times. No one is in the mood to make his stay more comfortable.”

  “Every time I feel sorry for him I imagine what it was like dying in that fire.”

  “You should do whatever it takes to get you through, but don’t go there. It will only drag you down.”

  Macy picked at the water bottle’s label. “What are people saying about me?”

  “Macy, you really shouldn’t go there either.”

  “I can’t help it.”

  “You need thicker skin. Whether you like it or not, people are gonna talk. Getting involved with Ray was a mistake, but anyone with a pulse can see how it could happen. I met my husband on the job. It was a rocky start. We’re damn lucky it worked out.”

  “Why’s that?”

  Gina looked away. “Because he worked nights and I worked days. It was a long time before we really had a chance to get to know each other.”

  * * *

  Located a few miles west of the Deer Lodge Airport, Montana State Prison was a sprawling compound that housed nearly fifteen hundred inmates. A local patrol officer met Macy and Gina at the airport terminal. Outside the car windows the landscape was flat and gray. Clouds hovered low over vast tracts of land where family homes appeared to be as rare as trees. Macy sat by herself in the backseat listening to Gina and their driver make small talk. The medical examiner in Helena called just as the prison’s perimeter fence was coming into view.

  “Macy,” said Priscilla. “The tox screen results are rather alarming. Both Carla and Lloyd died of a massive heroin overdose. Lloyd’s blood contained 1.58 milligrams per liter. Carla’s levels were slightly lower, but it was still three times what is generally considered to be a lethal dose.

  “Wow. That does seem high.”

  “They would have had to shoot up around 240 milligrams to come close to these levels. It’s not unprecedented, but I personally have never seen anything like it.”

  “Any chance it was a mistake? Were there other drugs in the system that might have impaired their judgment?”

  “Lloyd Spencer’s blood alcohol level was 0.12 so maybe, but since he was an alcoholic I doubt he would have been impaired even at those levels. Other than the heroin, his wife had buprenorphine in her system at levels consistent to what her therapist prescribed. There was a single puncture wound on Carla, but Lloyd looks like he was shooting up on a regular basis. We only found Carla’s prints on the syringe, so it appears she administered the fatal dose that killed her husband before turning the syringe on herself. I don’t believe that’s what happened though.”

  “There was a third party?”

  “Yep. I think Ryan already told you that you were right about the bodies. They were moved. We’ve confirmed that the gravel found embedded in the heels of Lloyd Spencer’s shoes came from the bakery’s parking lot. Looks like he was dragged and she was carried. We’ve found evidence that they died in the van and were positioned on the verge. It throws into doubt the theory that this was accidental.”

  “There was no obvious sign of struggle.”

  “Carla has hand-shaped bruises on her upper arms. She was restrained at some point before she died.”

  “It could have been Lloyd. He was known for being physically abusive.”

  “Handprints are too small to be his.”

  “Any transfer?” asked Macy.

  “Whoever handled the bodies was using gloves. By the way, there was trauma to the area near Carla’s right temple. I could only see it once I removed her hair. It’s possible that a gun was pressed tightly against her skull.”

  “My gun?”

  “Might be. If we find the weapon we can check the muzzle for Carla Spencer’s DNA. Unless it’s been wiped clean there should be plenty.”

  “Thank you, Priscilla. Let me know if you find anything else.”

  * * *

  By the time they were led into the associate warden’s office, Macy and Gina had been waiting for over two hours. Macy sat down in the seat that was offered and smiled politely, but inside she felt like screaming.

  Even though it was warm in the room, Alex Finley wore a navy field jacket zipped up to his neck. He apologized for keeping them waiting before sitting down across from them. His hands were shaking. Seeing that his guests noticed, he smiled nervously.

  “I’ve just come from the prison hospital,” he said, clearing his throat. “There’s been an incident.”

  Macy almost asked if Ray Davidson was involved, but Gina spoke first.

  “Ron Forester?”

  The assistant warden blanched. “He was involved but is thankfully okay. According to early reports, a prisoner attacked people out in the exercise yard at random.”

  Macy kept her voice steady. “When did this happen?”

  “Earlier this afternoon.”

  “Was Forester singled out?”

  “I seriously doubt it. There were a couple of other prisoners who faired far worse than him. The prisoner who attacked him was shot dead by guards.” He lowered his voice. “There was a lot of blood.”

  “Did you find the weapon?” asked Gina.

  “A utility knife blade had been embedded into a toothbrush handle. We do all we can to keep the place secure, but they’re mighty resourceful.”

  “You seem confident the attack was random.”

  “Forester has been here a relatively short time, but he is already well liked. It’s difficult to imagine someone having a grudge against him.”

  “Why’s that?” asked Macy.

  “He is affable, generous … does what he can to help out. He tutors inmates who are nearing their release dates—how to do tax returns, manage household bills, stay out of debt, that sort of thing. He also spends a lot of time working on his appeal.”

  Gina looked through her notes. “How could this happen? Wasn’t Forester housed with minimum security prisoners?”

  “That was normally the case, but there was a fire. Nearly thirty high security prisoners were shunted out into the yard.” He spread his hands. “The perpetrator died on the operating table so we may never know the reasons behind the attack. He was a lifer. Might be he decided that he’d had enough.”

  Macy gazed out the window toward the watchtower they’d passed on the road in.

  “What sort of injuries did Forester sustain?” asked Macy.

  “Defensive wounds, mostly to his hands. We pride ourselves on running secure facilities. Thankfully, incidents such as this are rare.” All business again, the assistant warden opened a folder. “I understand you’ve put in a request to speak to Ray Davidson as well.”

  Macy hesitated. “I’m hoping he’ll have some insight. With his vast knowledge of private militia movements in the state, he may have some information that could help us with our investigation. Will it still be possible to see him?”

  “We’re pretty much in lockdown at the moment, but I’ve made an exception as it’s official business. There’s a conference room next door you can use. He’s there now. My assistant will make sure you have everything you need. If you’ll excuse me, I have to get back downstairs and meet the forensics team.”

  “What about Ron Forester?” asked Macy. “Will we be able to meet with him as well?”

  “He is still receiving medical treatment, but he should be available in the next hour. Will you be able to wait?”

  “That won’t be a problem,” said Gina.

  The sleeve of his jacket pulled away as he reached out to shake their hands. The cuffs of his white shirt were soaked with blood. He turned a deeper shade of pale.

  “I’ve not even had time to change yet.”

  * * *

  Ray sat at the conference table dressed in an orange prison jumpsuit staring down at his handcuffed wrists. Since Macy last saw him, he’d grown a beard and lost a considerable amount of weight. She pressed her back against the closed door and watched him. There were so many different things she wanted to say and do at once, all of them conflicting. K
eeping well away, she skirted the edges of the room as she made her way to a window that overlooked the exercise yard. A forensics team had started processing the scene. The assistant warden stood on the edge with his hands in his pockets speaking to a few prison security officers wearing dark sweatshirts and camouflage trousers.

  “When I heard there’d been an incident I was afraid it was you,” she said.

  Ray looked up at her and she didn’t look away. She walked to the table, pulled out the chair opposite him, and sat down. It took a few seconds before she was able to speak.

  “Logic dictates that I should hate you, but that reaction tells me I still care. Why do you suppose that is?”

  He put his shackled wrists on the table and leaned forward a fraction. She wasn’t bothered that he didn’t respond. She knew exactly what she wanted to say.

  “There was a time when you were everything to me. You recruited me out of university, you were my mentor, my boss … my confidant. And when we eventually started seeing each other, I’d like to think that we were happy. I want to believe that Luke was conceived by two people who were in love, that you were and are capable of love.”

  Ray blinked.

  “Your son is getting on nicely by the way. As you know, he’ll be three in December.” She reached into her bag and pulled out the sheaf of photos she’d printed off. “These are for you.”

  She spread the 8 by 10s out on the table in the same way she would if she were asking someone to identify a suspect. She watched Ray focus on each one in turn, his expression growing harder every time Luke smiled up at him.

  Macy rested her chin in her hands. “It’s fortunate Luke is still so young. I haven’t had to explain where his father is.”

  “Don’t.”

  “Don’t what, Ray?”

  “He doesn’t need to know I exist.” With difficulty, Ray gathered the photos and pushed them back across the table. “And I don’t need to be reminded of what I’ve lost.” He looked up at her. “So that goes for you too. I don’t want you coming here.”

  “You could have refused to see me.”

  Ray stared up at the ceiling. “It’s not that simple. I couldn’t not see you.”

  “I’m having a hard time getting past you.”