Made to Be Broken

Chapter Seventeen

Tess showed me the bench where Sammi had been sitting with Destiny. I took notes and promised to come back after dark to do forensic work.

As she headed back to work, I cut through the park to meet up with Jack at the diner.

"Scene of the crime?"

The voice startled me from my thoughts and I spun to see him on a bench beside the cenotaph. He lifted his lit cigarette, with a grunt that probably translated to "want some?" I did. I haven't officially smoked in years, but I'm not above taking a drag off Jack's now and then, especially if I could use the nicotine hit to calm my swirling thoughts.

When I passed it back, he put it out on the bench, then stuffed the butt in his pocket. It'd been less than half smoked. Just an excuse to hang out in the park, then.

"Scene of the crime?" he repeated, waving at the spot through the trees, where he must have seen me with Tess.

A short laugh. "Something like that. It's where they met the photographer. Tess wanted me to check it out, maybe pull some forensic evidence, which I can't, of course, but I wasn't telling her that." I shoved my hands in my pockets, my gaze magnetized to the distant Ernst home. I told Jack what I'd learned. "Not much, but I'll give – "

When I stopped, he followed my gaze to Janie's place.

"There's a For Sale sign," I murmured. "That wasn't there when I broke in last week."

"That's her house?"

I nodded.

"Fuck." He shook his head.

I took three steps, squinting, as if there might be some way to mistake Benny Durant's neon-yellow realtor signs.

"For sale…" I whispered, walking closer.

Jack followed. "Not gonna get much."

"The land's worth something, being right in the core. It's hardly downtown Toronto, but there's some value there. I know the town offered to buy Janie out a few years ago. They really just wanted to get rid of the eyesore. They offered her fair market value plus, by order of the White Rock Town Council, an additional payment of five hundred dollars."

"Generous folks," he said, stepping up beside me.

"Oh, they are. Janie told them where they could stuff their offer."

"Don't blame her."

"Then from what I heard, she blackmailed the mayor for twice that much by threatening to tell his wife about the special services she paid His Honor to avoid property citations."

"That the same mayor I saw in the diner?"

"Looks like he got hit in the face with a brick?"

A twitch of a smile. "Yeah. Doesn't seem much of a Romeo."

"You haven't seen Janie. My guess, she takes what she can get and, if she can turn a profit, calls it a bonus. She's none too bright, but she's got a keen sense of self-preservation and not an ethical boundary in sight." My gaze traveled over the house. "If your daughter disappeared, would you decide that's a good time to pack up and move?"

He shrugged. "Don't have kids. Suppose you might. Memories and all that."

"I can't see Janie moving to avoid reminders of her daughter. But even if there is some hidden wellspring of maternal love there, would she take off so soon? After a few months maybe. But days? When Sammi could still call? Show up on her doorstep?"

I looked at the house again. Jack said nothing, just waited.

"You'd almost get the impression she knew Sammi wasn't coming back." I glanced over at him. He stared straight ahead.

I scanned the businesses along the street. "Benny should be in the office today. That's the realtor. I'll go see what he can tell me about this. You can wait – "

"I'll come."

"You wanted to keep a low profile – "

"I'm coming."

He meant he wanted to keep an eye on me, make sure I kept my emotions and my imagination in check. That smarted, but not as much as knowingI needed that check.

I headed for the sidewalk, leaving him to follow.

Benny Durant sat at his big oak desk in the window, an extra-large take-out coffee at his elbow, a copy of Macleans in his hand – probably with a less salubrious magazine tucked inside it.

Durant was a good ol' boy who'd lived here all his life and chased away competition with the ferocity of a junkyard dog. Friendly and affable, he had a smile for everyone and a "special deal" for all his "friends." Though he was canny enough to take advantage of a client's real estate naiveté, he always stopped short of an outright swindle.

I'd bought the lodge from Durant, and was happy enough with the deal to send him a steady stream of people looking to make the area a permanent vacation destination with a new cottage. Few of those leads translated into sales. That, too, was typical for a town like White Rock. People spend a week, and are seduced by wilderness life: the clean air, the endless lakes, the peace and quiet, the friendly people. They start thinking they'd like to purchase a piece of this paradise.

Then reality rears its ugly head. The nearest Wal-Mart is how far? Ethnic restaurant? Movie theater? Hospital? No high-speed Internet? No cable? Party lines? Not to mention black flies, power outages, and winter storms. Many a new resident has left after the first winter, upon discovering that our gorgeous country roads rarely see a snowplow and their urban SUV just isn't going to make it through that three-foot drift. But Durant still gets enough sales from my referrals to put me on his good side.

I didn't even get as far as the door before his head popped up, like a hound on a scent. When I opened it, his gaze shot to Jack, fairly salivating at the prospect of fresh meat.

"Nadia Stafford," he boomed, sliding the magazine into a drawer, then standing and offering his hand. "Did I hear you're booked solid this weekend?"

"I am."

"That's amazing. So early in the season, too. Seems people are finally discovering our little hidden gem." A wink at Jack. "That reminds me, I'm running low on your brochures. Got them right out here, front and center." He pounded a meaty fist on the stack. "They're a hot ticket. If you could bring more by…"

"I'll do that Monday."

"Wonderful. I love promoting great local businesses, and it's easy these days. Our economy is booming. Yes, it is." His gaze was fixed on Jack, the spiel clearly for his benefit. "So, Nadia, what can I do for you today?"

"It's about the Ernst place. I saw it's for sale."

He straightened, fairly quivering now. "It is indeed. A rare and lovely property." A small laugh. "Well, the property, that is. The land. The existing structure could be removed. I already have a quote from Ed Baines for plowing it down."

I imagined Baines's bulldozer ripping through Sammi's home, reducing it to rubble, her treasures buried at the bottom, to be hauled to the dump. Every trace of her obliterated.

I opened my mouth, but my next question wouldn't come. Fortunately, Durant picked that moment to wave at Jack's crutch.

"Had a little accident, did you?"

I expected Jack to respond with an abrupt "Yeah." But he launched into a story about tripping off the deck chasing a runaway barbecue. By the time he finished, Durant was howling with laughter.

"Did you rescue the steak?"

"Sure. I took it to the emergency room and had my meal there."

"You probably needed it, considering how long they expect people to wait these days. Criminal. Just criminal."

"So, is Janie really leaving?" I cut in. "This isn't one of her games?"

"Oh, no. I wouldn't do that to a client." He glanced at Jack. "So you're interested…?"

"One of my guests is," I said.

Durant nodded. "I know how Janie can be, so when she said she'd sell, I handed her a check and had her sign the preliminary paperwork on the spot. I own that property now. She'll be cleared out by Tuesday."

"How did you finally convince her?"

He laughed. "I'd love to take credit, but it was all Janie. She came to me Wednesday wanting to know how fast she could get the money and leave town. I guess with Sammi disappearing and all…"

"Is that what she said?"

"Well, no, but the timing can't be a coincidence."

No, it cant.

"Still, it seems a little hasty," I said. "With Sammi gone barely a couple of days."

"You know Janie. She gets her mind made up. If Sammi does come home, her mom's still around, just over in Bancroft."

"Bancroft?"

"She's got a boyfriend there, I heard. And that's the forwarding address she gave."

"In case Sammi came back?"

"Well, no, she didn't say that. For legal work, though I'm sure she meant I could pass it on to Sammi. I didn't put up the sign until I was sure she'd cashed the check." He winked at Jack. "Gotta put my client's interests first. As of now, that place is free and clear."

We walked back to the truck in a comfortable silence, Jack letting me puzzle it through, knowing I'd share when I was ready.

If Janie knew Sammi wasn't coming back, then the obvious answer was that she'd killed her. But I'd seen the way Janie's hands shook. She'd barely be able to aim a gun, much less execute such a perfect shot. Her criminal background – running with a biker gang – was all in the distant past. Would she still have connections? Be able to buy a hit?

But to what purpose? Why kill -?

A figure stepped from the pharmacy, bag clutched to her chest. I blinked, certain I was seeing wrong. I wasn't.

I veered onto the road and broke into a jog. Janie's gaze skittered my way. She hugged the bag tight and walked faster. Jack must have figured out who she was. He called my name in a tone that warned me to get my ass back there before I did something I'd regret.

I kept going, bearing down on my target.

"Doing a little shopping with your windfall?" I grabbed the bag from Janie.

"You crazy bitch!" she shrieked, clawing at me.

I looked inside and pulled out one of two rye bottles. "Doesn't look like medicine."

"Doug and I have an arrangement," she said, naming the drugstore clerk. "He gets them for me. There's no law against that."

"Crown Royal? Little rich for your budget. You must have got a pretty penny for your shack."

She snatched the bag back. "None of your business, cop."

"What about Sammi? What's she going to do when she comes home and finds her house gone?" I stepped closer. "Unless you know she isn't coming home."

"Wha -?"

"You sold your house a day after she disappeared. What do you know? Where's Sammi?"

Fingers clamped around my arm. "Nadia…"

I tried to pull away, but Jack held fast and leaned down to my ear. "You're drawing a crowd."

A quick glance around showed he was right. Every Saturday shopper within earshot had stopped to gawk.

I turned back to Janie. She was eyeing Jack, her lip curling.

"A cripple?" she said. "Little old for you, isn't he? Guess that's the best a psycho cop can do, huh?"

Jack tugged my arm.

I resisted, but lowered my voice. "If you know where Sammi is…"

"You'll what? Shoot me?"

Jack yanked hard enough to pull me off balance. One final glare at Janie, and I let him lead me away.