Page 46 of Silent Ridge

Michael Rader.

Ronnie had found an old address and possibly a phone number for Michael. I need to verify he’s still there. Back when I was hunting for his brother, I found that Alex wasn’t listed anywhere but water records. I need to ask Ronnie if she checked that.

A benefit of being in the Sheriff’s Office is that I am tied into the city and county databases. One of the things I can now access is the department of water records for bills and usage. They will also show if he transferred his water service. It’s just possible he lives in such a remote area that there are no utility services of any kind. Some people live rough in the county. I think of Snow Creek. Still, it’s something I can do.

But there are only a few computer stations that have IT permission to access those records. One of the stations, luckily, is mine. At work only. I’ll check it in the morning.

If that doesn’t reveal where Michael is living, I’ll ask Sheriff Gray to call the sheriff of Snohomish County and make some inquiries. If Michael isn’t working at the prison or living in the county anymore, there must be a reason. He doesn’t have a warrant issued for his arrest, so he hasn’t been caught for the murder of Kim Mock or others.

I put the tapes and player away. The empty Scotch bottle goes in the trash with the Cheetos wrappers. I’m a little hungry but I don’t want to eat. My stomach is queasy. I need sleep.

Forty-Three

In the morning, the hot water from the sputtering shower relaxes me. Washes the bad stuff away. The body wash Ronnie suggested smells and feels wonderful compared to the bar of Dial soap I normally use. It’s lavender scented and so I use it for shampoo as well.

I dry off and go to the closet. My usual lineup of blazers and slacks await me. I think of buying some new clothes. New shoes: sensible low-heeled ones instead of boots. But the places I go sometimes aren’t conducive to that kind of footwear. Also, I’ve ruined several blazers searching inside burnt-out husks of buildings, wading through mud and oil or chemical spills in creeks. What I have is practical. I think I might want some off-duty clothes that are more up to date. Not necessarily feminine, but something more eye pleasing.

I get dressed, slip on the shoulder holster and a blazer, remove the chair from the door and head off to work. It’s early but I’m starving. Cheetos don’t stay with me long. I head for my favorite breakfast place.

Hudson Point Café is open early and it’s very popular with tourists and locals alike. The view from their outside seating is of Port Townsend Bay with its sailboats and cabin cruisers. I know the cook and I order two sausage and egg biscuits for myself, a pancake with bacon and whipped cream for Sheriff Gray, and two poached eggs embedded in light buttermilk biscuits on a bed of spinach for Ronnie. I’ll eat her biscuits if she doesn’t want them. As an afterthought, I order two rashers of bacon and three large coffees to go.

The drive to the office isn’t long, but I consume both sausage and egg biscuits and half my coffee before I arrive in the parking lot. Sheriff Gray’s and Ronnie’s cars are there.

I carry everything inside and go right to the Sheriff’s Office. Nan looks up. She’s smelled the bacon.

“We have a meeting. Sorry, Nan. I didn’t think you’d be here early,” I lie. Then I see the plate with three glazed donuts on her desk, so I don’t feel too bad.

Sheriff Gray’s not on the phone and Ronnie is in his office.

“Close the door,” I say to Ronnie, and put the box of goodies and coffee on his desk. “We’re having a meeting,” I explain and give them their breakfasts. “I see Nan’s already here. I forgot to order something for her,” I say. It’s a lie. I don’t want to encourage Nan to talk to me. The feeding-a-stray-dog rule applies here.

“I brought donuts,” Sheriff Gray says. “She’ll be okay.”

Ronnie opens her bag and smiles and we all chow down. Tony sighs, leans back in his chair and proudly displays his whipped-cream mustache.

“You have something on your lip, Sheriff,” Ronnie says.

I think,You have your whole breakfast on your face.I should have had the cook put the boss’s meal in a bowl. But that’s unkind. It’s only a mustache, after all.

He looks around for a napkin. I’ve forgotten napkins. He opens a drawer and brings out a small stack—no doubt from McDonald’s—and hands them out. We all sip our coffee. It feels nice to take a breather. For once, I feel comfortable with other people. We’ve become a team. I still have trust issues, but they will never go away after the life I’ve lived. Still, it’s nice to let my guard down long enough to eat.

Sheriff Gray wads up his bag, tosses it in the trash basket beside his desk and looks at me. “What gives?”

“Can’t I just be nice and bring breakfast?”

“No.”

I look at Ronnie and she grins.

“Okay,” I say. “I want to fill you in on yesterday.”

“And?” he asks.

“And ask a favor.”

“Shoot.”

“I don’t know how much Ronnie has already told you…” I begin, and Ronnie smiles. “What’s going on?” I ask.

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