Chapter Two
Randy's Self-Storage sat at the junction of Route 6 and Old Lake Perry Road on the north side of town. A Shell gas station/Get-n-Go convenience store combination and the Greysons' farm stand occupied two other corners of the intersection, while an empty, undeveloped lot made up the fourth. Beyond the lot was dense forest, the southernmost part of Fisher State Park. It was not one of the more prosperous areas of the Sleepyside community, having lost most of its traffic years ago when the Harrison Expressway was constructed. Drivers could now follow a more direct shot from upstate to New York City and back again, no longer needing to spend the extra time and gas for the more scenic drive along the Hudson River. All of Sleepyside had been affected in some way by the toll road; many people considered it a dying town, though Trixie refused to consider it as such.
The entire area was lit up with the burning blaze. Along with the SHFD trucks, Trixie saw that the hamlet of Berre had sent their small group of volunteer firefighters to assist. Dan swore softly as they pulled over to the side of the road. “It's a lot worse than I was hoping.”
“Mmm.” Trixie nodded, but offered nothing further verbally. She could see that the storage units were beyond saving. At this point, it was a matter of keeping the fire from spreading. The weather had been hot and dry for weeks. If the fire managed to jump the road, and Trixie suspected there was enough wind to make this a possibility, the Greysons' farm and the state park could both be facing disaster.
Captain Jakob Grieg was on his phone as they approached him. He waved one hand at Trixie and Dan, acknowledging their presence. He spoke for a few more moments before roughly shoving the phone into his jacket pocket. His eyes seemed to size Trixie up briefly, taking in her jeans, t-shirt, SHPD windbreaker, and hasty pony tail. She thought she could detect a certain amount of speculation in his gaze as he then briefly studied Dan's own casual appearance. She maintained an impassive expression. It wouldn't be the first time someone had jumped to the wrong conclusions about her relationship with Dan Mangan, and she knew it wouldn't be the last.
“Chief,” Grieg said finally, “this is twice today we've met up under unfortunate circumstances. I'm sorry again for your loss.”
“Thank you,” she said briefly, wanting to get straight to business. “You're thinking arson?” she asked.
“All the signs are there,” he explained. “Even found two empty gas cans. I've just put in a call to Harrisonville. We're going to need more trucks to keep this damn thing contained.”
“Is there anything we can do to help?” Dan asked.
Grieg gave a sharp shake of his head. “Not unless you've had any training in fighting fires. Otherwise, we just need you to stay out of the way.”
“Unfortunately, no, we aren't trained for this,” Trixie said. “Who called it in?”
Grieg hooked a thumb toward the Get-n-Go. “Allison Beatty. She was working the late shift. She called her manager and he told her to close the store and go home for the night.”
“Has anyone spoken with the Greysons?”
“Haven't had time. We're kinda busy at the moment.”
Trixie held up her hand, palm out. “I wasn't accusing you of anything, Captain. I didn't know if they'd come out to see the fire. We'll go check on them now. If at all possible, I'd appreciate it if someone could set aside any evidence you discover, but I understand you've got greater concerns right now.”
She led Dan back to her Jeep. “Let's make sure the Greysons are all right,” she said as she opened the driver's side door. “I would have thought at least Eddie would've come out to see the fire and assess the level of threat to the farm.”
“Maybe they aren't even home right now?” Dan suggested.
Trixie shrugged. “That's always possible, but the Greysons aren't exactly known for staying out late and painting the town. This is a working farm. Eddie's probably up every morning no later than four-thirty to five AM.”
Dan coughed as he strapped himself into his seat. “Damn. I don't know how firefighters can put up with all the smoke.”
“Very carefully. But, yeah. It's not a job I would want.” She sat still, staring out through the windshield.
“Trix?” Dan asked as the silence stretched on and she made no move to start the vehicle.
She suddenly blinked and shook herself. “Sorry. I was just thinking.”
“About...?” he prompted.
She pointed ahead. “Just around this bend you can make a right onto Route 190, and about three and a half miles east of us is the Berre hamlet and Cold Lake. We're really not too far from where the bodies were discovered.”
“You aren't trying to say that somehow the Cold Lake killings and this fire are connected, are you?” Dan's tone revealed his skepticism.
“Of course not. That would be one helluva coincidence, don't you think?” She cranked the engine. “Let's go.”
The Greyson farm was dark, without even a porch light shining. The farmhouse was almost as old as the Beldens' Crabapple Farm, and was well-kept, with a periodic fresh coat of white paint. The sloping lawn that led to the barn showed signs of a recent mowing in the glow from the Jeep's headlights. Trixie frowned as she pulled up near the front of the house and put the vehicle in park. “Something's not right,” she said.
“Well, it's like I said. Maybe they just aren't home at the moment.”
“Maybe,” Trixie agreed. “But Eddie Greyson's the kind of man to leave at least one light on, in the barn if nowhere else.”
“Could the family be out of town?”
Trixie popped open her door. “If they are, there'd be someone else here to tend to the animals.”
“All right,” Dan conceded. “You've got me suitably alarmed. So this is where we exercise caution.”
“Hey,” Trixie said mildly. “That's my line. Remember?”
Dan knew she was kidding him, but he pretended to consider her words. “Is it? Why would you be the one issuing orders, again?”
“Ha. Get the flashlight out of the glove compartment.”
“Yes, ma'am!”
Trixie unhappily noted the sound of their shoes crunching the gravel of the drive as they walked across to the wide front porch. In the stillness of the night, the noise seemed to shout, “Here we are! Go on and shoot us!” Off to their left, she could see the sky above the treeline tinted an orange-yellow shade from the fire.
The farmhouse's dark green door was decorated with a wreath of cheerful sunflowers. Trixie panned her light across it, looking for any signs of trouble or a possible break-in. Finding none, she lifted her hand and knocked three times.
From inside the home they heard a loud thump followed immediately by the sound of shattering glass. Trixie stepped back quickly, her hand automatically going to her holster. “Mr. and Mrs. Greyson!” she called out. “Sleepyside Police!”
This was answered by a pounding noise.
“Go around back,” Trixie told Dan. “See if you can see anything in a window or from the back door.”
Dan frowned. “What are you going to do?”
“Try to find a way in.” She waved her flashlight at a window. “I'll break that if I have to.”
“We don't even know who's in there,” Dan pointed out. “I'll go see what I can find, but do not go in until I'm back.”
“They could be-”
“Trixie.” He stared at her, his gaze hard and unwavering. “Don't.”
After a charged moment, she huffed out a breath. “Fine. I'll wait. But sometime soon we need to work on the whole I'm the one in charge thing, okay?”
“If you think just because you're the acting chief, I'm going to suddenly start letting you run around putting your life at unnecessary risk, you might as well fire me now, because that is not ever gonna happen.”
The pounding noise ceased. Trixie handed Dan the flashlight. “I'll wait here,” she promised.
He skipped lightly back down the steps and circled the house at a quick trot. He could hear Trixie shouting the Greysons' names again as he approached a low window with open curtains. He stepped carefully into the narrow flower bed that ran along the back of the house and aimed the light through the glass. He was looking into a formal dining room. The long table was covered in a white lace cloth and a basket of dried flowers stood in the center, with two tapered candles in silver holders on either side. Beyond was a tall wooden hutch with fine china on display. Seeing nothing amiss, he moved on to the back door.
He only needed a few seconds to assess the sight that greeted him before he spun around and raced back to the front of the house. “Call for an ambulance! And we need to get in there. I think the kitchen door will be the easiest way in.”
With that, he sprinted off, knowing Trixie would follow. After determining the back door was locked as he'd suspected it would be, he used the heavy Maglite to knock out a glass pane and then reached in and turned the knob from the inside. Unlike the rest of the house, the kitchen was in shambles. Mrs. Greyson, her eyes wide and fearful, was tied to a chair, gagged with a checkered-print napkin. Mr. Greyson was lying on the floor, bound to a chair that was overturned, and surrounded by broken dishes. Dan clicked on the overhead light and dropped to Eddie Greyson's side.
Trixie quickly untied Sophie Greyson's gag. “Ma'am, is there anyone else in the house?”
“Oh... thank God you've come,” the farm wife rasped. “We've been tied up for hours....”
“Is there anyone else here?” Trixie asked again as she reached for the rope that bound Sophie's arms behind her. “Where's Bradley?”
“He's away,” Sophie answered weakly. “Working at a camp upstate.”
“What about whoever did this to you?”
“They left. They weren't here very long. They emptied Eddie's wallet and took my keys and stole the truck. Is Eddie all right? He knocked himself over when we heard you at the door.”
“They took your truck? Did they arrive in something else? How did they get here?”
“On foot. Came through the woods.” It was Eddie who answered. Dan had helped him sit up and he was now leaning against the cabinet beneath the double sink. There was a small cut across his left cheek and the evidence of a growing bruise at his temple. “Said they were hikers from the state park and had gotten turned around. Wanted directions. One of 'em asked to use the restroom.”
“I was showing him to the powder room when he attacked me,” Sophie explained, taking up the story.
“We have an ambulance on the way,” Trixie told her. “We'll get you both checked out. I'll have an officer take your full statements later.”
“How did you even know to come find us?” Sophie asked, regarding Trixie in confusion.
“There's a fire at Randy's Self-Storage. We wanted to check on you and the farm.”
“Fire!” Eddie cried. “I gotta get out to the barn and see to the animals!”
Trixie turned to him. “No, sir. You let Sergeant Mangan take care of that. I want you to wait here until the paramedics see you.”
“Trixie Belden, you may be a police officer now, but you're still the girl who used to come pick berries on my farm every summer! Imagine you coming into my kitchen and telling me how to run things!” Eddie groaned as he tried to push himself up off the floor.
“Mr. Greyson, the difference between the girl who picked berries then and the officer giving you orders now is the difference between a bucket and a gun.” She flashed a small smile as she spoke. “Dan, please go to the barn and make sure the cows and horse aren't panicking. They might be able to smell the smoke in the air. After that, look in on the chickens in the coop behind the barn. I'll wait here with the Greysons.”
Dan nodded as he stood. “I can do that... but, uh... if they are panicking?”
“We'll need to settle them down.” Trixie glanced back at the farmer. “Do you have any electric fans we could use to blow any smoke out of the barn if necessary?”
Sophie Greyson slowly stood, stamping her legs for circulation. “I need to go to the bathroom first, but then I can get you a fan. And Eddie? You stay right where you are.”
“Soph, I could really use the bathroom, too,” Eddie grumbled.
“I'll help you walk,” Dan said, “and then I'll go see to your livestock.”
Trixie glanced at her watch. “The ambulance really should be here any minute now.”
Between them, Dan and Trixie managed to get the Greysons to the little half-bath under the stairs and then settled in the front parlor. Dan left the house and trudged across to the barn. He found the light switch and flipped it on. Thankfully, the three cows and one horse all seemed relatively calm in their stalls. Although he'd spent several years working as an assistant game keeper and helping his uncle with the Wheelers' horses, the truth was he had no idea how to go about settling “panicking” cattle. He suspected it was a lot more complicated than Trixie had made it sound.
The barn was as clean as any he'd ever seen. Fresh hay was spread across the floor and the equipment, while obviously frequently used, was cared-for and properly stowed away. He checked the water and feed levels for the animals, then left the barn again, leaving the light on.
The ambulance arrived as he was inspecting the chicken coop. The birds needed more water, but as far as he could tell, they were otherwise fine. He picked up a metal bucket outside the cage and carried it to the spigot on the back side of the barn. He filled it quickly and then refilled the coop's supply.
When he returned to the house, he found both Greysons being examined by the EMTs. Trixie was standing off to the side, speaking quietly on her cell phone. She ended the call as he stepped into the parlor.
“What's the verdict, Sam?” she asked. “Do they need to go to the hospital?”
The middle-aged, female EMT shook her head. “I don't believe so. Though I do want you both to visit your GP tomorrow and let him do a full physical, just to be on the safe side. You've had a terrible shock.”
“I've arranged for an officer to come out for the night,” Trixie said, speaking directly to the Greysons, “on the off chance your attackers return. Also, Larry Rider is sending out his oldest son to help you with the farm work for the next couple of days.”
Eddie Greyson regarded her sheepishly. “I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier, Trixie.”
She waved his apology off. “Don't worry about it.”
“Sir,” Dan said, “your animals are all fine. I refreshed the water for the chickens, but nothing else needed doing right away.” He hesitated, then added, “I don't know if things won't change, though, if the fire hasn't already been contained.”
Eddie heaved out a relieved breath as the younger EMT finished bandaging his cheek. “Thank you,” he said, slouching back on the sofa. He glanced at Dan. “Toby Rider will know what to do if anything needs doing,” he assured him.
“I think the fire is under control,” Sam added as she snapped her medical kit closed. “It looked that way when we were waved past.”
“Good.” Trixie crossed the room and sat down next to Mrs. Greyson, perching herself on the edge of one of the two midnight blue wing-back chairs in front of the brick fireplace. “Ma'am,” she said quietly, “will you be all right tonight? I've got an officer coming, but we could still move you out if you don't feel safe.”
“That won't be necessary,” Sophie said after a moment's thought. “I can't say I'm not still a little frightened, but I hate the idea of letting those boys scare me out of my home.”
“I'm going to leave you my cell phone number. You call me if you need anything at all, okay? I don't care what time it is. And I know you've said you don't want to, but I really think you should contact Bradley. He's going to be very upset with you if you wait until he comes home next week before letting him know what happened.”
While waiting for Officer Stewart Denton to arrive, Dan spent a few minutes carefully gathering up the broken plates and glasses from the kitchen floor. “I don't guess we can do much to preserve the crime scene,” he remarked as he reached for the broom that was tucked into a corner.
Trixie looked over at him. She'd taken two mugs from a cabinet and was now in the process of boiling water to make tea. “We'll have the ropes and gags checked out, but I'm not sure we're going to get anything from either. I think our best hope is getting a print or two off Eddie's wallet. Maybe something from one of the chairs. Stew can do a preliminary investigation. And I figure since he's going to be here anyway, we can give the case to him and Elijah.”
“Do you think this had anything to do with the fire?”
“I think there's a really good chance it did, assuming the fire is arson. I put out an APB for the Greysons' truck. We might get lucky. As soon as Stew gets here, we'll check in with Captain Grieg and then I want to see if we can get an address on Allison Beatty and pay her a visit.”
“If these cases are connected, do you want Denton and Holt in charge of the entire investigation?”
Trixie chuckled wryly. “No. I want to take it myself. But that's not my job any more. Now it's up to me to hand out assignments and oversee things without getting into the thick of it.”
“But you still want to interview Allison Beatty?” Dan looked at his watch. “It's kinda late.”
“Yeah. But she might be up. We could stop in at her place and ask a few questions. At least get the ball rolling. After that, I think we should call it a day. It's hard to believe the chief's funeral was only this morning. I feel like we've been up and running for at least three days now.”
The glow in the sky from the self-storage fire was considerably dimmer as they drove back up Old Lake Perry Road, but the air was heavy with acrid smoke. Although several fire trucks remained on the premises, the majority of the firefighters were now gathered at the far end of the parking lot, drinking from canteens and plastic cups. While the fire still burned in one row of units, most were now merely blackened, smoldering wrecks.
Trixie groaned the moment she spotted a Channel 11 news truck. “Oh, joy. The press has arrived. I guess this means Paul Trent will either be somewhere about or showing up soon.”
“You still don't like that guy, huh?” Dan asked, grinning.
“You know what he asked me this afternoon? Whether or not I slept my way into the acting chief position.”
Dan's smile vanished. “He asked you what?”
“Yeah. I know, right?” Trixie drove into the Get-n-Go lot and pulled up into a parking space. “Just wait until people run with that idea. Everyone already thinks you and I have some sort of 'friends with benefits' arrangement going on. They might start speculating about some truly hinky things if they try to add the Chief to the mix.”
“I hope you told Trent to go to Hell,” Dan said, visibly shuddering in disgust with the other implications of her comments.
“Actually, I told him he was gonna need to come up with something that was at least remotely believable if he wanted to trash the department. He slunk away after that.”
Dan gave a soft grunt as a response.
“What?”
He unlocked his door and pushed it open. “You know what, Chief? I think you're going to kick butt in your new position.”
She regarded him uncertainly. “Why do you say that?”
“Because you didn't let Trent ruffle your feathers, and you've been calm and in charge all day. The girl with the bucket would've lost her temper half a dozen or more times today. The officer with a gun, on the other hand, has been in complete control.”
“Let's see how the next few days go before you come to any final opinions on my suitability as chief,” Trixie cautioned dryly.
They found Captain Grieg standing next to one of the Harrisonville trucks, speaking with an older man who was busy packing up equipment. Grieg introduced him, adding that the Harrisonville firefighter had been a friend of his for years.
Julius Cramer stared at Trixie for a moment before cutting his eyes back to Grieg. “Are you having me on? This little bitty girl is your new police chief?”
Trixie drew in a short breath, regretting the action immediately as the smoke made her throat burn. She forced a smile to her face as she fought off a choking cough. “It's nice to meet you, too,” she said pointedly. “Thanks for the help tonight.”
Cramer had the grace to look abashed. “You're welcome. And... uh... please excuse that first asshat remark. It's been a long day.”
“You have no idea,” she told him with feeling. “It looks like things are under control here?”
“We should have the fire completely out soon,” Grieg assured her. “I'll be leaving a few men to watch it for the next several hours, to make sure nothing sparks and keep any firebugs and curiosity seekers away.”
“Do you want me to send any officers as back-up? I imagine as soon as word gets out, all the people who used these storage units will be turning up, hoping to salvage something.”
“You're going to want someone out here soon for sure, to start investigating,” he said seriously. “We set aside the gas cans and a book of matches one of the men found.”
“I'll make a call, then. And I'll be in contact with you sometime tomorrow to get your full report. For now, though, we're leaving you to it.”
“Chief?” the captain said quietly as Trixie turned to leave.
“Yes?” She stopped and looked back at him over her shoulder.
“I know you probably feel you have a lot to prove, but just don't kill yourself trying.”
Trixie could see he was sincere in his advice. She flashed a quick half-smile in his direction. “I would definitely prefer not to have my career end that way, personally.”
“Well... you have a lot more friends in this town than you might think, so... don't be afraid to ask for help if you ever need it.”
She wasn't entirely sure what Grieg meant by that, nor why he felt the need to say it, but Trixie still thanked him for his words before she and Dan finally said good night to the gathered firefighters and crossed back over to the empty Get-n-Go lot. Back in the Jeep, Trixie took a moment to rest her forehead against her arms, crossed over on the steering wheel, and simply breathe in and out several times.
“You gonna make it, Chief?” Dan asked. “I can drive if you want.”
“I think the day is finally catching up with me,” she replied tiredly. “But it's all right. I can still drive. And you don't have to call me 'Chief,' you know.” She sat up and turned the key in the ignition, then cranked the AC up a notch.
“Yeah, I do. I've got to get used to it. You're the boss now. Probably it wouldn't look so great if I slipped up and called you 'Freckles' at work or even worse, in front of a suspect.”
“I'm only the boss for now,” she reminded him yet again. “Call the station and ask Lizzy to put out an open call for someone to volunteer to babysit the firefighters for the rest of the night. I'll authorize the overtime. And then tell her to get a hold of Elijah and let him know I expect him out here in the morning to start investigating the cause of the fire. If he feels the need to send for the Poughkeepsie arson investigator, I'll authorize that, too. Oh, and see if she can get us Allison Beatty's home address.”
“You still want to do that tonight?”
“Last thing. Promise. After that, you're free to go home, and I don't expect to see you at the station tomorrow until after noon at the earliest.”
Dan phoned the night dispatcher as they sat in the parking lot. Trixie saw no reason to start driving, without knowing which direction she would need to take. She waited quietly while Dan talked with Lizzy.
“Well, according to Liz, Allison Beatty's in the system,” he told her after ending the call. “There was a call-out to her trailer a few years ago for domestic disturbance. She lives in an RV park by the Expressway cut-off.”
“That's only a few miles south of here, down Route 198. I never took a domestic disturbance call for it, but I did go out there a few times with Bear when we busted that crystal meth lab.”
“I remember.” Dan pulled the seat belt across his chest and strapped himself in. “That was right before the chief promoted me to sergeant and told me to keep a closer eye on you. He seemed to think you might get yourself blown up.”
Trixie scrubbed her hands over her face and sighed. “Now that sounds like the Chief I love and remember. The man with next to no confidence in my abilities. I'm totally not understanding how he went from that to telling the town council I should replace him.”
“Maybe because deep down he always knew you're the best of us, even if he couldn't ever bring himself to admit it?” Dan suggested. “Apparently you're the only one he trusts to figure out this mess with the Cold Lake murders.”
“You, too,” she pointed out.
“Only as your back-up. You're Sherlock. I'm Watson.”
“And now it is definitely time to go. I think the smoke inhalation is getting to your brain.”
“No, Freckles. Really. How many times do I have to say it? He wouldn't have put you in charge if he thought for a moment that you couldn't do what he's asking of you.”
Trixie blew out a breath in a soft snort. “Dear Diary, today I fell down the rabbit hole....” She shook her head and put the Jeep in reverse. “Hopefully Allison will be making more sense than you are right now.”
Randy's Self-Storage sat at the junction of Route 6 and Old Lake Perry Road on the north side of town. A Shell gas station/Get-n-Go convenience store combination and the Greysons' farm stand occupied two other corners of the intersection, while an empty, undeveloped lot made up the fourth. Beyond the lot was dense forest, the southernmost part of Fisher State Park. It was not one of the more prosperous areas of the Sleepyside community, having lost most of its traffic years ago when the Harrison Expressway was constructed. Drivers could now follow a more direct shot from upstate to New York City and back again, no longer needing to spend the extra time and gas for the more scenic drive along the Hudson River. All of Sleepyside had been affected in some way by the toll road; many people considered it a dying town, though Trixie refused to consider it as such.
The entire area was lit up with the burning blaze. Along with the SHFD trucks, Trixie saw that the hamlet of Berre had sent their small group of volunteer firefighters to assist. Dan swore softly as they pulled over to the side of the road. “It's a lot worse than I was hoping.”
“Mmm.” Trixie nodded, but offered nothing further verbally. She could see that the storage units were beyond saving. At this point, it was a matter of keeping the fire from spreading. The weather had been hot and dry for weeks. If the fire managed to jump the road, and Trixie suspected there was enough wind to make this a possibility, the Greysons' farm and the state park could both be facing disaster.
Captain Jakob Grieg was on his phone as they approached him. He waved one hand at Trixie and Dan, acknowledging their presence. He spoke for a few more moments before roughly shoving the phone into his jacket pocket. His eyes seemed to size Trixie up briefly, taking in her jeans, t-shirt, SHPD windbreaker, and hasty pony tail. She thought she could detect a certain amount of speculation in his gaze as he then briefly studied Dan's own casual appearance. She maintained an impassive expression. It wouldn't be the first time someone had jumped to the wrong conclusions about her relationship with Dan Mangan, and she knew it wouldn't be the last.
“Chief,” Grieg said finally, “this is twice today we've met up under unfortunate circumstances. I'm sorry again for your loss.”
“Thank you,” she said briefly, wanting to get straight to business. “You're thinking arson?” she asked.
“All the signs are there,” he explained. “Even found two empty gas cans. I've just put in a call to Harrisonville. We're going to need more trucks to keep this damn thing contained.”
“Is there anything we can do to help?” Dan asked.
Grieg gave a sharp shake of his head. “Not unless you've had any training in fighting fires. Otherwise, we just need you to stay out of the way.”
“Unfortunately, no, we aren't trained for this,” Trixie said. “Who called it in?”
Grieg hooked a thumb toward the Get-n-Go. “Allison Beatty. She was working the late shift. She called her manager and he told her to close the store and go home for the night.”
“Has anyone spoken with the Greysons?”
“Haven't had time. We're kinda busy at the moment.”
Trixie held up her hand, palm out. “I wasn't accusing you of anything, Captain. I didn't know if they'd come out to see the fire. We'll go check on them now. If at all possible, I'd appreciate it if someone could set aside any evidence you discover, but I understand you've got greater concerns right now.”
She led Dan back to her Jeep. “Let's make sure the Greysons are all right,” she said as she opened the driver's side door. “I would have thought at least Eddie would've come out to see the fire and assess the level of threat to the farm.”
“Maybe they aren't even home right now?” Dan suggested.
Trixie shrugged. “That's always possible, but the Greysons aren't exactly known for staying out late and painting the town. This is a working farm. Eddie's probably up every morning no later than four-thirty to five AM.”
Dan coughed as he strapped himself into his seat. “Damn. I don't know how firefighters can put up with all the smoke.”
“Very carefully. But, yeah. It's not a job I would want.” She sat still, staring out through the windshield.
“Trix?” Dan asked as the silence stretched on and she made no move to start the vehicle.
She suddenly blinked and shook herself. “Sorry. I was just thinking.”
“About...?” he prompted.
She pointed ahead. “Just around this bend you can make a right onto Route 190, and about three and a half miles east of us is the Berre hamlet and Cold Lake. We're really not too far from where the bodies were discovered.”
“You aren't trying to say that somehow the Cold Lake killings and this fire are connected, are you?” Dan's tone revealed his skepticism.
“Of course not. That would be one helluva coincidence, don't you think?” She cranked the engine. “Let's go.”
The Greyson farm was dark, without even a porch light shining. The farmhouse was almost as old as the Beldens' Crabapple Farm, and was well-kept, with a periodic fresh coat of white paint. The sloping lawn that led to the barn showed signs of a recent mowing in the glow from the Jeep's headlights. Trixie frowned as she pulled up near the front of the house and put the vehicle in park. “Something's not right,” she said.
“Well, it's like I said. Maybe they just aren't home at the moment.”
“Maybe,” Trixie agreed. “But Eddie Greyson's the kind of man to leave at least one light on, in the barn if nowhere else.”
“Could the family be out of town?”
Trixie popped open her door. “If they are, there'd be someone else here to tend to the animals.”
“All right,” Dan conceded. “You've got me suitably alarmed. So this is where we exercise caution.”
“Hey,” Trixie said mildly. “That's my line. Remember?”
Dan knew she was kidding him, but he pretended to consider her words. “Is it? Why would you be the one issuing orders, again?”
“Ha. Get the flashlight out of the glove compartment.”
“Yes, ma'am!”
Trixie unhappily noted the sound of their shoes crunching the gravel of the drive as they walked across to the wide front porch. In the stillness of the night, the noise seemed to shout, “Here we are! Go on and shoot us!” Off to their left, she could see the sky above the treeline tinted an orange-yellow shade from the fire.
The farmhouse's dark green door was decorated with a wreath of cheerful sunflowers. Trixie panned her light across it, looking for any signs of trouble or a possible break-in. Finding none, she lifted her hand and knocked three times.
From inside the home they heard a loud thump followed immediately by the sound of shattering glass. Trixie stepped back quickly, her hand automatically going to her holster. “Mr. and Mrs. Greyson!” she called out. “Sleepyside Police!”
This was answered by a pounding noise.
“Go around back,” Trixie told Dan. “See if you can see anything in a window or from the back door.”
Dan frowned. “What are you going to do?”
“Try to find a way in.” She waved her flashlight at a window. “I'll break that if I have to.”
“We don't even know who's in there,” Dan pointed out. “I'll go see what I can find, but do not go in until I'm back.”
“They could be-”
“Trixie.” He stared at her, his gaze hard and unwavering. “Don't.”
After a charged moment, she huffed out a breath. “Fine. I'll wait. But sometime soon we need to work on the whole I'm the one in charge thing, okay?”
“If you think just because you're the acting chief, I'm going to suddenly start letting you run around putting your life at unnecessary risk, you might as well fire me now, because that is not ever gonna happen.”
The pounding noise ceased. Trixie handed Dan the flashlight. “I'll wait here,” she promised.
He skipped lightly back down the steps and circled the house at a quick trot. He could hear Trixie shouting the Greysons' names again as he approached a low window with open curtains. He stepped carefully into the narrow flower bed that ran along the back of the house and aimed the light through the glass. He was looking into a formal dining room. The long table was covered in a white lace cloth and a basket of dried flowers stood in the center, with two tapered candles in silver holders on either side. Beyond was a tall wooden hutch with fine china on display. Seeing nothing amiss, he moved on to the back door.
He only needed a few seconds to assess the sight that greeted him before he spun around and raced back to the front of the house. “Call for an ambulance! And we need to get in there. I think the kitchen door will be the easiest way in.”
With that, he sprinted off, knowing Trixie would follow. After determining the back door was locked as he'd suspected it would be, he used the heavy Maglite to knock out a glass pane and then reached in and turned the knob from the inside. Unlike the rest of the house, the kitchen was in shambles. Mrs. Greyson, her eyes wide and fearful, was tied to a chair, gagged with a checkered-print napkin. Mr. Greyson was lying on the floor, bound to a chair that was overturned, and surrounded by broken dishes. Dan clicked on the overhead light and dropped to Eddie Greyson's side.
Trixie quickly untied Sophie Greyson's gag. “Ma'am, is there anyone else in the house?”
“Oh... thank God you've come,” the farm wife rasped. “We've been tied up for hours....”
“Is there anyone else here?” Trixie asked again as she reached for the rope that bound Sophie's arms behind her. “Where's Bradley?”
“He's away,” Sophie answered weakly. “Working at a camp upstate.”
“What about whoever did this to you?”
“They left. They weren't here very long. They emptied Eddie's wallet and took my keys and stole the truck. Is Eddie all right? He knocked himself over when we heard you at the door.”
“They took your truck? Did they arrive in something else? How did they get here?”
“On foot. Came through the woods.” It was Eddie who answered. Dan had helped him sit up and he was now leaning against the cabinet beneath the double sink. There was a small cut across his left cheek and the evidence of a growing bruise at his temple. “Said they were hikers from the state park and had gotten turned around. Wanted directions. One of 'em asked to use the restroom.”
“I was showing him to the powder room when he attacked me,” Sophie explained, taking up the story.
“We have an ambulance on the way,” Trixie told her. “We'll get you both checked out. I'll have an officer take your full statements later.”
“How did you even know to come find us?” Sophie asked, regarding Trixie in confusion.
“There's a fire at Randy's Self-Storage. We wanted to check on you and the farm.”
“Fire!” Eddie cried. “I gotta get out to the barn and see to the animals!”
Trixie turned to him. “No, sir. You let Sergeant Mangan take care of that. I want you to wait here until the paramedics see you.”
“Trixie Belden, you may be a police officer now, but you're still the girl who used to come pick berries on my farm every summer! Imagine you coming into my kitchen and telling me how to run things!” Eddie groaned as he tried to push himself up off the floor.
“Mr. Greyson, the difference between the girl who picked berries then and the officer giving you orders now is the difference between a bucket and a gun.” She flashed a small smile as she spoke. “Dan, please go to the barn and make sure the cows and horse aren't panicking. They might be able to smell the smoke in the air. After that, look in on the chickens in the coop behind the barn. I'll wait here with the Greysons.”
Dan nodded as he stood. “I can do that... but, uh... if they are panicking?”
“We'll need to settle them down.” Trixie glanced back at the farmer. “Do you have any electric fans we could use to blow any smoke out of the barn if necessary?”
Sophie Greyson slowly stood, stamping her legs for circulation. “I need to go to the bathroom first, but then I can get you a fan. And Eddie? You stay right where you are.”
“Soph, I could really use the bathroom, too,” Eddie grumbled.
“I'll help you walk,” Dan said, “and then I'll go see to your livestock.”
Trixie glanced at her watch. “The ambulance really should be here any minute now.”
Between them, Dan and Trixie managed to get the Greysons to the little half-bath under the stairs and then settled in the front parlor. Dan left the house and trudged across to the barn. He found the light switch and flipped it on. Thankfully, the three cows and one horse all seemed relatively calm in their stalls. Although he'd spent several years working as an assistant game keeper and helping his uncle with the Wheelers' horses, the truth was he had no idea how to go about settling “panicking” cattle. He suspected it was a lot more complicated than Trixie had made it sound.
The barn was as clean as any he'd ever seen. Fresh hay was spread across the floor and the equipment, while obviously frequently used, was cared-for and properly stowed away. He checked the water and feed levels for the animals, then left the barn again, leaving the light on.
The ambulance arrived as he was inspecting the chicken coop. The birds needed more water, but as far as he could tell, they were otherwise fine. He picked up a metal bucket outside the cage and carried it to the spigot on the back side of the barn. He filled it quickly and then refilled the coop's supply.
When he returned to the house, he found both Greysons being examined by the EMTs. Trixie was standing off to the side, speaking quietly on her cell phone. She ended the call as he stepped into the parlor.
“What's the verdict, Sam?” she asked. “Do they need to go to the hospital?”
The middle-aged, female EMT shook her head. “I don't believe so. Though I do want you both to visit your GP tomorrow and let him do a full physical, just to be on the safe side. You've had a terrible shock.”
“I've arranged for an officer to come out for the night,” Trixie said, speaking directly to the Greysons, “on the off chance your attackers return. Also, Larry Rider is sending out his oldest son to help you with the farm work for the next couple of days.”
Eddie Greyson regarded her sheepishly. “I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier, Trixie.”
She waved his apology off. “Don't worry about it.”
“Sir,” Dan said, “your animals are all fine. I refreshed the water for the chickens, but nothing else needed doing right away.” He hesitated, then added, “I don't know if things won't change, though, if the fire hasn't already been contained.”
Eddie heaved out a relieved breath as the younger EMT finished bandaging his cheek. “Thank you,” he said, slouching back on the sofa. He glanced at Dan. “Toby Rider will know what to do if anything needs doing,” he assured him.
“I think the fire is under control,” Sam added as she snapped her medical kit closed. “It looked that way when we were waved past.”
“Good.” Trixie crossed the room and sat down next to Mrs. Greyson, perching herself on the edge of one of the two midnight blue wing-back chairs in front of the brick fireplace. “Ma'am,” she said quietly, “will you be all right tonight? I've got an officer coming, but we could still move you out if you don't feel safe.”
“That won't be necessary,” Sophie said after a moment's thought. “I can't say I'm not still a little frightened, but I hate the idea of letting those boys scare me out of my home.”
“I'm going to leave you my cell phone number. You call me if you need anything at all, okay? I don't care what time it is. And I know you've said you don't want to, but I really think you should contact Bradley. He's going to be very upset with you if you wait until he comes home next week before letting him know what happened.”
While waiting for Officer Stewart Denton to arrive, Dan spent a few minutes carefully gathering up the broken plates and glasses from the kitchen floor. “I don't guess we can do much to preserve the crime scene,” he remarked as he reached for the broom that was tucked into a corner.
Trixie looked over at him. She'd taken two mugs from a cabinet and was now in the process of boiling water to make tea. “We'll have the ropes and gags checked out, but I'm not sure we're going to get anything from either. I think our best hope is getting a print or two off Eddie's wallet. Maybe something from one of the chairs. Stew can do a preliminary investigation. And I figure since he's going to be here anyway, we can give the case to him and Elijah.”
“Do you think this had anything to do with the fire?”
“I think there's a really good chance it did, assuming the fire is arson. I put out an APB for the Greysons' truck. We might get lucky. As soon as Stew gets here, we'll check in with Captain Grieg and then I want to see if we can get an address on Allison Beatty and pay her a visit.”
“If these cases are connected, do you want Denton and Holt in charge of the entire investigation?”
Trixie chuckled wryly. “No. I want to take it myself. But that's not my job any more. Now it's up to me to hand out assignments and oversee things without getting into the thick of it.”
“But you still want to interview Allison Beatty?” Dan looked at his watch. “It's kinda late.”
“Yeah. But she might be up. We could stop in at her place and ask a few questions. At least get the ball rolling. After that, I think we should call it a day. It's hard to believe the chief's funeral was only this morning. I feel like we've been up and running for at least three days now.”
The glow in the sky from the self-storage fire was considerably dimmer as they drove back up Old Lake Perry Road, but the air was heavy with acrid smoke. Although several fire trucks remained on the premises, the majority of the firefighters were now gathered at the far end of the parking lot, drinking from canteens and plastic cups. While the fire still burned in one row of units, most were now merely blackened, smoldering wrecks.
Trixie groaned the moment she spotted a Channel 11 news truck. “Oh, joy. The press has arrived. I guess this means Paul Trent will either be somewhere about or showing up soon.”
“You still don't like that guy, huh?” Dan asked, grinning.
“You know what he asked me this afternoon? Whether or not I slept my way into the acting chief position.”
Dan's smile vanished. “He asked you what?”
“Yeah. I know, right?” Trixie drove into the Get-n-Go lot and pulled up into a parking space. “Just wait until people run with that idea. Everyone already thinks you and I have some sort of 'friends with benefits' arrangement going on. They might start speculating about some truly hinky things if they try to add the Chief to the mix.”
“I hope you told Trent to go to Hell,” Dan said, visibly shuddering in disgust with the other implications of her comments.
“Actually, I told him he was gonna need to come up with something that was at least remotely believable if he wanted to trash the department. He slunk away after that.”
Dan gave a soft grunt as a response.
“What?”
He unlocked his door and pushed it open. “You know what, Chief? I think you're going to kick butt in your new position.”
She regarded him uncertainly. “Why do you say that?”
“Because you didn't let Trent ruffle your feathers, and you've been calm and in charge all day. The girl with the bucket would've lost her temper half a dozen or more times today. The officer with a gun, on the other hand, has been in complete control.”
“Let's see how the next few days go before you come to any final opinions on my suitability as chief,” Trixie cautioned dryly.
They found Captain Grieg standing next to one of the Harrisonville trucks, speaking with an older man who was busy packing up equipment. Grieg introduced him, adding that the Harrisonville firefighter had been a friend of his for years.
Julius Cramer stared at Trixie for a moment before cutting his eyes back to Grieg. “Are you having me on? This little bitty girl is your new police chief?”
Trixie drew in a short breath, regretting the action immediately as the smoke made her throat burn. She forced a smile to her face as she fought off a choking cough. “It's nice to meet you, too,” she said pointedly. “Thanks for the help tonight.”
Cramer had the grace to look abashed. “You're welcome. And... uh... please excuse that first asshat remark. It's been a long day.”
“You have no idea,” she told him with feeling. “It looks like things are under control here?”
“We should have the fire completely out soon,” Grieg assured her. “I'll be leaving a few men to watch it for the next several hours, to make sure nothing sparks and keep any firebugs and curiosity seekers away.”
“Do you want me to send any officers as back-up? I imagine as soon as word gets out, all the people who used these storage units will be turning up, hoping to salvage something.”
“You're going to want someone out here soon for sure, to start investigating,” he said seriously. “We set aside the gas cans and a book of matches one of the men found.”
“I'll make a call, then. And I'll be in contact with you sometime tomorrow to get your full report. For now, though, we're leaving you to it.”
“Chief?” the captain said quietly as Trixie turned to leave.
“Yes?” She stopped and looked back at him over her shoulder.
“I know you probably feel you have a lot to prove, but just don't kill yourself trying.”
Trixie could see he was sincere in his advice. She flashed a quick half-smile in his direction. “I would definitely prefer not to have my career end that way, personally.”
“Well... you have a lot more friends in this town than you might think, so... don't be afraid to ask for help if you ever need it.”
She wasn't entirely sure what Grieg meant by that, nor why he felt the need to say it, but Trixie still thanked him for his words before she and Dan finally said good night to the gathered firefighters and crossed back over to the empty Get-n-Go lot. Back in the Jeep, Trixie took a moment to rest her forehead against her arms, crossed over on the steering wheel, and simply breathe in and out several times.
“You gonna make it, Chief?” Dan asked. “I can drive if you want.”
“I think the day is finally catching up with me,” she replied tiredly. “But it's all right. I can still drive. And you don't have to call me 'Chief,' you know.” She sat up and turned the key in the ignition, then cranked the AC up a notch.
“Yeah, I do. I've got to get used to it. You're the boss now. Probably it wouldn't look so great if I slipped up and called you 'Freckles' at work or even worse, in front of a suspect.”
“I'm only the boss for now,” she reminded him yet again. “Call the station and ask Lizzy to put out an open call for someone to volunteer to babysit the firefighters for the rest of the night. I'll authorize the overtime. And then tell her to get a hold of Elijah and let him know I expect him out here in the morning to start investigating the cause of the fire. If he feels the need to send for the Poughkeepsie arson investigator, I'll authorize that, too. Oh, and see if she can get us Allison Beatty's home address.”
“You still want to do that tonight?”
“Last thing. Promise. After that, you're free to go home, and I don't expect to see you at the station tomorrow until after noon at the earliest.”
Dan phoned the night dispatcher as they sat in the parking lot. Trixie saw no reason to start driving, without knowing which direction she would need to take. She waited quietly while Dan talked with Lizzy.
“Well, according to Liz, Allison Beatty's in the system,” he told her after ending the call. “There was a call-out to her trailer a few years ago for domestic disturbance. She lives in an RV park by the Expressway cut-off.”
“That's only a few miles south of here, down Route 198. I never took a domestic disturbance call for it, but I did go out there a few times with Bear when we busted that crystal meth lab.”
“I remember.” Dan pulled the seat belt across his chest and strapped himself in. “That was right before the chief promoted me to sergeant and told me to keep a closer eye on you. He seemed to think you might get yourself blown up.”
Trixie scrubbed her hands over her face and sighed. “Now that sounds like the Chief I love and remember. The man with next to no confidence in my abilities. I'm totally not understanding how he went from that to telling the town council I should replace him.”
“Maybe because deep down he always knew you're the best of us, even if he couldn't ever bring himself to admit it?” Dan suggested. “Apparently you're the only one he trusts to figure out this mess with the Cold Lake murders.”
“You, too,” she pointed out.
“Only as your back-up. You're Sherlock. I'm Watson.”
“And now it is definitely time to go. I think the smoke inhalation is getting to your brain.”
“No, Freckles. Really. How many times do I have to say it? He wouldn't have put you in charge if he thought for a moment that you couldn't do what he's asking of you.”
Trixie blew out a breath in a soft snort. “Dear Diary, today I fell down the rabbit hole....” She shook her head and put the Jeep in reverse. “Hopefully Allison will be making more sense than you are right now.”
