Whispering Rock
Page 37

Mike was quiet a long moment. Then he said, “I know. Let’s go over who was at those parties again, okay?”
“I can do that,” Tom said.
Twelve
Of all the people in Virgin River Mel could have imagined having a positive mammogram, Lilly Andersen, who had borne and nursed seven children, was the last. Lilly, who was so dear to Mel. But there it was—the radiologist called and said the X-ray was significant. Lilly should see a specialist immediately.
It didn’t sit well with Mel that in addition to this probable diagnosis, Lilly had lost a great deal of weight recently. She hoped and prayed the weight loss was from chasing one-year-old Chloe around.
Chloe. Only four people knew the truth—Mel, Doc, Lilly and Buck Andersen. Everyone thought Chloe had been an abandoned newborn whom Lilly had been fostering since Chloe was three weeks old. But Chloe was her flesh and blood. Lilly’s own child.
Now she had to tell this woman that she might have breast cancer.
“I’m sorry, Lilly. But at least we caught it, and if it’s not good news, you can concentrate on the treatment. I’ve got you set up in Eureka for tomorrow.”
“So soon?” she asked nervously.
“The sooner the better. Can Buck take you over there, or do you need me?”
Lilly, so typical, smiled that gentle, comforting smile of hers, touched Mel’s hand and said, “Don’t worry, Mel. I’ll make Buck take a day off.”
“Want me to talk to him? Because this is important.”
“No, I can handle Buck. But they won’t do anything like operate on me right away, will they?”
“No—but they’ll do a biopsy. They might try to aspirate a lump or do more X-rays and blood work. If surgery is in order, I think they’re going to get to it soon, however. The radiologist described the presence as significant. Have you felt a lump or lumps?”
“Not really—but I’m large and kind of lumpy anyway.”
“Lilly, you’re going to need help with Chloe. I really think you should tell your family the truth about Chloe. Your kids.”
“We’ll get by, Mel. I don’t want you to worry.”
“I’m not worried. Treatment now is good—the survival rate for breast cancer is great. But if you have to undergo treatment, you might not feel well. It seems like they deserve to know. And they’re all wonderful, to the last one. They won’t hold it against you.”
She laughed and said, “If you don’t hold it against me, I guess no one would!”
“You have to remember—if there’s a reaction, it’s only a reaction. And temporary, until the facts settle. Don’t be afraid of them, Lilly. They adore you.”
“I’m lucky that way,” she said.
But that was where Lilly’s luck ended. Her breast cancer was advanced, aggressive and had spread to the lymph system and lungs. After a bilateral radical mastectomy, performed within a week of her visit with the surgeon, her new oncologist put her on a very strong regimen of radiation and chemotherapy. Chloe was living with her oldest sister, Amy, because Lilly was weak and ill.
Sadly it was common in police work to realize immediately who the bad guys were, yet not have the kind of probable cause or evidence required for a search warrant or arrest. Mike had deluded himself that it would be simpler in a town so small, where everyone seemed to know everything that was going on. But he faced the same problems in Virgin River as he had encountered in L.A.
After talking to Tommy and to twenty other teenagers, he had lists of names spread across several parties that had taken place from last May to recent months. There might have been even more, but Mike didn’t know about them. Mike made one trip to Garberville to talk to nineteen-year-old Brendan Lancaster, who, along with Tommy’s ex-friend Jordan Whitley, were the only two boys at every party. The few other names that turned up more than twice were probably shills—boys who were at the parties but didn’t have a clue as to what was going on. Mike could tell in the interview—the shills responded with confusion that seemed authentic, yet Whitley’s and Lancaster’s alleged confusion was obviously contrived. Very few girls’ names turned up more than once.
Where Mike got confused was the combination of drugs that caused people—girls, primarily—to pass out and possibly other drugs that hyped them up. It was a weird combination. Could there be roofies and either ecstasy or meth at the same party? Sounded like a smorgasbord—and a deadly one at that.
Mike was easily convinced that Tom Booth had no involvement with this group. He’d gone to one party at the rest stop out of curiosity, stayed less than an hour and had seen it wasn’t going anywhere good. He’d decided to get out of there before it went south in a hurry. He’d been to a friend’s house a couple of times before he met and started dating his girlfriend; beer was available but he’d never seen anyone passed out in any of those instances, probably because he’d never stayed long. He didn’t know many people, but he’d given the names of the ones he did know, and the names added up, once again, to Whitley and Lancaster.
“I’ll give you a clue,” Mel told Mike. “Your boy has chlamydia. If there’s more than one boy with chlamydia, they’re passing it around.”
“But I can’t get to it,” he told her.
“Then maybe you’ll have to catch him.”
“Maybe,” Mike said, and a picture of him staking out a teen party waiting for these boys to drug and rape an unsuspecting young girl was enough to make him want to throw up. He thought he was probably going to have to get some help, which would mean going to the sheriff again, yet all he had was a list of names of teenagers who’d been drinking, maybe smoking a little pot, and had nothing else to say. Until he came across something more significant, he had nothing to report to anyone. He’d just have to keep talking to these kids, get Zach Hadley to sharpen his ears at the high school, maybe catch a break.
It was nearing Thanksgiving and Mike was caught up in this caper when Paul issued an invitation to a dinner at the general’s house for Mike and Brie. It was Vanessa’s idea to welcome Brie to the community—a generous thought that was typical of her. While the general—who had command of his kitchen—and the women were occupied, Paul and Mike stood out at the corral with a couple of beers in the light dusting of a late-afternoon snow. They had just been talking about the fact that Tommy was working hard out at Jack’s homesite, really earning his money by keeping the site clean of construction trash, when he came riding up from one of the back trails with a girl on another horse.
“There’s Romeo now,” Paul said.
“New girlfriend?” Mike asked, squinting into the distance.
“The wonderful Brenda. He’s been after her forever. I think the horses finally cinched it for him.”
Oh, Jesus, Mike thought. This is going to freak her out. “Ah… Listen, there’s a situation. I’ll try to explain later, but do me a favor, okay? When they get up here, drag Tommy out of here. Tell him you need his help—firewood or something. I’ll take care of his horse. I need a minute with the girl.”
“Everything okay? Because she’s a nice girl….”
“Yeah, she’s a real nice girl. But I’ve had a little business with her—she’s not in any kind of trouble, I promise. If I don’t find a way to convince her I’d never talk to anyone about her, Tommy might lose his main squeeze over something as dumb as nerves. Cop nerves.”
“You been flashing that badge around, partner?”
“At the high school, yeah.”
“Oh, crap,” Paul said. “You better make this right because Tommy’s got his head screwed on straight after a little trouble with his dad, and it just might be due to the girl.”
“Yeah,” Mike said. “I can do this. Don’t worry.”
Sure enough, just as Mike expected, Brenda looked stricken when she spied Mike at the corral. She actually pulled back on the reins and slowed her mount. Mike tried sending her a signal, a narrowing of eyes and very slight shaking of his head, but she was a little lost. Scared. No way she wanted this new boyfriend to know what she’d gone through. No way she wanted to sit and tremble nervously through dinner with the cop.
“Tommy, buddy, help me out a sec, huh?” Paul said. “I need a hand getting in a load of wood. Mike will take care of your horse.”
“You sure?” he asked, dismounting. “Maybe Mike should do wood while I help Brenda with the horses.”
“Aw, his arm, you know—still iffy. Come on.”
“You okay with the horse, Mike?”
“You bet,” Mike said. “Your girl here can show me what to do.”
“Ah, Mike—this is Brenda. Brenda, Mike Valenzuela, friend of the family.”
“Nice to meet you,” Mike said, extending his hand to the young girl. She accepted it limply, silently, surprise and worry still etched on her face.
Mike watched over his shoulder as Paul led Tommy away, an arm around him as they walked up the hill toward the house. Brenda dismounted and led the horse toward the stable.
“Brenda, don’t panic. No one knows I’ve talked to you about anything. All right?”
“Sure,” she said nervously.
“Easy does it,” he said. “Tommy’s a good catch. Don’t cut and run because of me. I’m not saying anything to anyone. I’ve seen your folks at the bar ten times since we talked and haven’t breathed a word. I told you, our conversation was in confidence.”
“Yeah, but you’ve been all over that school. People are talking.”
“Yup,” he said. “And they’re talking to me, too. Listen, there’s something you ought to know about your boyfriend here—I’ve been getting to know him and I think he’s solid. If there’s stuff you’re worried about him finding out, it might be better coming from you—but that’s just my opinion. I think he’s a tough, fair kid. He’s not going to get anything from me.”
As she was leading her mount into the stable, she stopped. “You know more than you’re saying. Don’t you?”
“Yup,” he said.
“You know who it was?” she asked without giving him any specifics. But he already knew the specifics. He could continue to play dumb with her or he could go out on a limb and hope it paid off.
“Yup.”
“Will you tell me?”
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t have a victim. Can’t make an arrest or prosecute a crime without a victim. And just like I’m not telling anyone what you said—”
“Is there more than one person who could be that victim?” she asked.
He looked into her eyes steadily. “What do you think?”
“Oh, no.” Tears gathered in her eyes—probably as the possibility of more girls going through what she’d been through flashed through her mind. “Oh, my God.”
“Yeah, this isn’t pretty, is it? Anytime you want to talk about this, work through it, you know how to reach me. I’m not asking you to do anything, but I want you to try to trust me a little. I’m going to give you some space, and I’m never saying anything about your personal life, or my relationship with you unless you give me the okay. Get that? Let’s take care of the horses. And act like we just hit it off. Huh? Instant friends…”
“I don’t know how to do that,” she said, emotional.
“Sure you do. We’re going to have a nice dinner, a visit with the Booth family. I’ll introduce you to Brie—you’re going to love her,” he said with a smile. “I bet she was a lot like you when she was sixteen. Good grades, nice boyfriends, great family.” His smile deepened. “You’ll be fine. You gotta trust me a little, Brenda. I never sold anyone out.”