In a second interview, however, done years later when Sheriff King briefly pursued the case, Joe’s brother admitted he’d only seen Joe return to work before driving over to Marion to give someone an estimate.
Since Marion was a twenty-minute drive, Peter would’ve been gone close to an hour, especially if the estimate was at all complicated. During that hour, Joe was supposed to be stacking a cord of wood in Patty Chicawa’s backyard, but she worked at the bank until five and couldn’t say if he’d been there the whole time or not.
Even more compelling was that Patty’s house was less than five minutes away from where Alana and Tug had been living.
Could Joe have been angry about what had happened over lunch? Could he have feared that Alana might get him into trouble with his wife and maybe the authorities? He could’ve shown up, hoping to convince himself he’d done the right thing in giving her the tape, and considering the emotions of the moment, maybe they’d fought and he’d lost his temper…?.
A plausible scenario, but it was difficult to say whether or not Joe was capable of murder. Claire assumed anyone could be, given the right incentive. Still, he was a hard man to read. Was he as honorable as Tug believed? Or had he been having an affair with Alana and, in an attempt to salvage their relationship, gone over to convince her that he hadn’t acted inappropriately with her daughter?
Whatever the answers to the questions raised by Peter’s revelation, it bothered Claire that his story had changed. According to the notes she’d read, it had bothered David, too. He’d thought Peter knew more than he was saying.
But Peter could’ve done what so many other family members do in similar situations. Maybe he’d panicked and, fearing his brother would become a suspect, provided an alibi. After several years had passed, and the threat didn’t seem so real, he might have relaxed enough to reveal the truth.
An hour wasn’t very long in which to kill someone and dispose of a body, but Joe had privacy. That meant it didn’t need to happen all at once. His wife’s mother had been ill for years. She spent a lot of time in Idaho, helping take care of her, and had been gone that entire week, along with the kids. Joe could’ve killed Alana and put her in her own suitcase to transport her to his home. That suitcase could’ve been in his garage the whole time the sheriff and his deputies were searching for her. It wasn’t as if they had probable cause to go into his house.
Or maybe everyone else was right. Maybe Alana had simply had it with Pineview and run away.
Cursing, Claire shoved the files to one side of her kitchen table and got up to stretch her legs. She’d been sitting for four hours, poring through every page in an attempt to puzzle out the mystery. But there wasn’t enough information to solve it.
She needed to get out, do something different, give herself a break.
She immediately recalled Isaac’s dinner invitation. Once she’d read through the case files and learned all they had to tell her, she’d been surreptitiously watching the clock as she went over them again. She’d even looked up his number, thinking she might call to see if he was still expecting her. But she didn’t call and she didn’t plan to go. Last night had left her wary of even his ability to bring her physical fulfillment. Another night with him wouldn’t make her life better. He’d withhold something and she’d feel even worse. Why give him that power?
Because it was an escape and, after a whole day in the house, she needed that. She couldn’t turn to her sister. She hadn’t seen Leanne since that earlier visit. Leanne was probably in a huff about what Claire had implied by asking why she’d been out of school the day their mother went missing. Either that or she didn’t want to talk about it, since she’d denied a fact Claire could prove. Considering what Tug had told her, Claire didn’t want to talk about it, either.
Anxious and unsettled, she stood at the window, brooding as she stared across the courtyard. Was Leanne staying in drinking again? She told herself she should go over and check. Maybe bringing up the past had pushed Leanne into another depression. Claire didn’t want that, but neither did she want to let her sister punish her for asking the wrong question. Leanne could be so dark.
But Claire had her own issues. And because of those issues, she had to leave the house, or she’d weaken and head over to Isaac’s cabin. He’d never offered to make her dinner before. She was curious as to how that would play out, but not curious enough to let it override her better judgment. Regardless of how the night started, by morning she’d crave more of Isaac Morgan than she could get, emotionally if not physically. That was the story of their whole relationship.
To protect against that, she called Deputy Clegg—Rusty—and asked if he’d like to go out tonight.
He was so eager, he told her he’d be right over and showed up at her house while she was still scrambling to get ready. It wasn’t easy to find a top that covered Isaac’s hickey. She finally settled on a sleeveless turtleneck sweater that was part of an ensemble she normally wore in winter.
They had dinner at Seritella’s, an Italian restaurant, where she picked at a salad while he put down most of a large pizza. From there, they went dancing at the Kicking Horse Saloon. She thought the crowd and the music might keep her from dwelling on Isaac or the disconcerting details she’d discovered in her mother’s case files. But nothing really helped—the time dragged on and on. It didn’t take her long to figure out that she was even less interested in Rusty than she’d thought when she’d turned down all his previous invitations.
At eleven o’clock he suggested going to her place to watch a movie. She’d just told him it was too late for that when Joe Kenyon showed up.
Claire had always been a little afraid of Joe. After what she’d read in the case files, she was even more so. If he’d killed her mother, and then David for resuming the investigation, he could come after her someday. He was so…laconic. So hard to know.
But considering the lurid details her stepfather had shared, she’d realized he was either far more evil than she’d ever dreamed—or downright saintly.
As soon as Rusty went to get another beer, she slid onto the empty stool next to Joe’s. “Hey.”
He nearly fell off his chair when he turned to see who’d addressed him. The last time she’d confronted him was during Sheriff Meade’s investigation. When he wouldn’t come to the door, she’d lost her temper and stood on his front stoop, yelling that he was a cold-blooded killer. It wasn’t her finest moment, and she could see how that might make him reluctant to talk to her.