“You’re certain?”
“Yes…”
“What’s going on?” Chrissie stormed into the bedroom, coming to an abrupt halt when she saw the two officers.
“We had an intruder,” Susannah said. Feeling shaky, she reached for her daughter and hugged her.
“Mom, Mom, are you all right?”
Susannah shook her head and burst into tears.
CHAPTER 30
Carolyn got to the house shortly after eleven on Tuesday morning for their meeting with the investigator. After the events of Monday night, Susannah felt jittery and paranoid, certain that every creak of the floorboard, the slightest sound, was the intruder returning. None of the other break-ins had affected her like this—maybe because whoever it was had actually been in the house when she came home. Chrissie had phoned Joe, and he was furious with Susannah all over again, as though she’d purposely attracted their thief. On closer inspection, she’d found several things missing. Random papers, a tiny clock, an old fountain pen and—bizarrely—the small journal with the entries her father had made regarding trips and money. The burglar had obviously scooped up whatever lay on the desk.
Joe had insisted on ordering a burglar alarm. Susannah had argued that she wouldn’t be there much longer. A week, ten days at the most. She was eager to get back to Seattle, to see Joe and talk to him face-to-face. The whole episode with Jake embarrassed her; the strength of her feelings about him now seemed like something from the distant past. She was sorry she’d pursued it at all. In fact, she regretted everything. At this point, all she wanted was to go home to her husband and family, to her safe and familiar life.
“You look dreadful,” Carolyn said, standing at the foot of the steps.
“Thank you very much.” But Susannah knew that wasn’t an exaggeration. She hadn’t slept all night. Dark circles shadowed her eyes. Whenever she’d managed to drift off, some noise would jerk her awake, and all morning she’d walked around in a sleep-deprived fog. Worries about Chrissie weighed on her mind, too. She hadn’t said anything to Joe yet, but their daughter had dropped a bombshell.
“I’ll get my purse.” Susannah returned to the house, double-checked every window and door, then met Carolyn at the curb where her friend had parked.
Carolyn offered to drive, and Susannah was thankful. Because she was exhausted and in no mood to talk, she closed her eyes, unable to stop thinking about Chrissie. As soon as Susannah had calmed down last night and the police had left, Chrissie had announced that she was dropping out of college and moving to Colville.
Susannah was aghast. Her first thought had been to send Chrissie back to Seattle. She’d immediately realized that wouldn’t work. Chrissie had managed to get to Colville on her own before, and she would again. She claimed she was moving here to be close to her grandmother, but Susannah figured that being close to Troy had more to do with it. The situation had to be handled delicately and she wasn’t sure she was the best one to deal with it, considering the arguments she’d already had with Chrissie about that jerk.
Susannah felt Carolyn’s gaze on her a few times, but neither spoke until they reached the outskirts of Spokane, when Carolyn needed directions to the detective’s address.
Parked outside Shirl Remington’s place, Susannah found that her palms were sweaty. She wasn’t sure what she’d learn or if this was information she really wanted to hear. Enough of her illusions had been destroyed.
The front door was unlocked. Susannah and Carolyn rang the bell once, then, opening the screen door, they stepped inside. Shirl Remington was walking toward them. This time she wore her hair in a high ponytail.
Susannah introduced Carolyn, and the investigator shook her hand.
“Come in, please.” She motioned toward the French doors that led to her office.
While Susannah and Carolyn settled in the two guest chairs, Shirl went to her desk. “Thank you for coming this afternoon,” she said as she pulled the top file from her tray.
Susannah slid closer to the edge of her chair. The oddest sensation came over her—guilt and anxiety, dread and fear all at once.
Shirl opened the file folder, then leaned forward, hands clasped on her desk. All her actions seemed to be in slow motion. “I’ve done an exhaustive search,” she said, meeting Susannah’s eyes. “As far as I can determine, there is no record of Jake Presley beyond his life in Colville. There’s no activity on his social security number. Nor has he filed income tax.”
Carolyn frowned at Susannah.
“There’s also no record of his ever having been incarcerated.”
“Could he have gone out of the country?”
“Possibly Canada. No passport has been issued to Jake Presley. I did learn that he’s got an outstanding drug trafficking charge against him. That’s the reason I searched for him in Canada. But if he did move up there, it wasn’t under the name Jake Presley.”
“Drug trafficking?” she whispered. So Sharon had told the truth about that. Then perhaps everything else she’d said was also true. It made Susannah heartsick.
“What about the statute of limitations?” Carolyn asked when Susannah remained silent. “That crime took place years ago.”
Shirl shook her head, the ponytail swinging as she did. “With federal crimes there is no statute of limitations.”