It felt like betrayal, informing on Crawford to the police, to Neal especially. But he had to be found, stopped, before— She didn’t allow herself to think beyond that, to conjecture what might happen to him, or what he might do to Otterman. She vacillated between being furious at Crawford and fearing for his life. He would despise her for calling the dogs on him, but she’d rather have him alive and hating her forever than dead.
The two detectives were watching her as though expecting her to produce something more substantive. “Why aren’t you out looking for him?” Frustrated by their inactivity, she left her chair, a hint for them to get going. “He’s driving my car. Even if you don’t know the tag number he swapped for mine, you know the make and model.”
“I’ve put out an APB,” Neal said. “But we wouldn’t be in this situation if you’d told us last night that Crawford was here.”
“You didn’t ask me if he was here. I answered all of your questions truthfully.”
“That’s whitewashing, judge. Truth withheld is a lie. You deliberately misguided us.”
“Because you wanted to detain him when you should have been following other leads, such as the nightclub video on Crawford’s phone. He left it for you, practically a signpost pointing to Chuck Otterman for the murder of that policeman.”
“We’re trying to follow up on that video by tracking down a guy named Del Ray Smith.”
Smitty, Crawford had called him, but she didn’t let on that she knew that.
Neal yielded the floor to Nugent, who looked eager to be helpful. “He’s the owner of the club where Connor and Otterman met. I went to the place last night and was told by an employee that Smith had left around ten o’clock. Nobody knew where he was going, but he didn’t come back before closing. We’ve been trying to track him down.”
“Without success,” Neal said.
“Did you try the club this morning?” she asked.
“Locked up tight. He’s not at his apartment. Car’s gone, too. We’ve had a deputy watching the place.”
Smitty must have left Tickled Pink shortly after she and Crawford had. But rather than dwell on him, she wanted to pound home the importance of Otterman. “Why would Pat Connor have been meeting with Chuck Otterman?”
“Mr. Otterman explained that.”
Disbelieving her ears, Holly gaped at Neal. “You’ve talked to him?”
“Before dawn this morning. He had checked in with his foreman, who told him I’d been trying to reach him. He called me.”
“He’s still conveniently out of town?”
“Fishing somewhere in Louisiana. He couldn’t be more specific. Friends drove him. He said he didn’t know exactly where he was.”
“He didn’t know?” she exclaimed. “A man with his managerial personality didn’t know where he was? You actually believe that, Sergeant Lester?”
Stung by her incredulous tone, he took a defensive stance. “He owned up to the meeting with Connor even before I asked him about it. He said they met at Connor’s request. Otterman thought it might have something to do with the courthouse shooting. But he said that when they met, Connor was incoherent. Paranoid and anxious.”
Thoughtfully, he added, “Everybody with a badge is taking Connor’s murder—his execution—hard. First Chet. Days later Pat Connor. Even if the evidence bears out that he was the courthouse shooter, it’s like there’s a contaminant seeping through the whole law enforcement family.”
“Crawford isn’t the contaminant,” she said.
Neal slid his gaze toward the hallway that led to the bedroom, but before he could speak aloud what his arch expression implied, her cell phone rang. She snatched it up. “Hello?”
“Judge Spencer? Harry Longbow.”
She could have melted with relief. She mouthed his name to Lester and Nugent. “Have you heard from Crawford?”
“Not since last night. That’s why I’m calling you. I thought maybe you two… He’s not with you?”
Spirits sinking again, she explained the situation.
Having been brought up to speed, Harry gave a long sigh. “Lester and Nugent are on it?”
“They’re still here with me, but they’ve put out an APB.”
“And Crawford left your place at dawn?”
“Soon after.”
“Hell bent on chasing down Otterman.”
“Yes,” she said with desperation. “He was dead set on going alone. I’m afraid for him.”
“He can take care of himself. But I’d feel a lot better if he had more reliable backup. You say Lester has already put out an APB for Otterman?”
“For Crawford.”
“Crawford?” He muttered something she couldn’t decipher, but his tone was disdainful. “It’s Otterman he should be after.”
“I agree completely. But Sergeant Lester spoke to Otterman this morning, and he had an explanation for that meeting at the nightclub.” She related it, but the veteran Texas Ranger was no more persuaded of Otterman’s innocence than she had been.
Harry said, “Smooth talker, but I ain’t buying it. We don’t have proof yet, but bits and pieces are starting to add up.”
“To what?”
“Halcon. Crawford needs to know, like now. I’ve been calling this new number he gave me, but he’s not picking up.”
She sat on the edge of the chair she had recently vacated and rubbed her forehead. “Why wouldn’t he answer?”
“Could be any number of reasons.”