Lionel Devoe arrived at the sheriff’s office within minutes of Hastey’s phone call. Of course, he didn’t have far to travel. He stalked into the conference room looking and sounding upset. He became more upset when Hastey wasn’t in the room.
“He’s being booked, Lionel,” Jenny said. “And he’s going to spend the night in jail and be arraigned in the morning. You can post bail then and take him home.”
“I’m going to call Dale,” Lionel said, referring to the county prosecutor, “and let him know what this is really about.”
“If I were you, I’d start calling around for a good lawyer,” Jenny countered. “I’ve already spoken to Dale. He intends to bring felony charges against Hastey as a repeat offender, and he’s not going to be offering him any type of prevention program without a suspension of his driver’s license and jail time.”
Hastey looked like he could spit nails. “What exactly are you doing, Sheriff?”
“My job, Lionel. You want to get angry at someone, get angry at your brother. Then get him some help before he kills himself or someone else.”
“Don’t preach to me, and don’t tell me your deputies just happened to stumble upon Hastey, today of all days, with her in town.” Lionel jabbed a finger in Tracy’s direction. “That’s just too Goddamn convenient. You had him watched, and you pulled him over so she could talk to him about Kimi Kanasket.”
“Whose side are you on, Lionel?” Jenny said, looking and sounding completely innocent. “I know he’s your brother, but he was clearly intoxicated, and he needs help.”
“My concern is you facilitating a witch hunt based on some unsupported allegations from forty years ago and dragging my brother into it. This is supposed to be a celebratory weekend. This is supposed to be a celebration of a past achievement and a dedication to the future.”
“Just like forty years ago,” Tracy said.
“What?” Hastey said.
“Forty years ago nobody wanted a dead Indian girl to spoil their championship weekend. So Kimi Kanasket got tossed in the river and forgotten.”
Lionel Devoe raised a finger and stepped closer. “Let me tell you something, Detective—”
“No,” Tracy said raising her own finger. “Let me tell you something. Forty years ago those four boys conspired to keep hidden what they did to Kimi Kanasket, and I don’t believe they acted alone. That windshield and front fender didn’t get fixed on their own. Would you happen to know anything about that?”
Lionel shook his head, scoffing.
“You were running your father’s business at that time. You know anything about two cash receipts for bodywork and replacement of a windshield?”
Lionel smiled, but it looked pained. “You’re fishing, Detective. Problem is you’ve got a line in the water, but you got no bait on your hook.” He straightened. “You think you can prove anything, then do it. Otherwise, leave my brother and me out of this witch hunt of yours.”
“Oh, I’ll prove it. You can count on that. I learned from fishing with my dad that you don’t always need bait to catch fish. I’ve caught them with a fly, a lure, a net, and a spear. I’ve even caught them with my bare hands.”
“Well then, good luck with that.” Lionel started for the door.
“And when you call Eric Reynolds to report in, let him know I’m coming to talk to him next,” Tracy said. Her comment caused Lionel to stop. He looked back with a searing gaze, but when he opened his mouth he apparently couldn’t articulate what he wanted to say.
Jenny filled the pause. “I’d suggest you get your brother a lawyer before tomorrow, Lionel.”
CHAPTER 26
Tracy passed on her run the next morning, telling herself she wanted to give her body a day to recover. In truth, she didn’t feel like running. She sensed she was reaching a dead end, and that frustrated her. Lionel was right. Her bravado and accusations wouldn’t get her very far, not without more. Her best bet remained Archibald Coe, but she had to find a way to somehow get him to open up.
Her decision not to run became easier when she looked out the window. A light snow had fallen during the night, leaving a sparkling silver-and-white landscape. It was beautiful, but like a high mountain lake in winter is beautiful—unspoiled and pure, but also teeth-chatteringly, spine-numbingly cold. Mike Melton further dampened her mood when he called to tell her about the photograph of the tire on Eric Reynolds’s Bronco.
“The lab worked overtime,” he said. “I’m sorry. I know I’m starting to sound like a broken record, but there’s just not enough to be definitive. The photo didn’t cover enough of the tire for me to state with certainty it’s the same make and model as the tread captured in the photos taken in the field. It looks similar, Tracy. It could be the same tire, but there were other models by other manufacturers made back then that are too similar to rule out.”
Tracy’s breath fogged the kitchen windowpane. “So you can’t say it’s that tire, only that it could be that tire.”
“I can say the impressions in the ground captured in the photographs are similar to the impressions I would expect that tire would make. But no, I can’t say it was that tire. I’m sorry. I know that isn’t the answer you wanted.”
And that was a problem.
Tracy thanked Melton. His answer wasn’t totally unexpected, and it was certainly better than him telling her the tires were definitely not the ones that had made the impressions. But similar would not get her where she needed to go. She suspected Kelly Rosa would offer the same conclusion—the pattern of bruising on Kimi Kanasket’s back and shoulder was of the type she would expect to be left by that make of tire, but she couldn’t definitely say the bruising was made by that tire.
Tracy left the window and sat at the table to reassess what she knew and where that put the investigation. Certainly there was plenty of circumstantial evidence pointing to Kimi Kanasket having been chased and run down by a truck with all-terrain tires. Eric Reynolds drove a vehicle with that kind of tire, but so did Tommy Moore and élan Kanasket, and Hastey and Lionel Devoe had access to company vehicles that could have had similar tires, not to mention the many other trucks and SUVs in the county. The same was true of the shoe impressions. Except for the hunting boots, they were made by brands of shoes popular among young men at that time.