Northwest: Deep Freeze Part 8

"Always. Just ask Jerri."

His secretary had followed Rinda into the office, and it was evident from the glare she sent Rinda that Jerri was furious. "I tried to stop her," she explained, with a but-what-can-you-do frown pursing her lips.

Carter waved Jerri off. "It's all right. You know she's an old friend."

"Just don't put the emphasis on 'old,'" Rinda suggested. She seemed completely oblivious to the fact that Jerri was nearly spitting nails.

"Never." For the first time that day, Carter felt one side of his mouth lift into a smile. He'd known Rinda Allen since they were kids, lost touch with her when she got married and moved to California, reconnected when she'd returned to Falls Crossing, newly divorced, a kid in tow. There had never been any romantic connection between them, but a lifetime ago Rinda Allen had been Carolyn's best friend. She'd been the one who had set up the blind date where both Carolyn and Shane, both reluctantly, had met. And that counted. For that, and countless other favors over the years, Rinda Dalinsky could bend a few rules here and there.

"You're the one who suggested we stick to protocol," Jerri reminded him huffily. She had a temper that she was always trying to contain but she was hardworking and honest.

"That I did, and you, accordingly, did your duty."

"Her barging in here is not protocol."

"I know. But it's okay. Thanks." He winked at Jerri and noticed her cheeks begin to redden. "Would you mind shutting the door?"

"Not at all." Direct orders she understood.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Rinda groaned and rolled her huge eyes. "You're insufferable, Carter."

"So they claim."

"But she's a drill sergeant." Rinda flopped into a side chair and studied the single bloom on the Christmas cactus that rested on the corner of his desk, the only plant he hadn't killed. Yet. "Things a little tense around here lately?"

"I suppose."

"Have an ID on that woman up at Catwalk Point?"

"You came here to try and pry information out of me? What happened, did you give up the theater for the newspaper?"

"No-it's just on everyone's mind, I guess."

"Are you worried?"

"Are you?"

"Trying to keep things in perspective," he said, not ready to admit to anyone, not even Rinda, that the Jane Doe case bothered him on a lot of levels. There was something about it that gnawed at him. Yeah, he was worried. Big-time. "Look, I guess I'm here because we're friends."

"What's on your mind?" he asked, as the old heater kicked into overdrive and the sound of air being pushed through old ducts muted the hum of computers and ring of phones outside his office.

"Some things are missing from the theater," Rinda announced.

"What kind of things?"

"Props. Costumes. Fake jewelry. Nothing all that valuable."

"You're sure they're not misplaced?"

She shot him a look that reminded him she wasn't an idiot. "At first, I didn't know. But the last thing bothered me. It's a black dress that Jenna Hughes donated. It's probably only worth a couple of hundred dollars, except that it was a costume she'd worn in one of her movies. That ups the street value."

"You're here because a dress is missing?" he asked, unable to hide his surprise. "Really?"

Rinda s.h.i.+fted in her chair and avoided his gaze, instead staring through one of the windows in his office. Ice glazed the panes, blurring the lines of the buildings across the street.

"Or is there something else?" he prodded. He hoped to h.e.l.l she wasn't going to try to get him to do something about the d.a.m.ned citation.

"Okay...yeah," she admitted, finally looking directly at him again. "I don't know who else to tell, Shane. When I figured out what's been happening, it kinda freaked me out."

"And what is that?"

"That everything missing once belonged to Jenna Hughes, and not just that, but the items"-she opened her purse and pulled out a sheet of computer paper-"were from her movies. Two bracelets, a ring, a scarf, a pair of sungla.s.ses, three pairs of shoes, all from different films. Now a black dress is missing. The one she wore in Resurrection." She handed the typed list to Carter. "I guess I should have been more on top of it, but I thought we'd misplaced some of the items, and I didn't really think that everything that was missing had been used in Jenna's movies. Today, after Jenna and I couldn't find the dress, I typed up the list. That's when it really hit home."

He studied the piece of paper. "You've looked everywhere for these things?"

"Of course!"

"And asked the staff and actors?"

"I spent all morning calling everyone who has access."

"You mean, all this stuff is locked up?"

"Locked in the theater. I don't have locks on the closets and wardrobes and cubbies."

"Maybe you should." He glanced down at the typed sheet.

"You're patronizing me."

"No, I'm not," he lied. "I just don't know what I can do about it."

"You mean, you're too busy."

"Right. Have you talked to the city police?"

"Not yet. I figured they'd just laugh at me."

"And I wouldn't?"

"You might, but I wouldn't lose any sleep over it."

"I get it-this is a personal matter, not really a police matter."

"At least for now. I just thought I should talk to someone about it." She leaned forward in the chair. "Don't you think it's odd that everything that was taken came from Jenna Hughes?"

"Not really," Carter said. "She's the most famous person around these parts. It makes sense."

"In a sick sort of way."

"Right." He slid the list back to her and thought of the Jane Doe and the threat of the storm. There had been a break-in at the old logging camp in the forest just to the east. A hiker was missing in the foothills of Mount Hood, and a meth lab had been discovered at the south end of the county. Two drunks had plowed their SUV into the side of Grandy's store and were in the jail. A motorist had been robbed at a rest stop near Multnomah Falls. And a woman had been murdered. Carter's phone had been ringing all morning. "There's not much I can do, Rinda. We're swamped and it's only going to get worse with this weather. You might have better luck with the city guys."

"Never have so far. Keep that." She wouldn't pick up the paper lying between them. "It's a copy, and yes, I will go talk to Officer Twinkle, if that's what you want."

"It's Officer Winkle and with an att.i.tude like that, you won't get far."

"Yeah, Rip Van. The guy's been asleep at the switch for years."

"You're talking about Falls Crossing's finest and another cop. We all watch out for each other."

"Then you're in trouble if Wade Winkle's got your back," she said, with more than a little acrimony as she climbed to her feet. "He's too busy ha.s.sling teenagers to do any real cop work."

Carter knew where this was coming from. A few years back, Rinda's son, Scott, had experienced a couple of runins with the local police. Rinda, who was a mother bear when it came to her only son, had asked Carter to intervene with Officer Winkle.

"Okay, so I'll keep the list, but I won't have any men to put on it, you know that," he said and scooted back his chair. "Talk to Wade, file a theft report, and lock things up, okay? You could even get a guard dog to patrol the theater."

"So this isn't a big enough crime for you."

"It might not even be a crime."

"I'm telling you-"

"It's a matter of priorities, Rinda. You know that." He walked to the door and yanked it open, signifying that their time was over.

Standing, Rinda hiked the strap of her purse over her shoulder. "Okay, okay, I get it. I know you're busy. But this is really worrying me...it's just kind of creepy."

He didn't respond as she made her way to the door and the sounds of the office-computers humming, phones ringing, conversation buzzing-drifted inside. "But you know, Shane, you really should give Jenna a chance, rather than a ticket." She paused at the threshold, earning a dark look from Jerri.

"I figured that was coming," he said, bracing himself. "What'd she do, ask you to try and get me to void the citation?"

"Of course not. Look, forget the ticket. Who cares about it?"

"Jesus, Rinda, you never give up, do you?"

"You wouldn't love me if I did."

Again a look from Jerri. Jesus, they didn't need to be discussing his love life here!

"You should meet her," Rinda insisted as she paused in the doorway. "And not as the big, bad cop. I'm talking socially."

"I don't need to meet anyone. Got it?" But in his mind's eye, he conjured up a vision of Jenna Hughes-not the small woman huddled behind the wheel of her beat-up Ford, but the Hollywood star. Every man's fantasy. s.h.i.+ny black hair, large greenish eyes, big b.r.e.a.s.t.s, small waist, and a tight a.s.s that she'd flaunted in all her movies. They were her trademarks. She had a heart-shaped face that could appear innocent one second and slyly s.e.xual the next. The kind of face that made a man want to protect her, all the while hoping to get her into bed. And she had all that fame chasing her around. A celebrity from Tinseltown. Not his type. Not his type at all.

"I think you'd like her."

"You're always thinking I'll like someone."

"I was right about Carolyn."

"At first."

She pulled a face. "I don't think we should go there."

"Probably not."

"You could have made it work if you'd had enough time. I knew she was the right one for you."

He caught her gaze, decided she was right-no reason to rake up the muck. "Okay, so you're batting a thousand, so there's no need to spoil your record."

Little lines appeared across her forehead and she placed a hand over his sleeve. "You can't grieve forever."

"Is that what I'm doing?"

"I think so."

"Because I'm not in the dating scene?" he baited. "What about you?"

"We're not talking about me."

"Good. We're not talking about me, either."

"You'd like her, Shane," Rinda insisted as she finally made her way past Jerri's desk and through the rest of the department.

He didn't offer any protest as she left, but he knew she was wrong about his love life. Dead wrong. He suspected Rinda knew it, too. She just couldn't face the truth.

No more than he could.

CHAPTER 8.

"I hate it here," Ca.s.sie said, sitting cross-legged on her unmade bed while glowering at her mother through a curtain of thick hair. Her earphones were dangling from her neck and she could still hear the lyrics of her favorite song, but couldn't concentrate, not with Jenna standing in the doorway like some kind of medieval sentry. "I never wanted to move here and neither did Allie, so you can't blame me if things aren't as perfect as you thought they'd be."

"I didn't expect them to be 'perfect,' Ca.s.sie. Nothing ever is."

"L.A. was." Ca.s.sie was boiling inside. She saw her mother wince and knew she'd hit a raw nerve.

"It wasn't."

"Not for you, maybe, but you did exactly what you tell Allie and me not to do. You ran away. Because of Dad and because of Aunt Jill."

Jenna's face turned ashen for a second and Ca.s.sie felt like she'd gone too far, but then, her mother deserved it. "I brought you girls up here because I thought it would be best for all of us."

"Yeah, right," Ca.s.sie snarled, furious. "It didn't have anything to do with White Out?"