Even before she spoke, he knew Vicky was on the other end. The months collapsed into the moment. It was as if she had never left. He waited. The sounds of “O! mio babbino caro” drifted around him. Beyond the study, the residence was encased in quiet. Light from the lamps on Circle Drive glowed in the window and mingled with the circle of light over his desk.
Finally the words burst through the line in a sob. “I have to talk to you, John.”
“What’s happened? Are you okay?” He reached around and turned down the volume on the tape player. Then he pressed the receiver against his ear, listening for the sounds of her breath. “Vicky, are you okay?” he asked again.
“A woman I met today was just murdered.” She blurted out the words.
“Tell me about it.”
He heard her take in a long breath. Then the shuddering explanation. First, a man by the name of Vince Lewis, on the way to meet her, run down by a car. And this evening, his wife, Jana, beaten to death near the railroad tracks. She’d gone to see the woman earlier, mentioned that her husband had been murdered. The woman was drunk, shocked at the idea of murder.
“My God, John. What if she confronted the killer about her husband’s murder? I could be responsible for her death.”
“Listen to me, Vicky,” he said, switching to his counseling voice, firm and steady. “The woman was drunk. She could have gone to a bar and picked up somebody. There’s no telling what a drunk might do. Drunks aren’t rational.” That was true. He had been at his irrational best when he was drunk.
She’d drawn in a ragged breath and told him that Vince Lewis had worked for a diamond mining company, Baider Industries. “I think he might have found a diamond deposit on the reservation. The company is hiding it.”
It surprised him. He’d never heard of diamond mines here.
“A crew could be working in a remote area.” Her voice gained urgency. “They could be removing gems right under the noses of the tribes and not paying royalties. And they may never have to pay royalties if the appeals court doesn’t reverse—” She paused. “In any case, Jana Lewis denied knowing anything, but I think she was covering for the company’s founder, Nathan Baider. I think they were having an affair. He might have killed her.”
“You don’t know that, Vicky.”
The sobbing started again, a muffled sound, as if she’d placed a palm over the mouthpiece. “So many people dead because of me,” she managed.
He didn’t say anything for a moment. She’d shot a man last year to save his life. It was a heavy burden, and he wished he could take it from her, that she didn’t have to carry it alone.
“Is Lucas there?” he said finally.
The line was silent for a couple seconds. Then she told him that Lucas had started a new job, that he’d probably move into an apartment soon. “He doesn’t need my problems,” she said.
“He’s your son, Vicky. He loves you.”
“I have to be strong for the kids, John. They have to see me strong.”
“You don’t have to be strong for everybody.” He knew that she believed otherwise. Everybody saw her strength. Only a few saw her vulnerability. Ben Holden, he knew. And himself. This new thought made him feel absurdly close to her.
“I can’t let them get away with it,” she said.
He understood who she was talking about. “Baider Industries is a company, Vicky. They’re bound to have a lot of power. Let the police handle this. It’s not your responsibility.”
“Vince Lewis was on his way to see me. His wife may have died because of me. Don’t tell me I have no responsibility.”
“Then forgive yourself,” he said. “You didn’t intend any harm. You had nothing to do with their deaths.”
“You know, John O’Malley, sometimes you can be too damn logical.” He could picture the red flush that came into her cheeks when she was angry. “All your beautiful logic can get in the way of the truth.”
Perhaps, he thought.
“I guess I needed the logic anyway,” she said, her voice calmer now. The line went quiet for a couple seconds. “I got your message,” she said finally. Then she told him what she’d learned about Eddie: he wasn’t a regular at the Indian Center, but he’d been there about a month ago. He drove a brown pickup. Grover had beaten him up in the parking lot. “Maybe he followed Grover to the reservation and killed him,” she said.
He smiled. It wasn’t the first time they’d reached the same conclusion.
“How did you know about Eddie?” she asked.