Sorrow Road (Bell Elkins #5) - Julia Keller Page 0,29

a struck match held between cupped hands.

“I’m so sorry about Darlene,” Bell said. “Never easy to get that kind of news.”

Her mind was working fast: Had she known Darlene was involved with a woman? Or with anyone, for that matter? No. She hadn’t. It did not matter, one way or another, but it reminded Bell all over again how little information she had ever really had about her former classmate. The alcoholism wasn’t the only surprise on this night of surprises.

And the surprises just kept on coming.

“The thing is, Mrs. Elkins,” Hendricks said, “Darlene was convinced that someone wanted to kill her. The same person who killed her father. This wasn’t an accident.” No emotion in her voice. Just a cold certainty.

Suspicion kicked in. How could Bell be sure this woman was who she said she was? Anyone might call her and claim a close association with Darlene Strayer. Until she had confirmation, she would only say what was already public record.

“Look,” Bell said. “The facts are pretty clear here. Darlene missed a turn on a snowy road and crashed into a tree.” She did not mention the blood alcohol level. She wouldn’t, unless Hendricks persisted. Hendricks surely knew about Darlene’s issues, and there was no point in piling on until she had the lab report in hand and could use it to swat away the protests and denials. “That’s all. And I’ve not had a chance yet to look into her concerns about her father’s passing. I will. But for now, all I can offer you are my condolences.”

“That’s not enough.”

“Well, it’ll have to be. I hope you’ll let me know when any services are planned. I’d like to attend. And if you want a copy of the accident report, you’re welcome to call my office at the Raythune County Courthouse and request one. My secretary’s name is Lee Ann Fri—”

“No.” It was a slap, not a word. “And frankly, I’m rather surprised at your attitude. Darlene always said you didn’t like her. I told her that probably wasn’t true. Now I believe it.”

Hendricks might have been a neurosurgeon, but she would’ve made a dandy psychiatrist, Bell would decide later, when she looked back upon this conversation—one that proved to be so crucial to all that came after.

Because nothing got to Bell Elkins faster than the galling accusation that she was letting her emotions cloud her professional judgment. Nothing riled her up quite so much. Or guaranteed that she would do everything she possibly could to prove it wasn’t so—to prove that she took each case as it came, and made her decisions about it based on rigor and cool rationality, on evidence and precedent, and not on the wildfire of her feelings.

Hendricks had sensed that. Or maybe Darlene had told her enough about Bell for her to figure it out. In any case, Ava Hendricks played her. It was for a good cause, as Bell would later acknowledge to herself—and to Hendricks, too—but she had played her, just the same. Hendricks knew exactly which buttons to push, and she pushed them at exactly the right moment.

“You don’t have any idea how I felt about Darlene,” Bell snapped. She couldn’t keep the fury out of her voice. “And it doesn’t matter, anyway. It doesn’t matter who is involved. If there’s even a hint of a crime—if there’s even a single unanswered question—we investigate.”

“Prove it.”

“I will.” And just like that, Bell realized, she had committed herself to taking a second look at the death of Darlene Strayer.

Chapter Five

Rhonda Lovejoy leaned over Bell’s desk from the opposite side and deftly executed a document dump. The tall stack of printouts hit with a wallop. The top several pages slid to one side like a drifting snowbank, bumping up against Bell’s coffee mug.

“Everything you ever wanted to know about Ava Hendricks,” Rhonda declared.

It was just after eight on Monday morning. The overnight snow hadn’t materialized, after all. Good thing: The town was still digging out from under what was now commonly referred to as the Saturday Night Massacre. It snowed every winter in these mountain valleys, but rarely did it snow this much all in one go.

In the downtown area, the plow had pushed the snow into tall piles that brooded over the corners of major intersections, creating a mini-Stonehenge effect. Driving to the courthouse that morning, Bell could have sworn she saw a couple of Druids chanting and gesturing oddly at the base of an obelisk, but it turned out to be