SECTION III

I’ve admired your work since I first heard of your skills while we both served in South Asia.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Haddie killed the bike and the sudden silence highlighted the wind rustling through the oak above her. A trio of leaves danced above her in the air as she answered the phone. “Hello?”

Andrea sounded excited — or stressed, it was hard to tell sometimes. “We’ve got a potential lead on clearing Mel. A man called in to Toby and says he can prove Mel was nowhere near the crime scene on the night of the first murder. Won’t come in, but he’ll hand the evidence over.” A cat meowed in the background and she shushed it. “Campbell Park, bike path, in forty-five minutes. I can call Josh back in if you’ve got class.”

Campbell Park, over by the river. Twenty or thirty minutes from this part of Cal Young at this time of the day.

“I got it.” Haddie did have class, but this burned inside her. If there was some evidence to get Mel free, she didn’t want Josh getting stoned and missing something.

“Thanks, Haddie. Call me back when you get whatever he has.”

Haddie sucked in her breath. “Wait, who am I looking for?”

“Some man. Toby would have given me more if she had it. Weather’s gonna be lousy soon, I doubt it’ll be busy on the bike path at this hour.”

Great, just approach any strange men you see on the bike path. “Okay. I’ll call you in about an hour, I’d imagine.” She let out a sigh and frowned. Her first thought was to call Dad. That wasn’t happening.

“Thanks, Haddie.”

The connection dropped and she stared at her phone. Rock needed to get walked. Sam took him out at noon on Thursdays, but he’d be expecting Haddie home around now. 4:15pm. Damn. Liz.

Haddie dialed. “Hey. Want to meet up at Campbell park, in about half an hour? Something at work came up.” Not much of a substitute for coffee and brownies.

“Can’t. 5:15 was cutting it tight. I teach Evidence Management at 5:35, but it was a five minute walk from the cafe. I’d never get through rush hour in time. What’s going on?” Liz sounded disappointed.

“Anonymous evidence for Mel’s alibi.”

“It’s going to be dark in a couple hours. You’re meeting at a park? Isn’t that a little — odd?” Liz coughed. “Listen, if you need me to come, I can be late for class — they won’t start without me. How long you think it will take?”

Haddie couldn’t know if the mystery man would be waiting, or show up twenty minutes late. “I’m good. Sorry we couldn’t grab a minute. I could use a little break. Tomorrow?”

“I’d like that. Friday. We could grab a beer.”

“That would be great.” The way the week was going, Haddie might get drunk.

“Be careful.”

Haddie stared out at the dark clouds. “I will. Don’t worry.”

She pulled up Sam’s contact, stopping as a silver, dark-tinted Expedition came down the road toward her, moving at a good clip. Her pulse quickened before it passed. After the close call with the car earlier, and the continued sightings of dark-tinted SUV’s, she’d gotten edgy. They drove to the dead end and pulled into the farthest driveway where a two-story sat uphill, nestled amid massive trees. The garage door began grinding open — just someone who lived there. I’m getting paranoid.

Sam picked up on the third ring. “Hi.”

“Sam, Honey, can you get Rock out for a walk? Sorry for the last minute, I was going to swing by on the way to class, but I’ve got to run an errand for work.”

“Not a prob.” There was a rustle of movement and then a swish. “Your Dad’s not sitting out there. Good. I don’t think he likes me.” Sam lived in the same apartments but across the street; her bedroom window looked out on Haddie’s parking spots.

“He needs a shirt that says, ‘I Hate Everyone.’ He’s just like that. It’s certainly not you.”

Rock and Jisoo loved her, but Sam tended to get nervous and awkward around humans. Haddie thought about asking Sam to keep an eye out for odd cars, but dragging her into the paranoia would just mean a text every time a neighbor pulled in.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

“You went on a ride with him this morning. Where’d you go?”

Haddie wiped off a leaf that drifted onto her tank. “Portland. Honey, I’ve got to go. I’m heading over to Campbell Park. I’ll check in after.”

“Okay.” Sam sounded disappointed. She got lonely and Haddie was one of the few people she talked with.

Stuffing the phone back into her pocket, Haddie fired up the Fat Boy and pulled onto the street. Getting around the golf courses took most of the time when navigating Cal Young; otherwise, it lay just on the north side of the Willamette River. Normally a ten minute drive, getting to Campbell Park meant cutting across either of the two bridges at the beginning of rush hour. Her phone vibrated as she wound through the luxury houses that lined the golf course greens. The air smelled like rain. She had gear in her saddlebags and could change at the park.

She chose the Ferry Street Bridge rather than dealing with I105. Traffic thickened on the side streets until she reached the more residential neighborhood leading toward the river. Some older, charming houses remained against the three story apartments that dominated one side of the street.

In front of Campbell Park, maples and oaks lined the street before a thin strip of parking spaces and grass that stretched along the river. On the east end sat the community building, a squat gray and blue complex. A couple dozen cars scattered the parking lot while others parked on the street that might have belonged to the residences across the road, red brick townhouses climbing up Skinner Butte.

She pulled into the parking lot, eyeing the bike trail that bordered the outer edge of the grass. Thick woods, oak and evergreen, lined the back between the park and the river. Picking a spot facing the bike trail and two spaces down from a blue Blazer, she killed the Fat Boy. A woman and two young children biked along the path heading east toward the community center.

Dark boiling clouds dominated the west sky over the roof of the Blazer. The back seat and cargo area were filled with cardboard boxes. No rain fell yet, but Haddie would have to put on rain gear for the ride back to her apartment. After stowing her helmet in a saddlebag, she checked her phone. 4:42pm. Plenty early. Terry had called.

Haddie sighed, looking at the dark woods that lined the bike trail. If Terry had found more photos, did she really want that on her mind right now? She could wait until afterward, but she had time to kill. Strolling across the grass toward the bike trail, she dialed Terry.

“Buckaroo,” he answered.

“What’s up?” Haddie stopped at the edge of the strip of asphalt that made up the bike trail and casually turned back toward the lot. Most of the cars were empty, and a couple sat eating in a blue sedan down to the left. She’d hoped that her contact would be sitting in his car, waiting to see someone approach the path.

“Nothing major — I just figured you’d be getting ready for class tonight and I’d let you know where some of my awesome skills have been spent. I found a British chat going on about your three dead Irishmen. They’ve got some wild theories about the origin of the fire. One is that it is the CIA and some specialized ray gun that they can fire from helicopters, or even planes. I like that one personally.”

Proving the CIA had killed the Colmans would be tricky. “You think the CIA is involved?”

Terry snorted. “Not really. The NSA starts tripping when someone plays in their territory. But thought I’d let you know. The next most popular is angelic intervention, or even fallen angelic intervention.”

A car pulled up, two spaces from her bike, but the person inside didn’t get out. A lighter flashed while their hands covered their face, and they lit something. Likely a stoner.

Haddie walked west, facing the dark ridge of clouds. “That’s cool. Not helpful, but cool.”

“I know — isn’t it? Of course, there’s the alien theories, as usual. But the Brits have a different view of them than we do. Area 51 and all.” He paused a moment. “Are you home? I thought I heard a car?”

“Campbell Park. Meeting someone.” She smiled. “An anonymous informant.”

“You are kidding me. Really?” His voice jumped up an octave. “Did you set up a camera to record it? I would have lent you some equipment.”

A duck called from the woods and Haddie turned, studying the dark shadows. She liked having Terry on the phone. The sun had moved behind the clouds and the park felt gloomy, threatening.

“A camera would have been a good idea, but I didn’t really have time. This was a last-minute kind of thing. They called into the office just as we closed.” She scanned the parking lot again. A pinprick glow burned from the car near her bike. She didn’t want Terry to hang up. “So, did you post anything about the radiation in the fire here in Eugene? Any theories about that?”

“Well, yeah. I couldn’t help it.” His tone sounded guilty. “But nothing really novel came up. Mostly just questions at this point. It won’t gear up until after the first troll chimes in.”

A man walked down the lot from the direction of the community center, pulling on a hoodie. Haddie spun in the grass and began walking back east along the bike trail. This could be it.

“Well,” she said, distracted. “I’d imagine it’ll be some of the same theories.”

Dark hair disappeared under the hood and the man continued, striding straight down the middle of the parking lot. He didn’t look in her direction, nor make any move toward the grass. Still, her pulse raced, and she shifted the phone to her left ear.

“Can’t hurt to try, right?” He paused for a moment, and then continued when she didn’t respond. “You’re not mad I posted about it, are you? I never mentioned you or Liz, of course.”

The hooded man walked past Haddie’s position and continued down the lot. “What? No. I expect it, Terry.” She paused, facing the lot.

Terry sounded relieved. “Awesome. So, when does your mysterious Deep Throat show up?” He slurped on a straw in the background. “So when’s the date?”

“Huh?” Haddie asked. David. “I don’t know.” Maybe he wanted to hang out at the park.

The man rounded a Jeep and climbed in. The headlights lit the grass as the engine fired up. She let out a long breath. The woods had turned dark; if their informant hid there, she wouldn’t see him until the last moment.

“What time is it?” Haddie asked.

The lights along the path flickered on as the clouds swallowed the sun. The Jeep drove away, its red lights glowing.

“Uhm, 4:59pm.”

“Then, he’ll be here any moment now.”