Bitter Crossing (A Peyton Cote Novel) by D. A. Keeley

Author:D. A. Keeley [Keeley, D. A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Mystery, murder, border patrol, smugglers, agents, Maine
Publisher: Llewellyn Worldwide, LTD.
Published: 2014-08-01T00:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-FIVE

“I NEED TO TALK to you,” Jonathan Hurley told Peyton.

She needed something else—to get to the station to let Hewitt know that Hurley’s wife, her own sister, contradicted Hurley’s claim that he’d never before walked in Duff’s field and to tell him about the alleged anti-US remarks. But she wasn’t going anywhere now.

The subject in question had, inexplicably, come to her.

“What are you doing here?” she said, stepping outside, closing the door behind her. The afternoon air was cold, crisp, and clean after years of dust in west Texas. “I’m headed to the station, Jonathan. Where’s Elise?”

“Running. I have Max.”

Peyton nodded. Running was Elise’s outlet, what she did when upset.

Jonathan wore the same outfit he’d had on the night before—black, head to toe. Dark rings encircled his eyes, his hair was disheveled, and he had a five-o’clock shadow.

“Peyton, please come sit in the car and talk.”

“You didn’t want to talk last night.”

“No. Not in a police station. Not with others listening. I didn’t want to talk in a situation like that. Who would?”

“Someone with nothing to hide.”

“For God’s sake, Peyton, you know I couldn’t shoot anyone. And I told you, I know how these things go. Grab the nearest ex-con and break him down. No thanks. And think of Elise.”

She was. She’d met this man almost a decade earlier. Elise had been a freshman at the University of Maine when Peyton was a senior. Jonathan had been a graduate student earning his master’s and teaching a section of US History. Elise, a conscientious eighteen-year-old pupil who listened intently and sat in the front row, had been smitten.

Peyton looked at Jonathan’s dark eyes, vividly remembering her protest of Elise’s relationship. “He’s your teacher,” she’d said, “and almost ten years older than you.” Elise, like all eighteen-year-olds—even herself, Peyton had to admit—had known everything back then and hadn’t stood for her older sister’s interference. “He’s a professional, for God’s sake, Peyton,” Elise had fired back. “And we’re both adults. The man is brilliant.”

During the ensuing years, Peyton had listened to Elise call him that over and again. Was he brilliant? She looked at him now—his face pale, hair greasy and matted like a homeless man’s. It certainly wouldn’t have been brilliant to shoot a federal agent. Could he have done that?

Elise had gotten an A in his class and subsequently joined his world religions reading group to discuss texts including the Qur’an. Had he made the statements Lois alleged?

“Was Max baptized?” she asked. She hadn’t been invited to the ceremony, if he had been.

“What? No. Why?”

“What’s your religion, Jonathan?”

“I don’t have one. Why are you asking? Look, I couldn’t shoot anyone. I’ve never hurt a living thing.”

In the distance, she heard the whine of a chainsaw. Someone was cutting wood in preparation for winter. Given the price of heating oil, wood- and pellet-burning stove sales were booming.

“A fellow agent is fighting for his life. You were found near the crime scene. When we questioned you, you became uncooperative and ended the discussion. You must see how that looks.

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