Joshua’s wife had supper waiting for him when he came through the door, but she looked at him with concern as he dropped his keys onto the counter. “What is it, hon?”
“What?”
“You look pale. Like you just saw a ghost.”
“No, it’s just…traffic. It’s nothing.” He kissed her. “I’ll be back in a sec. Let me kick off my shoes.”
As he crossed the hallway to the bedroom, he tried to piece together what had happened out there tonight.
Just before coming into the house, he’d heard through the police scanner that law enforcement had made the connection to Carl Kowalski, which explained why he hadn’t called at five-he was in custody. But at least he’d done as asked and Miriam Flandry’s skinned corpse had been found. The media would undoubtedly be jumping all over the story tonight.
Joshua put his gun away.
And of course, when law enforcement made the connection to Carl, they’d also discovered that the woman who’d been found in the train yards, the woman who was missing a finger, was Carl’s fiancee, Adele Westin.
But.
They’d also found Bruce Hendrich. He was the part-time security guard whose hours Joshua had researched so thoroughly, been so careful to avoid whenever he entered the train yard. And now he was found dead there. Stabbed. Locked in another boxcar.
Why then? Why there?
From Hendrich’s schedule, Joshua knew he hadn’t been on the docket to work today.
Questions chasing him, Joshua returned to the kitchen and helped Sylvia set the table.
“Did you have a good afternoon?” she asked him.
“Yes.” He tried to concentrate on her, to not let the events of the day come between them. “How did the house showings go?”
“Didn’t sell any, but you know what they say…” She smiled, but Joshua could see that it was a bit forced, that she wasn’t exactly optimistic but was trying hard to be. “Just live it through.”
“That’s right,” he said. “Just live it through. It’ll all work out. You’re good at what you do.”
A welcome smile. “Thank you, dear.”
He looked over the meat loaf, baked potatoes, and carrots she’d prepared. “Supper looks great.”
A pause. “Where were you all day?” she asked. “I tried calling.”
“Running errands. Taking care of a few things.”
After they’d said grace and started eating, his thoughts wandered back to the train yard.
Was it possible that it was all a coincidence?
Possible, perhaps, but how likely was that?
There was only one other explanation.
Someone knew. Someone knew he was going to be in the yard, knew he was going to have a woman there tonight.
It was unfathomable to think that, but Joshua let himself think it anyway. Because he had to.
And if that was the case, if someone knew, that might explain why law enforcement showed up when they did-the person could have contacted them, called in a tip.
But then why leave Hendrich dead? And locked in a train car?
Someone out there is trying to set you up, trying to frame you for Hendrich’s murder.
But why?
As Sylvia ate, she told Joshua all about her day and he listened, not just because it was something a good husband should do, but because he was genuinely interested in her life. But despite that, admittedly, his attention did drift at times to what had happened tonight, to what was going to happen in the next two days.
Tonight he would watch the news, find out what he could about how it might have been that Hendrich happened to show up dead when he did at the train yard. It was important to make sure everything was set for Wednesday, for what was going to happen with the cop, so tomorrow, he would return briefly to look over the best places to park near the bank on Highway 83 in Wales-the same bank the Oswalds held up the day they were arrested.
The scripture verse was not just true for him, it would be true for the cop as well: “The good that I would I do not: but the evil which I would not, that I do.”
That.
I.
Do.
Yes, the officer he had in mind would find out the true meaning of those words.