now Bernie and Maggie had come up from the basement and approached them. Bernie had apparently overheard much of their conversation. “A woman?” he asked skeptically. “It would take a pretty big person to push through those cellar doors. My guess is you’re looking at a good-size guy, maybe two guys. That door was solid.” Bernie spoke with an extra-authoritative air, and didn’t bother to wipe the smirk off his face when he was finished.
Gideon realized it gave the deputy no end of satisfaction to correct his former boss. And though there was plenty Gideon could have said, he knew Bernie well enough to know arguing with him would only make the situation worse. No, he was in a powerless position now, and he had to behave accordingly. “All I know,” he said patiently, “is that just a few moments ago I saw a light-haired female figure walk past here and disappear behind the shed.”
“I don’t see anyone. Where is she now?” Bernie asked.
“I don’t know.” Gideon tried to remain patient. He’d worked with Bernie just fine for years—but that had been when the deputy was trying to cooperate. The circumstances were very different now.
But Kim was already looking where he’d indicated. “Give him a break, Bernie. He’s right—someone was here, probably a woman. We’ve got footprints.”
Maggie was relieved when the sheriff and her deputy finally left. Though she was glad they’d investigated the matter thoroughly, she couldn’t get her mind off what Gideon had been in the process of telling her when the officers had arrived. But even as she and Gideon tromped back toward the house, she saw the sheriff’s patrol car return.
Deputy Bernie Gills leaped out before the interim sheriff had brought the vehicle to a complete stop. He ran up to Gideon and confronted him. “All right, where is it?”
Gideon looked confused, and possibly slightly annoyed. “Where’s what?”
“My Taser. I left it in the cruiser and you were the only person out here. Don’t tell me you didn’t take it.”
Maggie took a step back as Gideon turned his fierce glare on the deputy. “Bernie, what would I want with your Taser? I carried my own for years.”
“Yeah, and you obviously didn’t want to give it up when you stepped down, did you?”
To Maggie’s relief, Gideon didn’t let the argument escalate. “I don’t have your Taser, Bernie,” he stated flatly. “I don’t know anything about it.”
The deputy stared down his former boss for several long seconds before he finally said, “I’m watching you, Bromley. Everybody in Holyoake knows you’re dirty. It’s just a matter of time until the DNE proves it.” He headed back to the passenger side of the cruiser and climbed inside, slamming the door as the car drove away.
Maggie watched the marked vehicle as it rumbled away. She glanced back at Gideon in time to see the stern cleft between his brows relax slightly.
“Sorry about that.” He looked around them. “I don’t know what might have happened to his Taser. That car was within my sight almost the entire time it was back here, except for when I went around the other side of the shed.”
“Maybe he just misplaced it,” Maggie offered as she led the former sheriff back toward the house.
“Maybe.” Gideon sounded unconvinced. “Maybe another officer might, but Bernie’s downright particular about things.”
Maggie didn’t like the sound of that. Between people sneaking around, stealing things and trying to break into the house, she didn’t feel very comfortable around the old place. She also felt bothered by Bernie’s comment about Gideon being proved guilty.
They headed back down to the basement and Gideon pounded the door frame back into place using long nails from the pouch of the tool belt he wore around his waist. Maggie waited for his pounding to stop before asking him the question that was on her mind.
“What’s the DNE?”
Gideon gave the door frame a couple of hard tugs and scowled at it. But the extra nails he’d pounded into place seemed to hold it, and he faced her with a sigh. “DNE stands for the Iowa Division of Narcotics Enforcement. They investigate illegal narcotics operations—in my case, they’re trying to sort out the extent of my brother’s meth operation, including trying to determine whether I was involved.”
“How long does that usually take?” Maggie asked. She could tell Gideon wasn’t happy about discussing the topic, but the question had been worrying her. Once his case was resolved, he wouldn’t be available to help her. Whether he ended up going to prison or just back to his job as sheriff, Maggie was concerned about whether he’d have time to work on her house at all.
“Simple cases can be resolved in a matter of weeks, sometimes ten days or less. But in the case of my brother’s operation, catching Bruce and his men was just the tip of the iceberg. The DNE hasn’t told me much, but I know their methods well enough to know that it’s going to take a long time to sort out everything in my brother’s case, maybe even several months.”
Gideon slammed the drop bar into place, then pulled out his hammer and pounded in a few more nails. His loud pounding told Maggie their conversation was over.
Once Gideon seemed satisfied that the cellar door was secure, he followed Maggie as she climbed the interior stairs. The rooms upstairs were dark, and dusty old furniture filled the first floor, their odd-shaped forms looming like monsters, capable of hiding killers in their shadows, compelling her to quicken her steps as she made her way through the rambling old house toward the front door.
Though it was getting dark outside and the front foyer was dim, Maggie wasn’t ready to leave. She had a feeling her questions had already probed deeper than what Gideon had wanted to discuss. But at the same time, she needed to know more about how her father had died. She simply wouldn’t be able to sleep otherwise. There was so much that still hadn’t been explained.
When she’d asked Bernie Gills about the accidental-death ruling, the deputy had shrugged off her concerns.
“He fell down the stairs. I’m sorry to say it, but he was getting older. Probably wasn’t so steady on his feet. And hauling all those tiles, well, a guy has to be careful when he’s working alone,” Gills had said.
Maggie wasn’t sure if she felt hurt because the loss of her father was still so fresh, or if she felt stung because of the deputy’s vague insinuation that her father had been careless enough to fall to his death. She didn’t like to think that her father was a careless, sloppy man, but then, how else could she explain the mysterious illness that had stricken the people living in one of her father’s rentals twenty years before? Everyone had said her father’s negligence was to blame. The shame she felt over it was the primary reason she’d left town immediately after graduation, and the reason she still felt uncomfortable showing her face in Holyoake. Facing Gideon Bromley, whose young niece had nearly died from the incident, was even harder.
But right now, Gideon was the only one who could answer her questions. “Do you agree with Bernie’s conclusion about how my father died?” she asked Gideon as they paused by the front door.
The stern-faced man scowled, making his expression even fiercer. “I don’t like to say negative things about my coworkers, but Bernie had a habit of cutting corners when he could. It doesn’t escape my notice that he wrapped up your father’s case quickly, right before Kim was
