CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Haddie strolled east toward the community center. An ice cream truck jingled through the parking lot, moving too fast for anyone to have hailed it down. [weather In better weather, it might have had customers.

Terry had hung up a minute before and Haddie felt her heart pounding as she tried to look casual. The lights along the bike trail left cones of security with stretches of darkness that extended into the shadow of the woods. It would rain any minute; she could smell it. The informant was late or had gotten cold feet and decided not to show. Had he seen her and left? Did he watch now?

The park, slightly off-putting at first, became gloomier by the minute. Coming alone might have been a bad idea. She could protect herself, but the greater strategy was to avoid having to do so.

Haddie had resisted her dad’s insistence on learning Taekwondo in the beginning. Dad had bundled her up and brought her no matter her complaints, then he’d hand her off and sit in a dark corner behind the other parents, avoiding the cameras. Her love for the art didn’t happen until she made her first belt — yellow.

She’d failed three months prior and endured heckling for each class afterward. Each jibe and insult made her angrier and more determined. Master Goh ignored her tormentors, and she never complained to him. Dad never said a word, and she never cried in front of him. Each class she walked in with her head held high and focused on perfecting her kata, but still there were those who found something to dig at.

She sparred mainly with the other white belts, though on occasion, Master Goh let her spar the yellows. Often, she won those matches.

When the time came to try for her yellow belt, the Pumsae had become simple by then, but she executed each move with precision, not because of any pride of the art, but to show her hecklers that she would not be beaten. It had been a matter of ego and shame, not of learning.

When she finished, Master Goh stood up from behind his table, came to the side, and bowed to Haddie. He said, “A black belt is a white belt that never gave up. Today, you are a yellow belt because you did not give up. It would have been easier to give up. I am proudest of you. You will become a black belt.”

She’d beamed. He had seen all her abuse and watched her reactions to it. Haddie had never blown-up at the other students, and it rarely showed in her sparring. She gained more from the experience than a simple yellow belt. It fit her nature not to give up; she embraced it. From that day on, she studied not just the physical aspects of Taekwondo, but their tenets and the history.

Terry would say that she’d become obsessed. Whatever her motivation, she’d gained confidence and healthy respect for staying safe, which involved not placing herself in danger unnecessarily.

This day in the park, she found that necessity, even if their informant was late. I’m not giving up. Yet.

She’d missed class for this. It was nothing she couldn’t catch up on, but the whole week had been a mess for schoolwork. She still had a paper due Monday, with little but research done. The next day she’d committed to drinking with Liz, when she should be home kicking out some of her paper. Mel still sat in jail. Nothing Haddie had done would change that. The week had been a failure, in so many ways.

And Dad was a nightmare every which way. She couldn’t consider any aspect of him without getting queasy. Terry had gratefully not mentioned anything about the photographs, but he had to think they were weird.

She pulled up her phone. 5:06. How long should she wait? Sunset wasn’t for an hour, but with the storm coming, daylight had vanished into the edge of blue sky to the east. Already wisps of white crawled above her, turning the sky gray, and black dominated the west.

Two people left the community center and talked as they crossed the parking lot. Along the bike trail, the mother and her kids headed toward Haddie — she moved a step deeper into the grass. The young girl, no older than six, waved and then grabbed the handle quickly as she wobbled.

Haddie started as her phone vibrated in her pocket. Liz called.

“Hey, I’m still here. Waiting.” Haddie turned back toward the cars as the mother and her kids walked their bikes across the grass toward the lot.

“I don’t like this, Haddie.” The sound of people gabbing filled the background behind Liz.

Neither do I. “I’m fine. There’s people out here and there’s lights.”

“It’s black outside — I can see that from in here. I wish I had my umbrella.” Glass clinked somewhere near Liz. “Can’t you leave?”

“Soon. I’m going to give it a few minutes.” Or until it rains. Haddie stopped along the trail opposite her bike — she could get her rain gear on now.

“Will you call me when you’re home, or text me at least?”

“Yeah, of course.” She didn’t want to hang up. “Did your friend at the lab do any analysis on the fire at the Colmans’ home? Come up with anything strange?”

“Todd says he’ll have a harder time because it’s a house fire and firefighters doused the area with water. I’ve been checking with him ’cause I knew you’d want to know. Maybe in the next day or two.” Someone cackled close to Liz. “You sure you’re okay? I can cancel class and head over.”

The lot looked thinner now. Three cars around her bike — the smoker, the Blazer, and behind them, a black sedan parked facing the street. Five vehicles were parked at the community center end, and another two spread out on the west end.

“No. I’ll be leaving soon.”

Had they been stood up by the informant? Maybe he got spooked and would reschedule. She didn’t want to give up — Mel sat in jail. They were no closer to getting her free than the moment she went in. If only the police, Detective Cooper, would look into some of the irregularities, they might find who actually murdered these people. Haddie couldn’t leave quite yet. Mel deserved someone fighting for her.

The background noise around Liz dimmed. “Keep me on the phone until you get to your bike. I’ve got twenty minutes before I walk into class. I’m crossing the grounds now, before the rain. Maybe Professor Arbor will have space under his umbrella.”

Another call rang on Haddie’s phone. Andrea. “Hey, Liz, my boss is calling. I’ll call you back.”

“Okay. Be careful.”

The smoker opened their car door and got out. It was an old gray Plymouth Neon from the shape, though hard to tell in the growing darkness.

Haddie cleared her throat. “Andrea. He’s a no show so far.”

There was a long pause. “That’s a shame. Toby had said he was insistent that it happen tonight.”

A gust blew in, rustling the woods behind her and bringing sure scent of rain and the distant jingle of the ice cream truck. Fall leaves rained from the trees, littering the grass. The smoker, a man in dark sweats, opened his back driver-side door and had begun rummaging inside.

“I’ll wait a few more minutes.”

“Let me know when you leave. Grace is waiting at the office in case this evidence was something we should work on tonight.” A cat let out a throaty meow close to the phone and Andrea shushed it.

It made sense. Andrea might get something filed on Friday to get Mel out before the weekend. This was their last chance to get their client out before Monday. Haddie could hang on a little while longer. As creepy as the park had gotten, it would be nothing compared to jail.

A car door closed somewhere in the park, or on the street, but Haddie didn’t see anyone but the smoker. He still dug in his back seat. She glanced at the gloom of the woods behind her, grateful that Andrea hadn’t hung up yet.

“I didn’t get to tell you about the mail carrier. You called when I was leaving Cal Young.” Haddie hoped that Andrea wouldn’t get upset about the trip out to the Colman house. “I waited where the witness said Mel had been sitting, but before they got to me, the truck left without finishing their route — like I spooked them or something.”

“Are you sure they weren’t done with their route?” Andrea asked.

“It’s a dead end. They didn’t drop off mail to any of the houses at the end. They left before they delivered to the house up the street from me. Maybe I’m misinterpreting it, but it seemed strange enough to mention. I know you still have a deposition to schedule with them.” Haddie paced in a small circle now, partially to keep an eye all around her.

Andrea didn’t seem upset about the fact that Haddie had gone down to the Colmans’ burnt-out house. That at least was good. It had been impulsive and fairly useless. Most of the day had been unproductive, except for Dad, and that had poured in more than she could handle.

“Write it up for me tomorrow. It does sound odd. I’ll be able to tell if she’s just the skittish type.” Andrea sighed. “I need a break somewhere. As it stands now, I’ll have to pound in how circumstantial this all is. Some juries react to that, but not all.”

The temperature had dropped. Maybe now would be a good time for rain gear and gloves. She would be more comfortable if the smoker would leave. At this point, waiting at her bike would be preferable.

A truck parked over by the community center turned on its lights and began backing out of a parking space. The smoker had both doors open on the driver-side, but moved to search the front seat. What was he looking for?

Andrea spoke, bringing Haddie’s focus back to the phone. “Oh, Grace said to check in with her, she got the mugging report you asked for. What’s that about?”

Haddie swallowed. “The address that I went to Portland for? It’s been used before, by another import company three years ago. When I looked up the owner, I found he’d died in a mugging here in Eugene. It seemed an odd coincidence, so Grace had said she’d look it up and get me the police report.”

A paper shuffled before Andrea spoke. “Marino Zannetti, you mentioned him. Good. See where it goes. I know I discouraged you for getting off track before, it’s just a matter of prioritizing. However, this is the time, keep at it, you might dig up something yet. Good work.”

Haddie found herself smiling at the encouragement. “Thanks. I’ll call Grace now and kill a few minutes while I wait.”