Roadside Crosses

disappear.”
    Dance glanced at the note.
    Wondering why she hadn’t thought of the suspect herself.

Chapter 34
    PARKED ON A dusty street near the small town of Marina, five miles north of Monterey, Dance was alone in her Crown Vic, on the phone with TJ.
    “Brubaker?” she asked.
    “No criminal record,” he told her. And his work—and the alibi—with the FBI was confirmed.
    He still might’ve hired somebody for the job, but this information did ease him out of the hot seat.
    Attention was now on the man whose name Brubaker had given her. The name on the slip of paper was Clint Avery and she was presently gazing at him from about one hundred yards away, through a chain-link fence—topped with razor wire—that surrounded his massive construction company.
    The name Avery had never come up as someone involved in the case. For very good reason: The builder had never posted on the blog and Chilton had never written about him in The Report.
    Not by name, that is. The “Yellow Brick Road” thread didn’t mention Avery specifically. But questioned the government’s decision to build the highway and the bidding process, by implication also criticizingthe contractor—which Dance should have known was Avery Construction, since she’d been flagged down by a company team at the site of the highway work when she’d been on her way to Caitlin Gardner’s summer school two days ago. She hadn’t put the two pieces together.
    TJ Scanlon now told her, “Seems that Clint Avery was connected with a company investigated for using substandard materials about five years ago. Investigation got dropped real fast. Maybe Chilton’s reporting might get the case reopened.”
    A good motive to kill the blogger, Dance agreed. “Thanks, TJ. That’s good. . . . And Chilton’s got you the list of other suspects?”
    “Yep.”
    “Any others stand out?”
    “Not yet, boss. But I’m glad I don’t have as many enemies as he does.”
    She gave a brief laugh and they disconnected.
    From the distance, Dance continued to study Clint Avery. She’d seen pictures of him a dozen times—on the news and in the papers. He was hard to miss. Though he would certainly have been a millionaire many times over, he was dressed the same as any other worker: a blue shirt sprouting pens in the breast pocket, tan work slacks, boots. The sleeves were rolled up and she spotted a tattoo on his leathery forearm. In his hand was a yellow hard hat. A big walkie-talkie sat on his hip. She wouldn’t have been surprised to see a six-shooter; his broad, mustachioed face looked like a gunslinger’s.
    She started the engine and drove through the gates. Avery noticed her car. He squinted slightly andseemed to recognize hers immediately as a government car. He concluded his discussion with a leather-jacketed man, who walked away. Quickly.
    She parked. Avery Construction was a no-nonsense company, devoted to one purpose: building things. Huge stores of construction materials, bulldozers, Cats, backhoes, trucks and jeeps. There was a concrete plant on the premises and what appeared to be metal-and wood-working shops, large diesel tanks for feeding the vehicles, Quonset huts and storage sheds. The main office was made up of a number of large, functional buildings, all low. No graphic designer or landscaper had been involved in the creation of Avery Construction.
    Dance identified herself. The head of the company was cordial and shook hands, his eyes crinkling lines into the tanned face as he glanced at her ID.
    “Mr. Avery, we’re hoping you can help us. You’re familiar with the crimes that have been occurring around the Peninsula?”
    “The Mask Killer, that boy, sure. I heard someone else was killed today. Terrible. How can I help you?”
    “The killer’s leaving roadside memorials as a warning that he’s going to commit more crimes.”
    He nodded. “I’ve seen that on the news.”
    “Well, we’ve noticed something curious. Several of the crosses have been left near sites of your construction projects.”
    “They have?” Now a frown, his brow creasing significantly. Was it out of proportion to the news? Dance couldn’t tell. Avery started to turn his head, then stopped. Had he instinctively been looking toward his leather-jacketed associate?
    “How can I help?”
    “We want to talk to some of your employees to see if they’ve noticed anything out of the ordinary.”
    “Such as?”
    “Passersby behaving suspiciously, unusual objects,