Chapter 20
Tessa
I never got to Clem’s place last night.
First of all, it took us half the night to get control of the domestic situation out on Ridge Road, twelve miles north of town.
That resulted in a bruised hip and farm muck and manure all over me when I ended up tackling the suspect, who ran after jumping from a rear window.
I jumped him in the half-frozen pig pen behind the house.
Warren Burns and Ziggy Brenner, the two deputies out there with me, were laughing their asses off when I marched the handcuffed suspect around to the front of the house, both of us shivering from the cold and covered in pig shit from top to bottom.
Nothing is worse than the stench of pig manure.
They were still laughing when I drove off five minutes later, the suspect in the back of my own cruiser—because why stink and dirty-up two cruisers if you don’t have to—and my windows rolled down for fresh air, even as my lips were turning blue from the cold.
The snowflakes started coming down as I was driving back down the mountain in a freak, early winter storm.
By the time I had the suspect booked in back at the station, and it was coming down in earnest when I was headed home for a shower and clean clothes.
I’m no stranger to snow, having lived in Spokane almost all of my life, but not as early in the season and not at those quantities.
Snow in the mountains is a different beast altogether.
I barely got home in one piece, and never made it back out the door. I wrote my report from home and then shot Clem a quick text, telling him I was staying put for the night, but would catch up with him in the morning.
Looks like that’s not going to happen either, since Mancuso is just shooting me a text as I’m getting out of the Jeep.
Sent you an email.
Call me when you get to the office.
Shooting a longing glance in the direction of the firehouse, I turn and head for the station. Sadly, Clem will have to wait, I’m eager to find out what Mancuso wants from me.
I already heard from my older kid, who called me on his way to school after I’d sent him a text.
He was okay, but ready for his own bed. After spending last night alone in my unusually silent house, I never thought I’d be longing for the sound of my boys bickering.
It’s not like I’ll have them around forever, next year Linc will go to college somewhere.
He’s been talking about UCLA—mainly because of their football program—which would mean he couldn’t just come home on the weekends.
As much as those kids can be a pain in my ass, I’m not ready for this next stage where I end up an empty nester. Not ready at all. Hopefully, Mancuso has some progress to report, and I’ll have both boys back home soon. While I have the chance.
“Good job catching Cletus Farnsworth last night,” Hugo compliments, when I walk into the station’s bullpen with a cup of Brenda’s wake-up potion. “Ziggy told me all about it.”
I dart a narrowed glance at the grinning deputy, pretending he’s engrossed in something on his computer screen and not listening to every word that is being said.
I’ve already discovered he’s a bit of a practical joker.
A class clown, if you will. I’m guessing he’s probably not much younger than me, and is one of the newer Edwards County Sheriff’s Department recruits.
I don’t really know his background, but if that man wasn’t wearing a uniform identifying him as one of ours, you could easily mistake him for some biker skinhead with his tattoos and shaved head.
Despite his deceiving looks, he seems to be a good cop.
“I bet he did,” is all I’m willing to comment. No need to give Ziggy any more encouragement.
“He’s stinking up the holding cell though,” Hugo continues. “Lloyd is in there trying to hose him down, and get him into some clean clothes so he’s at least a little presentable when he’s arraigned in front of Judge Crombie this morning, but he’s meeting some resistance.”
Lloyd McCormick is one of the older guard deputies and has significant arthritis.
He tends to prefer either community foot patrol or guarding the holding tank when someone is in there.
In any big city department, he’d be relegated to desk duty or, more likely, be urged to take early retirement, but in this small community they still value his experience and community connection as an asset.
Another reason why I’m really glad I took the jump and moved here.
“Maybe if Ziggy’s not too busy, he can give him a hand,” I suggest, almost laughing out loud when I see the horror on the guy’s face.
“Good idea,” Hugo affirms, playing along. “Ziggy, go see how Lloyd is making out.”
Ziggy walks out, shooting me a dirty look. Hey, you asked for it, buddy, don’t dole it out if you can’t take it.
“Mancuso wants me to call him. He sent me something, so I should hop on my email,” I tell the boss.
“Come talk to me after.”
Slipping behind my computer, I open my inbox. The email the agent sent has “Have a look,” in the subject line, and just a zipped file attached. I click on it and it opens as a video file, which I play.
It looks like the security feed from inside a coffee shop, until I notice the individual cubbyholes with a computer in each one of them on the other side of the coffee counter. It’s an internet café.
In the frame I can see an employee serving a young woman, with two people waiting in line behind her. In the background, only one of the cubbyholes is occupied. I’m looking at the back of a man, wearing what looks like a dark-colored windbreaker and a dark ball cap.
I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be looking at, but I keep my eyes on that ball cap as I dial Mancuso’s number.
“Did you see him?” is what the agent answers with.
“Looking at the video now. The guy in the ball cap?”
“Yeah, wait till he gets up. You’ll get a glimpse of his face.”
I narrow my eyes on the screen when I see the guy get up and slowly turn around.
His forehead and eyes are obscured by the bill of his ball cap, but I can see his nose and mouth.
Hitting pause, I freeze his image on the screen as I lean in a little closer.
There’s something about him that looks familiar.
“Who am I looking at?” I ask, hoping for a clue.
“I don’t know, but we’re pretty sure that’s the guy who calls himself KingRides-78. The feed is from late yesterday afternoon.”
KingRides-78 was the individual who recruited Remi in that Chevy forum and sent him the link for the app download. If they can identify him, it would be a great breakthrough.
I back up the video and replay the guy getting up again, hoping to maybe catch a different angle.
“Am I supposed to know him?”
“You tell me… I showed Remi the video and he had a distinct reaction to it. He seemed surprised when Ball Cap turned around at first, but then immediately the shutters went down. He wouldn’t even look at the screen anymore and simply denied recognizing anyone.”
“But you think he’s lying.”
“No doubt in my mind, which is why I’m hoping you may be able to help figure this out.”
I replay the entire segment again, hoping something will trigger.
“I don’t know, I wish I could see more of his face. I feel like I’ve seen him before somewhere, but for the life of me I can’t recall when or where. Is there any other footage? A different angle, maybe?”
“The place only has the one camera inside, and I’m still waiting for the travel agency across the street to open so we can get access to their security video.”
“Well, if anything shows up on there, send it straight to my phone, in case I’m out and about,” I suggest. “And in the meantime, I’ll go over this clip a few more times, and I’ll let you know if I recall anything.”
Clem
“Boss! Phone!”
I turn to see Manuel lifting my desk phone in the air. I hadn’t even heard it ring.
My mind has been drifting today—mostly to Tessa, who I saw arriving at the station this morning, but haven’t talked to yet—and I can’t seem to focus on much else. Luckily, I can operate on autopilot, my hands doing all of the work from muscle memory without too much need for thought.
Wiping my hands on the rag tucked into my pocket, I head over to my office and take the phone from Manny.
“Tanek here.”
“I’ve got a problem, Tanek.”
I recognize the mayor’s voice but don’t want to give him the satisfaction.
“Sorry, who is this?”
“It’s your goddamn mayor,” he snaps.
I get the sense he’s not too happy about something.
“Yes, what can I do for you?”
“You can tell me what the hell you did to my Mercedes. There’s something wrong with the steering.”
“I didn’t touch the steering, Merrick. You had a knock in the engine and I fixed that.”
“Well, you must’ve done something because it failed, it ran me off the road, and now I’m fucking stuck in a ditch up near the old quarry.”
“What road?” I ask, ignoring his implications I’d had anything to do with whatever happened to his vehicle.
Although, I have my suspicions.
“Lizard Creek Road, right by the cutoff to the quarry. I need you to come get me out.”
“Sure, I’ll send out one of my guys with the tow truck.”
He’ll be getting a damn bill for the service though.
“No. I don’t want anybody else, it has to be you,” he insists.
That’s when I hear it, the slight slur in his voice. It supports the hunch I had. It wouldn’t be the first time our town’s leader had a little too much of the happy juice and got in an accident. In fact, rumor was that’s how he totaled his Lexus a couple of years ago.
“It’s gotta be you,” he repeats.
I’m not sure why he’s so insistent it be me, but I don’t really mind. I could use a little distraction.
“Fine.”
“And keep it to yourself.”
Yup, he definitely got himself into some kind of trouble.
“Sure thing,” I easily agree. “Be there as soon as I can.”
When I get up to the Lizard Creek quarry cutoff, I don’t see the Mercedes anywhere.
I drive past a bit before turning around, wondering if I missed it.
This time I slow down as I pass the dirt road heading up to the quarry and notice the road is partially blocked by a dead tree, and on the other side, halfway in the ditch, I just catch sight of Merrick’s fancy Mercedes.
I’m at a loss what the hell he may have been doing up there at the quarry.
It’s not until I pull in and drive up closer, I noticed the second vehicle; a shiny Porsche Cayenne I recognize because I service it. There is only one in Silence, and it belongs to Missy Gentry, the widow of the man who used to own the quarry, and the rumored mistress of our very married mayor.
“Missy was never here,” Merrick barks immediately as I walk around the tree to find the two of them sitting on a fallen log.
Missy is busy dabbing a tissue or something to a few cuts on the mayor’s forehead. I’m thinking steering wheel or glass. He looks like shit, and she doesn’t look much better. She appears to be even more intoxicated than he is. Great.
I glance through the back window of the Mercedes to see both front and side airbags have deployed and the front windshield is shattered. I’m guessing he took out that tree and Missy—who must’ve been behind him in her SUV—got blocked in.
He’s lucky it was dead and rotting, giving away under the force of the impact, otherwise it might have been worse for him. As it is, significant damage was done to the Mercedes, and it looks like Merrick isn’t walking away scot-free either.
“You need medical attention,” I point out, noting some of the cuts on his face will probably need a stitch or two.
“I’m fine, just pull that damn tree out of the road and get me out of here.”
Arrogant son of a bitch thinks he can order me around like I’m his damn servant.
“Please and thank you go a long way, Merrick,” I point out.
Missy seems to sense the tension and quickly intervenes, striking a different attitude from her lover.
“Please, Clem. You can see this situation might cause some folks to get the wrong idea. None of us want that.”
I almost laugh, because I frankly don’t give a shit about either of them. But I do feel sorry for Merrick’s wife. She seems a quiet and nice enough lady, who doesn’t deserve for her husband’s indiscretions to become so public.
“Please,” Missy pleads. “Just enough for me to get through.”
For Mrs. Merrick’s sake, it would be easier to let Missy leave, but with the alcoholic fumes wafting off those two, I can’t risk her getting behind the wheel. God forbid she ends up hurting others.
“Before I can do anything, I need you two to back way the hell up. Move out of the way.”
When I see the two get to their feet and stumble away, I turn and head to my truck. Once inside, I immediately call the sheriff’s office.
Then I take my time arranging my truck into the perfect position and drag my ass attaching chains and straps, far exceeding what is needed to move the damn tree. All designed to give the sheriff’s department a chance to get here.
When a cruiser pulls up behind my truck, I’m surprised to see Tessa get out. I can hear Merrick cursing loudly behind me.
When I called it in, I’d mentioned who they’d be dealing with, and I’d been asked not to notify law enforcement.
Tessa walks up and asks in a voice loud enough for Merrick to hear, “What seems to be the problem?” winking at me with a saucy smirk on her face.