Chapter 21
Tessa
I haven’t had any personal interactions with Mayor Merrick before, but he doesn’t have a great reputation within the department.
Maybe that’s why Hugo decided to send me up here, to at least allow the man the benefit of the doubt. However, within minutes of me arriving at the scene, he is already living up to whatever has been shared about him.
“Outrageous!” Merrick repeats, barely able to wrap his tongue around the word, and therefore not helping his case.
I’ve already radioed EMTs and called for backup, because I had a feeling he might be causing some trouble. The mayor appears to be one of those belligerent drunks.
“Sir, with all due respect. I can smell the alcohol coming from your pores, and I’m a little concerned about the injuries you may have sustained in the accident. The best, and safest, way forward is for you to go with the ambulance when it gets here.”
I don’t tell him I intend to send a deputy with him.
I wouldn’t put it past him to try and manipulate the EMTs into dropping him off somewhere, and I want to make sure we have his blood levels checked at the hospital.
I’ve seen too many devastating results of driving drunk, and from what Hugo mentioned, this isn’t the first time for Silence’s mayor.
“Listen to her, Donnie,” the woman simpers, not yet aware I’ll have her taken home by a deputy as well.
“Don’t call me that,” Merrick hisses at her, making a move as if to strike her.
I quickly step in between. I’d hoped to avoid this, but I don’t want to take any chances.
“Sir, could you please turn around and move your hands to the small of your back?”
“For what?” he sneers, glaring at me.
Clem, who has kept his distance so far, is suddenly by my side in silent support.
“I’m going to detain you just as a precaution, sir,” I tell the man, who probably wouldn’t be able to take me in his current condition anyway.
But you never know, and cuffs might be enough for him to settle down a bit.
“For your safety and for mine,” I add. “I don’t want to have to force you.”
He glances at Clem before trying—and failing—to stare me down, but eventually turns his back as requested. I’m able to snap the cuffs on him, just as a sheriff’s cruiser followed by an ambulance pull onto the dirt road.
Looks like help has arrived.
I watch Ziggy drive off with Missy Gentry in the back seat of his cruiser to take her home.
The ambulance is already gone, and Hugo—who’d hitched a ride with Ziggy—decided to accompany Merrick to the hospital himself. I know enough to know there is not much love lost between the two, but it’s probably the right call. There is no chance the mayor is able to bully our deputy sheriff.
I walk over to Clem, who is sitting in his truck.
I asked him to wait for me to clear the scene before he starts moving things around.
Not that there is much evidence to be gathered—it’s rather obvious the damage done was self-inflicted—but I wanted to check both vehicles myself before we clear the road.
Clem jumps down from the cab, grinning.
“Yikes,” he expresses.
“No shit,” I respond. “I have a feeling this situation is going to have a long tail.”
“On a bunch of different levels,” he contributes, then he looks over my shoulder at the vehicles on the other side of the tree blocking the road.
“I don’t think I can fit both of those vehicles on the flatbed.”
“I see what you mean. What do you suggest?”
He shrugs. “I’ve gotta clear the tree and pull the Mercedes free anyway, so I may as well load that up first. I can come back or send one of the guys to grab the SUV, once I unload this one at the shop.”
It makes sense. It’s not like Missy Gentry is gonna need her Porsche anytime soon. No more driving for her today.
“Maybe we can put it behind one of the buildings up there to at least get it out of sight,” I consider out loud, looking at the dirt road leading up to the quarry.
“Sounds good to me. I’ve gotta admit, I’m curious as to what the hell they were doing up at the quarry in the first place. Wouldn’t mind poking around.”
I grin up at him. “You and me both.”
With the tree moved to the side of the road, and the mayor’s mangled Mercedes loaded up on his truck, Clem gets behind the wheel of Missy’s SUV and follows my cruiser up the road.
The fresh tracks lead me to a smaller, flat-roofed building that looks like it was used as an office.
We pull around the back, where I let Clem pass so he can park the Porsche out of sight of the road.
“This is where they must’ve parked before,” I tell him, as I get out of my vehicle. “I followed the tire tracks straight back here.”
Both of us start moving toward the rear entrance of the building at the same time, but when I try the door, I find it locked. Clem is already trying to rub the dust and grime off the single window at the back.
“I can’t really make out much,” he announces, making room for me to try and peek in.
It’s dark inside and I see little more than shadows, maybe some furniture but nothing distinguishable.
“Maybe the front is open?” I suggest, although if they bothered locking the back, it’s unlikely they left the front door wide open. “I’ll go check.”
Clem stays behind as I walk around the side of the building. There’re two more windows on the side, but both have closed blinds, as does the larger window next to the front door. It’s locked as well.
What I wouldn’t give to have a look inside. I know Rick Althof was up here not that long ago, but he would’ve been more interested in the larger buildings, potentially able to store vehicles. I don’t think he’d have given this office building more than a cursory glance.
I don’t really have cause to force my way inside without a warrant so, unfortunately, I’ll have to tamp down my curiosity.
But when I round the back of the building, I find Clem smiling wide, standing beside a wide-open door.
“What the hell?”
He dangles a bunch of keys. I recognize the Porsche logo on the key chain.
Well, I’ll be damned.
“I figured it couldn’t hurt to try,” he says with a shrug. Then he asks as an afterthought, “This doesn’t constitute breaking and entering, does it? I mean, she gave me the keys herself.”
But I’m already slipping past him into the dark hallway the door opens up to. There’s no harm done in looking.
“Isn’t there a light somewhere?” Clem grumbles behind me.
In the sparse light coming from where we came in, I can see the outline of a door at the end of the hall, and two more on the right side.
I locate a switch beside the first one on the right, and flip it.
Instead of the hallway lighting up, a strip of light appears along the bottom of the door and I pull it open.
“It’s a bathroom,” I announce, but Clem is already poking his head over my shoulder.
“Smells like soap in here,” he observes.
He’s right, it does. I also note the fresh water drops in the sink and the floor in front of the walk-in shower appears wet as well.
An icky feeling hits my stomach when I notice a silky robe hanging from a hook on the wall, and I almost want to turn back. But the investigator in me disagrees.
In for a dime, in for a dollar, so I move to the next door.
Clem
I don’t think I’ll ever get that mental image scrubbed from my brain.
Red leather, black satin, cuffs and whips, dripping candles, and musty smells.
But what looms larger in my mind is something apparently called a penis cage, which looked more like a medieval torture device.
That information was provided by Tessa, who apparently encountered such a device in one of her investigations when she was still working for the state police.
I didn’t ask for the context; I don’t think I want to know.
For the life of me, I can’t imagine why any man would willingly subject himself to that.
Some of the stuff we encountered when we walked into that second door was too far out there for me to even try to process. All I can say is, when I walked out a few moments later, I felt in dire need of a shower. Or maybe a bleach bath.
Tessa and I barely talked as we left the place how we found it and locked up. She drove me back down to my truck, promised to come by after work, and we each went our own way.
I’m far from a prude, and I firmly believe to each their own, but even now, as I’m back to finishing those new brakes I’d been installing when I got called out, I can’t shed the image of our portly mayor, strapped down to that bench or that bed or that large wooden cross with his junk trapped in that little cage. It gives me the damn shivers.
“Boss, phone!”
Dammit, my mind is drifting again.
“What now?” I call out to Manuel.
“Something about a transmission for that Chevy pickup?”
I’d put in a call about the transmission earlier in the week. It was clear when we pulled the engine from Remi’s pickup at least that would need to be replaced, so I took the liberty to call the yard in Lutton to see if they had anything for me, and they said they’d have a look.
“Yeah, give me a minute.”
Unfortunately, the call does not have the desired result—they can’t help me.
I’d hoped to have that for Remi for when things go back to normal, as a belated birthday present or something.
I can’t help but feel bad for the kid with everything that’s happened.
His poor choices are having far greater consequences than he could’ve possibly foreseen.
Maybe I’ll make a few more calls for that transmission tomorrow.
The constant flow of work thankfully keeps me busy for the next little while, until I catch sight of Tessa’s Jeep heading this way.
I quickly wash my hands at the sink against the wall and hurry to meet her by the door.
“It’s getting cold,” she says, rubbing her hands over her arms.
I solve it by wrapping her up in mine, dropping a kiss to her lips.
“Snow again tonight,” I relay what I heard on the radio earlier.
She snuggles in under my chin and tucks her hands between our bodies.
“I know.”