Chapter 4
Roman
Less than twenty-four hours later, there was positive news on the lost-and-found jewelry.
As Roman headed for his SUV to check out a tripped alarm at the mayor’s office, Maggie stopped him at the front desk.
Handing over a couple of messages, she said she’d made it to number six on the list he’d given her before reaching Elfrida Alberty, the relieved owner of the bracelet.
“Mrs. Alberty grabbed a coffee with an old neighbor to kick off a day busier than a church fan in August.
She retraced most of her steps but forgot about the coffee, so didn’t think to call the diner. No doubt we’d have seen her in here today but there’s no need now.”
“Great.”
He flicked through his messages as she chatted on.
“The Albertys are Pine Springs’ social bigwigs. There’s barely a committee one or other of them aren’t involved with. Elfrida was gushing with gratitude until I mentioned Elenie Dax’s name and then she couldn’t get off the phone fast enough.”
Roman leaned a shoulder against the doorframe.
“But Elenie hasn’t been in trouble. I checked her record and it’s clean. What’s Mrs. Alberty got against her?”
Maggie snorted, her lips forming two tight lines.
“That girl’s been in here more times than a cold virus. Just because she hasn’t been charged, it doesn’t make her Barbie.”
“Wouldn’t there be something on her record if Chief Roberts brought her in for questioning? There’s plenty on her dad and her brothers. Even Mrs. Dax. But nothing on Elenie Dax.”
“Stepdad,”
said Maggie.
“And stepbrothers. I’ve heard Elenie was a kid when Frank married her mother. They’ve lived in town for ten years or so. Maybe longer.”
They must have literally moved into Pine Springs as Roman headed out. Maggie picked up a pile of forms from her desk and shot him a look over the top of her glasses.
“I’ve only worked here a couple of months but I’m already aware that our files are neither comprehensive nor orderly. What should have been documented is not necessarily the same as what has been documented.” Maggie sniffed and turned back to her papers.
By mid-morning, the alarm had been easily dealt with and Mayor Magellan’s ego successfully soothed by the personal attention of the new police chief. Magellan was a decent sort. Roman was happy to give up a little of his time to lay the foundations for a good relationship going forward.
Heading back to the station along Main Street, he turned his car into the parking lot of the general store and grabbed his wallet. As the only member of the team who drank tea—going against the unwritten rules of every cop shop in the US, it would seem—he was sure as hell no one else would have stocked up on teabags.
The argument had already started before Roman pushed through the front door.
“I’m only here for milk. We’ve run out at the diner.”
He recognized Elenie’s voice a second before he saw her.
“Give me my fucking card or I’ll snap your dirty, thieving hands right off your body,”
growled a slim, wiry man with a bushy red beard and a denim shirt. He was crowding her up against the door of an upright fridge, veins raised at his temples. Elenie dangled a large carton of milk from each hand. She looked tired.
“Move back, please, sir. I’ll be the one to decide if there’s any snapping.”
Roman stepped close enough to Red Beard to force the other man to take a step away. There wasn’t much room between the shelves at the back of the store as it was, and they formed an uncomfortable triangle in the tight space.
“What seems to be the problem?”
“This little bitch swiped my card out of my pocket. I had it a minute ago and now I don’t. And she was right behind me by the fridges.”
Elenie lifted her hands, deliberately sloshing the cartons of milk like funky tambourines.
“And how do you think I took it out of your pocket—with my teeth?”
Her sarcasm was biting, her face scornful.
“She has a point, sir.”
Roman suppressed a smile.
“She’s a fucking Dax. She could probably lift a wallet with her toes if she wanted. You’re new here. You have no idea.”
Roman opened his mouth to make a suggestion, but Elenie beat him to it. Thrusting the milk cartons onto the nearest shelf, she gestured down the length of her body with both hands.
“My shirt and skirt don’t have any pockets. There’s nowhere to put anything apart from my hoodie.”
Embarrassment warring with frustration on her face, Elenie slipped her arms out of the top and held it out to him.
“Please check the pockets.”
Roman slid a hand into each pocket in turn, then handed it back to her. “Nothing,”
he confirmed.
Red Beard scoffed.
“Could have put it anywhere! What about your shoes?”
Without comment, she kicked off her sneakers and held them upside down.
“Socks?”
“That won’t be necessary.”
Roman called a halt to any further disrobing.
“CJ? You still here?”
Three heads swiveled at the yell from the teenager behind the store counter.
“I’m here.”
It seemed Red Beard had a name.
“You’ve left your card in the machine.”
There was a moment of silence. Roman gestured toward the cash register with the slight raise of one eyebrow.
“I suggest you collect it and go, sir.”
Running an irritable hand through his beard, CJ pushed past Elenie and sloped off in the direction of the counter, muttering to himself as he disappeared around one of the shelving units. Elenie bent to push her feet back into her Converse, well-worn and faded, the tongues creased and handkerchief-thin. She retied discolored laces and shoved her arms through the sleeves of her hoodie. “Thanks.”
“No problem.”
Beneath the unmistakable top notes of diner food, she smelled of something citrusy and appealing. It disrupted Roman’s train of thought and there was a strained silence before he remembered his conversation with Maggie.
“By the way, the bracelet belonged to Elfrida Alberty. She was on your list.”
Elenie straightened the cuff of one sleeve.
“Well, I’m glad she’s gotten it back. I guess I won’t hold my breath for a thank you. Like most people around here, she has me pegged for a thief.”
Her words were flippant, her eyes resigned. He searched for bitterness but didn’t find it.
“I suppose everyone is different, but until I know otherwise, I prefer to make up my own mind.”
The urge to show he wasn’.
“most people”
came from Roman’s gut.
Elenie tipped her chin to search his face. She looked genuinely taken aback. He was close enough to see the flecks, like speckles on a bird’s egg, in the gray of her irises, and wondered what it would take for her to look at him with less suspicion. Then he wondered why he cared.
Roman rattled his keys against the palm of his hand.
“Don’t forget your milk,”
he reminded her gruffly and strode away in search of teabags. By the time he got to the counter to pay, Elenie was gone.
He returned to the station to find a report on his desk. A truck had been torched on a property just out of town.
So, this could be interesting.
Roman pressed his finger to the bell on one side of the front door and kept it there, Dougie a solid presence at his shoulder. His first ring had gone unanswered, and so had the knock he’d followed it up with, but there was no doubt someone was home. Rap lyrics and a thrumming beat, angry and intense, rained like tickertape from an open upstairs window. Running his gaze over the front yard, he took in the ratty American flag hoisted on a pole alongside the driveway, patchy grass that wasn’t quite a lawn, and a three-legged plastic table lying at a tilt against the house. The timber sidings were rotten low down, paint flaking on the weather-damaged boards. Cigarette ends littered the porch steps, scattered around his feet.
He knew from his inquiries that Frank Dax ran a business providing freelance security—a broad term which, to Roman, sounded like muscle for hire. His sons worked with him. Police records also showed that Frank drove an almost new, high-end Dodge Ram truck, at odds with the unloved property in front of him.
The front door opened. A tall, thin woman leaned against the frame, barefoot and mid-yawn. An oversized, orange t-shirt skirted her thighs, an incongruously huge pair of sunglasses perched on her nose. It was possible she also wore shorts but, if she did—and he hoped she did—he couldn’t see them.
Athena Dax. Elenie’s mother.
She wasn’t as fresh-faced as she looked at first glance, and there were lines around her lips that added a tight twist to her mouth. Dyed a vibrant shade of red, her loose, straggly hair would have benefited from either a wash or a brush.
Athena took off the shades slowly in a move Roman suspected she may have practiced in front of a mirror. Her shrewd gaze skipped from him to Dougie and back again, while he assessed her in return. Though he found some similarity in the shape of her face and the neatness of her nose, nothing else reminded him of Elenie. Athena was sharper, more jaded, less natural.
Roman pulled out a perfunctory smile along with his badge.
“My name is Chief Martinez. This is Deputy Officer Taggart. We’d like to speak to Frank, please.”
“Looks like someone’s expanded the budget for the Pine Springs PD.”
Her eyes, beneath the layers of makeup, flickered with interest.
“Is he here?”
“Why would you need to know?”
Apparently, they were both going to avoid each other’s questions.
“You’re a definite improvement on the last one.”
Athena gave a flirty eyebrow raise.
“I’ve heard a lot about you already. Have your ears been burning?”
She leaned forward to trace slim fingers over the emblem on his chest. Dougie gave a strangled cough as Roman took a step backward out of her reach, repelled by the calculated move and her empty eyes. In an instant, she switched from predatory to bored.
“Frank’s out back, in the garage.”
“Thank you.”
Athena closed the door on them as they walked around the side of the house.
“I think she likes you,”
Dougie muttered out of one side of his mouth, humor dancing in his voice.
“Sorry for third-wheeling.”
Roman huffed in answer.
Good-natured and uncomplicated, it was impossible not to warm to Dougie. He was also a little immature and lacking in some of the solid basic training Chief Roberts should have drilled into him, but he knew the town well and was universally liked. That mattered in a place as small as Pine Springs. Every bit of inside knowledge was a head start, every smooth relationship a bonus in a close-knit community of just 2,446 residents. Roman was keen to encourage him to step up his game and take more responsibility within the team.
They followed the sound of male voices. Just as they reached the garage, a meaty hand pushed one of the doors open from the inside and Frank Dax emerged into the sunshine. He fixed Roman and Dougie with an unruffled half-smile, wiping oily hands on a rag that looked unlikely to make them any cleaner. Trailing behind—always the bridesmaid, never the bride—came Tyson, who closed the garage door firmly at a nod from his dad.
Roman did the formal introductions for a second time.
“How can I help you, Chief?”
Frank Dax folded his arms loosely across a broad-barreled chest. A simple gold chain was just visible around his wide neck beneath the collar of a black polo shirt.
“At just after eleven p.m. last night, Ray Parker’s truck was torched on his driveway.”
Roman studied Frank’s face for any kind of tell.
“We received a report of a disagreement in the Rusty Barrel two nights ago between yourself and Mr. Parker, so we wanted your take on the situation.”
Frank’s smile didn’t waver but it also didn’t reach his eyes. He gave a careless shrug.
“I can’t help you. I had a few words with Parker over something and nothing. Don’t even remember what about now. And last night, I was here with the family. We watched a movie.”
“There are multiple witnesses to the fight in the bar,”
Roman recounted.
“and three separate people heard you harassing Ray again in the parking lot. Sounds like more than a few words.”
Frank sighed.
“I might have said some things I’m not proud of but I came home and put it behind me.”
He rolled one shoulder as if to loosen a tight muscle.
“Shame about Parker’s truck. I hope you find out who did it.”
Roman let the loaded silence grow heavy as he took a moment to size up the older man. Frank Dax might have been carrying a little more weight than was good for him but he was far from out of shape. Close-cropped hair liberally sprinkled with gray, his thick eyebrows framed hooded eyes over a wide nose, narrow lips, and stubble. Faded tattoos ran from his wrists up each arm, twisted chains weaving between a melted clockface, skulls, and sea creatures.
Masking his personal feelings, legs planted, Roman was keenly aware his own six feet and two inches gave him a towering edge over the far shorter duo.
“Mind if I take a look inside your garage?”
It was worth a try.
“Well, now, I’d like to say yes.”
Frank’s voice was placid.
“But a man’s home is his castle and, unless you have a warrant, I think I’ll pass on this occasion.”
He turned to thread a thick chain through the double handles of the garage doors, pushing the shackle of a large padlock into place to hold the links.
“It’s been nice to meet you, Chief. Always happy to welcome someone new in town.”
A vein pulsed in Tyson’s temple, even as he grinned. He was finding it harder to stand still than his father, control less securely mastered under the surface of his skin.
There was nothing more to be achieved here for now.
“Thank you for your time. I like to put a face to a name.”
Roman made to turn away but halted at the last minute.
“What was the movie?”
He aimed the question at Tyson.
“Huh?”
“What movie did you watch last night?”
Tyson’s mouth flapped as the question caught him by surprise. There were clearly zero options running through his brain. Roman felt more than saw Dougie fight to suppress a smirk.
“Sleepless in Seattle.”
All three of them turned to look at Frank.
“Interesting choice.”
Frank Dax held Roman’s stare in a silent pissing contest. All that could be heard for several long seconds was the sound of Ty’s feet fidgeting on the gravel. Then Frank gave a wide smile and spread his beefy hands.
“What can I say? It’s a classic and I’m a softy.”
His eyes, glinting with the hint of a challenge, said differently.
Roman and Dougie headed for the SUV. As they pulled off the driveway, an image of Elenie’s shuttered face swam into Roman’s mind and he frowned at the nasty taste in his mouth. After meeting both Frank and Athena, the reason why the Daxes were held in such universal contempt was becoming much clearer.