Chapter 31 #2
“There’s no sign of a struggle anywhere in the house.
His toothbrush is in the bathroom, and there’s a suitcase in the crowded closet.
The food in the fridge hasn’t expired, and there’s even a big T-bone that has a use-by date through today,” Noelle told him.
“So he hasn’t been gone that long, which likely means he wasn’t held for much time, if at all, before his death. ”
“Let’s talk to Tomac.” Max slammed the truck doors shut and headed back inside the house. Tomac was still smoking near the front door.
“Anything helpful?” he asked.
“We’re not sure,” said Noelle. “When did you last see Eli?”
“Jeez. It’s probably been more than a year. Made him drop off his rent check in person that time because it was two weeks late. Seems like that was around the Christmas before last.”
“Do you ever talk to him? Text?” she asked.
“No. Sorry. He’s not my buddy.” He inhaled deeply on the cigarette. “If you want to know about what he’s been up to, you should talk to Ricky Dowd next door. He knew Eli before he moved in. He’s the one who suggested he rent this house.”
“Thank you, Mr. Tomac. We’ll do that.” Noelle raised a brow at Max, who nodded.
“Let’s see if he’s home.” Max told Tomac that more investigators were coming and asked if he could keep the key, promising him he’d see to it personally that Tomac got it back. The man reluctantly handed it over.
“You think something bad’s happened to him,” said Tomac. His concern seemed genuine.
“Possibly,” said Max as they all headed out the door.
Tomac got in the little Honda and drove off as Max and Noelle went next door.
The houses were identical except that Chisholm’s was a pale gray and this one was dark.
Max knocked on the door, which still had a Christmas wreath, and Noelle stomped the snow off her boots.
“I really love snow,” she said. “I get excited when it’s in the forecast. Last winter in town we only got about an inch twice. We were cheated.”
He grinned at her, enjoying the animation in her face as she gazed at the snow. It was a pleasure to see the confident detective he’d learned was a perfectionist show glee in her eyes and smile.
The door was opened by a thirtysomething man holding the hand of a small boy. His gaze was suspicious. “Can I help you?”
“Are you Ricky Dowd?” asked Max. “We just met with your home’s owner, Will Tomac—”
“Yeah, I saw all of you over there. What’s going on?” The boy yanked on his father’s arm, and Ricky hoisted him onto his hip.
Max and Noelle presented their IDs and introduced themselves.
“You’re from the FBI? Is Eli okay?” Ricky asked, his forehead wrinkling in worry.
“Can we come in and talk?” asked Noelle, her breath hanging in the cold air.
“Umm. Yeah, sure.”
The boy stuck his thumb in his mouth, his gaze locked on Max.
“Who’s this?” Max asked, nodding at the boy as they entered the house.
“Trey. He’s almost three.”
Ricky moved some toys off a dated sofa, and they all sat, he with Trey on his lap in an easy chair that seemed to have had its sides ripped up by a cat.
“Is anyone else home?” asked Max.
“No. Just us. This is my weekend with Trey.” He shifted the boy to his other leg. “Now. What’s up with Eli?” He frowned as he looked from Max to Noelle. “What happened?”
Max debated telling the man the truth. His concern felt legitimate. “He’s a person of interest in a case we’re working on. He may have witnessed something.”
Ricky pulled his son’s thumb out of his mouth and distracted him with a stuffed elephant. “You’re being vague. I get it. But I suspect Eli’s associations might have caught up with him.”
Max exchanged a look with Noelle. “Explain.”
“How much do you know about Eli?” asked Ricky. “Because I’ve known him for about ten years. Not much goes on with him that he doesn’t tell me about.” His tone was matter-of-fact, and Max suspected that Ricky had guessed that something bad had happened to Eli.
“We don’t know much about him at all. When did you see him last?” asked Noelle.
“Probably last week sometime. Haven’t had a sit-down-and-talk discussion for a while, but we always say hello when we cross paths.
” He sighed and set Trey down as the boy tried to squirm off his lap, his attention locked on some brightly colored cardboard bricks.
“We were of the same mindset for a long time.
But a few years ago, we took different directions.
“There’s a lot about this country that needs changing,” said Ricky, his gaze on his son.
“But Eli and I have different opinions on how that should be done. At one time I’d go with him to the meetings and such.
Everyone was on the same side, and we wanted to make our voices heard.
But it started going too far for me. I could see some of these people were ready to cross lines that I didn’t think we should. ”
And he thought I was being vague.
“Impatience grew over the years. The legal channels were too slow. They wanted to burn everything down and start over. Get rid of taxes and laws and build everything from the ground up. Eli was fully on board.” Ricky shook his head.
“I’d say to Eli, ‘Well, what about regulations that keep our meat safe? Does that need to be burned down? What about the regulations for baby food and keeping chemicals out of their toys?’
“Eli’d say, ‘We won’t touch that.’ So then I’d ask, ‘Will there be programs that help the people who can’t afford to heat their homes during the winter?
’ His reply was that they should rely on family and friends.
So I’d say, ‘Eli, which of your friends or family will buy you heat?’” Ricky chuckled.
“That shut him up because he’s had to get government assistance for that before.
I don’t think he had any real friends but me, and I’ve never heard a word about his family.
He knows I ain’t buying his heat and mine.
So he said, ‘We’ll keep that program.’ Drove me crazy how he’d berry-pick what to keep and what to get rid of based on his personal decisions.
It was like he didn’t understand that different people had different needs.
Then I’d ask, ‘If no one has to pay taxes anymore, who’s going to pay the firemen when your house catches on fire?
’” Ricky grinned, his gaze still on his son.
“It took the wind out of his sails every time.”
“Do you think you changed his mind?” asked Noelle.
“I know I didn’t change his mind. He wouldn’t talk to me for a week or two after we had one of those discussions, and then he’d try to avoid the topic for a couple months.
But lately he’s seemed convinced that we’re in for a big shake-up, but that it won’t affect the average American. Claims it’ll be good for everyone.”
Max struggled to sit still. Ricky’s description lined up with what the FBI had been hearing. “What’s the shake-up?” he asked in a neutral voice.
“Don’t know. He wouldn’t tell me outright,” said Ricky. “But I have some ideas after listening to him. He said it’s going to get people’s attention and create a vacuum at the top.”
“Top of what?” Noelle asked sharply. “Is he going to assassinate the president?”
“I asked the same. He laughed at me and claimed it wasn’t anything close to that. That this would be only a beginning.”
“What are they going to do?” asked Max, a stir of panic rising in his gut. “This isn’t the time to be vague, Ricky.”
“I could say the same to you,” said Ricky, his voice rising. “Eli’s dead, isn’t he?”
Max counted to five and made a decision. “Yes. He is, and we’re trying to find who did it. And there’s a good chance the murderer could be from this group that you keep alluding to but not giving any details about.” He held Ricky’s gaze. The air in the room was suddenly thick with tension.
Trey squealed as his brick wall fell over, and the tension evaporated.
“Ricky, what do you know about this group?” asked Noelle.
Ricky blew out a breath and rubbed a hand down his face.
“If that’s so, then it’s my fault he’s dead.
I introduced Eli to them back when we first met.
But a few years ago, I wasn’t comfortable there anymore and stopped going.
I’d gotten married and had different priorities.
” He stared at his son. “But the group . . .” He shook his head.
“They started suggesting riskier things. Like damaging substations or having a public gathering where we all open carry.”
“Open carry’s legal here,” said Noelle.
“Yeah, they said that was the point. They just wanted to get people’s attention. They hoped someone would react with force and then they’d have reason to ‘exert their rights.’”
“They wanted to shoot people?” she asked.
Ricky shrugged.
Max felt sick to his stomach.
“They talked about it a lot. Any government official they were angry with at the moment was always a topic of discussion. How to pinpoint public attention on that bureaucrat or their family. Publish their address and phone number. Pressure the official enough to step down.”
“You mean scare and threaten them enough to step down,” said Max.
Ricky simply nodded. “They started weapons training a couple years ago, after I left. Militia-type shit, you know. I was glad I was out by the time they started that. Eli loved it. Bought paramilitary gear. Practiced shooting as a group all the time.”
“Ricky, were these people part of America’s Preserve?” Noelle asked, referring to the militia group that Mercy had infiltrated a couple of years before.
“I know some left our group and went with them, but Mac—he’s the guy who led us—had always hated their leader.
Hodges, I think his name was. Mac said he was an asshole who didn’t know what he was doing.
Apparently he was right, because America’s Preserve pretty much imploded a while back, and a lotta people died.