CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Matt read from the mobile laptop in the sheriff’s SUV. “Crystal Rynski is fifty-five years old. She rents her property and has lived there for at least five years. She has two old speeding tickets. Her criminal history is clean.”
“No drug arrests?”
Matt scrolled. “Not that I can find.”
“There it is.” Bree pointed to a gravel access road.
He read the small sign. “Holiday Estates, an active adult community.”
“Doesn’t look very active to me.” She turned the wheel. Gravel crunched under the tires as they rolled into the development. Narrow lanes meandered among tiny, nearly identical manufactured houses. The SUV bounced though unavoidable muddy ruts.
Matt read numbers on mailboxes until they reached unit 42, which was barely bigger than a single-wide trailer. Bree parked next to a rust-bitten Buick with a handicap parking placard hanging from the rearview mirror.
Drizzle pattered on the windshield, and solid cloud cover cast a gloomy gray light on the green house. Plastic flowers filled the window boxes, their unnatural pinks and blues shiny and wet. The bright colors emphasized the utter grayness of the rest of the surroundings. The roof was missing shingles, and mold crawled up the siding like a swarm of insects.
Matt took in the overall neglect and poverty. “This is depressing.”
Bree sighed. “Yes, it is.”
They stepped out of the vehicle and approached the house. The wooden stoop squeaked and shuddered under their weight. Light rain misted Matt’s face as they knocked on the front door. Shuffling footsteps approached. The woman who opened the door looked twenty years older than her actual age. Time had been brutal to her. Deep lines fanned out from her eyes and puckered around her mouth. Wrinkles etched her sun-damaged skin like brush marks. A cigarette dangled from the corner of her mouth, quivering as she addressed them in a suspicious and unwelcoming tone. “What do you want?”
“Crystal Rynski?” Bree asked.
“Yeah.” Crystal’s eyes narrowed as she took in Bree’s uniform.
Bree touched her own chest. “I’m Sheriff Taggert—”
“I can see that.” Crystal dragged on her cigarette. With angry eyes, she plucked it from her mouth with two fingers and blew a plume of smoke at Bree’s face. “What do you want? I didn’t do anything.” Her gaze landed on Matt with less hostility.
He said, “We’re here about your daughter, Jana.”
“Jana?” Crystal shook her head in disbelief. “I know my daughter didn’t do anything wrong. She’s as good as they come.” Her voice rang with pride as she jabbed her cigarette toward Bree’s nose. “I won’t help you pin something on her she didn’t do.”
“No, ma’am,” Bree said. “We don’t think she did anything wrong. We’re concerned about Jana.”
Crystal coughed. “What’s wrong? I just talked to her the other day. She was fine.”
A sound caught Matt’s attention. He glanced sideways. On the porch of the house next door, an old man leaned on his walker and blatantly eavesdropped.
“Can we go inside?” Matt nodded toward the neighbor.
With a dismissive wave at the old man, Crystal backed up a few steps, turned, and shuffled toward a living room barely bigger than a parking space. A recliner and an upholstered chair faced a flat-screen TV. She eased into a recliner.
Bree took the second chair, sinking into a clear depression in the cushion. Matt perched on the ottoman. Cigarette smoke hung in a thick haze, burning his eyes and lungs.
“Now tell me what happened,” Crystal demanded.
Bree began. “Jana’s friend, Ally, was identified as a murder victim. We went to Jana’s apartment to ask her some questions about Ally. We found the door unlocked and blood stains on the carpet. Jana wasn’t there.”
Matt added, “She didn’t show up for work today either.”
With distrustful eyes, Crystal set her cigarette in the ashtray on the end table. “Jana always shows up for work. Always.” She pulled her phone out of her pocket and stabbed the screen. “Hello? Sandy? This is Crystal. I’m looking for Jana.” Her lips mashed as she listened. “You’ll call me if you hear from her? Thanks.” She lowered the phone. Her gaze held less suspicion now that she’d confirmed Bree and Matt weren’t lying. “Jana would never be that irresponsible. Everyone knows that.”
“When was the last time you saw or spoke with Jana?”
Crystal tapped on her phone screen. “She called me Tuesday night at eight thirty-five. The last time I saw her was when she came by after work on Monday. The café had a fried chicken special, and she brought me some. Sandy—Jana’s boss—is real nice about sending home leftovers.”
“Jana calls you regularly?” Bree asked.
“A few times a week.” Crystal’s gaze sharpened. “You need to find her ex-boyfriend?” She pronounced boyfriend like it was profanity. “His name is Chevy.”
“Chevy was in Jana’s apartment.” Bree hesitated.
“She kicked him out!” Crystal exclaimed, then coughed at the exertion.
Bree nodded. “He was destroying property, and we arrested him.”
“That son of a ...” Crystal scrubbed both hands down her face.
“Do you know why Jana kicked him out?” Matt asked.
Crystal didn’t hesitate. “He hit her.”
Bree’s eyebrows rose. “You know that for sure?”
Crystal grabbed her cigarette, took a last puff, and stubbed it out. “Yep. Couple of weeks ago.”
“She told you?” Bree asked.
Crystal nodded hard. “We talked about it. She knew I’d understand. Jana’s father left us when she was just a baby. I remarried a few years later. My new husband hit me a couple of times. Each time, he’d swear that was the last time. One day, I burned his steak. He was mad as a yellow jacket. Slapped me across the face. Crystal—she was only eleven at the time—tried to get between us, and he raised his hand to hit her.” Crystal’s tone rose, suggesting his decision hadn’t been wise. “I grabbed his steak knife right off the table and buried it in his thigh. Nobody touches my girl.”
“He moved out?” Bree asked.
“I dropped him at the ER, went home, and tossed all his shit outside. Couple of hours later, his buddy brought him back. He banged on the door and demanded that I let him in. I greeted him with a butcher knife. Asked him if he wanted more stitches. Told him if he forced his way inside, I’d stab him in his sleep. He backed right the fuck down. Never had another bit of trouble from him.” She picked up her cigarettes, tapped one out of the pack, and lit it. “When Jana came to me and said Chevy had slapped her, I told her what to do. If he hit her once, he will do it again. I waited too long with my ex. I didn’t want her to make the same mistake.”
“How did Jana feel about the breakup?” Matt asked.
Crystal squinted. “She was upset but she knew it was something she had to do. No woman wants to be in that situation. She’d let him move in with her, so she had feelings for him. Jana doesn’t make that kind of decision lightly.”
“Did she talk about it Monday?” Bree asked.
Crystal shook her head. “No. But she was definitely distracted.”
A daughter wouldn’t necessarily confide everything to her mother, especially when her mother had very strong opinions on a subject. Women confided in friends.
“Does Jana have any other friends we can contact?” Matt coughed.
“Other than Ally, Noreen, and me? Let me think.” Crystal put her cigarette to her lips and sucked on it. “There are a couple of girls she might see a movie with once in a while. But not since she hooked up with the loser. He didn’t like her to have friends.”
“Does Jana have hobbies?” Bree asked. “Places she frequents?”
“Not really.” Crystal blew smoke at the ceiling. “She’s saving her money to finish school. She took a couple of classes at the community college, but she ran out of money and had to take this school year off. Are you going to find my daughter?” Her tone went soft, and Matt’s heart broke. This woman had had a hard life. Now the one good thing she had left in the world—her daughter—was in jeopardy.
“I’d like you to fill out a missing person report,” Bree said. “And get me the names of Jana’s friends.”
Crystal’s eyes misted. “I’ll do whatever you want. Just find my girl. Please.”
The Sunrise Café was closed when Matt and Bree drove by, so they went out to the address listed on the owners’ driver’s licenses. Sandy and Eric Zolek lived on a hundred acres. There were no flowers or ornamental shrubs. Everything in sight seemed productive. A greenhouse stretched long and low. Next to it, the soil in a fenced garden had been tilled. Chickens pecked around a fully enclosed chicken coop. There were two barns, a garage, and even an old silo. The place wasn’t in the best shape. Paint peeled, and fences sagged. But the chickens looked healthy, and the coop was clean.
After Bree parked, they knocked on the front door. No one answered.
Matt heard an engine. “Let’s walk around back. Most farmers are usually working somewhere on their property.”
They rounded the side of the house to see a man on a tractor trying to pull a tree stump out of a field. The tractor tires spun, sending chunks of mud twenty feet behind the machine.
“Can I help you?” someone called.
Matt spun. A bone-thin woman in her midfifties walked out of the large barn, pitchfork in hand. She wore jeans, a fleece zip-up with the Sunrise Café logo on the chest, and knee-high rubber boots. A metal bar as thick as his arm was dropped across the double doors of the small barn. Through the open door of the larger barn, Matt could see penned cows chewing hay. Matt and Bree joined the woman under the overhang of the barn roof.
The woman propped her free hand on her hip. “Is this about Jana?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Bree introduced herself and Matt. “Are you Sandy Zolek?”
“I am,” she said.
Matt waved a hand. “Is it just the two of you to farm all of this?”
“Eric does most of the farming.” She gestured toward the man on the tractor. “I help him some, but mostly I run the restaurant.”
“Seems like a lot of work,” Matt said.
“Sunrise Café is farm to table.” She lifted a shoulder. “The farm part is essential.”
A bellow sounded from inside the small barn. Something large struck the wall, seemingly shaking the structure.
“What was that?” Matt asked.
“My husband’s bull.” Sandy rolled her eyes. “I told Eric we should turn him into a freezer full of meat before he kills somebody. Nasty animal. Eric says we can’t afford another bull, so we’re stuck with him.”
The tractor rumbled toward them, towing the stump.
“Have you heard from Jana in the past two days?” Bree asked.
Sandy shook her head. “I knew something was wrong when she didn’t show up for work today.”
“What about yesterday?” Matt shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. The scar tissue on his palm ached with the cold.
“She was off, so I don’t know where she was,” Sandy said. “The last day she worked was Tuesday.”
“Was she worried about anything?” Bree gave a small shiver.
“Yes.” Sandy zipped her fleece all the way to her chin. “That jerk, Chevy, showed up about a week ago and harassed her behind the restaurant. She came inside to get away from him. Eric was there. He went out and chased him off.”
The tractor rumbled into the yard. The man climbed off and removed a chain from the stump. Then he remounted the tractor and drove it into the garage.
Sandy made a thoughtful face. “I’m not sure of the exact day.”
“Do you have surveillance video?” Bree asked.
“Only on the doors,” Sandy said. “Our system needs upgrading, but all that technology costs money.”
Her husband left the garage and approached. Sandy introduced them. “This is my husband, Eric.”
Eric didn’t offer a hand. But then, his hands, and most of the rest of him, were splattered with mud.
“Stump clearing is hard work,” Matt said.
Eric gave him a curt nod. “My granddaddy blew off his fingers using dynamite, so I’m grateful for the tractor.”
Sandy said, “I was telling them about Jana’s ex following her to the restaurant.”
Eric snorted his annoyance.
Sandy continued. “Anyway, Chevy was a good hundred feet away. Had his truck half behind a delivery truck, just waiting for Jana to come out.”
“Thought he was being sneaky,” Eric added. “I showed him.” His hand flexed into a fist.
“I spotted him.” Sandy rolled her lips. “We’ve never really had any trouble before, but we’re going to add more cameras.”
Eric grunted his agreement.
“Did you hear Chevy directly threaten Jana?” Bree asked.
Eric shook his head.
Sandy said, “Kind of. They were arguing. She told him he couldn’t stalk her. He said it was a free country. Soon as Eric went out, Chevy ran off.”
“It sounds like Jana has been having a rough time of it lately,” Matt said. “Does she have hobbies? Friends? Did she talk about anything that might indicate a person she might call if she was in trouble or a place she might go if she needed some space?”
Sandy tapped a finger on the handle of her pitchfork. “She talks to her mom and her neighbor, Noreen. Her best friend wasn’t returning her calls, and that worried her.”
“Ally Swanson?” Matt asked.
“That sounds right,” Sandy confirmed.
Bree said, “Ally’s dead.”
Sandy covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh, no.”
Eric folded his arms, and his posture went rigid.
Bree nodded. “She was one of the bodies found in the woods the other day.”
“If Jana found out ...” Sandy looked away, as if thinking, for a minute. Then she lowered her hand. “She would have been very upset.”
“There was blood on Jana’s carpet,” Matt said.
Sandy’s gaze moved from his to Bree’s. “Did something violent happen to her?”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” Bree said.
“Is Jana close to any of the other employees?” Matt asked.
“I’ve never heard of them going out for drinks or anything like that.” Twisting her mouth, Sandy mulled over the question for a few seconds. “Most of the waitresses are older, like me. Jana’s the youngest by far. Jana’s friendly, but not familiar, if you know what I mean.”
Matt nodded. “I do.”
Sandy scraped the tines of the pitchfork. “Do you think that serial killer got her?”
“We don’t know,” Bree said.
“My money would be on that ass Chevy,” Sandy said.
Eric shifted his feet, as if impatient. “I have to get back to work. I hope you find her.” He turned and walked into the barn with the cows.
Sandy watched her husband disappear. Then she turned back to Bree and Matt. “Follow me up to the house. I have to start dinner, though I don’t know what else I can tell you anyway.”
“Does Jana keep any personal possessions at the restaurant?” Matt asked as he and Bree fell into step beside her.
“No. We don’t have lockers or anything. Everyone just throws their purses in the back cabinet. We’re like family.” Sandy sniffed, her efficient demeanor faltering.
“She didn’t mention anyone following her or threatening her, besides Chevy?” Bree asked. “No additional worries?”
“No. Just him.” Sandy froze. “Wait. That’s not exactly true. One day a couple of weeks ago, she said there was a black car following her. Chevy drives a truck—a Ford, which I find ironic. Jana thought he might have borrowed a car so she wouldn’t know it was him. She assumed it was him, but she didn’t actually know.”
“Did she say what kind of car?” Matt asked.
Sandy shook her head. “No. Sorry.”
Matt nodded. “But she did say car, not SUV or truck?”
“She definitely said car, and he drives a pickup. She was making the distinction.” Sandy’s eyes went misty. “Jana is a sweet girl. You’ll find her, right?”
“We’ll work this case until we solve it,” Bree said.
Sandy’s stride faltered, then smoothed out again. “I guess in your line of work, you learn not to make promises.”
Neither Bree nor Matt responded. Sandy walked onto the porch and toed off her rubber boots. “I’ll be glad when this rain ends. Never seen this much mud. You hold on a second.” She went inside, returning in less than a minute with a cardboard box, which she handed to Matt. “I’m sure you’ll be working late tonight.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Matt took the box and opened the lid to view a homemade pie. “Apple?”
“Yup,” Sandy said.
“We’re not supposed to accept gifts,” Bree protested.
Sandy raised a hand. “You can’t find Jana without sustenance, and I’m sure you’re going to have a long night. It’s the least I can do. I feel useless to help that poor girl.”
Back in the SUV, Bree frowned at the pie box. “We really aren’t supposed to accept gifts.”
“It’s pie,” Matt huffed. “Sometimes people want to help, but they’re limited in what they can do. Besides, we will be working late, and we will be missing dinner. The sugar will help.”
Bree surrendered. “Let’s call home and let them know we won’t be joining them for dinner.”
Matt opened the box and inhaled. The scent of cinnamon flooded his nose. “At least we won’t starve.”
Sandy was right about one thing. It was going to be a late night.