Chapter 31
Chapter
Thirty-One
Iwait as Austin comes toward me with long strides.
Blue jeans and t-shirts seem to be the wardrobe of choice in this town.
The closer he gets, the more I notice his youth—soft features and smooth skin.
His blond hair and bright green eyes add to his youthful appearance.
I believe he’s eighteen, but with his baby face, the poor kid will be carded until he’s forty.
His build, however, is more defined—one of a football player.
He has wide shoulders, a trim waist, and he’s tall, probably as tall as Ollie.
“I wasn’t sure you’d recognize me,” he says, stopping a respectable few feet away.
“I remember seeing your pictures on Julie’s social media.”
He takes on the stance Hank had a few days ago, stuffing his hands deep into the pockets of his blue jeans and staring down at his shoes. Unlike Hank’s boots, Austin Kolldike wears retro tennis shoes—high-top chucks, black with a dirty white sole.
“Will you...” he asks softly, “can you...tell me how she is?”
“Julie?” I question, though there’s little doubt of who he means.
“Yeah, I’ve called her phone about twenty times. I left a few messages, but now her voice mail is full.” He looks up and meets my gaze. “I was in the gym when Sheriff Manes said Julie was hurt. I want you to know, I left the party, but I never wanted anything to happen to her.”
“Of course you didn’t.”
“We...for a time...I was mad when we broke up, but I thought we’d kind of worked it out, were able to be friends if you know what I mean.”
I shrug. “Who broke up with whom?”
He turns his head from side to side. “It was me.”
“You broke up with her? Why?”
His head shakes. “None of it matters now. Her interests were changing.”
“Are either of you dating anyone now?” I ask.
“Not me.” He grins. “There’s no one in Blue Gil who I care about...like that. Besides, I’ll be leaving soon.”
“Leaving? Oh, right, college.”
“Yeah, I’m leaving right after graduation for preseason football training up at Northern Michigan.”
I suck in a breath and take a small step backward. “Northern Michigan in Marquette?”
A smile spreads over Austin’s face. “Yes, ma’am. Coach helped me get a scholarship, full ride if I can play. Did you know that he played there before Michigan State noticed him?” He doesn’t let me answer. “I figure if he can make that move, maybe I can too.”
“I’m sure you can, Austin. May I ask you something?”
His footing shifts. “About finding him...” He meets my gaze again. “It’s what everyone wants to know about. Sheriff Manes told me and Paxton not to say nothing.”
“I bet he did.” I take a step closer and scrunch my nose. “I can’t imagine. Was it awful?”
“It was.” His expression changes, and he puckers his lips. “There were all these flies and dead leaves. That ditch is kind of deep. It was warm that day. The buzzing is what got our attention.”
“That’s awful.”
“Those ditches can be like rivers. We’d had a lot of rain and then it warmed.” Austin shakes his head. “He was all crumpled.”
“Crumpled?”
“I don’t know what the right word is. You know, like a tissue you throw away.
It came out of the box all straight and when you pull it from your pocket, it’s all gross and balled up.
” He pushes his hands deeper. “Sometimes at night when I try to sleep, I remember seeing him, and the Kleenex thing is the best way I can describe him, like he got all twisted.” More shaking of his head. “It didn’t look like him.”
“If it didn’t look like him, do you think maybe it wasn’t?”
“Oh no,” Austin says, “he was swollen and some of his face was gone. But it was him. He was still wearing his wedding ring. His fingers were gross and huge. I’d rather not talk about it.”
“Do you think he was hurt?”
Austin’s eyes open wide. “He was dead, ma’am.”
I feign a grin. “Obviously, but I keep wondering what killed him.”
“They said an accident.”
“What do you take that to mean?”
Austin shrugs. “He wasn’t supposed to die. It happened accidentally, like he fell or something.” He takes a few steps backward. “All I know is by the time we found him, he was crumpled. No wonder Mrs. Coach didn’t want people to see him.”
“Mrs. Gilbert?”
“Yes, right. We always called her Mrs. Coach.” He tilts his head. “Any word on Julie?”
“She’s coming home today. I don’t know if she’ll be ready for visitors.”
“Home is good. I should have stayed at the party. I’m real sorry I didn’t.”
He’s the second man to say that to me. “Austin, you weren’t responsible for Julie.”
“She was so upset about Coach. I should have kept watching her.”
“Upset?”
He inhales, his nostrils flaring. “She...she liked him.”
Liked him?
When I don’t respond, he adds, “We all did—the whole town. Right?”
“Yes, of course.”
The veins and cords of Austin’s neck come to life as his jaw clenches. “I ain’t a violent man, but if I find out who raped her, I ain’t responsible...”
“Who told you she was raped?”
“No one had to tell me. The way Sheriff Manes said she was hurt, I just figured...”
“Please don’t. And if you can, for Julie’s sake, don’t let others spread that misinformation.”
His green eyes appear brighter. “So, she wasn’t...no one did that to her?”
“Not what you’re thinking. I would let Julie be the one to set the record straight… when she’s ready.”
“Will you tell her I asked about her?”
Again, I nod. “Sure will, when I see her.”
“Thank you, Jillian. Really sucks that the first time you’re home, this happened.”
“Yeah, Austin, it does.”
He spins around to go back into the Walleye Tavern, and I turn to my car and unlock the door.
Before heading out to Stark Lake, I drive over to the McKenna farm. I’m curious to see how close I can get to the gardener’s shed. I want an idea of how far a distance it is from the pond and bonfire to the shed.
If Keith and I are onto something about GHB or any other date-rape category of drug, Julie and Marty could have willingly walked to the shed. Hell, they might have been promised more and better drugs or maybe it was sex. As he mentioned, GHB is known to enhance libido.
As I drive, I realize Austin didn’t answer my question as to whether Julie was dating anyone. It seems that Liv said she wasn’t, but it wouldn’t be unheard of for a teenager to lie by omission. My thoughts are all over the place as I drive northeast of Blue Gil and arrive at the McKenna farm.
Shit.
I can’t go any farther. The main road onto the property, the one that used to lead to the big barn, is blocked with upturned concrete blocks and yellow tape. On a fence post, one that I believe is new, to the right of the driveway, is a sign with No Trespassing in large orange letters.
Careful of the swales on each side of the road, I turn the car around. Just as I’m about to drive away, blue lights flash in my rearview mirror. I drive slowly to the side of the road, expecting the police vehicle to pass; instead, it stops behind me.
Even knowing that I haven’t done anything wrong, there is a rush of anxiety at the prospect of being pulled over.
As the door to the Blue Gil Sheriff’s Department vehicle opens, I see Annabelle Ford in my rearview mirror.
Being the only woman on Blue Gil’s police force, she isn’t difficult to identify.
However, that isn’t the only reason she’s recognizable.
She has an uncanny resemblance to her sister, Constance, who was my teammate in high school.
I roll down my window as the deputy comes closer. “Deputy Ford,” I greet.
Her stern expression immediately softens. “Jillian. I heard you were in town.”
“Not very good timing.”
She lifts her chin to the blockade. “What are you doing here?”
“Nosy, I guess.” When she doesn’t respond, I continue, “Julie is coming home today, and I’ve been thinking. You know when we were young, we knew about the barn, but I never knew about the pond or the farther-back parts of this farm.”
“What barn? I have no idea what you mean.” Her dark eyes shimmer in jest. “I was never there, but I remember stories about you and...who was it?”
Heat fills my cheeks, even after all this time. “Justin Sims.”
“I remember him. Science geek.”
“Hey, he was on the football team.”
“Yeah, but I heard he now has some big job inventing something.”
I grin. “I hope he’s happy. Last I heard he was up around Grand Rapids.”
Annabelle’s expression morphs to business.
“Ever since the state police got involved in” —she motions around— “all of this, they’ve tied our hands.
They’re the ones who blocked off the McKenna land.
” She shakes her head. “And since half the town met with the sheriff at the pond Sunday morning, that area is useless—contaminated. They’re questioning the sheriff’s motives.
But, Jillian, you know, most of us assumed the girls were simply sleeping it off? ”
Instead of responding, I ask, “What about the gardener’s shed?”
“Ain’t no one getting within one hundred feet. The county and state both sent forensic teams to run tests. One is supposed to substantiate the other’s findings.”
“How far back is the shed?”
Annabelle purses her lips as she considers. “It’s a far piece. Prior to the sheriff finding Julie there, I didn’t know it existed. You know, this is private property.”
I nod. “Private property hasn’t been a big deterrent in the past.”
Her gaze goes to the blockade and back. “Seems like that’s changed.”
“Now that you know where the shed is, how do you think someone would be able to get the girls there or Marty away from there?”
“It would have to be a big guy to carry them both. Unless...”
“Unless what?” I ask.
“Northeast of here, there’s an access road. Not really a road anymore. It was the driveway to the house before it was torn down—mostly overgrown. What’s left of that road gets within half an acre of the shed.”
“How do I access that?”
She shakes her head. “You don’t. It’s blocked off.”
“From what road?”
“Jillian, you can’t be on the property.”
I let out a long breath. “I’m just trying to make sense of this.”
“Curry Lane.”
I try to think back. “I don’t know that street.”
“Mostly because it isn’t much of a street. It’s only about two miles long, running perpendicular to West 85th, just west of Culver Lake.”
“I know Culver Lake.”
“Don’t go out there. That area is being guarded by state troopers.”
“I won’t. Thanks for the information. I’ll check out Google Earth.”
“How’s Julie?” Annabelle asks.
“Coming home today.”
“Your poor momma.”
“Yeah, it’s been rough,” I admit. I look at the gearshift and back up at her. “I better let you get back to what you’re doing.”
Annabelle reaches out and places her hand on the top of the car door. “I heard from Hank Sanders that you’re staying out at the Iverson place.”
News travels via unconventional ways in Blue Gil. “Yes.”
“Just stay safe. We’ve got someone scary running around. Have you considered staying in town with your family or maybe in Three Rivers with Liv and Matt?”
“I kind of like my independence.”
“I get that. I mean Blue Gil isn’t California, but I just have a bad feeling. I’ll sleep better when we figure out who this guy is.”
“What’s your thought?”
“Ain’t got one I can share.”
I grin. “But if you could, would you guess a Blue Gillian or an outsider?”
“Everyone is saying outsider,” Annabelle says.
I nod.
“Seems more personal to me, like this guy knows them. He’s angry or upset.”
“Do you think it’s connected to Coach Gilbert?”
“Not sure. But it seems that way.” She shrugs. “If not, it’s a mighty odd coincidence.” She releases her grip of the car door. “Be careful. Keep your doors locked.”
“I will,” I say, right before I roll up the window and head back to Stark Lake.