Chapter Twenty-Two CJ Taggart
Chapter Twenty-Two
CJ Taggart
The Afternoon After
After Taggart left the concert site Saturday afternoon, he drove to his apartment. He was dog-ass tired, and a headache pulsed behind his left eye.
He had a small first-floor apartment in Dawson near the office. He’d thought about property in the mountains, but that would take time.
A cool breeze teased his face as he opened the back door. He stepped inside to a small entryway, where he shrugged off his rain slicker, hung it up, and wrestled off his belt holster. He set his gun on a shelf. Sitting, he tugged off his muddy boots.
A sigh leaked over his lips. His back ached, and his knees pulsed. There’d been a time when he worked a forty-eight-hour shift and shook it off. Not anymore.
He stripped and turned on the shower tap. When the water steamed, he stepped under the hot spray. He groaned as the heat burrowed into his bones and chased out the chill. His headache still throbbed, but the drumbeat felt a little slower.
Rafe Colton was a liar and a con artist. It was a matter of time before he was behind bars. And Taggart hoped he was the man to lock him up.
When the hot water turned cold, he stepped out of the shower and dried off. Towel around his waist, he moved into the kitchen and set the coffee maker to brew. By the time the pot was full, he’d dressed in clean khakis, a pressed shirt, and fresh boots.
He filled a cup. As he sipped hot coffee, his phone rang. He swore.
“Taggart,” he said.
“Sheriff, this is Brenda in dispatch.”
“What’s wrong, Brenda?” Since he’d been on the job, she’d not called him once. Not even when a drunk had plowed his red pickup truck into the hardware store.
“Sara Grayson is pacing the waiting area. She’s Patty Reed’s mother. She said Patty has not come home.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know Patty that well. Has she taken off like this before?”
“Not according to her mother. She always hurries home to the baby. She was due home late yesterday.”
He thought about the abandoned burger stand that had been ransacked by hungry crowds. “Tell her I’ll be there in a half hour.”
“Will do, Sheriff.”
He hung up and downed the last of his coffee. He settled his holster and gun on his hip. As much as he bemoaned the interruption, a glance at a half-full whisky bottle reminded him he never got along well with extra time.
In his vehicle, he shifted gears and pressed on the accelerator. He didn’t slow until he was pulling into the office’s parking lot. Inside, he was greeted by ringing phones. Seemed busy for a Saturday in a small town, but this was only his second Saturday in Dawson.
He found Brenda behind her console, scribbling notes and nodding. “Yes, sir. I’ll tell the sheriff.”
She ended the call and swiveled in her chair toward him. “Sara is in the conference room waiting for you.”
“Thanks, Brenda.” He stopped at the break room and poured two cups of coffee and then found the small ten-by-ten room that served as their conference space.
Sara Grayson wasn’t sitting at the small round table but staring at the old sheriff’s picture on the wall. An oversize T-shirt covered her thick frame. Faded jeans tightened around her legs and ankles. She had short graying hair. He saw no traces of the energetic Patty.
“Ms. Grayson.”
When she turned, he held up a cup. She accepted it but didn’t sip.
“Why don’t you have a seat?”
Dark circles smudged under her eyes. “I don’t need to sit to tell you my daughter is missing.”
He set his cup on the table and pulled out a chair for her. She didn’t move. He resisted the urge to roll the tightness from his shoulders. He grabbed a legal pad and pen from a small credenza.
“Please, have a seat. I’m dead on my feet and I won’t sit until you do.”
She drew in a deep breath and sat.
He angled his chair toward her and lowered into the seat. “Tell me what’s happening.”
“What’s happening? My daughter didn’t come home last night. I called the diner this morning. Buddy said she left the burger tent last night and didn’t return. He said she’s fine and just messing with him. But that’s not Patty. She comes home as quick as she can to see the baby.”
“Where’s the baby now?”
“I left her with Jody, Patty’s neighbor.”
“Do you watch the baby for Patty while she’s working?”
“No. Jody does. They trade babysitting favors.”
“What’s Jody’s last name?”
“Thompson. Jody Thompson.”
“When is the last time you saw Patty?”
“When Patty dropped the baby off Friday morning, Jody was out of town. I knew it was going to be almost twenty-four hours watching the baby, but she begged for my help.” She dropped her gaze to her calloused palm.
“Are you and Patty close?” Natural for a mother and daughter to be close, but that wasn’t always the case.
“Not since she dated Larry Summers. I told her he was trouble, but she didn’t listen. He got her pregnant, stole from her, and left her.”
He scribbled the man’s name on the pad. “When is the last time Patty saw Larry?”
“He left her before the baby was born. But he came in the diner a few months ago. He made a fuss. But a customer chased him off.”
“Does he have contact with the baby?”
She straightened. “No. Hasn’t sent her a nickel to support that child.”
Women fell prey to former boyfriends too often. “Is Patty dating anyone else?”
“She wouldn’t tell me if she was. She knew I wouldn’t approve. The last thing she needs is a man.”
He thought about the young woman who always had a smile on her face when he saw her. “Was she meeting any friends at the festival?”
“She never told me.” Sara shook her head. “I need her back. The baby only responds to Patty. She’s hard to handle. She doesn’t like people. She smiles when she wants something, but she’s often very quiet. I think she’s got more of her father in her than Patty is willing to admit.”
“Can you write down your contact information? Also, any numbers you have for Larry Summers?”
“Last I heard he was working in a garage near Staunton. But you can check Patty’s trailer and see if she has any numbers for him.”
“Write down her address.” Patty was an adult. She was free to take off with friends or vanish for a day or two. If not for her baby, he’d give her a week or two before he chased her down.
Sara scribbled down Patty’s address. He recognized the trailer park. It was located on the south side of town. There’d been a report of a break-in there a week ago. It was on the verge of becoming a dive. No telling who lived near Patty and had been keeping an eye on her.
Sara removed a key from her ring. “This is the key to her trailer. I was just there, but there’s no sign that she came home.”
“You went inside her place?”
“Yes. I needed more diapers and formula.”
“You’ll need to file a missing person report.”
“Why? I just told you.”
“We need formal notification. There are laws I must follow.”
“What kind of laws?”
“Patty is an adult. She’s not broken the law. And I need twenty-four hours after this report is filed before I can open an investigation.”
“You aren’t going to do anything?” Sara demanded.
Rules like that one irritated him. When anyone went missing, the first hour was the golden hour. The more time that passed, the less chance the missing person would be found alive. He took the key. “I didn’t say that. Fill out the paperwork, and I’ll call you as soon as I find anything.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll have Brenda bring in the forms.”
“Right.”
He left Sara staring at her untouched cup of coffee. “Brenda.”
“I have the missing person forms,” she said. “What else?”
“Where’s Paxton?”
“He went home to grab a few hours of sleep. Want me to wake him up?”
“No. Let him sleep.”
“Where are you headed?”
“To visit Patty Reed’s trailer.”
Brenda didn’t question the twenty-four-hour waiting window on the missing person report. “Right.”
Taggart arrived at Patty’s trailer, located in a small twenty-unit park on the edge of town.
Her unit was simple and didn’t appear to have the bells and whistles some others did.
She didn’t have a front garden or a porch.
Though there were rust spots on the siding, the steps were swept and the windows clean.
He pulled on latex gloves and then climbed the steps, inserted the key Sara gave him, and let himself inside.
The interior was dark, but the soft scent of baby powder clung to the air.
The carpeting looked freshly vacuumed, and the small kitchen was clean.
Dishes were stacked in a drainer, and a red washcloth was draped over the faucet to dry.
The living room was picked up. Blankets were folded, pillows fluffed, and a collection of baby toys piled in a small basket. There were several framed pictures of the baby. The child’s smiles looked strained and her gaze serious.
The bedroom was at the back of the unit.
The bed was made, and the crib sheets smooth.
On a small desk, he saw several brochures for accounting classes.
Tacked to a small bulletin board was a GED certificate.
He opened the desk drawers. They were filled with paper, pens, pencils, a sleeve of condoms, and a stack of letters.
He reached for the opened envelopes. They were from several community colleges.
The first was a rejection letter, as were the next three.
He replaced the letters in the envelopes and closed the drawer.
There was also a brochure for a resort in Colorado. The facility was looking for waitresses and promised twenty bucks an hour. That would have been a hell of a pay bump if it were true.
Finally, there was a stack of photographs taken of Patty and a guy.
Tall, with thick, dark hair. Taggart guessed this must be Larry Summers.
He stared at her smiling face. A pretty girl with a plateful of responsibilities at a young age.
Maybe she wanted to dump this life and find a new one.
No college rejections, judgmental mother, abusive ex, or moody baby.
Anywhere else must have looked pretty good to Patty Reed.