Coastal justice box set, p.20
Coastal Justice Box Set, page 20
part #1 of Coastal Justice Series
Besides, Boomer was about to lay something on him that would do that job and more.
“That’s not all,” Boomer said, and I could tell by the way he shuffled uneasily in his seat that what he was about to say was going to be hard for Ethan to hear.
“What?” Ethan asked, obviously picking up on the same thing as I did, seeing as how he glared at Boomer with more than a little fear in his voice. “What else could there possibly be?”
“I know you’re probably upset with me for not telling you about Victoria the instant I got the news,” Boomer started. “And I understand that. Just like I know that you understand the reasons I couldn’t. Now that we know it’s her for sure though, I’m obligated to keep you abreast of things, assuming you want to be.”
“And why wouldn’t I want to be?” Ethan asked, narrowing his eyes into thin slits on his face.
“You’ve been through enough of these cases to know the answer to that,” Boomer said. “Sometimes, in instances like these, things about the victim are uncovered, and they’re almost always unfavorable things, Ethan.”
“Boomer,” he started, breathing heavy. “I—”
“You already went through this, Ethan,” Boomer cut him off. “You mourned her already, and it was as hard as hell. I’m not ashamed to say that I wasn’t sure you were going to get through it, but you did. You sure you want to throw yourself into it again?”
“Do I want to?” Ethan asked, his voice laced with disgust. “Of course, I don’t want to, but I didn’t want to do it the first time. This is my wife, Boomer, my damned wife. I stood in front of God, my parents, and everyone I hold dear in this world and I swore I would take care of her. I promised I would protect her, and I failed. The least I can do for her now is find out why. I need you to get to the bottom of this for her and for me.” Ethan’s eyes shot over to me. “And while I won’t get in the way of your investigation, that doesn’t mean I’m going to bury my head in the sand and pretend today didn’t happen.”
“Fair enough,” Boomer sighed. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Boomer took a deep breath, looking down at the tabletop. “She wasn’t the only one who died, Ethan.”
“What?” Ethan asked, and I had to admit that my curiosity was piqued too.
“Emma finished up her autopsy,” Boomer explained. “She was pregnant, Ethan.” He reached out and placed his hand on top of Ethan’s. “When your wife died, she was pregnant.”
Chapter 34
“What do you think happened?” I asked Boomer, standing in the department parking lot and watching Ethan drive away. The news of his wife washing up after having been thought to be dead for three years was a lot to handle. The fact that she was pregnant proved to be too much.
The district attorney excused himself and, before we knew it, he was in his car, peeling out of the parking lot.
“I think he just needs some time,” Boomer answered. “It’s a lot to process. I can’t imagine how I’d feel if it was Debbie,” he said, alluding to his own wife of nearly ten years.
“I meant Victoria,” I answered, looking to him. “What do you think happened to her? Kidnapped? Or did she just fake her own death to get out of her marriage?”
“Honestly,” he scoffed, shaking his head. “Neither seems likely. This isn’t Aruba. Women don’t just go missing in droves here, especially out on the gulf. What you’d be talking about is something like sex slavery, right?”
“I suppose,” I answered, my entire body shuddering at the idea. If there was anything more morally repugnant, I couldn’t think of it.
“I’m gonna say that’s doubtful,” Boomer answered, sighing heavily. “In my experience, that kind of thing doesn’t happen in a vacuum. It’s been three years since Victoria’s disappearance, and in that time, I haven’t heard so much as a peep about other women disappearing or a kidnapping ring in or near town.” He shook his head again and looked at me. “No, if disappearing was something that was done to her, it was more than likely as some sort of revenge against Ethan for someone he locked away.”
“That’s not what you think happened though, is it?” I asked, staring at my friend. I knew Boomer well enough to know when he was invested in an idea, and this was definitely not one of those times.
“She didn’t go out on that boat for no reason. Couple that with some of the whispers in town, and I’m just not convinced she didn’t have a hand in her own disappearance. I wasn’t chief of police back then, Dil,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “If I had have been, the case would never have been closed when it was. It was a big deal down here, Dil. Reporters, news vans, the Coast Guard, the whole nine yards. You know how that goes. A couple of weeks went by with nothing, and they all moved on to bigger stories and more recent tragedies. Victoria was resigned to yesterday’s news, and I think that’s what she wanted.”
“Maybe,” I said. “But I’m guessing, even if she made that decision, a bullet to the neck wasn’t on her wish list.”
“No,” Boomer resigned. “That’s why I’m putting you on the case.”
“Me?” I asked, looking over as a breeze coming off the gulf blew through my hair and cut into the early evening heat.
“Yeah you, you jackass,” Boomer answered. “You weren’t down here when it happened. So you can look at it with fresh eyes and what’s more, I’ll be damned if your bleeding heart ass hasn’t already promised to help Ethan, anyway.” A smile spread across Boomer’s face. “What’d you tell him? That you’d ‘make it right, no matter what the cost’ or something dramatic like that?”
“Something like that,” I conceded.
“Figures,” Boomer chuckled. “Well, far be it from me to make a liar out of my best friend.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out a scrap of paper with a name, number, and address scribbled across it in his own horrendous handwriting. “I want you to start here,” he said, handing me the paper.
“Jack Lacey,” I said aloud, reading the card.
“He used to be a damned good officer in the Coast Guard, the best at SARs. That’s search and rescue,” he explained.
“I know what it means,” I answered. “I watch the Discovery Channel just like everybody else.”
“He was the best,” Boomer answered as the wind started to pick up. The temperature had dropped a few degrees pretty rapidly too. A storm was coming in to tamp down the heat. “People called him the Finder if I’m not mistaken. I think he might be able to help you out.”
“Called?” I asked, narrowing my eyes. “You mean he’s not with the Guard anymore?”
“He was honorably discharged about a year and a half ago,” Boomer explained. “Had some issues.”
“I’m sure he did,” I said, offering the paper back to Boomer. “I can handle this one on my own.”
Boomer knew how I felt about people who stepped out on their duties. My grandfather was in the Army for more than a few years; served right through Vietnam and never opened his mouth to complain. Honorable was definitely better than not, but a discharge still meant that this Jack Lacey had run out on his commitment, and I didn’t need someone like that riding shotgun with me.
“I’m not asking you to give him a badge and a sidearm. I just want you to question him and see what he knows. Maybe get his take on everything and what he thinks happened here.” He solidified his stance. “In fact, I’m not asking you anything. I’m going to need you to do what I said, Detective.” Boomer smiled.
“You really love playing the ‘chief’ card, don’t you?” I shook my head.
“What’s the point in having it if you don’t use it?” he asked. “And that’s not all. Debbie’s making pot roast tomorrow night, and the girls have plans with their friends. I’m gonna need you to come over and help me polish it off.”
“The ‘chief’ card get you that too?” I asked, grinning.
“Nah,” Boomer said, patting me on the shoulder. “I don’t need the ‘chief’ card for that. I can just threaten to tell your grandfather what really happened to his car the night of your sixteenth birthday.”
“That’s cold,” I answered, thinking back to that night and letting the memory warm me. “Fair enough. Count me in.”
“Good man,” he said, turning and heading back toward the department building. “Now go on home. You’ve worked way too much, considering it’s your day off.”
“Guess I have,” I answered.
“Oh,” he said, turning back toward me momentarily. “What’d your brother have to say for himself?”
“That he didn’t do it,” I said. “That it wasn’t his car. Nothing new.”
“Okay,” Boomer said. “I want you to stay away from that one. I know you well enough to know you probably swore to move Heaven and earth for that son of a bitch too.” He shook his head. “Don’t. You’ve got enough on your plate, and I want you to focus on the Sands murder for now.” He nodded at me. “'Chief' card.”
“'Chief' card,” I answered.
By the time I made it out to my truck and started toward home, the streets of Naples were packed. We were right in the middle of tourist season, a time of year that had grown considerably since I’d left home. Back before my time in Chicago, you could count on tourists bouncing around the winters months and then some in the summer, assuming they could stand the heat. Nowadays though, you were lucky to get six weeks in this coastal paradise without tourists crowding out the place.
Part of me was happy to see that. Tourism was our lifeblood down here after all. And, though I was a government employee whose salary was guaranteed regardless of the local economy, it did my heart good to see the people I grew up with; the gift shop owners, the barkeeps, and the auto mechanics doing well thanks to increased interest in our little oasis.
I was stopped though and, given that my old Chevy barely had electric windows much less the Bluetooth capability to connected my phone to the speakers, I picked up the things and checked my messages.
There was a text from my grandfather telling me he had been to his doctor’s appointment and that everything was “A-okay” with one of those smiley faces at the end. I didn’t like it when kids used those. The idea of my grandfather riding the next wave of technology sat even less easily with me. Still, I was happy that things were going reasonably well with this treatment and that, as I read in his next text, he felt well enough to “throw a few back with the boys tonight.” Thankfully, this text was “smiley face” free
“It better not be too much, old man. You remember that Dr. Day said you needed to take it easy”, I wrote back. I had been happy when Dr. Rebecca Day decided to take the lead in my grandfather’s treatment. She was whip-smart and one of the few people in the hospital who could put my grandfather in his place.
As the traffic started moving forward, I placed the phone between my shoulder and ear and checked a voicemail from a number I didn’t recognize.
I was weaving through bright orange cones and flashing signs telling the traffic to “Slow Down” when a woman’s voice came on the line.
“Detective Storm, this is Joanna Headley, your brother’s secretary. I spoke to Mr. Storm earlier, and he wanted me to give you the number of Rayburn’s Body Shop. He also told me to tell you to ask to speak to Daniel Rayburn. He’s the mechanic your brother spoke to regarding the work he was supposed to do to the back bumper and to also give you the number of the man your brother hit, causing the damage.” The woman proceeded to give me the numbers and, though I had promised to keep my distance from the case, I wrote them down anyway. At the very least, I could give the intel to whoever Boomer put in charge of getting to the bottom of things.
I was about to hang up when the woman continued.
“And, Detective Storm, if you wouldn’t mind referring a message to your brother, as it’s going to be difficult for me to get in touch with him before his bail hearing. Would you tell him that the board has caught wind of his recent troubles and that they’ve scheduled an emergency meeting for three days from now?” She took a deep, almost troubled breath. “And please tell him that he was right. Mr. Cash is spearheading it. I appreciate your time, Detective, and I hope what Peter says about you is true. Because, if you really are the good Storm, I know you’ll get to the truth of this.”
The message ended, and I tapped the end button on my phone, tossing it into the cup holder. My mind was racing as I looked toward the road. The work zone had come to an end, and the traffic was starting to break into a more rapidly moving line. It was still crowded, but not so much as to aggravate me anymore. I couldn’t say the same about Peter’s charges, because those were nipping away at my brain in a most unwelcome fashion.
The case was as open and shut as they came on the surface. Peter was caught driving the car. He was under the influence of something. Drugs were found in the car. It was an easy conviction. Something still didn’t feel right though. The motive wasn’t there and, though it pained me to admit this to myself, there was more to it.
I had interacted with my brother recently, and I was a damned good detective. I could tell when people were lying most of the time, especially when they were people I knew or people I had come into contact with in meaningful ways. It might have been stupid, and it certainly wasn’t enough to base an investigation on, but I believed what Peter was telling me. I believed he wasn’t guilty.
Then, as though fate herself was guiding me in the right direction, a car in front of me caught my eye. It was a black BMW, like Peter’s. And there, on the right side of the back bumper, was a huge dent.
It was just like Peter said. It was his car.
Chapter 35
My hands tightened around the steering wheel, making a mental note of the license plate number and glaring at the car. If I was right and this was actually Peter’s car, then that meant his story about someone drugging him, switching out the registration information, and planting drugs in the trunk might actually be true. If it was, it meant not only that my gut feeling was spot on, but that this crime went deeper than what met the eye.
Trailing back just a little, I threw my blinker on and got over in the left lane, keeping a few cars between myself and the dented bumper of the black BMW.
Reaching for my phone, I dialed Tammy’s personal phone number and put her on speaker.
“I didn’t think you were ever going to use this,” she said, after picking up on the second ring. “I was starting to think that giving you my number a few weeks ago was a waste of time.”
There was some flirtiness in her voice, though no more than usual, which was good. It meant she was most likely still at work, and that was where I needed her to be.
“Tammy, I need you to do me a favor,” I said, my eyes trained on the black BMW as it turned off of Main Street and onto Peachtree, which would have been even more crowded this time of day.
“Just say the word, sugar,” she answered coyly. A pang of guilt ran through me. This woman was obviously sweet on me and, at another time, I might have even repaid the favor. I wasn’t in a position to do that right now though, and certainly not with someone I worked alongside. As it was, I hoped the favor I was about to ask her didn’t come off as too presumptuous.
“I’m very literally following a lead on a case. I need you to run a license plate for me, but I need you to keep it between us.”
She waited just a beat before she answered and I thought, for all the world, that she was going to either turn me down flat or berate me about rules and regulations.
Instead, she just muttered, “So that’s why you called me on my personal phone? So the call wouldn’t be monitored?”
“Tammy,” I started, turning on Peachtree and finding that the black BMW had woven its way up a full quarter of a mile in the traffic. I was going to have to move quicker.
“It’s alright,” she stated quickly. “I get it, and of course I’ll do that for you, sugar. Give me five.”
I read the number off to her, and she hung up. Refocusing the full of my attention on the car in front of me, I leaned up in the driver’s seat, surveying the area.
I needed to keep the car in my line of sight, but I saw very little need to do more than that. If Peter really had been framed, then it would be in my best interest to find out where this car was headed. So long as I stayed on its tail, I’d be able to get whoever was inside as well as whoever they were going to see. The adage about birds and stones ran through my head as the car turned off Peachtree and onto Arbor.
Damn. Arbor was heading into a more residential neighborhood. If we had even one car between us on that strip, we’d be lucky. My only saving grace, of course, was the fact that I was in my truck and not a squad car. In this beat up Chevy, no one who didn’t know me would ever think I was a police officer. At least not one who was actively on duty.
I pulled down Arbor as well, leaving behind the cover of traffic, but keeping my distance otherwise. I tried to think of where this car might be headed. There was nothing out here aside from houses. If you head out far enough, you would reach farmland, and a quick left would run you smack dab into the Gulf, where marinas and docks littered the sand along with bars, eateries, and boat shops. He could have been going any number of places. The thing I needed to figure out, in addition to where, was why.
My phone rang, and I answered it quickly. “Tammy,” I said, swallowing hard as I kept a watch on the black car which I had now let get even further away from me. “What’d you find?”
“That’s the thing,” she answered uneasily. “I didn’t find anything.”
“What?” I asked, tightening my brow.
“Are you sure those numbers are right?” she asked. “Because I couldn’t find a Collier County registration matching that description. Hell, I couldn’t find a Florida tag matching it.”
“That’s the number,” I said sternly.
