But Boyd had a list of things that helped rule him out. He had been incredibly cooperative. He had an alibi, which was his entire family. He had allowed us to check his vehicles without hesitation.

  Granted, he didn’t want us to let it out that he’d been having an affair with Laura, but that made sense. What guy wants his spouse to learn of an affair? Especially of an affair with a woman who’s just been murdered?

  Boyd didn’t seem right for her crime, either.

  I closed his file and picked up the last.

  The final folder had the info on Tapper’s rival, Robin Zell. Robin certainly had a motive, having been involved in a years-long feud with Laura.

  The two had run against each other in a race for Akin School Board. Robin had won it, but only narrowly. Laura Tapper had proven popular and energetic, though inexperienced at the art of politics.

  Laura had criticized incumbent Robin Zell’s record, claiming she was ineffective and out of her depth. And the criticism had taken hold, arguably because it was true.

  I’d been told and confirmed with others that Laura had been on her way to winning the race until Robin began the whisper campaign, insinuating that Laura had been sleeping with the superintendent of schools.

  The superintendent was young and good looking. And there was that photo of him with Laura at the Christmas party. I picked up the picture from her file and studied it again.

  There they were, two beautiful people, laughing and standing close. Laura’s hand on the superintendent’s upper arm. It was a single moment in time, but they certainly appeared guilty as hell.

  I lay the picture down and kept looking through the file. Re-reading Robin Zell’s interview notes, I saw that her motive for killing Laura was non-existent now. Laura had never planned to run for School Board again. And Robin had answered our questions without an attorney present and without a single hint of concern.

  Besides, Robin had an alibi on the night Laura was struck, and she’d allowed us to check both vehicles. Hell, reading the last page of the interview, I saw that she admitted that we had every right to consider her a suspect.

  There’s no way Robin had done it. Too forthcoming in the interview. Too unflappable.

  I flipped back to the beginning of the interview and re-read the file. I did this, mostly, because I didn’t know what to do next.

  “Don’t think I haven’t thought about it,” Robin had stated during the interview. “That woman has been on a vendetta to destroy me ever since our School Board race. She has raised funds for challengers, leaked confidential information to the newspapers against me, and been convinced that I was the worst thing to ever happen to this town.”

  Yes, those quotes sounded horrendous, but Robin hadn’t done it. Period.

  I closed Robin’s folder and buried my head in my hands. What was I missing? Why was nothing there?

  I checked my watch and saw it was 4:10 p.m. How had three hours passed that quickly? And the better question was why had I wasted another three hours in this office after I had been ordered home by the asshole, Captain Carter. He was probably already on the lake, the fat piece of shit.

  I stood and stretched, getting the kinks out of my back from sitting for so long.

  I paced back and forth, reviewing the pages of notes and recalling my memories from the interviews. What was I missing? There had to be something there.

  I paced faster and faster, my mind working through the case; the pages and memories flipping through my head.

  My gut told me it had to be either Boyd or Robin. Rick Tapper lacked the passion and motive to kill his wife. So, we were now down to only two suspects, which simplified things and allowed me to focus better.

  Assuming only two, which one could it have been? I paced and wracked my brain for all I was worth. I focused on facial expressions and voice tones from our interviews, but twenty minutes later, I had made no progress.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  More than anything else, I needed a clue. Even the smallest thread to start pulling and watching where it led. One of these two had killed Laura Tapper, and she deserved to have her killer arrested.

  Maybe there was no clue buried in the files? And then it was clear. Like an epiphany slamming me upside the head.

  Of course that was the case. I had read these case files too many times to count. So had Colette. Neither of us had found anything. And we hadn’t found anything because it wasn’t there.

  If I wanted a clue, and I wanted to narrow it down from the two suspects I was focused on, then I had to quit looking in the files and start looking out there. Out there was where I would find a clue.

   

  Chapter 48

   

  I repacked the case files into the boxes and stacked them against the wall. With that done, I packed my stuff and headed out to my truck.

  The police station was empty, precisely as I had guessed.

  Man, this department needed some leadership other than just Chief Fred Bradbury. The fact was when he was out, the place might as well have raised a white flag of surrender to all the criminals in our area. Without him here, we were effectively out of commission as a department.

  No wonder John Snyder and his Board of Directors at Snyder Mining wanted the chief gone and the captain promoted. There was no point in bribing of Carter. It wasn’t even necessary.

  Just promote him and allow his incompetence and laziness to take the entire department down. How long would Colette stay with Chief Bradbury gone? How long would I stay?

  Stay focused, Danny.

  I couldn’t think about the Akin PD’s long-term prospects or Snyder Mining right now. That was for down the road. Right now, it was all about solving Laura Tapper’s murder and discovering whether it was Boyd Jennings or Robin Zell.

  I climbed into my F-150, flipped on some loud rock music, and exited the police station parking lot in a roar.

  The big Ford powered through town, its black frame and monster black wheels causing many people to turn their head. But five minutes after leaving, and with a drive that felt far too short, I arrived on Rick and Laura Tapper’s street. Or, I should say what was Laura’s street before someone ran her over.

  I parked the truck in the grass, covering the very sidewalk Laura had been walking down. It was technically a city violation to park on the sidewalk, but what few officers were on patrol were probably huddled at some gas station or eatery – confident Captain Carter wouldn’t be around to catch them lollygagging and not out on patrol.

  I’ve mentioned this before, but there are few things I hate worse than knocking on doors, canvassing a neighborhood for clues. That didn’t matter today. I needed a clue. And I needed a clue fast. Otherwise, this case was going to get pushed to the side and essentially closed for good.

  I knew if that happened, her murder would never be solved. Old cases in a place like Akin are never re-opened. That may happen elsewhere, but I felt certain that didn’t happen here. Not when the captain and future chief leaves work every day as fast as he could.

  I glanced up and down the street, marking in my mind the various houses and their location on the street. I planned to knock on every door that hadn’t answered when Colette and I checked with neighbors the first time.

  I didn’t expect to catch many folks that we hadn’t already talked with, but I had to try. Once it grew dark and the regular people who had day jobs returned home for the night, I’d do the same thing.

  I stepped from the truck and shuddered. It was 27 degrees out, and a strong ten MPH wind cut through my clothing. December weather was killing me already, and I wondered how long it’d be until it was 60 again. I’m not exactly a fan of cold weather.

  I was glad I’d worn combat boots with my khaki pants today. Even more glad I’d grabbed my thick down jacket, scarf, and knit cap.

  This was going to suck, especially doing it alone, but this was the price of admission if you wanted to make a name for yourself as a detective. I pulled some thick gloves on and leaned into the wind as I pushed toward the first home.

  One hour later, which felt more like three hours in the wind, I finished my daylight sweep. I climbed into my truck, cranked it up, and sat on the seat practically numb. I kicked myself for not wearing layers today.

  Of course, I hadn’t known I’d be going door-to-door, but I should have at least thrown some warmer clothes in a gym bag in my truck. I made a mental note to do that this weekend, so they’d automatically be there in the future.

  I headed home, letting some frustration out with my aggressive driving. It occurred to me, even in all the day’s suckiness, that this was what I was born to do. It wasn’t law school – or any other career – that called me. No, it was becoming a great detective. And no way was I going to let some shitty circumstances at the Akin PD kill my chance of being a part of the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation, the state’s premier investigative service. Besides the prestige of the TBI, I’d love working with Bo again. Or maybe I’d aim even higher and eventually work for the FBI.

  Hell, I’d even be happy doing some counter-terrorism work for Homeland Security. But it’d have to be something exciting. Something dangerous. Something that would challenge me. That’s what I thrive on. Challenging and exciting work.

  As I drove up my driveway though, I realized the pressure was truly on. None of my long-term dreams would happen if I didn’t crack Laura Tapper’s case and take down Snyder Mining. I needed to make a name for myself or I might stay stuck in Akin forever.

  Chapter 49

   

  After a quick dinner (reheated pizza) and some time with Maggie and Miss Kitty, I went back out into the cold night. It was dark already and I knew this was going to suck. (No one enjoys knocking on doors on a Friday night. Alone.)

  But in a massive and huge break, my door knocking paid off, which made the two-hour effort worth it.

  Truthfully, I can’t say I enjoyed a single second of work. It was freezing out there and my toes felt numb, even with boots on. I knocked on probably eighty doors before I caught my lucky break. Not a single person that I had talked to had seen a thing, so by the time I knocked on the lucky door that would be my big break, I was discouraged and ready to give up. The homeowner didn’t ask me inside, so I stood at the door, the cold wind cutting through me, while the neighbor who lived two blocks away from Laura Tapper described what she knew.

  Lucky for me, the neighbor I caught my big break with was a worried mom, who was always trying to keep track of her sixteen-year-old daughter, who had begun going out more than she was staying home. The worried mom would often spend many nights standing by the window, watching the dark street as she waited for her daughter to arrive home from either a date or being out with friends.

  The mom lived only four houses down from Rick and Laura Tapper’s home, and she recalled seeing Laura walking down the sidewalk on many nights.

  “I swear I saw that woman almost every night,” the mom said. “At least on the nights my daughter was out.”

  I had taken out a notepad and pen to take notes, but my fingers were too cold to work. I held my notepad at an angle and pretended to write a few words.

  “Which way did she walk?”

  “She was always walking down the street or coming back,” the mom said, pointing up the road to her right.

  Laura Tapper had been struck and killed nearly a half a mile further down from the worried mom’s house, and she hadn’t seen any cars the night of the murder.

  “My daughter was grounded that night, and for good reason,” she said.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said. “I understand.”

  It was crucial I cut the mom off on that point before she went into a long story about her daughter – none of which mattered to me or the case.

  It was cold and I needed to keep moving. I asked the mom several other questions, and glanced inside her home, hoping that she would take the hint and ask me in. But the mom didn’t have any more information and she didn’t ask me to step inside where it’s warm.

  And yet Bo says I have a way with women.

  I thanked her for her time and took down her name and number. I jogged back to my truck and started it, letting the heater warm the cab.

  Where would Laura be walking each night? Leaving her house, according to the Mom, as late as ten or eleven? Was it exercise? Or was she going somewhere?

  I glanced down the street as I rubbed my gloved hands, trying to get blood in them. Homes dotted the street for as far as I could see in the direction the mother had pointed to, but I didn’t know the neighborhood well enough to know what else was around.

  Did Laura have a lover down the road?

  I decided I’d drive down the road and get a better feel for the neighborhood. Maybe I’d stumble upon a destination. A small convenience store perhaps.

  I searched the streets of the neighborhood for the next twenty minutes, driving up and down residential roads looking for something. Anything. I didn’t know what.

  The only other thing I found in the area besides homes was a small retail strip. It housed a McDonald’s, a UPS Store, and a pawn shop. Both the UPS Store and pawn shop would be closed after 8 p.m., so that left the McDonald’s.

  Maybe Laura loved McDonald’s sweet tea or ice cream? Or maybe their french fries? And she just had to walk down there every night?

  I pondered that thought. Perhaps this was some kind of weird reward and exercise routine? You get some exercise with a long walk, you buy some French fries for your effort, and then you walk home?

  I eased my truck into the McDonald’s parking lot, since I figured the same night crew that could recognize Laura would be working tonight.

  My Friday night was shot already, and Jessica still hadn’t texted, so what the hell. I parked, walked in, and flashed a badge. I spent the next few minutes showing the front staff, and the assistant manager who worked nights, Laura’s picture.

  But as my terrible luck would have it, none of them recognized her picture.

  Dang, there went my sweet tea or ice cream addiction theory.

  Huh, I thought. So, if McDonald’s was out, what was left? I drove slightly larger circles around Rick and Laura Tapper’s house, but there was nothing but more homes in each direction. Eventually, if she traveled north, she’d hit the main drag of Akin, but that’d have to be an almost two-mile walk in one direction.

  I doubt she was walking that far at night. Plus, who’d want to be seen at night on a busy street when you’re in sweats and without makeup?

  I sighed and pulled my truck to the side of the road. I looked at all the homes up and down it. Damn it, I dreaded thinking about how many more homes I might have to knock on to determine her specific route.

  And I’d be knocking alone because Colette had said the case was stuck. It was hard to disagree.

  Unsure what to do, I roamed the roads of the neighborhood in my truck for quite a while, but I was out of ideas. My big break was proving to not be a big break, it seemed.

  I pulled back into the McDonald’s parking lot and watched the cars race into the drive-thru unsafely, while high school kids congregated to hang out and be cool inside the place. They looked about sixteen, and I assumed this was the place to hang out if you were a junior or senior in high school.

  I banged my steering wheel lightly.

  Damn it, Laura. Where were you going? Talk to me.

  As I sat there, I realized I had been making one mistake. I had been assuming Laura was good. Was innocent. A loyal housewife who had been cruelly killed for some reason.

  I dropped that idea. What if she wasn’t squeaky clean? What if she had something she was hiding? Something we had missed in our interviews and investigation of her emails.

  Thinking of Laura as dirty made my mind drift to my own situation. The truth is, my wife (or, ex-wife soon) Alison probably had an entirely different second life that I hadn’t known about. A life that was such a lie and so wrong that she had volunteered to pay me $2,000 a month for the next two years, just to keep it secret.

  So taking that line of thinking, I imagined Laura being the exact same thing. Less than perfect, a big secret to hide.

  Now, where was she going each night without her husband knowing?

  Going to someone’s home seemed far-fetched. Assuming it was some other man, they’d probably be married and have kids in their home. Plus, we knew she had another man, and his name was Boyd Jennings. And Boyd didn’t even live within walking distance. Not even in the same neighborhood.

  Could she have two boyfriends? I doubted that.

  I looked at the bright, golden arches. McDonald’s was the most likely destination, but all the staff had been certain they’d never seen her.

  Plus, Laura didn’t seem like the fast-food type. She had been thin, and her husband had mentioned how she regularly cooked them lean, healthy meals. Yet another reason he said he would have been nuts to have killed her. “Laura cooked for me and people like thin attorneys,” he had said, slapping his non-existent stomach. “We’re seen as more competent.”

  I sat there, half watching the kids inside the McDonald’s. They looked so young and happy. So optimistic about their future. They were so certain about their destiny, same as I’d once been.

  I pushed down some sadness and watched yet another vehicle turn into the parking lot. My mind was drifting but focused clearer when the car avoided the drive-thru and some prime empty parking spots at the McDonald’s.

  What do we have here? I thought.

  The car pulled up in front of the closed UPS Store. I watched the car, checking my watch. 8:38 pm. It seemed late to be going there, especially since it was closed.

  I squinted my eyes and leaned forward. A woman walked up to the door, fiddled with the lock, and stepped right in. The lady walked up to a P.O. Box, collected her mail, and walked out.

  And as the car drove off, I realized I had just figured out where Laura was walking every night.

   

  Chapter 50

   

 

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