Cry For Help

by Wendy Dranfield

  He thinks about it. “Hang on. What if it was them who killed Ryan? I mean, we’ve been working on the assumption they were a loving family, but could one of them have wanted him dead for some reason?”

  She cocks her head, mulling it over. “You know, I never once considered them as suspects. His dad does have an awful temper, from what I saw today, but Ryan never mentioned any rifts between them. He didn’t talk about his parents much at all. I mean, he was a thirty-year-old guy living his own life, so why would he?”

  “I’ll get Rex to check whether the father has a criminal record. What’s his name?”

  “Davis Levy. He owns the shooting range in town, so he’ll have a business registered to him. Maybe he had an insurance policy out on Ryan and needed the payout to stay afloat.”

  “It’s a possible motive.” Nate’s taking it all down on his phone in a message to Rex.

  Madison pulls out a cigarette with her free hand and lights it, blowing the smoke out of her window. “On the face of it, Detective Douglas is still the most obvious choice to frame me, but he barely knew me so I’m really struggling to come up with a credible motive.”

  “Me too,” says Nate. “But what if he got into a fight with Ryan for some reason, killed him, and then needed a fall guy to take the blame?”

  “I guess it’s possible. Maybe they were up to something and Ryan wanted out.”

  “What about your friend Mike?”

  She shakes her head. “I’ve thought about that a lot, but again there’s no motive. He eventually got my job while I was inside, but I could tell from speaking to him that he’s not enjoying it. I think he’s out of his depth. Besides, who would murder someone just for a promotion? He didn’t even apply for the vacancy when I did.”

  Nate nods. “Yeah, that’s not a strong enough motive for murder. Were you two ever intimate?”

  She laughs. “God, no. I never screwed anyone from work. I’ve seen it go wrong too many times.”

  They’re silent for a few minutes, then Nate says, “Let’s look at this another way. Could it have been more about wanting Ryan dead than framing you for murder?”

  “What do you mean?” She glances at him.

  “Well, we can’t find a motive to frame you, so maybe you were just the fall guy. Maybe Ryan was investigating someone, or owed money to someone.”

  “But then why use my service weapon to kill him? Why not just a random gun and take it with them after?”

  He frowns. “That’s a good point. I’ll ask Rex to do a full background check on Ryan’s dad, see what he can find out.”

  “While you’re at it, get him to look into the police records of Detective Don Douglas too.”

  “Already done.”

  She smiles. “Great. And you know what? Give him Mike’s name too—his last name is Bowers. Hell, throw in the chief as well—Charles Sullivan. For all we know, they could all be involved.” That’s a depressing thought, as it would prove Nate’s theory about most cops being crooked.

  She can see the Ferris wheel in the near distance as they draw closer. “By the way, I did get one piece of good news today.”

  He raises his eyebrows and glances at her.

  “Mike told me they’re questioning someone for Stephanie’s murder. Sounds like it’s one of the heavies she was complaining about, so they might actually have the right guy.”

  “Depends on whether he was put up to it by someone else.”

  “I know. Mike wouldn’t tell me his name, so I’ll have to wait to see whether I know him or not. But I also found out today that Nikki Jackson was working for Steph.”

  “You’re kidding? Doing what?”

  “Just garden chores. But it’s a link between the two of them. I’m working on the theory that Steph was killed for not giving up my location and Nikki might have witnessed what happened. She could have been out back picking vegetables when the killer arrived.”

  “Do you know for sure yet that Nikki was definitely murdered?”

  “Mike wouldn’t tell me anything, but Kate said on the news that the knife used to slit her wrists is still missing. If it wasn’t, they’d have closed the case as a suicide by now to shut down the media speculation.”

  “So she could have been killed to keep her quiet about what happened to Steph.”

  She nods. “And if I was a teenage girl who’d witnessed something like that, the person I’d most likely confide in is my boyfriend.”

  Nate looks at her. “Owen.”

  She nods. “Exactly. He could be the key to both Stephanie and Nikki’s murders. And if anyone in my police department was responsible, they’ll come to the same conclusion and will want to pin the murders on him.”

  “Or worse.”

  She looks at him.

  “They might not bother framing him. They might silence him so he can never speak out.”

  The thought of it makes her accelerate. She has to find her son before it’s too late.

  40

  Independence Day

  “Hey, Nikki?”

  She spins around. The park’s owner, Trevor, is standing there.

  “How about earning a bit of extra cash tonight?”

  She’s already exhausted and was looking forward to going home now the park’s closed for the night, but it’s hard to turn down extra money. “Doing what?”

  “I need someone to clean up. The rest of the clean team has let me down. They’ve probably gone to some after-party or something.”

  Her heart sinks. Cleaning up? Everyone takes a turn, one week out of four, at cleaning the park while it’s closed overnight. It’s mainly just picking garbage from around the rides, wiping down the fun houses, and putting stray shoes and wallets in the lost-and-found box. Ricky, the maintenance guy, catches whatever they’ve missed when he arrives in the morning, and he’s always bitching about how they leave the vomit for him.

  On a humid night like tonight, she doesn’t fancy being inside the Haunted House or the Ghost Train. They have no windows, so it’s hard to breathe in there after a full day of high temperatures.

  He must see the lack of enthusiasm on her face. “Okay, I’ll give you double pay for the whole of today. How about it?”

  Her eyes light up. They’ve already been promised a bonus for working Independence Day, but double pay will mean she can replace her old sneakers at last. She checks the time. It’s almost eleven. “Okay, but I need to make sure my dad can come collect me after. My bike’s got a puncture so I was just about to catch a ride home with some of the others.”

  “Go ahead.”

  She walks away, pulling out her phone. Her mom answers. “Hey, Mom. I’ve been offered double pay to work late. Can Dad pick me up at about twelve thirty, as my bike’s screwed.”

  “Let me ask him.”

  Her mom relays the message and she hears her dad cursing her. But she knows he won’t turn her down if it means she’ll be bringing in more money. Eventually her mom says, “He’ll be outside at twelve thirty, so don’t be late. He’s been drinking all day, but I’ll make him some coffee. He’s not too bad yet.”

  Nikki feels a flush of sadness. Even though her dad’s an embarrassment, the thought that alcohol is one day going to kill him is hard to stomach. On some level she does care about him. She’s not concerned about him drink-driving, because that’s what he’s always done. The alcohol doesn’t affect him too badly until he combines it with the meth. His body has got used to the amount he drinks. “He’s not using tonight, is he?”

  “No. Not yet.”

  “Mom, you need to learn to drive. We can’t rely on him anymore.”

  “Don’t speak poorly of your father, Nikki. He’s doing the best he can. You ought to be more grateful that you have someone to collect you.”

  Nikki shakes her head. Yet again her mom has taken his side. “Okay. Bye, Mom.” She walks back to Trevor, who’s saying goodbye to a group of staff on their way out.

  “I can stay.”

  He looks relieved.
“Thanks, I owe you one. It’s just you, I’m afraid; you’re the only person to say yes.”

  She’s alarmed. It could take forever on her own. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “No, sorry. But just think of the money. It’ll only take you an hour or two. Concentrate on picking up all the empty fireworks, would you? I don’t want them sparking back into life and burning the place down overnight. Let Ricky clean up the vomit in the morning.” He winks at her. “He loves it.”

  She rolls her eyes. Ricky’s never going to let her forget it if she does.

  “I’ll be over in the office for another ten minutes, but then I’ve got to shoot. I’ll leave the keys in the wheel’s ticket booth. Just promise me you’ll lock the front gates when you’re done.”

  “But I didn’t realize I’d be alone.” She’s never been here alone in the dark before.

  “What’s the matter? You’re not afraid of ghosts, are you?” he teases.

  She suddenly feels stupid. She used to be afraid of ghosts when she was younger, but her mom always says it’s the living we need to be afraid of, not the dead. She never understood that properly until a couple of days ago.

  “Honestly, you’ll be fine. Grab a flashlight if you’re worried, but turn off all the lights as you go. Thanks, doll. I owe you one!”

  He turns to leave for the office. Nikki rubs her neck, wishing she’d had the confidence to back out. But she’s already asked her dad to pick her up, which means he’ll be mad if she turns down the opportunity to make some extra cash. She thinks about asking Mason to stay with her but she doesn’t want to sound needy.

  She finds Mason over by the hot-dog stand with a couple of other staff, and he asks if she’s ready to leave.

  “I don’t need a ride home now. I’m staying to clean up.”

  He looks surprised. “But you’ve been here all day.”

  “I know, but Trevor offered me double pay. I can’t turn that down.” She doesn’t tell him she’ll be working alone, as she doesn’t want him to feel like he has to stay with her. “And my dad’s going to give me a ride home.”

  He hesitates, and she’s touched by his concern.

  “Okay. I wish I could stay, but I’ve got to get up early tomorrow to work for my dad. Sorry.” He touches her hand. “Is it still your day off tomorrow?”

  She nods.

  “Let’s catch a movie at the drive-in later on, okay? I’ll pick you up at two.”

  She smiles. She loves going to the drive-in with him, as he treats them to snacks and they get some rare alone time. “Sure. Don’t drive all the way to my house, though, remember?” She doesn’t want her dad to know she has a boyfriend, and if Mrs. Hicks sees her getting into Mason’s car, she’ll tell her mom straight away. That woman’s such a gossip.

  He nods. “Of course. I’ll be down the street, undercover.” He smiles and kisses her again, with his arms around her.

  She doesn’t want him to let go. She wants to tell him she loves him, but she can’t find the words, not in front of the others.

  She waves as he walks away and joins a group of people. Is that Taylor with him? Taylor leans in to say something to him as they head toward the parking lot. He looks at her and laughs. He’s going to give her a ride somewhere.

  Nikki watches them disappear, consumed with jealousy and fear. How does he know Taylor? She thought they’d never met before.

  She fights the overwhelming urge to ditch the cleaning and run after him, to drag him away from that bitch. To run away to New York with him tonight.

  Instead, filled with self-doubt, she holds back tears as she grabs some garbage bags.

  She can’t compete with girls like that.

  41

  As Madison passes under the big Welcome to Fantasy World arch, lit up in bright neon lights, she feels anonymous in the dark. Normal, even. She’s not felt that in a long time. The park isn’t packed tonight, not with just over an hour left until closing time, but there are enough people to create a good atmosphere. She only wishes she was here to enjoy herself.

  Brody happily follows her and Nate around, and people either stare at him in awe—he’s a gorgeous dog, after all—or move out of his way, scared of his size.

  They’re surrounded by the happy screams of teenagers and the terrified screams of those who thought they could take the ride they picked but now know better. They pass a fortune-telling booth where a severe-looking woman wearing an excess of costume jewelry is glaring at them. Madame Astrid, the sign says.

  Madison leans in to Nate. “She needs to smile at people if she wants any customers tonight.”

  Madame Astrid beckons them over. “Want to know if you’ll find him?” she says.

  Madison stops in her tracks. Has she been recognized already? She could ask the woman what she knows about Mason, but the mean look in her eyes stops her. “Find who?”

  The fortune-teller smirks. “The one you seek. I have all the answers.”

  Madison looks at Nate who shrugs. “Can’t hurt.”

  She walks closer to the woman’s booth, which is draped in lace and twinkly lights. She’s surprised there’s no crystal ball. “Tell me his name and I’ll pay for a session.”

  Madame Astrid laughs. “My vision is made clearer by coins crossing my palm.” She pushes her cash tin closer to them.

  Madison shakes her head in disgust and walks away, with Nate close behind her.

  “You don’t believe in psychics?” he asks.

  “You do?”

  “I’m probably less skeptical than you.”

  They stop at a shooting gallery, where a young man of about nineteen is scrolling on his phone, only glancing up randomly to look for some new suckers to relieve of their money. When he spots Madison and Nate, he smiles broadly.

  “Step right up, folks.” He hands Nate a plastic gun. “Here you go, six bullets for five bucks. Shoot the moving target, win the lady a prize.” He points to the soft toys behind him: a choice of flamingo or unicorn.

  “We actually just wanted to ask you some questions,” says Madison.

  He looks wary. “I’ll answer anything you want as long as you play.”

  Nate looks at her. “Why not?”

  Madison is frustrated that everyone here is more concerned with making money than talking about what’s happening in this town. The guy grins at her as Nate takes his first shot, and she wonders how he can be so happy working here. The music is too loud and the bright lights are relentless. She could handle it for one night, but every night of the week? There’s no way.

  “What’s your name?” she asks.

  “Luke.”

  “Luke, am I right in thinking you know Mason McCoy pretty well, seeing as you both work here?”

  His smile falters. “I know him, but I wouldn’t say I know him well. He’s not the most talkative guy. Why do you want to know; you a cop?”

  “No.” She almost tells him Mason is her son but thinks better of it. She doesn’t need that kind of attention right now, because that would be outing him as Owen Harper, son of the famous Lost Creek cop-killer.

  “We’re private investigators,” says Nate, having failed to hit any targets. “We’re looking into Nikki Jackson’s death and we don’t think Mason had anything to do with it. We actually want to find him before the police arrest him.”

  Luke licks his lips and glances around nervously. “He was working here earlier today, but he left a while ago, I think.”

  “Could you call him for me?” asks Madison. She feels excited, like she might be just minutes away from speaking to her son for the first time in seven years.

  He shakes his head. “I don’t have his number. Like I said, he keeps to himself. He’s pleasant enough to work with, but I don’t know anything about him. He doesn’t exactly socialize with any of us, even though he’s worked here a couple of months. He’s the complete opposite of his parents.”

  Madison bristles. “What do you mean?”

  “You not from here or something?
”

  “No,” says Nate. “We’re new in town.”

  “Well, the McCoys are friendly, social folks; always putting on fundraisers and that kind of thing. My dad used to say they’d give you their last dime if you needed it.” He pauses. “But that was before the falling-out.”

  “Your dad had an argument with the McCoys?” asks Nate.

  Luke nods. “Over money, funnily enough. Wyatt McCoy gave my dad a loan a few months back, when we needed a new roof. I don’t know what happened, but there’s a lot of cursing now when he hears the McCoy name.”

  Madison can guess what happened: Wyatt’s acting as the local loan shark and charging extortionate interest rates to the poorest people, knowing full well they won’t be able to repay the money. “Did he ask your dad for any assurances on that loan?”

  The look on Luke’s face suggests he did, but he clams up. Madison would bet Luke’s dad owes Wyatt the family home if he can’t pay the loan back. “Goddam asshole,” she mutters.

  “Did Mason and Nikki ever argue that you know of?” asks Nate.

  “Nah, they stuck together like glue and didn’t have much time for anyone else. That’s why I thought there might be something in that suicide pact theory. They seemed like two tortured souls, so it didn’t surprise me when that was brought up as a possibility in the news. Plus, I heard she was seeing a therapist since she was like five years old or something.”

  Nate says, “But that doesn’t mean she wanted to take her own life.”

  “More likely, though, if you ask me.”

  “So Mason doesn’t have any friends here who might be helping him keep a low profile?” asks Madison.

  Luke doesn’t even have to think about it. “I highly doubt that.”

  She has to hide her disappointment as they thank him and walk away. The thought of her son being described as a tortured soul is upsetting so she tries not to dwell on it. “If he isn’t at a friend’s place, I have no idea where he could be. Angie wouldn’t be stupid enough to conceal him on her land someplace.”