by Robin Lamont
Jude stifled a grin, saying, “So much for animal gratitude. When was your last rabies shot?” She took his hand and examined the wound.
Their heads were close together and Tim leaned forward and kissed her softly on the mouth. His lips were warm and yielding. She feigned a moment of surprise but knew it had always been just a matter of time. She knew, too, despite the voices in her head berating her to get up and pretend it hadn’t happened, that there was no turning back.
CHAPTER 7
Haydon followed her back to the Riverside Motel.
“That’s not your ordinary shaving cut, right?” asked Jude, pointing to the plastic bag of bloody tissues.
“I suppose,” he admitted. “We’ll call around to the urgent care centers to see if he came in for stitches. But the way they’re folded with even blots, almost Rorschach-like, you see?” he held up the bag to look closer. “Looks like a bad bloody nose. Makes me think he broke it, or someone broke it for him. When did you say you last talked with him?”
“Sunday, but then day before yesterday he sent me this.” Jude scrolled through the photos on her phone until she retrieved the ones that Tim had sent. She showed them to Haydon and asked, “You recognize the house or anything?” she asked.
Haydon shook his head. “Could be anywhere in Vermont,” he replied. “Could be Montana. They mean anything to you?”
“No, but they came in an email about having something big on Amaethon.”
“Big, meaning potentially damaging to Amaethon?”
Jude caught a renewed spark of interest in his eyes and said, “Sure, we’re trying to document animal abuse.” She held out the bloody tissues, asking hopefully, “You want to take these?”
“You hang onto them,” he replied, adjusting his brimmed hat before he went back out into the heat.
Jude was disappointed that he didn’t seem to be taking Tim’s disappearance seriously. She trotted after him down the motel stairs and out to the parking lot, pestering him with questions about what he intended to do. In the end, Haydon only committed to take her cellphone number in the event he received any information. He asked what she planned to do, and she told him she was going to try showing Tim’s photo around town.
“You could start at the farmers market in Montpelier,” he suggested. “It draws a lot of locals. Maybe somebody’s seen him. Good luck.”
Jude took his advice and arrived at the market around lunchtime. Losing herself in the festive atmosphere, she wound through the crowd past brightly colored umbrellas and tents that filled the large parking lot behind a movie theater. Dads carried toddlers on their shoulders with a firm grasp on their pudgy ankles while Moms filled the strollers with bags of veggies, bread, and the first of the season’s apples.
Montpelier was the capital city of Vermont, but with a population of less than 8,000, it was not much larger than Half Moon. It felt less like a city than a town; you could walk the entire downtown in fifteen minutes. But in that fifteen minutes, you’d pass a lot of vibrant and trendy shops and restaurants. The weekly market was more than just a place to buy local produce. Jude walked by a booth where kids were getting their faces painted. Nearby was a play area with bales of hay for the youngsters to climb and benches for the adults to relax while they supervised.
She soaked it all in and wondered if she could live in Vermont. Flush with the community spirit of the farmers market, she thought that the people around her seemed smart about things that mattered – food, sustainability, supporting one another. She imagined having a peaceful little place with a wood burning stove and a garden. Maybe a house she and Tim could fix up together. Somewhere she would take a break from seeing or reading about the atrocities done to animals while she took long walks with Finn. And when the snow came, they would cuddle up next to the stove and–
“Ow!” cried the man.
Jude plowed directly into a man waiting on line for a cheese tasting. She apologized, explaining feebly, “I didn’t see you.”
“It’s okay,” he answered. But his expression said, “If you had your eyes open, you would have seen me.”
Flustered, she moved off. She did have her eyes open. The neurologist’s voice echoed in the back of her mind, I recommend that you see somebody. Ruth Harris is very good. You’d like her. Jude brushed away the thought as quickly as it had come and got to work, going vendor to vendor with the photo of Tim.
“Do you recall seeing him around?”
No. What did he do?
“Excuse me. Do you recognize him?”
Uh, no. You the police?
“Have you seen him before?”
Who is he? Might have seen him around, I don’t know. Why?
It went that way until she got to one of the larger produce stands underneath a faded yellow tent promoting it as “Buck Farm - Certified Organic.” A man and woman were busy packing kale, corn, and tomatoes into customers’ re-usable bags and making change from a cash box. Jude waited for a break in the activities before approaching the woman, whose face and arms were tanned from working in the sun all summer.
“Wondered if you could help me,” said Jude, robotically pasting a smile on her face. She held out the photo, fully expecting the same head shake she’d gotten all morning, and asked, “Do you recall seeing him?”
Katherine Buck stared hard at Tim and then at Jude. In a voice thick with warning, she called, “Kurt. Come over here.”
The man working with her rushed over. Graying sideburns protruded from his brown AGCO Tractors cap. His hands were large with awkward angles in the joints that suggested some arthritis. Katherine handed him the photo. His reaction was a sharp, sudden intake of breath. “It’s about time you people came for him.”
“You know him?” Jude asked in surprise, her pulse quickening.
“Damn right. What’d he do now?”
“Oh, I’m not with the police if that’s what you’re thinking. He’s a friend of mine.”
“Ah, Jesus,” he muttered.
Stunned by his hostility, she stammered, “I’m not here to give you any trouble.”
“Who are you?” interrupted Katherine.
“Like I said, he’s a friend of mine.”
“Don’t care for the people you associate with,” said Kurt, still fuming.
There was some mistake. They were not talking about the same person. “Would you look again?” Jude pleaded. “I don’t think he’s who you think he is.”
Reluctantly, Katherine did as she requested, and after another quick glance, asked, “It’s Tyler, right?”
Jude’s stomach lurched.
“What do you want from us?”
“Do you know where I might be able to find him?”
“No. Who are you?” demanded Kurt.
Jude steadied herself. She had hoped that walking the market might elicit a simple, Oh, sure, that’s the dude I see at the library all the time. But the Bucks had just shot that one down. She was going to have to tell them. She’d discussed with Gordon her next steps, and they decided that once she went to the police, there was no going back to a fabricated story about Tyler Jeffries. They had agreed, however, to provide as limited a version of the truth as possible.
“My name is Jude Brannock, and I work for an animal protection group,” she began.
They listened warily for a few seconds before Kurt huffed, “You’re with the ASPCA?”
“No.”
“Lucky for them, I would have sued them for everything they’re worth.”
“Could you tell me what it is you think he’s done?” asked Jude, becoming frustrated.
“Oh, it’s not a question of think,” Kurt countered bitterly. “I know. The sonofabitch was screwing my seventeen-year-old daughter and trying to get her addicted to heroin.”
Jude could hardly believe her ears. Tim didn’t do drugs. And a seventee
n-year-old girl? “That’s not possible,” she asserted.
“Well, it’s true,” Katherine said.
Her husband leaned threateningly toward Jude. “I found them myself with the needle practically sticking out of her arm.”
The bright colors and voices around Jude blurred into one buzz saw whine that obliterated coherent thought. Heroin? What?
“I’m … I don’t …,” she uttered haltingly.
“If my daughter hadn’t begged me not to, we would’ve had him arrested. And you can tell that sonofabitch,” continued Kurt, jabbing his finger in her direction, “that if I ever see him around Heather again, I’ll kill him.”
The whine inside her head played like a soundtrack, along with cinematic images of Tim fleeing Half Moon to escape criminal charges. What in God’s name did you do, Tim?
“And don’t think I won’t,” he added with emphasis.
But Buck had left an opening. He had not said the word rape. Nor, obviously, had he gotten the cops involved. There must be more to it. Jude lifted her head and met his angry glare. “In that case, maybe you do know where he is.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Just acknowledging your threat,” replied Jude. She let a stunned moment elapse before asking, “Can I talk to Heather?”
“No,” her parents said together.
“You can be present if you like. I’m only trying to understand what happened, because this is not the Tim that I know.”
“You’re not talking to her,” Kurt reiterated.
His wife, however, had a better read of the woman standing in front of them, guessing that she wasn’t going to simply slip away, and it would be preferable that when she did talk to Heather, one of them was around. She put a hand on her husband’s arm. “Let her ask her questions. I’ll go over with her.”
A few customers waiting to pay for their produce had lined up at the other end of the table, and Kurt eyed them with some frustration. He licked his lips uncertainly. “I don’t want her upset.” Then he turned to Jude and warned, “And then you leave us alone.”
Katherine walked Jude back through the market to the face painting station, where a young woman was holding up a mirror to a little boy, showing him his newly-painted tiger face.
Was this her? Jude felt a stinging pang of jealousy, and then of betrayal. The girl could have passed for twenty or twenty-one, but Tim must have known her true age. Seventeen years old. She was so delicately slim that Jude suddenly felt large-boned and awkward. Blond, sweet, young. Was this what Tim really wanted? Jude wondered if she had been a place holder all along.
“Heather, this woman would like to ask you some questions about Tyler,” said Katherine.
The flash of fear in Heather’s eyes was unmistakable.
“It’s all right, honey,” said her mother. “She works with him and just wants to ask if you know where he might be.”
Heather’s shoulders tightened up. It should have been a tip off, but Jude missed it, preoccupied by her growing belief that Tim had blown up the whole job for this … cheerleader.
“Okay,” said Heather cautiously. She patted the child waiting for the finishing touches to his face paint and told him, “You look ferocious. Go play with your sister.”
He happily galloped off to join a few other kids in the hay bale circle of sugar-induced mania.
Katherine turned to Jude. “Tell Heather who Tyler really is,” she prompted.
Jude met the girl’s cornflower eyes. A part of her wanted to make this painful. “Tyler isn’t his real name,” she said bluntly. “His real name is Tim, and he works for our animal protection organization. He was here working in an undercover capacity.” Meaning, if he told you how beautiful you were, and he kissed your earlobes and your neck in a way that was tender and arousing, he was just playing a role. It wasn’t real.
“Are you shitting me?” The girl’s jaw dropped open in genuine surprise.
“He never told you about that?”
“God, no. I mean, I knew he worked at the lab, but I didn’t know he was like a spy or something.”
“When was the last time you saw him?” asked Jude.
Heather flushed, and her mother answered for her. “Kurt found them last Monday night, and I’m sure that Tyler has not been in contact with Heather again. Am I right?”
“Yeah, yeah,” confirmed her daughter.
“How did you two meet?” Jude asked, wanting to know but not wanting to hear it.
“At Galvey’s.”
“The music place?”
“Uh hunh.” Heather’s eyes moved back and forth between Jude and her mother, gauging their responses and trying to figure out how to skate through this one.
“We assumed they were going out with friends, to the movies and such,” said Katherine.
“That’s what we were doing, Mom.”
Katherine sharpened her tone. “Obviously, that is not all you were doing.”
“Do you know where he is?” asked Jude.
A high-pitched scream from the kids’ play area shredded Heather’s response. All three women looked over to see Tiger Boy holding his stubby fingers over his nose and mouth, his black and orange whiskers smeared with blood. Two younger children stood rooted in front of him, watching with curious horror.
Katherine glanced around to see if one of the boy’s parents would respond, then clucked with disapproval. “Who is that?” she asked.
“Mrs. Healy’s little guy,” answered her daughter.
“Alright,” sighed Katherine. “I’d better see what’s going on.”
She rushed off to attend to the boy, pulling tissues from her pocket. After a quick assessment, she looked back at them and gave a slight shake of her head in a way that conveyed “minor child crisis, no big deal, I’ve got this covered.”
Grateful for the distraction that had taken Katherine out of earshot, Jude took the empty seat across from Heather to commence a real interrogation. “So, where is he?” she asked.
“I told you, I don’t know. Really.”
“When was the last time you saw him?”
“Monday night. It was … awkward.”
“I’ll say.” Jude took a slow breath, then said, “I gather you two were sleeping together.”
Heather looked down at the ground.
“Listen, I don’t care one way or the other,” declared Jude, telling herself she really believed it. “But we haven’t heard from him for days, and you must know something.”
“I don’t, okay? I mean, yeah, we hooked up, but only a few times. We did other stuff, too, you know. We hung out at Galvey’s and around.”
“What about the drugs?”
“What about the drugs?”
“Do you use heroin?”
Heather gasped. “Jesus, no!”
“Then what were you doing shooting up?”
“It was just the one time. I was like trying it, you know? But it was a huge mistake, I get that. I really do.”
“And how did it go down?”
“What do you mean?”
“Who brought smack to the party?”
“Tim.”
“Tim convinced you to try it?”
“Yeah, he was just like I should check it out, that it would expand my horizons.”
“And did it? Expand your horizons?” Jude felt herself becoming catty. “Never mind. I don’t suppose that it crossed your mind that shooting up is stupid and dangerous.”
“He said he knew what he was doing.”
“Wait. You’re telling me he presented you with the heroin, all the paraphernalia to shoot up, and personally gave you the injection?”
“Yes.”
Jude looked over to Katherine, who was still tending to the boy, and she used the time to take in what Heather was telling her. F
inally, she turned back and asked, “Where did he get it?”
“I don’t know.”
Jude watched carefully, looking for the smallest facial tic that might give away a lie. But the girl’s expression remained authentically blank.
“You really don’t know?” pressed Jude.
“I would have told my parents if I did. I am in deep shit, as you can probably imagine.”
“According to your father, you didn’t want to press charges. You begged him.”
“Why would I press charges? I can make my own decisions about who I hook up with. The age of consent is sixteen.”
“Are you serious?” Jude asked, her mouth dropping open. “Tim was ten years older than you.”
“It doesn’t matter in this state. At sixteen you can sleep with anyone you want.”
From the look on Heather’s face, it was apparent that her female intuition was telling her that Jude and Tim were a thing – or had been. Maybe it wasn’t a guess and Tim had said something outright. Either way, Jude felt painfully exposed.
Heather went on, saying, “But I liked Tyler.”
“His name is Tim.”
“Whatever.”
“I don’t believe you,” challenged Jude. “I don’t believe you about the dope, and I think you know where he is.”
“How many times do I have to—”
A shadow fell over them as Katherine returned. “Jarrod’s alright, his mom is with him,” she reported. “Just a bloody nose. You have a garbage pail?”
Heather nodded to a small plastic pail where Katherine tossed a large wad of tissues soiled with blood. Jude’s eyes followed it into the waste bin.
She got to her feet and handed Heather a business card. “Thanks for your time. I appreciate you talking to me,” she said woodenly, then reconsidered. It never helped to antagonize. Aiming for a genuine smile, she added, “Look, if you hear from Tim or have any information about where he might be, I’d appreciate a call.”
As she left the booth, Jude glanced over her shoulder to see Katherine speaking gently to her daughter. Beyond them, a woman with round spectacles was administering to Tiger Boy, dabbing gently at his nose with a napkin. From what Jude could see, however, it was still coming away bloody. The kid must have taken quite a bump.