Down the Darkest Road

by Kylie Brant

  “Here. You have no idea how much this pains me.” She handed him the clown, and he immediately took it in his mouth. Shook it gently.

  “Take that as a sign of great devotion, buddy,” Ryder put in.

  The vet had opened early for them. Ryder had helped Cady bring Hero home, because the dog clocked in at 160. She never would have been able to carry him. The animal had surprised them both by being able to walk. He limped badly. But he’d seemed to be in a hurry to leave the vet office behind.

  The front door opened. “Hey, Mom.” Ryder rose and strode toward his mother. Cady followed more slowly. “Thanks for coming so early.”

  “You know darn well I’ve been up for hours.”

  “Mom, meet Cady Maddix. Cady, Laura is a notorious early riser. It’s a disease.”

  Ill at ease, Cady aimed a smile at the petite woman who swatted her son lightly. “It’s so good of you to agree to do this. I know it’s an imposition.”

  “Not at all. I have plenty of free time, and I’m just across town.” Laura smiled sunnily as she approached. “I also have experience with dogs, although I no longer have one at home. I dog-sit for Sadie from time to time.” The woman crouched down before Hero and extended a hand for him to sniff. “Oh my, you’re handsome. Look at you, you brave boy. Is that your toy? Is that your favorite?”

  “He’s developed an obsessive attachment to it,” Cady replied, watching the dog nose the woman’s hand. “I can’t get him to give it up. It’s like watching a creepy puppet show or a Chucky movie playing in real time.”

  Laura gave a deep-throated laugh and rose gracefully. “If it gives him comfort while he heals, that’s a good thing. Tell me everything I need to know. Oh, and better give me your phone number on the off chance I need to call you.”

  Cady showed her the list of instructions the vet had given and went over each step before reeling off her phone number. “It’s really more about checking on him and making sure he hasn’t somehow gotten the bandage off. If he licks or scratches at it, he could tear out the stitches.”

  An alert on her cell sounded, interrupting her. Adrenaline licked up her spine when she read the new email. Running toward the closet for her jacket, she shrugged into it as she pulled open the front door. “We’ve got a location.”

  Laura Talbot looked at her son when the door closed behind Cady. “Well. She left abruptly.”

  “There’s been a break in her investigation,” Ryder explained. He tried not to think about the fact that she might soon be running directly toward the man who may have been the shooter.

  “You know, when you mentioned a law enforcement officer was staying with you, I figured it was a man. You didn’t say differently.”

  “Didn’t I?” He walked to the bedroom and came back with his weapon, strapping it on before fetching a coat.

  “What office did you say she works for?”

  He smiled down at her, familiar with her gentle probing. “I didn’t.”

  Laura made a moue of disappointment. “You don’t say much, that’s for certain. For some reason, her last name is familiar. I can’t quite recall why.”

  Ryder’s muscles went tense at that, but his mom was on to another subject. “I almost keeled over with shock seeing a woman here, but any hopes I harbored were dashed pretty quickly.”

  “Really.”

  “Not that she isn’t attractive, but she’s very fierce, isn’t she?” Sadie came over and dropped a pull toy at Laura’s feet. She obligingly picked it up to play tug with the animal.

  Fierce. Ryder considered the word as it applied to Cady. It wasn’t totally off the mark. “I think you’re responding to her vest and weapon.”

  “Anyway.” The dog won the contest and bounded away with the toy. “Seconds later, I realized she wasn’t your type, so my fledgling hopes were shattered once more.”

  “What’s my type again?”

  “Oh . . .” His mom cocked her head. “Someone like that cute little Lisa O’Reilly you dated for a while.”

  Ryder thought of the woman without a twinge of nostalgia. “While her physical attributes were . . . ah . . . impressive, they were unmatched by intellectual capability.”

  His mom laughed. “You’re so bad. So no, I wouldn’t wish that on you. Perhaps someone more like Molly Embry at the library. Have you met her?”

  “I don’t spend much time in the stacks these days.” He walked over to drop a light kiss on his mom’s head before turning toward the door. “Thank you again. Call if you need anything.”

  “I need more grandchildren,” she called after him.

  “Anything but that,” he amended before closing the door.

  Chapter 36

  “I got pings on one of Forrester’s phones for the first time earlier this morning.” Cady was updating Miguel and Allen in the supervisor’s office. “It’s the cell he used to answer Fielding’s recent call. Maybe he just keeps it off when it’s not in use.”

  “But every time he powered it on or off, it would leave a trace,” Miguel murmured.

  She nodded. “Based on the records, I suspect he disposes of the cells after a period of time. He’s careful. Doesn’t use text messaging. And the data dump from the provider only goes back eighteen months. We have his calls to Fielding. The only other ones listed were to Mexico.”

  “Mexico.” Allen drummed his fingers on the desk. “Think he’s scouting a place to go when he leaves North Carolina?”

  “He’d be smarter to go to a country without extradition treaties,” Miguel said.

  Allen’s speculation could be true. But Cady found herself wondering if the call had been made to a drug contact. Because she had zero proof for the thought, she kept it to herself. “We can’t be sure. But . . .” It was difficult to quell the excitement pulsing through her veins. “The cell he used to call Fielding prior to this one? Twice call records pinpointed his location to Ayden. I checked, and the dates correspond to the time Tina Bandy’s family was living there.”

  “Chad Bahlman?” Allen asked.

  “Two days before he was killed,” Cady confirmed. It wasn’t proof, but it was damn coincidental. “He appears to limit his use of the phones and likely turns them off most of the time. But the available location data place him mostly within the state and occasionally just over the border into neighboring ones.” He could have gone anywhere, she reflected. And she couldn’t help believing that his failure to do so had something to do with Dylan Castle.

  She pointed to a spread-out map in front of her. “This morning’s ping places him somewhere in the space outlined in red.”

  Allen studied the map. “That’s at least ten square miles.”

  “It’s a place to start. We know it’s a prepaid cell.” A little more difficult to locate than a smartphone but not nearly as secure as criminals would like to think.

  Miguel leaned forward to peruse the map. “So he could be within this area in any one of these four counties. Watauga, Avery, Caldwell, Wilkes.” His mouth was a grim line when he flicked a glance at Cady. “Close enough to get at you.”

  The thought had already occurred. Her home in Waynesville was in Haywood County, less than three hours away. “It means he was fairly near as of this morning,” she agreed evenly. But there was nothing in the records to indicate Forrester’s location on Tuesday, when the shooting took place.

  She pushed aside a thread of frustration. Forrester may have other phones he still used that they didn’t know about. They could be missing a wide swath of historical location data. But they had today’s.

  “So where do you want to start?” Allen asked.

  “Tillis indicated that Forrester had an affinity for prostitutes. Maybe we talk to some of those women in the area. Show them pictures of Forrester. Loomer too,” she added after a moment. “We don’t know they’re together, but we can’t be sure they aren’t.”

  “All right. Remember to wear vests. And, Cady, we got a replacement vehicle for you.” Allen reached into his desk drawer and
withdrew a set of keys. “Try to treat it nicer than you did the Jeep.”

  She caught the keys he tossed to her. “This better not be a van.” The vehicles used by the marshals on the job were acquired by way of forfeiture laws. They were chosen for their ability to blend in, not for their appeal.

  “I bet it’s the PT Cruiser in the lot.” Miguel grinned at her. “That’d be totally your style.”

  “Oh hell no.”

  “I’ll let you be surprised,” Allen said dryly. “Keep me posted of your whereabouts.”

  Miguel walked to the door, but Cady lingered. “Ah . . . I have one more thing.” When the other marshal paused, she waved him away.

  Allen straightened. Eyed her shrewdly. “If you need more time off, that isn’t a problem. You went through a lot this week.”

  Vaguely insulted, she wanted to ask if he’d offer the same to a male marshal. Then swallowed the words because she knew he would. He was a good guy. Not an office bureaucrat but a deputy marshal who helped out on their warrants when needed. “It’s not that. You know my mom’s condition.” Of course he would. It was the reason stated for her desired transfer from Saint Louis.

  “Is she getting worse?”

  Her shrug was nonchalant. The churn of emotions elicited by the question was anything but. “She has concerning episodes. It’s too soon to tell if they point to a decline. But I can’t discuss traumatic events from the past with her. I just learned recently that she was approached six years ago by my dad’s partner in a bank robbery. Stan Caster.” Allen’s expression hardened.

  “The money from the bank robbery was never recovered. She reported the encounter, and he landed back in prison.”

  He reached for a pen and scribbled a note. “I’ll find out his whereabouts. If he’s still inside, we’re going to make damn sure you’re notified the next time his release date nears.”

  Cady couldn’t be sure whether or not Hannah had received such an alert. And she wouldn’t ask her. But if the man tried to contact her mom again, he’d answer to her.

  Allen put the pen down and looked up. “Anything else I can do for you?”

  “No, I’m good. Thanks.”

  “Then go make Rodriguez jealous.” A hint of a smile played around the man’s mouth. “I don’t envy you having to listen to his bitching for the rest of the day.”

  “If only I’d known the key to getting a new vehicle was having my office-issued pickup used as target practice.”

  Cady mentally tabulated the remark as the dozenth Miguel had made about the black 2018 Jeep Wrangler she’d been assigned. “Look at it this way. Sometimes you’ll get to ride in it.”

  Their boots crunched on the graveled lot as they approached the strip club called the Lumberyard. Given its isolated location—miles outside the town of Sawmills—the lot was surprisingly full at that hour.

  “Not the same. You know what this is? This is a pity vehicle. Allen must have done a whole lot of begging to get it for you.” He deserved the elbow jab to the gut. “Not that you don’t deserve it,” he hastily added.

  “Glad you agree.” They stepped aside for a portly man in his midforties who almost fell out of the door as it opened. Cady watched him try to maneuver his way to his vehicle. “It is way too early in the day to be that drunk.”

  “Focus,” he advised as they stepped inside the darkened club. They didn’t get more than a few steps in before a bouncer accosted them. He boasted biceps that looked like he bench-pressed Volkswagens in his spare time. “You members? Otherwise the membership fee is twenty bucks. Gets you five dollars off the cover charge for each visit.”

  Cady showed him her star. Their visits didn’t require discretion. “We’re interested in talking to some of your female employees about a warrant we’re working.”

  “They can’t help you.”

  She leveled a look at him. “You don’t know what questions we have, do you?”

  Reluctantly, he stepped aside, and they walked into the club. It bore more than a passing resemblance to the others they’d visited already that day. They were hitting all the places local law enforcement had noted with the most instances of illegal sexual activity. They also had a list of repeat offenders for solicitation and their last known addresses. It was too early for activity at some of the spots. But many of the “gentlemen’s clubs” opened in the afternoon.

  Inside, she and Miguel split up to work the room. He usually got more information from women than she did. No surprise there. With a visage to make Raphael weep and a running faucet of charm he rarely wasted on Cady, females tended to open up to him.

  Still, she tried with the waitstaff, showing pictures of Loomer and Forrester and getting nothing for her time. She moved on to the females lounging in filmy lingerie at the bar or at tables. Just finished up or waiting for their time onstage, Cady figured. The one at the bar said, “Honey, if they ain’t regulars and real good tippers, I don’t really see ’em, y’know?” She didn’t get much more from the first woman at the nearby table, who boasted a pair of boobs she could set a tray on. But her companion studied the pictures intently before handing them back with a shake of her head.

  “What’d they do?”

  “They’re wanted for questioning.”

  The stripper gave Cady a look. “No, I mean for what? Because whatever it is might make a difference whether they’d come to a place like this.”

  Intrigued, Cady tapped Forrester’s picture. “Kidnapping. Wanted for questioning in three homicides.” She moved on to Loomer. “He may be with him.”

  The woman reached up a finger, twirled a lock of her long black hair. The gesture was oddly schoolgirlish. But she was probably younger than she looked in all the makeup. “So a guy like the kidnapper isn’t going to hang out in a place like this. I don’t think so anyway.”

  Cady tucked the photos away. “Why’s that?”

  She shrugged, and the slinky robe bared a shoulder. She didn’t seem to notice. Or care. “He wouldn’t want to be noticed, would he? Clubs like ours attract cops. Then there’s the money. I mean, every bar in the state will require him to pay a membership fee. But here he’s also going to get hit with cover charges sometimes and parking fees when we’re busy. The full-nude places—which this ain’t—can’t sell alcohol, but people can bring it in. But then the club owners make them buy it back to drink there, which is bullshit.” She waved in the general direction of the bar. “Our drinks are expensive compared to what you’d get at a regular private club with no adult entertainment. He might not have the cash to pay the additional costs at a club like ours.”

  She had a point. Several of them, in fact. “What’s your name?”

  The woman smiled. “Janice. Just Janice. That’s not my stage name, of course.”

  “Janice watches too much Law & Order: SVU.” The other stripper tittered.

  “So where would a man like the one you’re describing go for sex? Anonymous. Rough.”

  Sobering, Janice shared a look with her friend. “Guys like that are everywhere, you know? No backroom activity here,” she hastened to put in, as if Cady couldn’t see the curtained booths. “But prostitutes would be most likely. Someone in a club gets beat on, you got the bouncer, the manager looking out for the girl. Hookers got no one, ’less they work with a pimp. And sometimes it’s the pimp tuning them up in the first place.”

  “Where are the busiest places for prostitutes to frequent around here?”

  Another shrug. The robe lowered another few inches. Cady resisted an urge to reach out and move it back into place. “Any shitty motel, I’d guess. Some work truck stops exclusively. Lots of people around in case they get in trouble, and they can get regulars, you know? Guys who drive the same route.”

  The woman had given her food for thought. Cady dug in her pocket for a twenty. Janice snatched it away and had it folded and out of sight in an instant. “You want my opinion on politics, now that’s free.”

  Declining politely, Cady moved away, scanning the area
for Rodriguez. She found him crowded into a corner with a partially nude woman in a raunchy nurse outfit blocking his exit. He sent Cady a beseeching gaze. She grinned. The man’s social life might have a revolving door, but he was a choirboy at heart. Taking pity on him, she made her way over to rescue him.

  “Honey? Is this scary lady bothering you?”

  The woman looked at her over her shoulder. “That your wife? She’s too skinny, baby. You need some curves you can grab on to.” Miguel extricated his hand when she would have placed it on one of the curves in question.

  “Excuse us.” Cady grabbed Miguel’s arm and pulled him away. “He’s already had all his shots. Christ,” she added in an undertone as they strode toward the door. “I really can’t take you anywhere.”

  “I thought she pulled me aside because she had info, but she just wanted to get me cornered.”

  “Literally. I think she wanted to examine you. That place she put her stethoscope was a ways from your heart.”

  “Funny.”

  They strode out the door and headed toward the vehicle. Cady reached for the fob and unlocked it.

  “There’s no reason to share that episode at the office.”

  She placed her hand on her heart in feigned shock. “I would never tell anyone that I found you between a doc and a hard place.”

  “Here we go,” he muttered.

  “I only saved you because nobody puts baby in the corner.”

  Heaving a theatrical sigh, he opened his door and slid inside the vehicle. “You’re a verbal sadist, know that? Are you done?”

  Smirking, Cady got in and buckled her seat belt. “For now.”