by D. L. Wood
“So you’re a Harry Potter fan?” Chloe asked, pulling out one of the volumes.
Interest drew Tyler’s gaze upward. He nodded. “Emma reads them with me.”
“Goblet of Fire is my favorite. What about you?”
He pursed his lips, considering the question. “The first one. Because it’s when Harry finds out he can do magic.”
Chloe nodded and started to reply, but then Tyler continued, “But also, Order of the Phoenix, because there’s a bunch of magic fighting. But that one’s a little sad.”
Chloe pressed her lips together, trying not to smile. “Yeah, that one is,” she agreed, then glanced over at the baseball gloves. “You play?”
“Shortstop,” he answered proudly.
“He was team MVP last year,” Emma offered with a satisfied smile.
“Wow. I’d like to see you play sometime,” Chloe said, tracing a hand over one of the gloves.
“Really?” Tyler asked, the tone of pleasant surprise in his voice.
“Sure, I would. I like baseball. My brother used to play when he was about your age—”
“Your brother? So…does that mean I have a brother, too?” Tyler looked to Emma for the answer, and Emma looked to Chloe.
“Um,” Chloe said, searching for the right words, “well, yes…you did.” Her heart winced. “But he died.”
“Oh,” Tyler said, clear disappointment cutting through. “I’m sorry.”
Sympathy curved Chloe’s mouth. “Thanks, Tyler. That means a lot. I’m sorry you didn’t get to meet him. He would have loved you.”
Tyler wrinkled his nose. “You think?”
“I know. I could tell you about him sometime. If you want.”
Tyler nodded.
“Hey, bud, why don’t you show Chloe your Avengers collection?” Emma suggested, pointing to a dozen action figures displayed on one of the shelves.
“You like the Avengers?” he asked Chloe.
“Love ‘em,” she answered. “Let me see what you’ve got.”
They spent the next fifteen minutes talking about the toys and trading opinions about the best Avenger and the new movie that had come out over the summer. Emma chimed in a bit, but mostly just watched and smiled. It was clear that she truly loved Tyler. Whatever animosity she felt for her father did not extend to him.
“Chloe?” Reese stood in the doorway, looking haggard.
“Hey, Reese,” she said, rising from where she’d been sitting next to Tyler on the bed. “Everything okay?”
He exhaled heavily. “Uh, yeah. Look, I’m so sorry but this thing is going to have me tied up. Between this and the explosion and two other cases I’ve got hearings on this afternoon, I won’t be able to take off this morning like I’d hoped.”
“Surprise,” Emma mumbled under her breath.
Reese’s eyes darted to her. “You’re going to school, Emma. Tyler’s fine.”
“I’m not going.”
“Yeah, you are. Because one of those officers down there owes me a favor and agreed to take you if you won’t go on your own.”
She glared at him. “Fine,” she sniped, marching towards the door. “But I’m taking Tyler first.”
“No,” said Reese. “I can drop him on my way to work.”
“I can take him,” Chloe piped in, and they both turned to look at her. Tyler looked up, a grin on his face.
“That okay with you, bud?” Emma asked, all traces of angst gone from her tone.
Tyler nodded vigorously. “That’s cool.”
Reese’s shoulders seemed to relax. “That would be great, Chloe. If you’re sure.”
“Definitely,” Chloe insisted, putting an arm around Tyler. “How could I resist a fellow Potterhead?”
“And, if it’s okay, I thought Holt could show you around a little, just till I get done? Maybe he can run you through town and point out some of the highlights? Just so you get your bearings. Then he can bring you by the office and you can see what we do there. If you’re interested.”
It was almost laughable. Obviously the box thing wasn’t Reese’s fault, but still, whatever the reason, here she was after all these years and her father was still too busy for her. But, if I’m not leaving, I should make the most of it. She did have a job to get done and it wouldn’t hurt to have someone show her around. And if that came with the added bonus of picking the brain of someone who really knew Reese McConnaughey in order to get the real story on him, or at least another version of it, so much the better.
ELEVEN
Ten minutes in the car with Tyler was all it took for Chloe to fall in love with him completely. Far from the shy kid she had first met in his bedroom, he now babbled incessantly all the way to William Nelson Elementary School. By the time he got out, Chloe had learned that a boy named Mack was his best friend, that a girl named Kinsey wouldn’t leave him alone, and his teacher, Mrs. Ellis, hadn’t had to put his clothespin on the red light in two weeks.
“He really likes you,” Holt noted after Tyler hopped out of the car and raced inside the school.
“Feeling’s mutual.”
“Wait till he meets your boyfriend. An ex-navy SEAL that works on movies? Forget it. The kid’ll go crazy.”
Chloe eyed him quizzically. “How did you know about Jack?”
Holt shrugged. “Reese mentioned him once or twice. Or three times.” He turned to grin at Chloe. “I’ve never seen Reese use spare time to do anything but work, but that book your boyfriend wrote? He couldn’t put it down. And then he kept going on and on about it.”
Chloe smiled, a twinge of pride slipping out. “Jack’s a good writer.”
“So are you, apparently,” Holt said wryly. “Reese told me. Bragged, actually. It was getting a little annoying.”
Chloe sat quietly, digesting that unexpected nugget. Before she could come up with a reply, Holt spoke up again. “So, where do you want to start? I could drive you around a bit, give you the lay of the land and some ideas if you want.”
“Are you sure this is okay?” she asked. “You’re probably really busy and I’d be fine on my own.”
“Are you kidding?” he insisted. “Perfect fall day, driving around, grabbing coffee and crullers…you’re doing me a favor, giving me an excuse to be out. I’m supposed to check on something related to the Donner thing at some point today, but I don’t know when that’ll be. Till then,” he grinned, “I’m all yours.”
When she didn’t relent, he whined, “Come onnnnnn—”
“Okay, okay,” she laughed. “If you’re sure.”
“Good,” he said, nodding his head to seal the decision as he turned his Audi A6 out of the school drive, headed back towards the center of town.
Franklin’s streets were full at this hour, cars crawling along to work and school at a snail’s pace, thanks to the traffic lights and four-way stops at the end of every block. Holt maneuvered down several of these, then pulled into the left turn lane at a red light and waited, the clicking of his turn signal droning in the background. Straight ahead, a couple of blocks from where they sat, the construction site loomed. Even from that distance, Chloe could see that the structure had been badly burned on multiple levels.
“You said you had to work on the ‘Donner thing.’ Donner’s the angry guy from last night?”
Holt nodded. “Phillip Donner. He’s the owner of the construction project—and the victim in the criminal trespass and assault case we handled for Kurt Sims.”
“That’s Emma’s friend’s dad?”
The light turned green and Holt pulled forward, turning left. “Yeah, that’s right. I forgot. You met Jacob last night.”
“The kids mentioned that Reese represented him.”
“It was just a favor, really. A little pro bono thing.”
“Pro bono?”
“Oh—for free. Kurt was picketing at the construction site—something he does a lot—and it got out of hand. Walked straight onto the property, started yelling at Donner. Sims says a gust of wind ble
w the sign out of his hands, accidentally cutting Donner across the face. Donner says that Sims attacked him with it. We pled it down. It was pretty simple.”
“That was nice of you and Reese to help him out like that.”
“Yeah, well…it’s turned into the gift that keeps on giving. Now, any time there’s a problem with Sims at the site, we get a call. Hence, our presence last night. It could’ve been worse, though. Originally Sims wanted us to represent him in his lawsuit against Donner over the construction, but he couldn’t pay us for that either. Wanted us to do it ‘because it’s the right thing to do,’” Holt said, making air quotes with his right hand, apparently parroting what Sims had said to them. “A case like that—just the costs alone—we couldn’t afford to handle it pro bono.”
“What’s he suing Donner for?”
He braked as they approached a four-way stop, then looked at her, amused. “You sure you want to hear about this? It’s pretty boring stuff.”
Chloe shrugged. “It wasn’t boring last night.”
He chuckled. “True. So you know that Franklin’s known as a Civil War town, right? Site of one of the war’s bloodiest battles and all that?”
She nodded. Her research had made that very clear.
“So most of downtown is protected by historical preservation ordinances, including at least part of the area there at Five Points—that intersection at the construction site. Sims fancies himself a historian-slash-preservationist, whatever that is, and wanted to put a museum and tour company there. It’s a great location for tourism, great exposure. He figured he could make a living and protect the history at the same time.
“So Kurt spends a chunk of his savings getting plans drawn up, having surveys done, courting the owner, the business association, the historical society—not to mention convincing investors. He claims he finally had the whole thing locked down, when Phillip Donner swoops in. He claims Donner used intimidation and maybe even blackmail to get the owners to sell to him, stealing the whole thing out from under him. Kurt loses his dream and his savings, not to mention that Donner builds a retail space on what Kurt considers holy historical ground. I mean, Donner’s having to include a small memorial park beside the building to satisfy the ordinances, but still, it’s like slapping Kurt in the face.”
“So, can he win? I mean, if he did, wouldn’t you get paid then?”
“If he can prove his case, and if he can outlast Donner’s money and lawyers, then, yeah, we might get paid at the end. But it’s not our problem anymore. Another lawyer, Cecilia Tucker—that’s Trip Tucker’s mom,” he clarified, then added when Chloe looked confused, “Emma’s other friend from last night?”
“Oh, right.”
“Well, she stepped up. I think she felt bad for the guy. And there’s a lot of press in it for her. It’s a pretty high profile case and she’s running for Circuit Court judge next fall, so even if she doesn’t get paid she’ll get something out of it. I guess she figures any press is good press. She’s in practice by herself, so we’ve offered to help out if she ever has a conflict or something.”
“And Donner’s still just building away while the lawsuit’s going on?”
“Yeah. Sims tried to get a temporary injunction to halt construction, but the judge wouldn’t grant it. So Donner is still building, because he wants to finish the thing and sell it, to make his profit. But even if he completes it, he won’t be able to lease or sell it until the lawsuit is resolved. So that site could sit finished, but unused and unsold for months, if not years. Sims, on the other hand, is still pushing his lawsuit, hoping to eventually get a permanent injunction and a forced sale of the property to him. If that happens, Donner will lose a bundle.”
“Why doesn’t Sims just go somewhere else?” Chloe asked, as Holt rolled up to another stop sign.
“I’m not sure he can. Like I said, he’s spent a fortune getting to this point. Plus, there’s the historical angle keeping him focused on the site. What you have to understand is that Sims is a ‘true-believer.’ A fanatic about what he calls the undoing of history. If you ever talk to him, you’ll see what I mean. He’s got a day job as a telemarketer, but he spends most of his time running the ‘Society for the Historical Preservation of the South,’” Holt said, rattling the name off with a self-righteous air he was obviously borrowing from Sims. “From what I understand, he’s spent a lot of time bouncing all over the Southeast fighting the good fight whenever landmarks or protected sites are endangered.”
“And Donner really thinks Sims would blow up his building?”
Holt groaned. “Yeah, Donner definitely thinks that. I’m more concerned with what the police are thinking. Hopefully it won’t come to anything, but…” He trailed off, shrugging.
“What about that corpse they found? Have they released any more information about it?” she asked as Holt banked hard around a ninety degree turn, causing her to lean slightly in his direction.
“Not yet. But I’m working on getting the story.”
For a moment, silence filled the car. Through the opposite windows, Chloe could see the Harpeth River as it cut through the land on a path parallel to the road. The banks of the small river were thick with brush and overhanging trees. Though the water level was low now, she wondered if the tributary ever spilled into the roadway during extended periods of heavy rain.
She turned her gaze back to Holt as he slowed at yet another traffic light. “So that thing at Reese’s house this morning—could it have something to do with last night?”
“Like what? Donner sending some kind of message?”
Chloe nodded.
Holt grimaced doubtfully, waggling his head back and forth. “I suppose anything’s possible but that would be an awful risk for Donner on a case that he will probably eventually win anyway. Plus, technically, we aren’t even on the case. And like you said earlier, if we don’t know who left the box, we don’t know what to ‘back off’ of. So if that was Donner’s plan, it was a bad one.” He shook his head, dismissing the idea. “My money’s on one of the divorce or child support crazies. You should see a couple of the divorces we have in the hopper. There’s this one nut-job spouse—”
A trilling sounded over the car speakers, interrupting him. Holt pulled out his cell and answered it. Several “mmm-hmms” and “all rights” were exchanged before he hung up.
“So,” he said, accelerating through the next intersection, “that thing I was supposed to check on? That call was it. I need to handle this if you’ve got a few minutes for a detour. Shouldn’t take long. It’s close by.”
Chloe shrugged. “Sure.”
“Great. Then let’s go see a man about a dead body.”
TWELVE
“…stuffed in a hazardous waste drum,” finished the burly man sitting across the table from Holt and Chloe, whom Holt had introduced as “Pax.” Pax wiped a blotch of ketchup off his face with the back of his hand. “Thing was halfway dissolved already. You should have seen it.” He turned to Chloe. “Had to mop the floor after.”
Chloe smiled obligingly and swirled her glass of half-and-half tea, grateful that she wasn’t eating. Holt had driven them to an out-of-the-way diner just south of town called “Greasy’s,” which most definitely would not be making it into the article. They had found Pax at a table at the back, already well into his plates of waffles, sausage, bacon, and eggs. Based on the pool of grease lining each one, the place lived up to its name.
“I’ll take your word for it,” Holt quipped, taking a sip of what smelled like mediocre black coffee. “How did they find it?”
“Fire hoses,” mumbled Pax. “That high-powered water hit a row of some waste drums and flipped ‘em over. Knocked a bunch of the lids off. Half of ‘em were empty. This one wasn’t. Good thing they saw that body before that water hit it full on, or it woulda’ been nothin’ but jelly all over the site instead of laying on a slab at the coroner’s.”
Pax shoveled in more food as Chloe cut her eyes at Holt. He had explained that
Pax worked as part of the janitorial staff of the Tri-County Coroner’s Crime Laboratory, which three of the area counties used for all their evidentiary needs. He had gone on to explain that in exchange for the occasional breakfast, Pax was sometimes willing to share information he had picked up around the offices, sometimes giving Holt tips or a heads-up on forthcoming evidence a little sooner than he would otherwise get it through the normal course of things. This had, on occasion, been very useful in planning defenses for existing clients, and even in getting new clients. Holt had assured Chloe that this arrangement was on the up and up, but the more she listened, the more questionable it seemed.
“So who is it?” Holt asked.
Pax picked a stray crumble of egg from the stubble on his jaw. “No idea. This one’s too far gone for prints or facial recognition. Apparently they’d stored some sorta acid or somethin’ in that drum. Heard ‘em talkin’ about dental. Maybe DNA even.”
“Girl? Guy?”
“Don’t think they could tell.”
“So they’ll ship it off to Metro Forensics for the autopsy.”
Pax nodded. “Later today,” he grunted.
“Getting that back could take a while.”
“Depends,” Pax mumbled.
Holt paused, waiting until Pax swallowed. When he had, Holt asked, “So are they looking at anybody in particular?”
Pax looked up from his hash browns and frowned. “They don’t tell me stuff like that.”
Holt eyed him warily. “They don’t tell you anything, Pax. I’m not interested in what they tell you. I’m interested in what you hear. Or maybe those eggs are enough to fill you up this morning.”
Pax leaned back, rubbed his stomach, and propped his fork up on the edge of the melamine topped table. “No. I’m pretty hungry today.”
“Okay. So are they looking at anybody?”
“Just heard a name.” He paused. “Sims.”
Holt nodded. “Okay.”