by Cat Clayton
“Interesting, Ms. Lamarr, two of my officers have said the same thing. But go on with your thoughts. You said, ‘except,’” the chief said.
“Except the facial scar,” I said.
The chief nodded. “Exactly. Here’s what I’d like to do. Lenora is working on printing copies of the sketch. She’s faxing them out to area departments. My officers will go door to door in town, to the local businesses, and see if we can get anyone else to help us ID this guy. If y’all want to help, I won’t argue. Someone has seen him somewhere.”
“I’m in,” Pop said, jumping out of his chair.
“Great, Randall. We’d appreciate the help. You can ride with me, but promise you’ll keep a cool head about it,” Chief Becker said.
Pop grunted a reply. I reached up and nudged his arm. “Got it, will do,” Pop added.
I cleared my throat. “I want to help, but another way. We’re convinced the man who kidnapped Stoney years ago and held her captive is the same one who has her now.”
Chief Becker nodded. “I’m of the same mindset.”
“Well, we also believe this guy has a long-time vendetta against my father from when he served on the department,” I said, knowing he may not believe the possibility. I tried anyway.
“What brings you both to this conclusion?” the chief asked.
Pop reached into his back pocket and withdrew the card addressed to him, left by Stoney’s abductor. “Someone left this for me at the nurses station.” He slid the envelope toward the chief. “Do you recall what I told you the other day when we met, about the young girl I spoke with in Houston when we rescued Stoney?”
Becker nodded, realization spreading across his face. “Yes. You said she’d feared for Stoney’s life when she overheard the men talking about you when you were the chief. Something about what you had done to one of them, and how he would exact his revenge on you by using her.” He folded his arms over his chest and he studied the envelope and opened the card. After reading it, he slipped it into a file in front of him.
“Do you think this may be the case, Becker? Are we dealing with an old vendetta against me?” Pop asked, his anxiety rolling off him in waves.
“We’ll never know until we find them. So, let’s quit wasting valuable time and get busy.” The chief turned and addressed the officers. “Stop by the front and pick up your copy of the sketch. Organize yourselves so you’re not stepping on each other’s boots out there and hit every business and residence in town. As soon as you find something, call me.”
“Yes, sir,” they said in unison and filed out of the room.
The chief glanced in my direction. “Steely, you mentioned you wanted to assist in another way. What did you have in mind?” His chair creaked as he rose to stand.
I peered directly in his eyes, hoping he’d agree. “I’d like to look through the case files and arrest records from around the time Stoney was abducted fifteen years ago.”
“What good will that do, Steels?” Pop asked.
“A lot, I think. I’ll look for anything, even the smallest detail involving you back then. This guy probably lived or visited here. Maybe you had him arrested. Who knows. But like you, I have a feeling it all ties in together. Someone needs to go over those old case files. Stoney’s life is on the line, and I think we should try every avenue possible.”
The chief nodded. “I think it’s a good idea, Steely, and a great way for you to help. You head up to Lenora’s desk and tell her I said to show you to the file room. I’m warning you, the room’s a wreck. Since we’ve gone paperless, the older files have been last on the list to input into the computers.”
“No worries, I can do this. Thanks for letting me help,” I replied, standing. “Pop, be careful out there. And please let me know when anyone finds anything.”
“I will, Steels.” He hugged me fiercely.
Chief Becker and Pop congregated with the entire squad of officers. Before I rounded the corner, I noticed Stacia Peacock amongst them. We’d had our differences in the past, and I hoped she’d put them aside and give 100 percent to finding Stoney.
Lenora escorted me to a tiny, cramped room with hundreds of stacked boxes.
“Welcome to the records room,” Lenora said, opening the metal mini blinds of a small window on the far wall, opposite the door. “The boxes are labeled by year. I believe the ones you’re interested in are over there.” She pointed near the window. “I’ll be up front. Let me know if you have questions.”
“Thank you, Lenora,” I said, shuffling my way through the box maze.
Leaving the door open, she disappeared around the corner.
I studied the boxes, hunting for the years 1999-2001. I located them above my head on a metal shelving unit. I stared up at them, reaching.
“Here, let me get those for you,” Jackson’s voice said from behind.
“Hi. I figured y’all were out on the streets already.”
“I’m on my way out. I thought I’d check on you before I left.” He offered me a comforting smile.
I stepped aside, moving out of his way. “Thank you.”
“Which ones do you want down?”
“1999 through 2001.”
He reached up and pulled down two boxes dated 1999, one box for 2000, and two boxes for 2001. One by one, he set them on other stacks of boxes so I could easily reach them. “Right there is a small folding table.” He pointed to the middle of the room. “If we move these, you can clear a decent-sized workspace.”
“Good idea,” I said and helped him clear the table.
I removed the lid from the first 1999 box and peered inside at the stuffed, legal-size manila folders. “I’ve got my work cut out for me.”
Jackson rested his hands on my shoulders and massaged them. “If there’s a connection between any of these records, when your father was chief, to the crimes this past week, you’ll find it. I wish I could stay and help, but I’m needed out there.”
“Absolutely. I’ve got this,” I said, smiling up at him.
He kissed the top of my head and left.
Careful not to mix up the order of the folders, I lifted a few out at a time, making stacks of ten in front of me on the table. If I leaned over this table for too long, it’d kill my back, so I hunted down a chair in the hallway and dragged it back to the room.
I pulled the first pile toward me and went to work. Most files were drunk and disorderly cases, shoplifting, thefts, assaults, and one domestic abuse. I searched for names in the files, arresting officers, and punishment of crimes. Each one that didn’t send off a signal, I refiled.
Halfway through the next pile, I flipped open a folder and was scanning the information on the page when I heard Gertie’s raspy voice in the hallway, then Daniel’s. I glanced toward the open doorway as they entered. The sympathetic smiles on both of their faces eased my rattled nerves.
“What are y’all doing here?” I asked.
Gertie bumped Daniel with her hip. “Your father called us. We’re here to help.”
Studying the case files, the three of us cleared the first box in thirty minutes. Daniel repacked the box and slid it back onto the shelf. We started on the second box for 1999.
“Okay,” I said, dividing the folders into stacks of ten. “Remember, we’re looking for anything that stands out and potential links to who took Stoney.”
Daniel studied the list of clues we searched for and read them out loud. “Randall or Chief Lamarr, basically any case involving his name, possibly the drug dealer, Kramer.”
“Why is Kramer on this list?” Gertie asked, peering at me over her cheetah print readers. “Wasn’t he in jail several days this week? How could he have been the one who killed Lloyd?”
The constant blinking of the multi-colored LED lights on her ugly Christmas sweater grated on my nerves. On. Off. On. Off. On. Off.
“Because the resemblance of him and the guy in the police sketch is uncanny. And the other thing is, it’s possible while he was in police custody, he
had someone working for him on the outside, take Cranky Santa for instance. I have a feeling he’s involved somehow.” We needed to find the connection, I thought.
On. Off. On. Off. On. Off.
“Gertie, is there any way to turn those darn lights off? They’re irritating and distracting, and I can’t think.”
Daniel, avoiding eye contact with either of us, picked up the file in front of him, and hid behind it.
Gaping at me, Gertie’s lower jaw dropped. After a few seconds of catching flies, she sat up in her chair and snapped to attention.
“I’m trying to be festive, you know, with our joyous season and all. I thought it might raise our spirits, but if you find it annoying, I’ll gladly switch them off.” Huffing and puffing, she busied herself, digging around underneath the belly of her sweater. She cursed under her breath.
“Did you eat breakfast?” I asked.
Struggling with locating the Off switch, she spat, “No. I need donuts.”
“Donuts?”
“Well, we’re Citizens on the Watch and helping investigate crimes, ain’t we kind of like cops?”
Daniel snorted behind his folder. He snapped it closed and refiled it in the box. “Okay, I’m moving onto the 2000 box. I know, make stacks of ten.”
“Thank you, Daniel.” I reached over and took Gertie’s hand as she fiddled with her sweater. “You can leave the lights on. I didn’t mean to snap at you, and I appreciate you trying to uplift the atmosphere. I’m just worried about Stoney. Okay?”
“Okay.” She let go of the waistband of her sweater. “But I’m still hungry.”
“And you,” I said, pointing at Daniel, “you’re not innocent in all this. How come you didn’t get her food before coming up here? You know how she gets when she’s hungry.”
“Yeah!” Gertie said and then set her sights on me. “Hey, not nice!”
Daniel set the stacks of folders on the table, trying not to disturb the paperwork order inside them. “Hey, don’t blame me. I offered her a smoothie. She said no.”
“Investigators don’t drink smoothies,” she said, opening the next file in her stack. “I need brain fuel. Like donuts.”
Her comment set off a series of giggles from Daniel and me, Gertie joined in, extinguishing the tension from the room.
An hour later, as we finished up the 2000 box, Gertie and Daniel made a run for burgers. We decided on real food versus donuts. I suggested they head over to the shop and raid the swear jar and pick up extra burgers for the officers on duty, Chief Becker, and Lenora. This morning, after Gertie called Daniel and told him about Stoney missing, he’d canceled the day’s appointments. The Scrubadub crew would have to double up and take care of our clients once Stoney was safe at home.
I opened the 2001 box and made stacks of ten.
As I thumbed through the fourth file in the first stack, I reached up and slid Mama’s locket back and forth on its silver chain. A familiar name caught my eye: Earl Wood. Ziggy’s younger brother. Interesting, I thought.
I flipped back to page one in the folder. Lost in my thoughts a moment ago, I’d missed his name. I started over, reading and studying every detail. September 13, 2001. Earl Wood. Arrest charge: Assault. Arresting officer: Officer Spencer. I wasn’t aware of a Spencer on the police force nor in Buckleville. I assumed at some point he’d moved away. I didn’t see Pop’s name anywhere in the report. I turned to the next page, a witness statement. My attempt to read slowly failed, and I had to start over from the top. They had arrested Earl for beating up his then live-in girlfriend, Joley Baranowsky. None other than Trudy Baranowsky, owner of The Best Little Hair House in Texas, signed the witness statement.
My trembling hands searched the file for Earl’s mugshot. As I studied Earl’s face, I noticed three distinct differences from the 2001 Earl Wood and the one I’d met days earlier. He was much younger, this one had brunette hair, and he resembled the guy I knew as Jason Kramer. Instead of the pieces of the puzzle falling into place, they scattered around in my mind, leaving me no closer to finding Stoney than when I began my search in the file room.
Chapter 26
The fact Earl Wood had come back to Buckleville to deal with his brother’s death could be a coincidence, but I needed to scrub out all happenstances if we were to find Stoney. I knew someone who could answer my questions about Earl’s arrest, and I needed to go see her right away.
I scribbled a note on a sticky pad beside me, ripped it off, and stuck it on the folder. It read: Leave this one out! Be right back! Tumbling out of my chair, I grabbed my purse and dashed out of the room. As I skirted past Lenora’s desk, I remembered I didn’t have my car. Trudy’s salon was seven blocks from here, quite a walk in this cold weather. I inspected my thin red sweater, jeans, and spiked camo boots. I could’ve chosen my sensible, low-heeled cowboy boots to go dancing, but no, I’d dressed to impress last night and wore these.
“Darn it! Not exactly the best sprinting shoes,” I scolded myself, imagining a twisted ankle or worse, breaking a heel off my beloved boots!
“You need something, Steely?” Lenora asked.
“Yes, I have to run a quick errand, but Jackson drove us in this morning. Not to mention,” I said, pointing, “These boots aren’t made for running.”
She leaned over, observing my kicks. “No, but they sure are adorable!” As she reached into the top drawer of her desk, I heard keys jingling. “Here, take my car.” She handed me a set of keys. “It’s the blue Subaru Forester in the side lot.”
“You’re a lifesaver, thank you, Lenora!” I took the keys. “If Daniel and Gertie return before I do, tell them I’ll be back shortly!” I rushed out of the lobby.
I pulled Lenora’s SUV out onto Main Street, turning right. The drive down Main Street only took about six minutes, but the three stoplights made it feel more like an hour. A flashing neon pink sign blinked Open in the front window of the hair salon. I rubbed Mama’s locket for good luck. I eyed the flyer announcing Vivienne Peacock running for city office in the front window and cringed.
As I pushed the wooden door open, a hyena’s cackling spilled out. Ugh, my luck. Mrs. Peacock, in the salon, with a wire brush.
“Why, Steely Lamarr, what can we do for you?” Trudy called from her station, her overzealous greeting as fake as her eyelashes.
Mrs. Peacock, perched in Trudy’s swivel salon chair, narrowed her bird eyes on me. She put her hand in front of her mouth and blocked an obvious poisonous Steely comment to Trudy.
Here we go... and, for Pete’s sake, show grace, I thought to myself.
I crossed the room, weaving around empty workstations, and wondered if a hot pink zebra exploded in here. There is such a thing as too much.
To ensure Trudy’s cooperation, I smiled real sweet, like my friend Caylee taught me.
“Good afternoon, ladies!” I said, folding my fingers in and digging my nails into the palms of my hands. I approached Trudy’s chair. According to the fat plastic rollers scattered on Vivienne’s wet head, she was getting her hair set. “How are y’all on this fine day?”
Mrs. Peacock shot me a suspicious glare, a devious glint in her eyes.
She saw through my ruse. The witch’s smarter than I give her credit for, I thought.
Trudy flashed me a forced grin, holding a blue roller in one hand and a comb in the other. “Did you come in to get your hair fixed?” Her jade-shadowed lids fluttered as her eyeballs trekked over my hair. “I see Daniel’s falling down on the job. We take drop-ins, but not today.”
I peeked in the large mirror in front of Vivienne, examining the flaming red bird’s nest on my head. Trudy may be Buckleville’s gossip queen, but her brutal honesty hit a home run with my hair today. I ran a hand through my tufts to tame the mane and got down to business.
“Yes, well, it’s been a long morning. Actually, I stopped by because I need to speak with you.” My eyes darted to Vivienne. “In private.”
Trudy rested her hand with the comb on Vivienne’s shoulde
r. “As you can see, I’m working.”
I held up my hands in a prayer position. “Please, Trudy, this is very important and will only take a few minutes. Would you mind, Mrs. Peacock?” I hoped by addressing her with a respectful tone, she’d agree.
She hmm’d, pressing her lips together. “That depends.”
I dug my fingernails deeper into my palms.
“Oh what, may I ask?”
“Will you hang my campaign flyer in your shop?”
“Yes.”
“In the front window where it gets proper exposure?” One penciled eyebrow raised.
Her pretentious antics were torture, and I wondered if either of the women saw the skin under my left eye twitching. Spit it out, Steely. You can do it.
“Yessss,” I said, squeezing the word out through clenched teeth.
“Now see, being decent isn’t so difficult, Steely.” Vivienne patted Trudy’s hand resting on her shoulder. “Go ahead, dear, it seems Ms. Lamarr needs your services.”
“Steely, I don’t like leaving my clients sitting alone. Vivienne is running for City Manager, so whatever you need to say, you can say in front of her. Isn’t that right, Vivi?”
“Well, I will soon get elected. So, you make a valid point. What is troubling you, Ms. Lamarr?” Vivienne smirked.
Show grace. Show grace. Show grace. I silently coached myself.
“My sister is in trouble and missing. We believe she was abducted this morning from the clinic.”
Trudy gasped. “Again?”
“Oh my! Could it be the terrible Secret Santa person who’s been leaving all those weird baby gifts for her? The news about her having a stalker is all over town. Bless her heart!” Vivienne said.
“Yes, um... thank you. We’re desperately trying to find her. A few of us COW members are assisting the department by searching through some old case files, and we ran across one from 2001 involving your sister Joley. You gave a witness statement. Do you recall the incident?”