February's Regrets (Larry Macklin Mysteries Book 4)

by A. E. Howe

  Chapter Nineteen

  Tuesday dawned cold and damp. Before I left the house, Pete texted me to meet him at Winston’s Grill.

  He was sitting in the back with a couple of empty plates laid out before him as he waved and spoke to various people coming and going. Most asked him how the hunt for the Hacker was going. Pete smiled and said we were making progress.

  “So how is the hunt going?” I asked him when I sat down.

  He leaned forward and spoke softly enough that only I could hear. “Unless you have a smoking gun, I’d say like crap.” He smiled grimly and leaned back.

  “If our killer is truly coming unraveled, we might not have much time,” I said. Mary poured me some coffee and I put a couple packs of sugar in it.

  “I’m well aware of that, Little Miss Sunshine.” He said it lightly, but I could tell there was an edge to his mood. “You know, my daughters are only a few years away from being in his preferred age range. And when I think…” He shook his head. “Let’s just say I don’t want to think about that.”

  “We’ll get him,” I said, trying to sound more optimistic than I actually was.

  “Your dad was a damn fine detective. I admire him. I’ve had reason over the years to go through some of his old cases and they’re tight. Some of the most thorough I’ve ever seen. And Tolland is almost a legend.”

  “What’s your point?”

  “The point is that if this guy outfoxed both of them, then we might be in for a challenge that we can’t meet.”

  “Which brings me back to what I said earlier. This guy is probably in meltdown. We might have been in over our heads when he was at the top of his game, but as he goes wild, he’s going to get sloppy.”

  “That’s a grim thought. The idea that we’re lucky because he’s been switched to berserker mode.”

  “It is what it is,” I said. I filled him in on my interviews from yesterday. “What are your thoughts on the van?”

  “Like you said, it’s a long shot without more information. But on the other hand, it gives us something else to work with. I wonder if Tonya noticed a van before the attack?”

  “Could have been days, even.”

  “If he was stalking her.”

  I called Shantel to check-in on Tonya. She was doing much better and had even been released from the ICU. Her memory was sketchy for the time around the attack, but the doctors were very encouraged. Shantel was going over to see her at noon.

  Pete and I tried to think of the best way to work on the only lead we had. “How many white minivans have you ever seen?” Pete asked.

  “Good question. Not that many.”

  “So let’s assume it’s a work van. Or at least it started life as a work van.”

  “That doesn’t narrow the field much. Churches use them, just about every business that has to move inventory, as well as every electrician, plumber and carpenter.”

  “The law enforcement officer’s lot is not an easy one,” Pete joked. “We can reach out and bring in more deputies to help with some of the footwork.”

  “In a county our size… there are probably about a hundred white- or light-colored vans, and maybe another fifty that come into the county on a regular basis.”

  “You hit on something I’ve been thinking about. The killer might be someone who visits the county and drops the bodies off in the swamps on his way home to Leon.”

  “Another plausible theory. Great,” I said sarcastically.

  During our conversation, half a dozen folks came over and chatted with Pete and me. It was pretty obvious that most of them were interested in any news about the Hacker. I looked at each one and wondered if they might be the killer trying to find out if we were on his trail. Which was silly—most of them could be easily eliminated. Too old. Too female. Too unlikely.

  Mary brought Pete’s check. No check for me, as coffee was always on the house for law enforcement officers at Winston’s.

  “Your dad doing okay?” Pete asked the somewhat harried Mary.

  “Not feeling well today, so I’m having to keep running.”

  “Sorry to hear that,” Pete said sincerely. He took a deep interest in the health of Winston’s Grill. It was the hub of his information network.

  “He’ll be fine. I’ll tell him you asked about him.”

  At the office, Pete and I took over the main conference room and started going through motor vehicle records, making hard copies of anything we found on white- or light-colored vans registered to people or businesses in the county.

  An hour into it, I realized two problems. “Damn, there are two groups we could be missing.”

  “What?” Pete said, looking up from his laptop.

  “First, the van could have been painted since it was purchased and, second, if it’s owned by a business, the business might or might not list this county as their primary address. Mill’s Lumber and Supply has a dozen stores in the area. I think their main store is in Gadsden County.”

  “Good point. We’ll just have to take care of these first, and if we don’t come up with anything, we’ll move on to other possibilities.”

  After three hours my eyes were dry and out of focus. “I’ve got fifteen vans.”

  “Twenty-one,” Pete said, holding up his yellow legal pad.

  I looked outside. The sun had come out, making the outdoors look inviting.

  “Why don’t we follow up on these and see where we are—” My phone went off with a call from Dad. “Hold that thought,” I told Pete, who was chuckling at the new ringtone.

  After the usual greetings, Dad asked me if I was busy. Alarm bells went off in my head—he usually only asked me that when he needed someone to look after his pet battleship.

  “That depends,” I told him. “Does this in any way involve Mauser?”

  “Hear me out. Mauser is a part of this, but you’ll be doing your job too. Shantel told me that Tonya would love to have a visit with Mauser. She met him at that church picnic a couple months ago and, well, Shantel thinks it might cheer her up.”

  “You’re going to take Mauser into the hospital?” I asked incredulously. I’d met a few all-star therapy dogs over the years. Mauser was definitely not cut out for it. He had the ego, but he lacked the energy or the discipline.

  “Not in the hospital. They’ve got their own therapy organization and rules, blah, blah, blah. But they did agree to let her see him outside in a little courtyard in the back of the hospital.”

  “Okay…” Reluctantly, I knew that this would give us an opportunity to speak with Tonya and maybe, hopefully, get some details that might help us if, by some miracle, she had any details to give us.

  “Shantel said that Tonya would be willing to talk about the attack. Her only condition was that she get to see Mauser.”

  “It would be great if Pete and I could talk with her.”

  “Fine, I’ll pick you up in half an hour.”

  “We’ll just meet—”

  “Nonsense, I’ll be there in thirty,” he said, hanging up.

  I looked at the phone for a minute before turning to Pete. “If you’ve ever wanted to be stuck in a van with my dad and Mauser for a road trip to Tallahassee, your wish has been granted.” I said it with a little more attitude than was justified, but Dad’s manipulation of every situation to fit his plans was irksome, to say the least.

  “We can interview Tonya?” Pete asked.

  I filled him in on our new plans for the afternoon. He tried to convince me that we could just meet Dad at the hospital.

  “Nope, I already tried that. Apparently Dad wants to have a captive audience.” This case meant a lot to Dad, and he was doing a pretty good job of not looking over our shoulders, but I felt sure that he was looking forward to having us locked in the van with him so he could quiz us on our progress.

  I called Tolland and brought him up to speed and invited him to be present when we talked to Tonya. Since we were going to be in his jurisdiction, I figured it was the right thing to do. He thanke
d me for calling, but said he’d leave it to us. “No sense in overwhelming her,” he said.

  When Dad’s van pulled up, Mauser was bouncing up and down excitedly in the space between the front bucket seats and the bench seat in the back. Dad had taken out the middle row of seats to give the leviathan room. Reluctantly, I let Pete have shotgun. His three-hundred-pound frame was not built to crawl into the back of the van.

  Mauser’s glee at having me as a guest in the back with him was painful, quite literally painful. First he jumped up and down, slamming my jaw with his blocky head as he tried to climb into my lap. Failing that, he turned around and sat on my knee, grinding his butt bone into my thigh.

  I could tell that Pete and Dad were talking, but I was too far away and Mauser’s loud panting made it impossible for me to make out anything but the occasional word.

  “…witness… van… weapon… Tonya… last victim…”

  I was never so glad to get to Tallahassee in my life.

  Dad called up to Tonya’s room while we took Mauser for a bathroom break.

  “What are the odds that she’ll remember something?” I threw out to Pete and Dad.

  “With the head injury and trauma she received, probably slim to none,” Pete said. “But you never know, and at this point anything would be a help. I think we should focus on the day or two leading up to the attack. She might remember seeing a strange vehicle or a person hanging around.”

  “I had a case a couple of years after I started—a hit-and-run where the victim was knocked unconscious. I interviewed him five or six times, and it was six months after the first interview that he remembered enough to help us find the car. We were lucky,” Dad remembered.

  “The doctor told Shantel that it could take up to two years for Tonya to complete the recovery process,” I said solemnly.

  It took us a few minutes to get back to the courtyard, mostly because everyone who came within sight of Mauser had to come over and ask how much he ate and if we had a saddle for him. Being the attention hog that he was, Mauser had to be dragged away from every new friend.

  When we finally got to the courtyard we saw Tonya sitting in a wheelchair, her head bandaged and flanked by Shantel on one side and the largest woman I’d ever seen on the other. I remembered the big guy who was the nurse up in the ICU. Where does the hospital get these people? I wondered.

  Mauser seemed to recognize Tonya. His whole body began to wag, and it was all I could do to hold onto my end of the leash. He dragged me over to Tonya, whose face lit up in a smile.

  The goliath standing next to Tonya frowned at Mauser and at the three of us.

  “Let’s be clear. My patient is still in a fragile state. I will call a halt to this when I think that she needs to rest.” The woman, who would have been perfectly cast as the commandant of a Russian gulag, gave us all a stern glare.

  For a few minutes everyone let Mauser give Tonya a proper monster dog greeting, with all of the slobber and head-bumps that entailed. He did take a second to greet Shantel, who he saw pretty regularly at the office. At one point he looked at the six-foot-plus nurse and seemed to consider introducing himself to her, but thought better of it.

  Tonya returned the greeting with baby talk and ear rubs until Dad said, “Tonya, we’d like to ask you a few questions.”

  “She had a horrible headache yesterday,” Shantel said with concern.

  “I’m doing pretty good today,” Tonya said, reaching up and touching Shantel’s hand that rested on her shoulder. “I’ll answer any questions I can, but my memory’s still pretty messed up.” She rubbed Mauser’s ears as he leaned into her, then she looked up at me. “Auntie says you saved my life.”

  “She’s known for exaggerating,” I said, trying not to let my head swell. Though I did feel like I’d taken one step toward redeeming myself for the stupid mistakes I’d made last month. “We wanted to ask a few questions about the days prior the attack.”

  Pete lowered his bulk down beside Tonya, kneeling next to her wheelchair so that he was on eye level with her.

  “We think it’s possible that the person who attacked you might have followed you for a couple of days prior to the attack. So try and think back. Do you remember seeing anyone who seemed odd or out of place? Maybe someone you saw a couple of times?” Pete asked.

  Her brow furrowed as she concentrated. “I don’t know. It’s kind of a blur.”

  “Try and remember what you were doing in the days leading up to the attack,” I prodded and felt the Amazon glowering at me.

  “I was looking for work. I picked up applications at a bunch of places, so I was driving all over town. I really need to find work in Calhoun. My car’s a piece of sh… junk.”

  She recited a number of places that included just about every store and restaurant in town. “I even applied at Express Burgers. The manager was a jerk and the pay sucks, but it would have saved me that drive.”

  “Did the manager do anything in particular that upset you?” I asked.

  “No, he just didn’t act like he gave a damn whether I applied or not. You know, acted like it was a big deal giving me the application.”

  “Was anyone particularly nice to you?”

  “Mary and her dad at Winston’s, but I thought I might have an in there. I knew Mary from softball. She came out and helped coach the team before I graduated. And the woman who runs the Donut Hole. Betsy, or something like that. She said she had a hard time finding help that wanted to come in at four in the morning. Everybody else I talked to was, like, whatever.”

  Tonya leaned back in her wheelchair, looking tired. The golem shifted and I thought she was going to end the session. “Can you remember anything from the night of the attack?” I asked quickly.

  Before she could answer, Mauser muscled his way back up to Tonya’s wheelchair. She started rubbing his head as he nuzzled her leg. I could see her relax, and she began to speak almost absent-mindedly as her focus remained on Mauser.

  “I just have… like, feelings. It was dark. A little scary maybe. I smelled something. Something familiar. And then nothing. I don’t remember anything else until I woke up here.” The last part I thought was a blessing.

  “A smell?”

  “I can’t remember what it was. It’s just like I thought… that’s familiar, and then nothing. The man who… found me. What… why?” I could tell that she was struggling emotionally to deal with her captor.

  “He’s passed away,” Pete told her.

  “Yeah, Auntie told me that. But… Why? Why did he, you know, keep me? Auntie said that he was crazy.”

  “I think that’s true. Or that alcohol had eaten up most of his brain. I don’t think he meant you any harm. In fact, he probably thought that he was helping you.”

  She looked up at me and nodded. “I guess I brought him a bunch of trouble,” Tonya said and Shantel squeezed her shoulder.

  “Now don’t you be thinking like that. He wasn’t no saint. Just a dirty old man. Didn’t mean no harm, but a dirty old man just the same,” Shantel told her forcefully.

  Tonya looked tired and Mauser’s attention was beginning to wander.

  “We probably ought to let her rest,” Dad said.

  “Took the words right out of my mouth,” the mountain said. She reached down and unlocked the brakes on the wheelchair.

  “Thank you for bringing Mauser,” Tonya told Dad.

  “So did we learn anything?” I asked as we walked back to the van. Mauser answered by lifting his leg on a spindly tree planted on a parking lot island.

  “Not much. We do have this list.” Pete held up his notebook where he’d written the names of the businesses she’d visited in her search for a job.

  “Unfortunately, that includes most of the places in town. I doubt it’s going to narrow things down much. Maybe if we compare it to places where Shawna and Dawn were known to visit during their last days.”

  “Don’t forget the old cases,” Dad said. “We gathered a lot of information on those victi
m’s last days. Best we could.”

  “Good point. I’ll get the list to Tolland so he can check it with the old cases,” I told Dad. When I saw the look on his face, I realized what he’d really wanted. “Of course, it wouldn’t hurt if you’d go back through the files too. I know you’re busy…”

  “No, I wouldn’t mind. I might spot something,” Dad jumped in. I smiled to myself. He knew that as sheriff he should stay above the investigation, but the failure to catch the killer years ago was still eating at him.

  Chapter Twenty

  “I’ll buy you all dinner,” Dad said as we climbed into the van. I figured we were in store for the Dairy Queen drive-thru and my jaw dropped when he piped up with, “We can go to Bon Temps.” I was shocked because Bon Temps was a nice restaurant with an upscale menu, while Dad was cheap with a palate that ran to roadside barbecue.

  “What did we do to deserve that?” I asked, a little too sarcastically, and he answered in kind.

  “Nothing. But they have outdoor seating so Mauser can sit with us and Genie is the manager.”

  “Genie?” The name sounded familiar, but…

  “You remember Genie Anderson. She used to babysit you,” Dad told me as we pulled into traffic.

  “Oh, yeah. She had a kid that was about my age. But there was something wrong with him.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with him. He has Down Syndrome. They moved into Tallahassee to be nearer to schools that could help him. Guess they moved when you were about nine.”

  “Timmy, or Tommy?” I tried to remember his name.

  “Jimmy,” Dad told me.

  “I didn’t know you kept up with her.”

  “I ran into her about a year back,” Dad said without elaborating. Stuck in the back of the van and not easily able to keep up the conversation, I just let it drop.

  After half the people sitting outside the restaurant, and a good part of the wait staff, had come over to greet and pet Mauser, and we’d finally placed our order, Genie came to our table. She was younger than I thought she would be, about five years younger than Dad. She must have had her son at a very early age. She had brown hair done up in a fancy French braid and her dress was simple and complemented her full figure. Only the lines around her eyes and some gray in her hair spoke to her age.