Talking to people of his generation was easy for Chelsea. As the last of seven kids, her parents were already in their late forties when she came along.
Sitting next to Mr. Perkins was a young man drinking a mocha latte. He hadn’t said two words except to order. He got up with his coffee and headed for the door. Sitting under the saltshaker was a twenty-dollar bill.
Chelsea picked up the tip and called after the man.
“Thank you!”
He turned, smiled at her, and left without a word.
She turned back to Mr. Perkins.
“Mr. Perkins, my shift is getting ready to end. I’ll see you on Wednesday.”
“Very well. I was just thinking of leaving myself.”
Chelsea smiled at him, patted his hand, and went into the back room. Her friend Trudi was just coming in.
“Hey, Trudi. How ya doin’?”
“Good. How’s my BFF?”
“I’m off for two days, which means I am awesome!”
“Don’t rub it in.”
Chelsea punched out, heading directly out the door before her boss could ask her to do any last-minute chores. She’d just finished her sixth straight day, and her feet were killing her.
She went out the back door and walked across the gravel parking lot toward her Chevy Cavalier. It was red, was being the key word, but now carried an aged, rusty brown color over most of its body. It never left her stranded, so she hung on to it.
She threw her apron across the front seat and climbed in. The familiar scent of coconut from the tiny surfboard hanging from her mirror filled her senses. After a traumatic event in her teen years, She’d spent some time in California. Her parents had sent her to live with an aunt in Long Beach.
It was there she’d caught the surfing bug, as well as got married. Neither lasted very long. Still, it was an exciting time, and the smell of coconut reminded her of those days.
She pulled her seat belt across her tiny shoulders and snagged some of her jet-black hair. At just five-foot, everything seemed just a little too big, including her seat belt, which didn’t fit comfortably. She untangled her hair and snapped the belt.
Something moved in her rear-view mirror, and before she could react, a gun pushed against the back of her head.
“Start the car.”
She started to cry, but did as she was told.
“Now drive.”
“Where?”
“Turn right out of the lot, and go north.”
“Why? What do you want from me?”
“No questions; just drive.”
She drove until they got to Huebner road.
“Turn right.”
Chelsea did, and after less than a mile, he instructed her to turn left into a cement plant. The construction yard was huge, and she didn’t see anyone around. After directing her to the back corner of the lot, the man had her pull up alongside an old van.
“Stop here.”
The gun had left her head while they drove, but Chelsea could feel it pushing into her back through the seat. Now it returned to her head.
“Get out.”
Chelsea slid out of the front seat at the same time the man got out of the back, the gun trained on her constantly.
“Put your hands behind your back.”
“Please don’t hurt me. I don’t have much money, just today’s tips, but you can have them.”
She had stopped crying, but her voice still trembled.
“I said put your hands behind you!”
She did, and felt handcuffs click onto both wrists, quickly followed by a hood being pulled over her head. Panic filled her, and she started to cry again. Her captor steered her forward until she heard what sounded like a sliding door open.
“Get in and lie down.”
Chelsea fell forward onto some carpet that smelled of oil and grease. She rolled on her side in an effort to be more comfortable, and to try to look out from under the hood. She couldn’t see a thing, and when he slid the door shut she felt cut off from civilization. Isolated in a world filled with fear.
She heard a door open and close.
“Don’t move, don’t say a word. I won’t hesitate to kill you if you aren’t doing exactly what I tell you.”
Chelsea lay on her side as the van started and they began to move. She began to pray quietly in between her sobs.
*******
Ed Garland’s ex-wife lived on the opposite side of the city, and it took the two detectives almost an hour to get there.
Rita Garland’s address was a second-floor apartment on a quiet street in East San Antonio. She opened the door, but didn’t invite the detectives in.
Tall, skinny, with bleach blonde hair, and a down-turned mouth that gave her a seemingly permanent frown. Jason tried to see into the apartment while he talked.
“Mrs. Garland?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Detective Strong, and this is Detective Jefferson. We’re here about your husband.”
“My husband and I are divorced. I’m not sure how I can help.”
“You told the officer you weren’t surprised to learn your ex-husband is missing. Can I ask why?”
She seemed unsure how to answer. Finally, she pushed the door open all the way.
“You might as well come in. No sense in you standing out in the heat.”
The two detectives followed Rita Garland into the small living room, and, as Nina shut the door behind them, the room went dark. After letting their eyes adjust, Jason took a seat on the couch while Nina stayed standing by the door. She had her notepad out.
Opposite Jason was a recliner, which Rita Garland settled into with grunt. A half-empty glass of caramel-colored liquid sat on the side table. Jason figured scotch.
She noticed his stare. “Would you like a drink?”
Both Jason and Nina shook their heads.
“No, thank you.”
Rita took a sip of her drink and looked at Jason over the top of her glass.
“Detective…Strong, did you say?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“My ex-husband is a troubled man. A fact I wasn’t aware of when we got married.”
“Troubled how?”
“Emotionally, mentally. Not crazy or anything like that. It just always seemed that something at the edges of his consciousness tempered his enjoyment of life. Depressed, I guess.”
“Is he on anti-depressants?”
“Not that I’m aware of. He’s how he is because of something that happened before I met him.”
“Did he say what?”
“His best friend committed suicide. Ed never told me the whole story, but he did tell me he was there when it happened, and he felt responsible.”
“Why?”
“Don’t know. I guess Ed thought he should have stopped him, but he never told me for sure.”
“Do you know when this happened?”
Rita shook her head.
“Just that Ed was a teenager. About ten or twelve years ago, I figure.”
Nina spoke up.
“Do you know how the friend died?”
“Shot himself.”
“And you mentioned you didn’t know before your marriage, are you suggesting the friend’s suicide was responsible for your divorce?”
“Oh, I’m not suggesting, I’m sayin.’ Look, there’s a lot of things that go into a failed marriage, but that particular cloud never seemed to lift. It was like he felt he didn’t deserve anything good to happen to him.”
“Do you have any idea where he might have gone?”
“Not a clue. Like I said, we don’t talk much, but he’s always been a homebody. I can’t imagine anywhere he would want to take off to.”
Her words were becoming more slurred, and the glass was empty. The two detectives got up to leave.
“Mrs. Garland, thank you for your time. We won’t trouble you any longer.”
Rita Garland got up as well, but not to see them to the door. She walked over to a c
abinet and took out a bottle. She poured a refill as Nina and Jason let themselves out.
Chapter 7
Donnie stopped behind the house and turned off the van. Getting out and sliding the side door open, he forced Chelsea out and onto her feet.
She had stopped sobbing on the way to the farm, and Donnie was relieved—he never liked hearing girls cry. He steered her up the back steps and into the house.
“Where are we? Where are you taking me?”
“Where we are isn’t important.”
Donnie opened the door to the basement and removed the hood. He watched as she blinked repeatedly, trying adjust to the light.
“We’re going down some steps. Just take your time, and I won’t let you fall.”
Her hands still cuffed behind her, the girl didn’t speak as she focused on taking one step at a time. Donnie held the gun to her back. When they made it to the bottom, he motioned toward the open door of the second cell and watched as the girl’s eyes grew wide with horror.
*******
Chelsea tried to keep it together. It was all so unreal, being taken, walked down into this man’s basement, and now he was motioning her toward a small door.
When she didn’t move, he pushed her from behind with the butt of the gun, and she stumbled into a small room. Her eyes caught sight of a blanket on the floor, chain coiled on it. Her blood ran cold, and she spun around to face her captor, trying to get back out of the cell.
“Please don’t do this! Please let me go.”
He blocked her way.
“Sit down on the blanket.”
“No, please no.”
“NOW!”
She collapsed onto the blanket. Her captor took the chain and wrapped it tightly around her leg twice. He ran a padlock through the end link and the one of links leading to the wall. It snapped shut, and after testing it, he took her cuffs off.
Chelsea rubbed her wrists and tried not to cry as the door shut. She heard another padlock snap shut, followed by footsteps going upstairs. Everything went quiet.
Chelsea had to let her eyes adjust again, this time to darkness, and realized she could hear breathing. “Hello? Is someone there?”
“Hi.”
The voice startled her. She hadn’t even considered someone else might be down here, and her heart pounded. She wasn’t alone.
“Who are you?”
“My name is Ed. You?”
“Chelsea.”
A brief moment of silence hung in the air before he spoke again.
“What’s your last name?”
“Morris.”
“Oh.”
Chelsea scooted as close as she could manage to the wall where the voice came from.
“How long have you been here?”
“Two days, I think.”
“Why are we here? Do you know?”
“I asked him. He just said I would know soon enough.”
Chelsea heard the man scoot closer to the wall, his chain dragging on the floor, before he spoke.
“Do you know who he is?”
“Not a clue. I don’t remember ever seeing him before. Do you?”
The man on the other side of the wall sounded tired.
“No. I don’t know him, either.”
Quiet returned to the room. She scooted back to her blanket and tried to look for a weakness in the walls of the room. Everything looked solid. She tested the chain. She wasn’t going anywhere.
She resumed the praying she had started in the van.
*******
Trudi had an uneasy feeling. It wasn’t like Chelsea to be late, and her friend hadn’t answered her calls in two days.
Sitting at the counter was Mr. Perkins. He had asked, about every ten minutes, when Chelsea would be in.
“Miss Trudi, have you heard from Miss Chelsea?”
“Not yet, Mr. Perkins. I’m sure she’ll be along any time now. Do you need a refill?”
“Please, just a half-cup.”
Trudi knew the drill just as well as Chelsea, but for Mr. Perkins, only his favorite really made him happy. And truth was she wasn’t sure her friend would be along any minute. Something wasn’t right. She tried calling again.
“This is Chelsea; you know what to do…”
Trudi hung up. Her shift ended in a half-hour, and she had decided to go over to her friend’s house if Chelsea hadn’t shown up by then.
Mr. Chambers came out of the back office and signaled Trudi over. “Where’s Chelsea? She’s over an hour late.”
“I don’t know, Boss. I’m going over to her house after work. I’ll call and let you know what I find.”
“A ‘No call, No show’ is supposed to be instant termination. I don’t want to do that to one of my best girls. She better have a good reason.”
“I’m sure she does. I’ll have her call you when I get over there. I’m going right after my shift.”
*******
Trudi got to her friend’s house around noon. Chelsea’s car wasn’t there, and mail was sticking out of the mailbox.
She parked on the driveway, and entered through the side door to the garage. When she got to the utility room door, she found it locked.
Chelsea had shown her where she kept the spare key, and she opened the door to find the house dark. Something felt very wrong.
“Chelsea!”
No answer, no sound at all. Mugsy, Chelsea’s cat, came around the corner.
“Hi, Mugsy.” She reached down and scratched him on the head. “Chelsea!”
She stuck her head in the door, looking toward the kitchen. Nothing. She walked through the entire house. The litter box in the kitchen was full and hadn’t been cleaned in days. The cat’s water was empty.
“Chelsea!”
Convinced her friend wasn’t there, she took out her phone and dialed 911.
*******
Jason and Nina had started first thing in the morning on the task of finding out everything they could about Ed Garland. They went to where he worked, and to the golf club where he was to meet Jerry Baker. No one had seen the missing man.
Nina had managed to get a check on his debit and credit card activity. Neither had been used in three days.
They arrived back at the station around three-thirty in the afternoon. Jason had one stop he wanted to make before briefing Lieutenant Banks.
“I’m going to see Doc Josie.”
Nina didn’t want to face Sarah Banks alone.
“Mind if I tag along?”
“Fine with me.”
They took the stairs down to the basement and went through the double glass doors leading into the forensic department.
Affectionately called ‘Doc Josie,’ Dr. Jocelyn Carter was the head of the Forensic Science Department. Short with curly, brown hair and black, wire-framed glasses around blue eyes, she looked like the classic college professor. Some might describe her as ‘frumpy,’ but she’s brilliant. The detectives found her sitting at her desk.
“Josie. How we doin’?”
“Jason. What a nice surprise.”
“You’ve met Nina Jefferson?”
“Yes, of course. Hi, Nina.”
Nina gave the doc a smile as Jason sat down in one of the two chairs facing Doc Josie’s desk.
“So Doc, what did your crew find at the Garland house?”
“Not much. We found prints on the ledge and a doorknob, neither of which belonged to Mr. Garland. We ran them through the AFIS fingerprint system, but no luck. Evidently, the person who left the prints doesn’t have a record.”
Jason had figured the fingerprint database would be useless. He knew most people who didn’t conceal their prints did so because they knew there was no record of them.
“What about the shoe print?”
“Size nine running shoe. Nike, but not rare enough to be much help except as a match to the correct shoe.”
“Okay. Well, not much to go on. Thanks.”
“No problem. Always glad to see you.”
&
nbsp; *******
Jason and Nina found Lieutenant Banks sitting in her office. Nina rapped on the doorframe before entering. The lieutenant glanced up, before her eyes turned back to her paperwork. “What’s up?”
Nina stayed by the door, and Jason had to slip past her to speak to the lieutenant. He gave Nina a knowing smile.
Afraid to go into the lion’s den, huh?
Jason pulled up a chair. “Just wanted to give you an update on the Garland case.”
“Okay, shoot.”
He informed her they had subpoenaed Garland’s phone records, and shared the news from Doc Josie. When he was done, she looked up from her paperwork and crossed her arms.
“Not much. Any ideas besides the phone records?”
Before Jason could answer, the phone rang. The lieutenant pushed the speaker button.
“Banks.”
“Lieutenant, this is Doc Josie.”
“Yeah, Doc. What’s up?”
“The car we recovered this afternoon from the missing Morris woman, it’s got prints that don’t belong to her.”
“Got an ID?”
“Sort of.”
“Can you be more specific, Doctor?”
“Sure. By the way, do you know where Detective Strong is?”
“As a matter of fact, I do. He’s sitting here, listening to our conversation.”
“Oh. Hey, Jason.”
Jason let out a small laugh.
“Hi, Doc.”
Doc Josie continued.
“Well, to answer the question about ID on the prints, I don’t have a name, but I do have a match. It’s the same ones we pulled from Ed Garland’s duplex.”
Lieutenant Banks sat up, grabbed a file on her desk, and slid it across to Jason.
“I just passed the file to Strong. Did you find anything else in the car?”
“Not so far.”
“Okay, Doc. Thanks for the update. I’m assigning the Morris case to Strong and Jefferson, so keep them in the loop.”
The lieutenant hit the disconnect button without waiting for a reply.
FOR MY BROTHER (Det. Jason Strong(CLEAN SUSPENSE Book 3) Page 4