I reached over and tapped Lincoln’s composite. “We suspect this man of dealing OxyContin, but we don’t know why Crystal was with him.”
Patterson sighed. “And I don’t know why she would have lied to me. Why make up a story about health care?”
“Maybe she valued your opinion of her.”
“I’d like to think so.” He looked around at his customers enjoying the food and fresh air. At the next table, a pair of red-haired twins no older than six fought over a last slice of pizza. “We run a nice business. A lot of families come here. Every employee knows our company has a zero-tolerance drug policy. About a month ago Dale tested positive and she was gone. But Crystal.”
“Does your company do random tests?”
“Yes, and Crystal passed every time.” Patterson thought for a second. “Do you think she knew she wouldn’t pass the next time?”
“As far as we can tell she was clean. She might have just been in the wrong place at the wrong time.” I took back the pictures. “There’s no reason for you to think less of her.”
He nodded. “How can I help?”
I rubbed my hand across my chin, thinking of what lay ahead. “I need you to check Crystal’s records so I can contact her next of kin.”
Patterson got up without speaking. There was nothing to say. I took a swallow of beer and tried to resolve the conflicting portrait being drawn of Crystal Hodges. Within a few minutes, Karen came with my small pizza. I’d lost my appetite.
“Tell you what,” I told her. “Please give that to the next table with my compliments.” I motioned to the family with the twins and their double-sized appetites.
“Mr. Patterson told me it’s on the house.”
“That’s very kind of him, but I insist on paying.” I pulled my credit card. “Go ahead and ring it up. Remember the customer’s always right.”
Karen did as she was told. I received a hearty thanks from the harried parents and another from Karen for my generous tip.
A few minutes later, Patterson returned with a sheet of white typing paper. “Sorry for the delay. I copied off the information rather than bring out the file. Crystal listed her mother, Carol Hodges, as the person to notify in case of an emergency. It’s a Weaverville address and I’ve also got a phone number.”
“This is something I have to do in person.”
“Good.” Patterson handed me the folded sheet. “And I hope you’ll come back, Officer.”
I realized I hadn’t given him my name. “Clayton. Deputy Barry Clayton.”
He shook my hand. “Karen said you wouldn’t accept dinner on the house. Promise me you’ll stop by when you’re off-duty and give me the pleasure.”
“It’s a deal.”
“And if there’s anything else I can do for Crystal.”
“If you think of something, you can reach me through the Laurel County Sheriff’s Department.” I was about to leave when I remembered a question I’d forgotten to ask Dale. “Mr. Patterson, did Crystal ever mention someone named Billy?”
“Not that I recall. Could that have been her boyfriend?”
A question I should have asked. “Did she have one?”
“Some boy used to pick her up after work when she first started, but I haven’t seen him in a while.”
“How long had she been here?”
“Almost a year. She got the job right after she turned eighteen. We always check because we have to be very careful with the employment laws for minors.”
“And you think the boy’s name was Billy?”
“I don’t know. Just a suggestion.”
I thanked him and turned to leave.
“Deputy Clayton.”
“Yes.”
“Tell Crystal’s mother that her daughter was my best employee. I’m very sorry.”
After leaving the Mellow Mushroom, I called into the Sheriff’s Department and got directions to Carol Hodges’ home. She lived off Highway 25 between Asheville and Weaverville, a distance of about fifteen miles.
Although the days were rapidly approaching the summer solstice, longer light really meant a longer dusk. The sun would disappear behind the high ridges of the Appalachia Mountains and leave the valleys in purple shadows for hours. I turned on the jeep’s headlights as much to be seen as to see.
Even in the deepening twilight, the outside world presented a clearer picture than the inside of my mind. Crystal Hodges was turning into an enigma. The credit card and the five hundred dollars made her look like a common thief, a tramp who picked up a sugar daddy and then picked his pocket. But her behavior at the ATM told a different story. The first withdrawal came with part of Artie Lincoln’s car in view, and Crystal went to great lengths to conceal her identity. I had to believe she’d been coached. That made the second withdrawal all the more peculiar. Why the mugging for the camera?
If Crystal was into the drug scene, her friendship with Dale was easily explained. But both Karen and Joe Patterson made clear distinctions between the two women. I wondered where Chip fit into this puzzle. When had he been paroled and for what crime? Had he led to Dale’s drug problem and the loss of her job? Chip was the one who knew Lincoln dealt OxyContin. Had he been the connection between Lincoln and Crystal?
Amid all my speculation, one fact loomed ahead of me. Crystal Hodges had been somebody’s daughter. I was about to break the news that could break a heart. As a funeral director, my job meant I helped people deal with grief, but that grief was already present when they came to see me. Now, I was the one bringing the heartbreak, and that made a hell of a difference.
Carol Hodges lived on one of the numerous side roads that branched off the main highway like veins in a mountain fern. When pioneers first settled this area, every cove wide enough for a stream and a logging trail sprouted a few homesteads that over the centuries became communities named for their geographic landmark—Reems Creek Falls, Herron Cove, Dark Hollow.
Unlike the real estate boom of the last thirty years which saw the ridgelines undergo the malignant spread of vacation homes perched on every outcropping that provided a spectacular view, the mountaineers had built for a more basic purpose—survival. Cabins nestled within the shelter of windbreaks near enough to water for convenience but not so close that flashfloods could sweep them away.
The Hodges’ residence sat on the footprint of one of the early settlements. The small clapboard house stood close to the road, marked only by a dented mailbox with a faded rural route number. To the left of the single-story home, I saw the crumbling remains of an isolated stone chimney, a withering vestige of a cabin that had burned or rotted out years ago. Perhaps the last trace of the Hodges family’s first impact on the Appalachian wilderness.
A dirt driveway led to the steps alongside the front porch. Two cars were parked adjacent to one another, a late model Ford Focus and an older Dodge sedan. I stopped where my jeep would be easily visible to anyone inside.
Unkempt patches of lawn lost ground to greener moss and brown sprigs of rabbit tobacco. Lightning bugs danced in the cooling air and, somewhere farther down the road, a coon hound bayed.
I could see several lights burning in the front room, and the interior shadows were disturbed by the flicker of a television screen. I got out of the jeep and slammed the door. My news deserved at least a minimal warning.
As I crossed the yard, the yellow porch light came on. I kept walking, my hands away from my side. The door opened and a women stood behind the closed screen door. Her right side was hidden by the jamb and I suspected a shotgun was within easy reach.
I stopped. “Mrs. Carol Hodges?”
“Yes.” Her voice was high-pitched and challenging. “Who are you?”
“Deputy Barry Clayton. From over in Laurel County. I can show you my ID if it’s all right to come closer.”
“Laurel County?” Her face couldn’t hide her confusion. “What do you want with me?”
I stepped up on the porch and held out my badge. “I need to talk to you about your d
aughter.”
As she glanced at my identification, I gave her a quick once over. She wore jeans and a gray sweatshirt. Her brown hair was pulled straight back and streaks of silver appeared as unwanted highlights. She was probably mid-forties, although the harsh glare of the bug-repellent porch bulb tacked five years on her sharp features.
She looked up and searched my face. “Is Crystal in trouble?”
“Do you mind if I come in?”
My question told her enough. Her tight lips trembled and from somewhere in that part of the soul that connects mothers with their children, the pain came. “Oh no. Tell me she’s all right.”
I moved closer to the door.
She staggered back on wobbly knees. “Then just tell me she’s hurt.”
“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Hodges.” Once in the house, I looked for the nearest chair, knowing she was about to collapse. There was a sofa to my left. Across the room, Vanna White turned letters on “Wheel of Fortune.” The category was Before and After. Carol Hodges stumbled toward me into that moment that would always be after.
I steered her to a corner of the frayed sofa and I sat at the opposite end. As gently as I could, I told her of last Friday’s shooting and all that had been done to try and save her daughter’s life. She interrupted me only once, to ask if I thought Crystal had suffered.
I told her no, since she never regained consciousness. I had so many questions to ask Carol Hodges, but I couldn’t bring myself to start interviewing her. All I could ask was if she had someone who could be with her.
She made a vain effort to wipe the tears from her eyes. “My sister’s over in Black Mountain. I’ll call her.” She started to get up but fell back crying again. “I’m sorry. I can’t do it right now.”
“That’s all right. Don’t worry. If you give me the number, I’ll call for you.”
She nodded, and buried her face in her hands. “First Billy. Now Crystal. How could God let this happen to my babies?”
Chapter Eleven
I grabbed a cup of scorched coffee from the hospital cafeteria and took a back elevator up to Tommy Lee’s room. The morning bustle was over and I expected Tommy Lee to be sleeping after his usual visit from Susan and O’Malley.
Instead I found him propped up on two pillows with a copy of the Gainesboro Vista spread on the rolling table that extended over his lap. He was still wired to the gills with monitors and IVs, but the color in his face clearly showed he was on the mend.
“Nice of you to saunter in before noon.”
It was only nine-thirty.
“I can come back when you’re unconscious.”
Tommy Lee managed a weak laugh. “So, our girl has a name—Hodges.”
I glanced at the newspaper. “Her name’s in the Vista?”
He shook his head. “Reece dropped by this morning. He’d been by the office and learned you’d called in for directions last night—Hodges in Weaverville. The guess about the girl was mine.”
I pulled a chair up close to his bed. “Crystal Hodges. Her twin brother Billy died about eighteen months ago. OxyContin overdose.”
“Damn. And she didn’t have enough sense to stay away from the stuff herself?”
“I think it’s more complicated. Crystal Hodges might have been on a mission to get back at the people she held responsible for her brother’s death.” I gave Tommy Lee the details of Crystal’s performance at the ATM and Fletcher’s discovery of the link between Crystal and Artie Lincoln that was probably set up through Chip and Dale.
“Only you would get involved in a case with Chip and Dale,” Tommy Lee said. “Who’s next? Goofy?”
“I figure that’s who I’m reporting to.”
He waved a hand for me to cut the comedy and continue.
“I spoke with Crystal’s aunt last night for a few minutes. The mom had raised the children single-handedly. They’d given her the normal troubles, nothing serious. Crystal was a bit boy-crazy and the wilder of the two, but her brother watched over her.”
“Then how’d he get mixed up with OxyContin?”
“He was into football, a pretty good high school player with college prospects. Fall before last, some of the team members got hold of some OxyContin so they could imitate the pros and play through the pain. Pretty soon that became just an excuse to party whether there was pain or not. One night Billy took too much. Dead at eighteen.”
I could tell from his expression Tommy Lee had heard the story all too often. “What did Crystal think she could do?”
“Her aunt said Crystal withdrew at first. Barely kept her grades up enough to graduate. She worked as many hours as she could get at the Mellow Mushroom. The only outside interest she showed was the internet. Then about six months ago, she started following a lawsuit.”
“Lawsuit. Against who?”
“The people who make OxyContin. Crystal had found a website called oxyabusekills.com.”
“Nice PR,” Tommy Lee said. “The drug company probably had to triple their ad budget.”
“There’s a government investigation of claims that the pharmaceutical company pushed the drug on the market without disclosing all the dangers. They’re fighting more than public opinion. Doug Larson mentioned it to me the other day.” I got up and moved to the computer. “I was going to check it out. Crystal’s aunt said the girl became obsessed with making someone pay.”
Tommy Lee sat quietly while I logged on.
“Here it is.” I scrolled down the site. “Lots of links, a request for stories of personal tragedies, pictures of congressmen and state attorney generals lamenting prescription drug abuse, rallies with parents and teens protesting. I can see how Crystal could get caught up if she thought she could blame someone for Billy’s death.”
Tommy Lee cleared his throat. “What irony. The twin sister whose brother died of OxyContin abuse is killed by the husband whose wife died from the same thing.”
“Even more ironic, I think Mitch Kowalski shot the one person who might have brought Lincoln down. Instead both he and Crystal are dead.”
Tommy Lee sighed. “Kowalski’s death is thanks to me.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. Kowalski wouldn’t have been pointing a loaded gun at you if it hadn’t been for Lincoln.”
Tommy Lee shook off the temptation of self-blame. “Any leads on where Lincoln could be?”
“No. Crystal had quit her job. She told her boss she was going into health care.”
Tommy Lee looked around the room. “Like a hospital?”
“She didn’t have any formal nurse’s training. Maybe she just said that.”
“Remember what Susan said about the girl’s body? She had a few tattoos not readily visible and some body piercings.”
I saw where Tommy Lee was headed. “Piercings that were starting to heal over. Nose and tongue. She’d stopped wearing the more extreme rings.”
Tommy Lee nodded. “Maybe she was going into a new job. She had to look straighter.”
“And it’s coincidence she hooked up with Lincoln?” My sarcastic tone was unnecessary because in this case I shared Tommy Lee’s distrust of coincidences.
“Lincoln was the new job. He recruited her.”
“You’ve lost me. He was paying her to shack up with him?”
Tommy Lee grabbed his cup of water and took a slow sip.I had to be mindful not to press him too much longer. “If you need to rest, you can tell me later.”
“All I’ve been doing is resting. Resting and thinking.” He squinted his one eye at me. “What’s the difference between meth and OxyContin?”
“One’s legal.”
“Right. Crystal meth can be made by any nitwit with a high school chemistry set and a month’s supply of cough medicine, while OxyContin is made by a legitimate company from a patented formula. Lincoln could get meth from practically anywhere, but he has to have some good sources to get enough OxyContin to be running a business like he is. Sources like distributors, pharmacies, hospitals, and doctor’s offices.”
“We don’t know how many pills Lincoln was moving. He could have been a small-time operator.”
“Even a small-time operator needs sources. Maybe he wasn’t getting all his pills in Florida.”
“He gets Crystal a job where she can get the pills?”
Tommy Lee licked his lips like a wolf savoring a lamb. “One possibility, if we’re to believe everything you’ve been told. At least it gives you a lead.”
He didn’t have to paint me a picture. “I’ll get Crystal’s photo to as many area drugstores and hospitals as I can.”
“And Lincoln’s composite.” Tommy Lee closed his eye as the last of his energy left him. “Ask them here,” he whispered. “They’ve probably got a list of every place you need.”
I left Tommy Lee’s room and found Joel Greene at his desk outside Pamela Whittier’s office, engaged with entering data in his computer. He was wearing another dark suit and white shirt, but the red tie had been exchanged for a phosphorescent green one. Even a straight-laced administrative assistant must have a flamboyant side.
He gave me a broad smile. “Deputy Clayton. How are things going?”
“We’ve made some progress. The girl who died is Crystal Hodges. Thompson’s Funeral Home in Buncombe County will be handling the arrangements.”
Greene made a note on a steno pad he kept by the phone. “Then there’s to be no autopsy.”
“Not unless hospital policy requires one given the circumstances.”
“No. We just weren’t sure what the family would want.” He looked relieved at not having to ask them the autopsy question.
“I’ve got a favor to ask.”
Greene spread out his hands, offering the world. “We’re at your disposal.”
I laid the photograph of Crystal Hodges on his desk. “We have reason to believe Hodges might have recently been hired or applied for work in health care.”
“I’ll check with human resources.”
“Do you also have a list of area pharmacies, nursing homes, and other medical facilities?”
His eyes widened. “That’s a pretty broad net.”
“That’s why I need to get started.”
Final Undertaking: A Buryin' Barry Mystery (Buryin' Barry Series) Page 12