Down the Broken Road

by J. R. Backlund

  LeMay appeared to mull that over for a few seconds. She said, “I don’t see why not. He should be finishing up a session shortly. If you’d like to wait in the lobby, I can send him out to see you.”

  “I’d appreciate that.” She stood and slid the steno pad back into her jacket. “Just one more question though, before I go?”

  “Sure,” LeMay said with another forced smile.

  “Obviously, I’m here to investigate the possibility that Kyle may be innocent. Given everything you know about him, do you believe he’s capable of killing someone?”

  “Capable?” LeMay’s expression softened. She stared at Rachel for a moment. A despondent haze settled in her eyes, and she looked away. “Under the right circumstances, Miss Carver … anyone is capable of killing.”

  * * *

  Manish Gulani had a slight build and a disarming smile. He introduced himself with a sweet voice and a weak handshake.

  “Perhaps if we could step outside,” he said, motioning toward the door.

  Rachel followed him out of the lobby. They walked the flagstone path from the entrance back to the koi pond and sat on a bench at the edge of the grass.

  “It really breaks my heart, what happened between those two,” Gulani said. “It has been such a shock to all of us here.”

  “Because they were friends?” she asked.

  “Yes. But also because Kyle…” He took a moment to find the right words. “It just doesn’t seem like something he would do.”

  “So it was a surprise to you, when they arrested him?”

  “Oh yes,” he said with a nod. “Definitely. The whole thing didn’t make sense to any of us.” He shrugged and put his hands up. “But what do we know? It just goes to show how difficult it can be for some people.”

  Rachel sensed that he felt responsible, as if he thought he could have done something to prevent the murder. “Were you teaching Kyle how to manage his anger as part of his therapy?”

  “Anger? No, no.” He shook his head, looking confused at the question. “Not any more than any other patient. That isn’t what I was referring to.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “What exactly were you referring to?”

  “The fact that he was using so soon after rejoining the program. He had only been back for a week. That’s usually the time when it’s easiest for a patient to be sober. When they’re getting the most help and they seem the most determined. Once they’ve been at it for a while, when the pressures of their lives start to weigh on them again … that’s the biggest test for a recovering addict. Usually.”

  Rachel considered that for a moment, then asked, “Did it surprise you to find out that he was hanging around Adam Hubbard?”

  Gulani looked warily over his shoulder at the entrance.

  “Manish,” she said, leaning toward him, “it’s okay. We know Adam was still using. The police found a bottle of pills on him when they discovered his body. I don’t need you to tell me anything about that. I’m just trying to find out everything I can about Kyle. If you thought he was doing his best to get clean, then it should have surprised you to find out he was hanging around with Adam, right?”

  He shook his head quickly.

  “Why not?”

  He glanced at the door again and said, “Kyle told me he had become friends with Adam. He wanted to help him clean up his life. He said he felt sorry for him. He was trying to get him back in the program too.”

  “You’re sure about that?”

  “I was,” he said glumly. “At least until I saw them on the news.”

  Rachel thanked him for his help and walked back to her car, trying to make sense of what she had just learned. Either Strickland had fooled Gulani into believing he was dedicated to getting off the pills or the narrative of the murder was dead wrong. She would have to do more digging to find out which was true.

  But first, it was time to learn more about Adam Hubbard.

  TWELVE

  “They didn’t give you anything to help with this?” Ramirez asked.

  It was their second stop. Parker was on one knee, coughing and spitting into a bank of tall grass on the side of the road. He shook off the foul taste and said, “Just the names of a couple of places in Raleigh.”

  “Methadone clinics?”

  “Yeah.” He wiped sweat away with his forearm and braced his other hand against the ground to keep his balance.

  “I’m surprised they wouldn’t give you something to hold you over.”

  “I know, right?”

  She handed him the bottle of water. He took some in, swirled it around, and spit it out. Repeated the process twice, then tried to swallow a sip.

  “I think I’m good,” he said.

  “You sure? We can take a minute if you need to.”

  “I’m good.” He stood and walked back to the car, took a deep breath, and climbed in.

  Ramirez, back in her seat, shifted into drive and said, “Okay, where to now?”

  He pointed at the next intersection. “Take a right into that neighborhood. Should be on the left, a little way up. Arcadia Lane.”

  She eased forward and into the turn, sped up a little until she spotted the street sign, then made a left and slowed to a crawl. “Recognize any of this?”

  “I do,” he said, pointing ahead. “That’s the house. Right there on the left. I don’t see my car, though.”

  A bulky Panasonic laptop sat on a stand mounted to the side of the center console. Ramirez parked and flipped it open, typed in the address, and studied the information that came back. “John and Wendy Staples. You said your witness was a he. Is it this guy, John?”

  “His son,” Parker said. “Corey. He was spending a couple of weeks with his grandparents in Wendell when it happened.”

  “His grandparents.” She looked over at the house, a two-story with yellow-painted siding. Old, but well maintained. A manicured lawn with a pair of late-model SUVs in the driveway. “How old is Corey?”

  “Fifteen.”

  “Jesus,” she whispered. “How did you find him?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “Okay … so you came out here to interview him?”

  “No. I interviewed him over the phone. I came here because I wanted to convince him to let me talk to his parents.”

  “Because he’s a minor?”

  “More because I wanted to verify what I could about his story.” She looked at him, and he shrugged. “But yeah, the minor thing too.”

  “So what happened?”

  Parker looked outside and thought for a few seconds. Then he pointed across the street and said, “See that big tree over there?”

  “Yeah?”

  “He told me to park next to it. Just out of sight of his house. So I did, and he came out to talk to me just like we agreed on the phone. He told me his dad wasn’t home yet. His mom was, but he wanted to talk to his dad first. He said his mom would freak out if she knew he’d seen someone get killed. And especially if she knew he was talking to a reporter about it.”

  “Can’t say I’d blame her for that.”

  “Yeah.” He stared at the massive oak. “I waited for a while. It started to get dark. After about thirty minutes or so, this truck pulled up behind me. Its lights were on. I couldn’t see much in my mirrors, but a guy got out. A big guy. He walked up to my window. I still had it rolled down because it was so hot. He asked me something … something about who I was waiting for. I thought maybe he lived in that house behind the tree. I was going to answer him, but then my phone rang. I looked over at it and…”

  “What?” she asked. “What happened?”

  His throat suddenly felt dry. He swallowed and said, “He grabbed me.”

  Parker could hear the man’s voice, even and polite. Then his phone rang and he took his eyes away, just for a moment. The hand seized his throat and yanked him toward the window. Up and out of his seat. He flailed, he thought. The beginning of a fight. An instinctive response, as his body seemed to recogniz
e the danger, though his mind never had time to catch up.

  Ramirez watched him struggle with his memory. After a few seconds passed, she asked, “Did you get a good look at him?”

  He shook his head. “Just a big white guy. Tall and muscular, I think. I remember trying to look up at him, but I couldn’t see his face. It was in the dark, like a shadow … a silhouette from the truck’s headlights. But I think he had on a baseball cap.” He looked at her and felt a rush of embarrassment. “It sounds stupid to say this, but it all happened really fast. And I was preoccupied, trying to think of a good reason for being there. I didn’t want to tell him the truth. I mean, I didn’t want anyone to know about Corey.”

  “I understand,” she said, looking back at the house. “My God. You really were kidnapped, weren’t you?”

  “Yeah.” He slumped in his seat as the full weight of his ordeal seemed to finally settle on him. “Crazy, right?”

  “Yes, it is,” she said. “You’re lucky to be alive. Did you tell Detective Hughes any of this?”

  He closed his eyes and wiped a bead of sweat from his temple. “No.”

  “You need to. You have no idea who this guy is. He might come after you again.”

  “Good thing I have police protection,” he said, forcing a grin.

  “Uh-huh.” She shook her head, looking a little annoyed. “At least you’re starting to feel better. What do you want to do?”

  “I need to talk to Rachel.”

  She nodded toward the Staples’ house. “Don’t you think we should go talk to them? Ask them if they saw anything the other night?”

  “No. Not until I talk to Rachel first.”

  She gave him a confused look. “We’re right here.”

  “I don’t want to get them involved. Not yet. For all I know, the kid could be in on it.”

  “You think he could’ve set you up?”

  “I don’t know.” He rubbed his eyes and sighed. The frustration was getting hard to contain. “Maybe. I hope not.”

  “You really need to talk to Chad,” she said. “Detective Hughes. I can take you to see him now if—”

  “No,” he snapped. He took a breath and tried to calm himself. “Please. Can we just go?”

  She kept her eyes forward, staring through the windshield. She looked like she was entertaining the idea of kicking him out of her car.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I know you’re just trying to help.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” She shifted into gear. “Where do you want to go?”

  “Anywhere but here. And, if it’s okay, I need to borrow your phone.”

  THIRTEEN

  According to the police reports, Hubbard’s girlfriend was a young woman named Bianca Dwyer who worked at a coffee-and-doughnut shop on Jefferson Street. Rachel found her there tending the drive-through window. She looked like she could still be in high school, too young to have been dating a man in his twenties.

  When Rachel finally got her attention, Bianca agreed to talk. She told the manager she was taking a break and went out back, even though the man looked like he wanted to protest. Rachel followed her out and said, “Thank you. I hope I’m not getting you into any trouble.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” she said, flicking her straight blonde hair over her shoulder. “I mean, I always want to do what I can to help, so whatever.”

  “I appreciate that. How long were you and Adam dating?”

  “About six and a half months.”

  “I have to ask you about a touchy subject, if you don’t mind. About Adam’s drug use. Are you okay talking about that?”

  She nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

  Rachel said, “You told the police that he was using throughout your time together. He was taking pills all six months you two were dating?”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “So he was using at the same time he was in rehab?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Help me understand that,” Rachel said. “Why bother going if he wasn’t trying to quit?”

  “I mean, he was trying, but like, you know, it just wasn’t working.”

  “I see.”

  “But that’s not all he was going there for anyway.”

  “What do you mean?” Rachel asked.

  She shrugged and looked away. “He was dealing with stuff.”

  “What kind of stuff?”

  “You know, like, from his time in the Army. He didn’t ever want to talk to me about it, but he said he’d seen stuff while he was over there. In Afghanistan. Things that gave him nightmares and everything. That’s part of why he kept taking the pills. He said they helped. But he said he didn’t need them as much when he went to therapy.”

  “Did he ever tell you about a friend of his named Tyler Larson?”

  “No.”

  “Ever say anything at all about friends he had from his time in the Army?”

  “Not really.” Bianca glanced past Rachel toward the door. Her attention span appeared to be waning. “Like I said, he didn’t like talking to me about it.”

  “Did he ever mention that he had been contacted by a reporter? A guy from the Raleigh Herald named Bryce Parker?”

  Her attention focused back on Rachel, and she looked hesitant, like she was afraid of saying the wrong thing. “No. I mean, he didn’t say anything about it, but…”

  “But what?”

  “Well, I don’t know if it’s the same guy or not, but … one time, I was with Adam, and he got a phone call from someone. He got up and walked out of the room to talk to them. A few minutes later, I heard him say, ‘No, I told you, I don’t want none of this stuff showing up in the papers.’ Then I guess he must’ve hung up on whoever it was, ’cause when he came back, he wasn’t on the phone no more.”

  “And he didn’t explain it? Didn’t give you any clue what it was about?”

  She shook her head.

  “I see.” Rachel thought for a few seconds and asked, “Do you know Kyle Strickland?”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “What can you tell me about him?”

  The manager leaned out the back door and said, “Come on, Bianca. You’re not supposed to be on break for another hour.”

  “Okay, Jake, I’ll be right there.”

  He rolled his eyes and went back inside.

  “Sorry about that,” she said. “But yeah, Kyle … I know him a little. Adam brought him around a few times.”

  “Did you ever see them take pills together? Or know of a time when they did?”

  “No, I don’t think so. I mean, Adam didn’t always like to take them around me, so I just might not have seen it.”

  “Did you ever see Adam and Kyle argue or get into a fight?”

  She shook her head.

  “Does Kyle have a bad temper?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “Okay.” Rachel looked back at the door, knowing she was running out of time. “One last question. Can you think of anything the police might not know about concerning Adam’s death? Anything strange about the circumstances surrounding it?”

  “Not really.” She brushed her fingers through her hair. “I mean, I thought it was a little weird that he went to that store to meet his dealer, but I told them that already.”

  “Why was that weird?”

  “Well … he always bought from the same guy. He never told me who it was, but the guy always came over to Adam’s. Usually he’d do it while I was at work. Or sometimes, he’d say, ‘Hey, I need you to stay away today until I call you. I got my guy coming over for a while.’ As far as I know, he never went anywhere to meet him.”

  The manager yelled for Bianca, so Rachel thanked her and decided to leave. When she got to her car, she checked her phone. There was a missed call and a text from a number she didn’t recognize. She unlocked the screen and read it: RACHEL THIS IS BRYCE CALL ME AS SOON AS U CAN AT THIS NUMBER.

  She called him back.

  He answered with a sigh and said, “Thank God.”

 
“You sound a lot better,” she said. “Are you still at the hospital?”

  “No, I checked myself out.”

  “Already?”

  “Yeah, listen. I need to see you. Right away. How fast can you get here?”

  “Get where? Are you home?”

  “No. I’m still in Siler City. I’m with a police officer. The one who found me yesterday. I’m at her house.”

  “Her house?” Rachel’s mind was still on Hubbard. She was having a hard time switching her train of thought. “What are you—”

  “Rachel, I found a witness. Someone who saw Tyler Larson’s murder. It wasn’t Lauren Bailey. You were right.”

  “Holy shit…”

  “Yeah. He’s a kid. A teenager. I was outside his house waiting to talk to his father when I was taken.”

  “Jesus, Bryce.”

  “I know. We’ve got a lot to talk about. You gotta get your butt over here. I’m thinking we should go see this detective from the Siler City PD and tell him everything. Then we can all go and talk to the kid and his parents together.”

  Rachel knew it wouldn’t happen like that, but Parker didn’t seem to be thinking clearly. His voice was getting shaky. Some of it was probably the withdrawal. The rest was his excitement, and it was infectious. Rachel could feel her heart racing.

  She put him on speaker and opened the Maps app. “Give me the address.”

  He told her and she typed it in, waited for the blue route to appear, and said, “I can be there in two hours.”

  “Two? Where the hell are you?”

  “Take it easy, Bryce,” she said, starting the engine. “I’m on my way.”

  FOURTEEN

  Parker looked pale and gaunt. His hands were clammy, and he had a hard time standing. Rachel gave him a quick hug and helped ease him back down onto the plush leather sofa in Ramirez’s living room. Then she sat across from him and listened to his story.

  Ramirez was on the arm of the love seat a few feet away, watching Parker recount the kidnapping with compassion in her eyes. Rachel sensed that something was building between them. She wondered if it was some version of the Florence Nightingale effect, sympathy evolving into attraction.