They proceeded into the next room. Considerably colder, it was filled with gurneys, each covered by a sheet. Hamilton would lift the corner of a sheet, check something, drop the sheet and go to another gurney. Crystal shuddered as she caught a glimpse of a ghostly-white, big toe with a manila tag attached.
On his third try, Hamilton muttered, “There you are,” and turned to Crystal and Mark. "Ever done this before?"
"No," Mark said. Crystal just shook her head.
"Well, some people, men as well as women, find it a little hard. So just relax. Breathe deeply. Remember that you came here to see a dead body and you even know who it is. At least, you think you do. So, before I pull the sheet back, I want you to picture the guy. Picture him dead, looking pale, stiff, no clothes on, pretty white. Except for his arms. Think of him that way and then when I pull the sheet back, you won't be spooked. Okay? I've had big, tough guys pass out on me."
"I won't faint," Crystal said.
"You expect it to be your buddy. And you expect him to be dead. So just relax and make sure this is him. Are you ready?"
Crystal and Mark both nodded. Hamilton pulled the sheet back.
It was Eddie Ray Dollar.
Mark stepped over and pulled the sheet down a bit farther. Tattoos told the Eddie Ray Dollar life story. A girl's name, the letters alternating between red and blue, graced one forearm. Crystal noted it was neither Juanita nor Theresa. An eagle, wings spread proudly, soared in full flight. Decorating his left biceps was the outline of a heart with "Mother" engraved inside. This lifeless form had been some woman's son, her pride and joy, a son who had chosen to imprint forever a memorial to the woman who gave him life.
Crystal did not faint. Nor did the pale body repulse her. Instead, she was revolted by the fact that a man had been killed for no good reason. He wasn't protecting his country or family, not trying to save another life. He didn’t even die in a crime of passion. He was murdered by a lethal combination of greed and stupidity.
"That the guy? Edward Raymond Dollar?"
Mark shifted his focus from the corpse to Hamilton's round face. “Yes.”
Hamilton looked at Crystal and arched his eyebrows in question.
She thought that sounded too formal a name. "Yes. That's Eddie Ray."
Without further comment, the assistant started pulling the sheet up, but Crystal put her hand out and stopped him. She hadn't noticed before. The right shoulder also sported a tattoo, a circle with "JT, ER and Luis" inside it.
Crystal moved her hand and stepped back. Hamilton pulled the sheet back up over the head and turned to leave. "If you'll just come out and sign the Body Identification Form, we'll be through."
Tom was shaking his head. “Can’t for the life of me understand why anyone would stick needles in themselves and get tattooed, unless they were drunk.”
In an outer office, Crystal took a ballpoint pen, held to a clip board by a piece of string, and filled in Eddie Ray’s name. She paused over the next entry. What was her relation to Eddie Ray? A person who had met him once—for an hour? The granddaughter of the woman he tried to kill—or at least scare? Someone angry enough to kill him herself? She filled in “Acquaintance.”
She handed the form to Mark. Pausing at the same line Crystal had, he wrote “Friend”, signed his name and dated the form.
He handed the board back to Hamilton. “Do you get many—”
“Unidentified bodies? About four hundred a year come in without any ID. We clear up nearly 99% of those.”
#
At the front entrance, Tom said good-bye and started out the door just as his cell phone rang. “Hawkins.” The detective listened, asked a few questions and hung up. “No reports of abandoned trucks, at least none even close to the one you described.”
“So, how’d he get to the lake to drown?” Crystal asked.
“Could have left his truck there and somebody stole it. Probably left the keys in it. They weren’t in his pockets.”
“And since he was a nobody, you don’t care?”
“It’s not my case, Crystal.”
“The bombing of our office is your case. And Eddie Ray is linked to that.”
“So you say.”
“Actually,” Mark said to Tom, “you were the one who connected Eddie Ray to the bombing. Remember? I thought it was a random act.”
A picture popped into Crystal's mind, one of a man drowning in a bowl of soup. She’d seen a movie years ago, in which a man got drunk, passed out and fell over with his mouth and nose in the bowl of soup.
"I've ID'd the guy,” Crystal said. “So, how about a favor? I know you said they found water in Eddie Ray’s lungs. Can you find out if the water came from White Rock?"
Tom grumbled good-naturedly, then turned and headed back into the morgue. “This might take a little time,” he said over his shoulder.
"Call and let me know as soon as you find anything."
Outside, it had started to rain. Not a good, cleansing rain. Just a slow drizzle, little more than a mist. Perfect weather for a visit to the morgue, ID’ing a body, Crystal thought. She remembered as a child she thought funerals were only held on rainy days. You needed a sad day for a funeral. Today wasn’t really a rainy day. But then, it wasn’t really a funeral either.
#
Crystal took a late lunch, and it was after 2:00 when she walked into the IRS reception area and asked Pam if she had reached JT. When Pam said no, Crystal asked her to continue calling. It was important. She went to her office, closed the door and slumped into her chair. Her head ached, her eyes burned from lack of sleep and her arms and legs felt lethargic. What she wanted was a nap. She closed her eyes. Definitely better.
Sleep had almost claimed her when the telephone jarred her back to full consciousness. She reached over and grabbed it before it could ring a second time. Sally was calling to ask about the John Doe. Crystal filled her in, replaced the phone, and closed her eyes once more.
She had drifted into a restless sleep when the phone, not six inches from her head, clanged. She answered it without opening her eyes.
“Crystal. It’s five and I’m leaving. I’ve been calling JT’s number every ten minutes, like you asked. But I haven’t reached her. Can you ...?” Pam left the question unfinished.
“Sure. I’ll take over. Thanks, Pam. See you tomorrow.”
Crystal punched the intercom. “Mark. I think JT is in real danger. They only wanted Luis to get to Eddie Ray. Now that he’s dead, they’ll go after JT.”
“Now that the link is broken, and they’ve got the information they wanted, it isn’t logical that they would come after JT.”
Crystal almost screamed. “They’re not logical.” She brought her voice under control. “They haven’t found the gold yet. And JT is the only person who can help them find it. At least, that’s probably what they think.”
“But there isn’t any gold.”
“The bad guys don’t know that.” We’re getting off track, she thought. “If I can find JT, I want to get her out of her house and put her up in a hotel. Can IRS pay for that? I doubt she can afford it.”
There was a moment of silence. “I guess that could go under employee safety. For how long?”
“Until they catch Joe and Al.”
Crystal hung up, then immediately called JT’s number. Still no answer.
She punched the intercom. “Carol. How have you all done today?” She listened as Carol outlined their work toward the presentation. “Okay. Bobby Don thinks he’ll have the RAID back tonight. I’ll zip everything onto flash disks tonight. You be ready to load the DPS database onto the RAID as soon as you walk in the door tomorrow.”
Carol asked what they did if the RAID was not ready. “We run it on my machine. I’ve got eighty gigabytes. If the server isn’t working Tuesday, we just carry my machine into the conference room and hook it up. Let’s move.”
Crystal reached into a drawer, withdrew a flash disk and began backing up all the data from her computer,
stopping every few minutes to dial JT’s phone number.
Just before seven, Crystal’s phone rang. “What are you doing at the office?” Tom asked. “Doesn’t that Mark guy ever let you go home? Worse than being a detective.”
“Actually, it feels like I haven’t done any IRS work the last two weeks. What have you found?”
“Well, I heard from the medical examiner. I hate crow. I’ve always hated crow. Too tough to chew. But you were right. The water in Edward Raymond Dollar's lungs did not come from White Rock Lake. It was plain, ordinary, algae-free, Dallas municipal tap water.”
“So this calls for a new paradigm,” said Crystal.
“Right. Just what I was going to say. We’re reclassifying Eddie Ray's death as a homicide. I’ll be in the loop now. And I’m sorry I sounded disinterested this afternoon. I did get only about two hours sleep last night.” He paused but Crystal said nothing. “That’s an excuse, but you could have said something sympathetic.”
“Sorry, Tom. I’m too tired myself to think straight.”
“Anyway, if there's a connection between Eddie Ray and that house fire, and I believe there is, we're now talking about two murders.”
“Plus the fire-bombing.”
“Right. I’ll give Mark a call and fill him in. I don't want to sound melodramatic or anything, but watch yourself, gal."
#
Half an hour later, still unsuccessful in reaching JT, Crystal headed home. Driving on the freeway, she glanced in the rear-view mirror and tensed all over when she saw a big 4x4 behind her. It was baby blue, and the woman driving it was definitely not Joe or Al.
Getting a little spooked, aren’t we? Crystal admonished herself. Just lighten up a little.
#
At the house, she quickly set her computer to dial JT's phone every three minutes. Brandi was working late tonight, so Crystal fixed herself a grilled cheese and a green salad, sat at the table and pulled out her notes from work. The computer continued to dial JT’s number. Crystal would hear nothing until JT, or someone, answered.
Chapter 41
JT left the door open and raced over to grab the ringing phone, but by the time she got there, the caller had hung-up. She berated herself for not being faster. It could have been Eddie Ray.
She walked back and closed the front door, picked up the grocery bag and took it into the kitchen. The milk went in the refrigerator, but she put the frozen pizza on the counter. That would serve as dinner.
She jumped when the phone started ringing again. This time, she snatched it up before it finished the second ring, saying hello, a touch of apprehension in her voice.
For a few seconds, there was no sound. Then she heard, "JT. This is Crystal.”
“Hello.” Her voice quavered.
“Will you do something I ask you to, without questioning me?”
Silence.
“Will you?”
“Something happened to Eddie Ray.”
“I’d like to talk with you about Eddie Ray in person, not on the telephone. But I need you to do somethingright now. Will you do it?”
Again, silence. “Please, JT. This is very importantfor Luis.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“I want you to leave immediately. Don’t pack. Don’t make any phone calls. Don’t answer the phone if it rings. Don’t stop to eat. Just leave immediately after we hang up. Go to ... go to the Renaissance Hotel, on I-35 at High Line Road. Do you know where it is?”
“Yes.”
“Go. The company will pay for it, your meals, whatever expenses you have. I’ll meet you there.”
“Is Eddie Ray ...?” The unfinished question hung in the air, persisting like the sad echo of a foghorn.
“We’ll talk about that when I see you at the hotel.”
“You said ... for Luis.”
“JT, you may be in danger. It’s important that Luis keeps his mother. Please leave now.”
“Eddie Ray is dead?”
JT noted the hesitation and she knew the answer. Finally, Crystal whispered, “Yes.”
JT’s hand covered her mouth and still a sob seeped out. All day, that thought had tried to insinuate itself into her mind. But it was only a possibility. Something to nag at her, to worry her. Not reality. When it became too unbearable, it could be dismissed, at least temporarily, with a simple “I don’t know that. No one has said that.”
Now, it was real.
“You may be in serious danger,” Crystal was saying. “Leave right away. Will you do that?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll meet you at the hotel. Please, hurry.”
JT sank to the couch, buried her face in her hands and wept. Eddie Ray brightened her life. No one else had insisted she feel good about herself, demanded she see herself as pretty, forced her to laugh and enjoy life. No one else had ever made her feel loved as a woman. And he had been so good to Luis.
Her head jerked up, and she caught her breath. Crystal had told her to go because Luis needed his mother. She let out a moan. Eddie Ray, I love you.
She rushed to her room, pulled a small, soft suitcase from the closet, then crossed the room and opened a drawer. She was reaching in when the phone rang. It wasn’t Eddie Ray. It would never be Eddie Ray again. She looked toward the insistent noise coming from the other room. JT sorted through the possibilities. It isn’t Crystal since she told me to leave immediately. It isn’t Luis. I told him not to call. I would call him.
The ringing stopped. She returned to packing. She took panties, bra, and hose out of the drawer and placed them in the bag. From the bathroom she retrieved her tooth brush and various cosmetic items. She went to the closet and selected a skirt, blouse and shoes.
For a minute she surveyed the room, looking for...she didn’t know what. Tears filled her eyes when she saw a picture sitting on the dresser of Eddie Ray and Luis. She picked it up, pressed it to her lips, then placed it in the suitcase. She closed the small bag and took it with her into the living room.
Even though she felt silly, she checked the front yard through the window before opening the door. Nothing there. Of course not. She went out, quickly locked the front door, hurried to the car and put her things in the back seat. She got in and started the car. On the front seat was a toy pickup, Luis’s favorite toy. Eddie Ray had given it to him.
She had backed up about twenty feet when a black car swung into her drive and stopped behind her. A shiver ran down her back as she saw two male forms behind the windshield and flames painted on the hood.
Chapter 42
JT locked her door and watched in the mirror as they approached, one on either side. Her mind screamed one word—Luis. She moved the shift to drive, cut the wheels sharply to the left, and took her foot off the brake. The tall man on the left was reaching for the door handle as she mashed down on the gas pedal. The tires grabbed the concrete drive and the car shot forward and to the left. She whipped across the grass, missing the Mimosa tree, hopped off the curb and sped down the street. In the mirror, she could see she had knocked down the tall man.
Her eyes refocused on the road just in time to see the car in front of her. She jerked the wheel to the right. It wasn’t soon enough. Her car clipped the front bumper of the white Lumina and JT cringed as she heard it crease the full length of her car. As the Lumina scraped along her car, JT could see the frightened look on Miss Bennet’s wrinkled face. The old woman’s car spun to a stop across the narrow street.
JT didn’t slow down. At the corner, she turned left and raced down the short block to Lovers Lane. The afternoon drizzle had left the roads damp and that always seemed to make traffic heavier.
She was shaking all over. I need to get away from here before they get to the corner and can see which way I go. Straight ahead was the parking lot for a strip mall. The toll road was only a few blocks to the left. That would be fast. Did she have any change? She imagined herself sitting at the toll booth, searching for money, while the killers pulled up beside her.
A small opening appeared and JT darted across Lovers Lane, turning neither right nor left, but racing straight across the street and into the crowded parking lot of the strip mall. She found an empty space, parked and turned the engine off. She slumped down in the seat, then reached up and adjusted the mirror so she had a view of the intersection, while she remained hidden.
In less than thirty seconds, a car skidded to a stop at the intersection. Flames seemed to dance on the car’s hood and JT felt their heat on her cheeks. In the mirror, she could see the two men, but could tell nothing about their appearance. The wheels were turned slightly, ready for a right turn.
The traffic remained sluggish and JT said a fervent prayer for an opening. The longer they sit there the better chance they might see me.
Just then, she saw the passenger pointing over toward the parking lot. A small cry escaped her lips. If they come into the parking lot, I’m trapped. She tried to visualize the stores in the shopping center. Even though she had shopped here a thousand times, at this precise moment, she couldn’t remember a single store. What if I try to run to a store and it’s closed? Or a bunch of people are coming out and I can’t get in? They might pull me right off the sidewalk. Would anybody seeor care? What if I do get in? I have to come out sometime. None of these stores stays open all night.
Her eyes scanned the buildings. The Inwood Theater was just to her right. There, on its marquee was the current offering: Kidnapped! Her entire body began to shake uncontrollably. She gripped the steering wheel as tightly as she could, took deep breaths, trying to calm her frayed nerves. Nothing seemed to help.
A drop of sweat trickled down her side, immediately followed by more. She could feel them traversing a path all the way from her armpit to her waist. Without sitting up, she reached for the key and started the motor, then checked the mirror. The driver of the fire-breathing car was pounding on the steering wheel. Suddenly, he cut his wheels left and swung onto Lovers Lane, causing a lime-green convertible to lock its brakes and then get rear-ended by another car. Brakes screeched and horns honked as the cars behind tried to avoid piling into the accident blocking the slick roadway. The low-slung, black sedan with JT’s two tormentors raced east on Lovers Lane.
A Ton of Gold (Crystal Moore Suspense Book 1) Page 20