by Stacy Green
By the time I arrived at Pastorious Dog Park, the sun was truly breaking over the eastern sky, making the fall colors of the trees shimmer in reds and golds like some beautifully mixed up rainbow. A few early risers had already brought their canine buddies out to play, and I watched a fat beagle chase a poodle in circles until Kenny knocked on my window.
I unlocked the door, and he jumped into the passenger seat, bringing with him the delicious, honey-sweet smell of hot donuts. I licked my lips.
“Goose!” He leaned over and pecked me on the cheek. “Old-fashioned chocolate donuts just for you.” Kenny still called me by the same stupid nickname he gave me during our short months of dating in high school. The romance fizzled, but the friendship never wavered.
“Kenny G.” I snagged a donut, moaning when the sugary goodness melted in my mouth.
He laughed at the old joke, and I noticed the laugh lines around his face had deepened. With his short, wavy hair gelled into an artful swirl, he looked more like a college kid than drug dealer.
“So what’s new?”
“Same old, same old,” he said. Kenny was one of those rare people who never let anything get him down and managed to see life through magic glasses. “Working the day job, staying careful in my side business like I promised. I started volunteering at a shelter in Spring Garden, trying to help out some of the kids.”
“Good for you,” I said between mouthfuls of donut.
Kenny was an enigma. He made a living as a mechanic, but selling pot was too lucrative for him to give up. He insisted he’d retire early and move somewhere warm.
“So, you said you were searching for that little girl who disappeared out of Poplar?”
“Kailey Richardson.”
“No news on her?”
A wave of tiredness rushed over me. “We know the older girls ditched her, and she walked home alone. Beyond that, nothing. She’s vanished.”
Kenny scowled. He had a soft spot for kids. His own father was a mean drunk, and he often said he wouldn’t have made it through high school without me. “Doesn’t that mean she probably knew the person who took her? Trusted them?”
“Maybe. It’s hard to say.”
“You said Justin Beckett might be involved. You think he took her?”
“I think he’s a damned good suspect. But his brother’s involved in the investigation. Claims to be unbiased but…” I spread my hands wide.
“Right.” Kenny nodded. “What a shitty position to be in.”
“Police did get a warrant after seeing the emails, and they came up empty. Have you heard anything?”
Kenny had amassed a pretty wide network as a dealer, his contacts stretching beyond Poplar and into the north and west sides of the city. He was the type of guy people wanted to confide all their secrets in. “None of my connections know him. I mean, some of them remember the coverage, but I asked all around, and no one remembered him.”
It was a stretch. I couldn’t hide my disappointment. “What about the other thing I asked you to check on? The Harrison brothers?”
Kenny started in on his second donut. “I told you about Cody a few months ago. He lived near one of my main clients, and he’d been released for molesting a girlfriend’s kid. Soon as he got out, he found a new girl, with a kid the same age, of course. I called you about him, and you said you were going to send someone over.” Kenny knew I still had contact with Child Protective Services, and he was good about giving me leads. He just didn’t realize what I sometimes used them for.
“That’s right,” I played dumb. “I’d have to check with my old boss to see–”
“Don’t bother. He overdosed a couple of months ago, not long after I called you. Good riddance, cause you know he was probably messing with that other kid.”
Yes, he was. Cody Harrison fell into the dumb class of pedophiles, using his own I.P. address to post on a forum dedicated to the love between men and special little girls. His overdose had been a carefully administered dose of the newest synthetic heroin. Cody was already a user, although he’d been clean since his arrest. Selling him the drug had been risky, and I’d had to play along long enough to see him inject himself. I didn’t wait around to see the overdose. Thankfully, my chemist had access to the good stuff, and I didn’t have to make a return visit.
“So where does Cody Harrison fit?”
Kenny smiled grimly. “Heard his brother, Brian, is nearly as bad as Cody. And guess what? He moved into your little girl’s section of Poplar just after Cody died. While back, got his ass beat by a neighbor who claimed Brian hassled the neighbor’s thirteen-year-old daughter for sex. And get this, word has it he’s a janitor at some elementary school. Apparently he’s never had an offense, least not one that’s on record. You’d think the school would be more careful.”
I wanted to beat my head against the table, but I took a drink of hot coffee instead. It burned my throat. “Why didn’t the neighbor go to the police?”
Kenny gave me a dubious look. “Same reason I don’t, except he deals with harder stuff. Anyway, couple of weeks ago, Brian got smashed and bragged that he’d had some fun with a sweet, young thing at the vacant lot next to that big, old Catholic church on seventh. Immaculate something.”
My heart skidded. “Our Lady of Immaculate Inception?”
Sly Lyle really had seen something. I’d have to swing by the lot to see if I could find him or Hank before I went home tonight.
My adrenaline bottomed out, leaving me hollow as Josie’s words from last night echoed in my head. She didn’t want to go to the vacant lot. Or school. If she were Kailey, she’d wish she were dead. She sounded like a jaded grown up–which was how a victim of sexual abuse usually sounded.
Could Josie be the little girl Brian Harrison attacked in the vacant lot?
Familiar rage thrashed through my already racing blood. If I could prove Harrison’s guilt, I’d add him to my list of cyanide suckers.
“That’s it. His neighbor–the one who beat his ass–said he was acting all weird the other morning, same one your kid disappeared. I talked to his neighbor this morning before I came over. He and I run in the same circles, you could say. Harrison’s car was in the driveway, but he never answered.”
Kenny knew where Brian lived.
“What kind of car?” Kailey lived across the street from Justin. What if he wasn’t the one being watched? What if someone was actually watching Kailey’s routine?
“Blue Neon,” Kenny laughed. “Girl’s car.”
So much for that idea. This was risky territory. Telling Todd meant answering questions about where I got my information. I could handle those, but if he interviewed Brian the janitor, he’d no doubt mention me and his brother. Todd had already voiced his suspicions of me. I couldn’t take the risk of letting him talk to Brian. Not until I had better information.
I really am a piece of shit work. Brian might have Kailey–he certainly knew her from school. And I was thinking about my own hide. But Todd would need a search warrant, and that takes time. I had other means.
“Something else,” Kenny said. “Word on the street is that Brian’s been pretty volatile since his brother died. Shook him up pretty bad.”
Something in Kenny’s normally relaxed expression had changed–the faintest tightening around the eyes and mouth, a tighter set to his jaw. He was the only person who ever came close to understanding the anger I carried around, and if he ever found out my dark secret, he might understand. But I couldn’t risk involving him. He deserved better.
My guard inched up. “That’s tough to go through.”
“He says his brother was clean. Only smoking pot since he got out. And he was afraid of anything but old-fashioned heroin, so he wouldn’t have tried the synthetic stuff that killed him.”
“Addicts do what they have to for the high.”
“He also claims his brother bragged about meeting some hot redhead just days before he died.” Kenny’s words came a little slower, as if he were measuring the
m. His eyes stayed with mine. “Brian says his brother had a date the night he overdosed. He thinks the redhead gave him the bad shit. Maybe even intentionally.”
I scrubbed my hands with the cheap paper napkins Kenny brought. “Did he talk to the police?”
“Oh yeah. Told them about the redhead. But nothing was ever found. And by the time Brian made the accusation, Cody’s house had already been cleaned, so any forensic evidence was gone. But he still says Red killed his brother. Says he’d know her if he saw her.”
“Why?” I hoped my hands weren’t shaking.
“Guess his brother took a picture with his cellphone and showed Brian. Picture was blurry and from the side–guess she didn’t know he took it–but Brian thinks he could recognize her. That’s another thing. Cody’s cell was never recovered.”
Jesus Christ. No, the cell was in the landfill under several tons of trash. Brian didn’t have a copy of that picture or he would have gone to the police. But I needed to make sure, and I needed to find out if he had Kailey. And I sure as hell couldn’t tell Todd about any of this right now.
“How far from Kailey does Brian Harrison live?”
“Other side of Poplar. Ten minute walk, probably.”
That meant Todd’s canvassing would eventually get to Brian’s neighbor, who would then tell Todd about the jerk who lived next door to him. Todd would talk to Brian, who would then rant about his brother’s murder. But Kailey could be trapped in Harrison’s house enduring unspeakable things.
“You think he could have taken her?” Kenny studied me with those eyes that always seemed to notice everything.
“It’s definitely possible. Thanks so much for your help, Kenny G.”
He didn’t smile. “What are you going to do with the information this time?”
I didn’t miss the emphasis Kenny put on the last two words, but I played it off. “I’ve got to let the investigating officer know, of course.”
“Of course.”
What I planned to do was hit the vacant lot and see if Sly Lyle was around. Maybe if I described Harrison, Lyle could confirm he was the one messing around with the little girl, or maybe he’d talked to Hank since Todd and I had been there. Hank hadn’t put any stock in Sly’s story, so he may not have called Todd.
“You didn’t find out anything else about Brian Harrison, did you?”
Kenny shrugged. “Besides the janitor gig, he works part time at a garage. Need his address?”
“That would be great,” I said. “Thanks again, Kenny. I can always count on you.”
“You and me, Goose,” he reminded me. “I probably would have killed the old man if you hadn’t kept talking me down.”
“You turned out all right,” I said. “Just be careful out there, will you?”
He nodded. “You too. Whatever you do. And don’t make hasty decisions you’ll regret, Lucy.” That same knowing look flashed through his eyes and then disappeared.
He rarely called me by my first name, and I knew, without a doubt, he guessed my secret.
11
I preferred to work at night. Most of my extracurricular activities were done under the cover of darkness, and I was at home slinking around in the shadows. But for once, I was happy to be in broad daylight, even if it was cloudy as smoke and the wind chapped my face. Poplar wasn’t exactly the hood, but any place where transients live and drug deals go down isn’t safe for a woman at night.
Patrol cars drove up and down streets, still canvassing and still searching. I parked my car near the church and hoofed it down to the empty building Hank called home. My pepper spray was tucked into the coat sleeve of my dominant hand, and the weight of the cool plastic put my nerves on edge. I’d never had to use it, but the ominous silence in the chilly air made me feel like today might change that.
Up close, the vacant factory reminded me of Vlad’s castle, its turret-like stacks reaching high into the cloudy sky. The broken windows were less eerie than the empty ones: great, gaping holes, the eyes of the beast waiting to consume me as another hopeless victim.
No more gothic novels for me.
My chilled hands shook as I opened the doors. They announced my entrance with a groaning creak and a scraping of metal against the wood floors. So much for subterfuge. The stink I’d noticed yesterday was stronger, emboldened by the crisp, cold air. Clutching my flashlight, I edged forward.
“Who’s there?” A gravelly voice called from the gray chasm.
“I’m looking for Sly Lyle.” My voice came out garbled, as though I’d just eaten something. I cleared my throat. “Have you seen him?”
“You police?”
“No. I just need to ask him a question.”
“Police ask questions.”
“Well, I’m not the police.”
The man grunted and went silent. To the right, a scuffle of paper and a heavy object sent my blood pounding. I slid the pepper spray canister out of my sleeve and into my tense hand.
“I just need to ask a few questions.”
“I’ll answer any question you got.” The smoker’s voice came from my left. I twisted around to see a tall, heavyset man emerging from the shadowy corner. He was dressed for warmth, wearing at least two layers and a wool cap. His beard was well maintained and his teeth in decent condition. He either hadn’t been homeless long or was able to take care of himself. Another step closer, and I caught a whiff of bourbon.
I wished I had my flashlight. “Are you Lyle?”
“No. But you have questions. I’ve got answers.”
“You don’t even know what my questions are about.”
“I still got answers.” He came closer, his dark eyes sparkling like coals.
I held up the spray and steadied my voice. “I will burn your eyeballs.”
“You got some pretty red hair. And skin. I bet you’re a really clean lady. Shaved real nice. You shave down there, Red?”
I’ve dealt with enough angry and lewd drunken men to not get rattled. “I’m not here to discuss hygiene, but thanks for the compliment. Have you seen Lyle around?”
“Lyle’s a crazy schizo,” my new suitor said. “And he’s about as big as a junior high schooler. What do you want with him when you’ve got me?”
“Did you witness a man molesting a little girl two weeks ago?”
He stopped short, a look of shocked disgust on his face. “What the hell’s wrong with you, lady?”
“I’m a private investigator, and I have questions for Lyle.”
“Knew she was a cop!” The first man who’d blown me off yelled from the corner.
“He’s not here.” Hank’s voice sent a spasm of relief down my spine. “Jimbo, leave her alone. She was here yesterday with the detective.”
Hank came down the stairs looking wobbly. “What are you doing back here, miss?” Hank said. “And alone too.”
“I’m desperate,” I said. “Remember what you said about Lyle’s story? About the man and the little girl?”
“Yeah, but I told you–”
“A man who lives near here–and near the girl who’s missing–bragged about something similar, around the same time Lyle claims he saw it. Do you remember anything he said or have any idea where I could find him?”
“He could be anywhere.” Hank scratched his beard vigorously, and I callously wondered if he had fleas.
“Tell me exactly what he said.”
“Shit, I don’t know. I tried not to listen. I don’t want to hear about that sort of thing.”
“Please try.”
“All right, all right. Let’s see, it was around suppertime and on a Wednesday. I know because I was heading to the soup kitchen at the church. Lyle came in, looking green and gibbering. Said he saw a guy with his hand down a girl’s pants at the end of the lot, over in the weeds where there’s a bunch of old iron and millwork. Same place where those kids go messing around. Guess they can get in there and hide.” Hank coughed, harder than he had yesterday, and made his way to sit on the bottom stair.
“I said big deal, and he says, no, she weren’t no of age girl. Little girl. No more than twelve, maybe younger. Said she looked scared as hell, like she was frozen. Lyle claimed he ran the man off.”
“What did the man look like, other than tall?” Brian Harrison was tall, but so were countless men. But he had very short, very blond hair, and fair skin that got patchy red when he was excited. Just like his brother. Swedish or Norwegian descent, apparently. “What color hair?”
“He didn’t say.”
“Is there anything–”
Hank waved me off. “He went on about how big the guy was. Looked like a construction worker type, but he was wearing a uniform. Dark, I think Sly said. He couldn’t get the name on it–although it had red lettering, he said. Guy was too busy running from Sly like a bitch, face red as a tomato, for Sly to get the name.”
My breath caught. Red face. His janitor’s uniform was dark with red lettering. And Brian was a big man. “What about the girl? Did she have blonde hair? Brown? What color were her shoes?”
“I don’t know. Sly just said she looked like a little girl.”
That was good enough for me. Brian Harrison could have Kailey, and I needed to find out as soon as possible. If he didn’t have Kailey, he might have attacked Josie, although I had little proof of that. Just instinct. Not to mention he could possibly identify me as his brother’s killer.
I thanked Hank for his information, gave him a ten-dollar bill, the only cash I had, promised to stay away from the bad neighborhood, and hurried toward my car. Conflicting emotions raced through me. I couldn’t put myself entirely first. I’d go straight to Brian Harrison’s and find out for myself if he had Kailey. If I didn’t turn anything up, I’d have to tell Todd we might have another suspect and pray I didn’t pay the price.
But what if he did have Kailey, and I caught him in the act? My brand of justice was black and white, an eye for an eye. I’d have to stop at home and get the cyanide.
I’d almost made it back to my car when I saw Todd Beckett hoofing toward me like a wayward steam engine.