Day and Night

by Kaylie Hunter

  Kierson walked outside and stood in front of the window. His chin was level with the top edge of the sign. He walked back in. “I’m five foot eleven, so he’s six foot to six foot two?”

  “I reckon,” Mable agreed.

  “Did you see him leave? See which direction he went?” Grady purred, grabbing her attention again.

  “Wish’n I did, but Laurie dropped a glass when she saw him. Spilt water on my new shoes. By the time I looked again, he was gone. That’s when I warned her that he seemed like one of those mean ones, and we should ring the cops.”

  “Anything else you can remember? Anything at all?” I asked.

  “His eyes,” she answered, leaning onto the table and lowering her voice. “His hair was dark, blackish-brown like, but his eyes were an eerie light blue. Seemed a strange mix. Like he was a mutt or something.”

  I was taking a drink of my coffee when she called the man a mutt. The coffee went down the wrong way, and I started to cough.

  Mable’s daughter stepped over to me and beat on my back a few times. “You get used to her inappropriateness. Nothing she says fazes me anymore.”

  “Your teenage years were a nightmare, weren’t they?” I asked, looking up at her.

  “It was a living horror show.” She turned back to her mother. “Come on, Mom. Time to get home.”

  “I’ll leave when I’m ready,” she snapped.

  “Fine. But you’re going to miss the late-night news. And I didn’t set the recorder.”

  “I guess I’ve bothered these good folks long enough for one night. You best drive me home. But don’t dawdle like you did coming here. You drive slower than an old lady.”

  Mable continued to bitch as she pulled herself up and moved with the use of her cane out the door. The daughter held the door open and waved goodbye to everyone before following her out. I looked down at my coffee which was half empty, contemplating a refill. Instead, I grinned and reached into my handbag, pulling out a pint of whiskey. Grady slid his cup next to mine. I poured a shot in each our glasses. Kierson disconnected a call he had taken and set his own cup down for a top off.

  “You never cease to surprise me, Kierson,” I said as I added a shot and slipped the bottle back into my shoulder bag.

  “You might want to drink straight from the bottle when you hear what happened,” Kierson said before he took a big drink.

  “Rip the Band-Aid off,” I said, bracing myself for bad news.

  “Axle Sorato committed suicide in holding.”

  I sat back in my chair, looking up at Kierson to see if he was joking. He wasn’t.

  Suicide didn’t fit with the man I’d spoken with earlier in the day. Axle Sorato was afraid, but I didn’t see any signs of desperation or depression. When we left Detroit, Axle was still looking for an angle to get himself out of the situation he’d landed in. He hadn’t even asked for a lawyer.

  “Bull-shit,” I said.

  “Hung himself. It happens.”

  “I’m not saying he’s not dead. I’m saying that if he’s dead—it wasn’t a suicide. I’d bet my best pair of black boots on it.”

  Kierson stared at me and then looked at his phone. “Damn.”

  Grady reached over the table and freed the pint of whiskey from my handbag, uncapping it and handing it to Kierson. Kierson took a swig before passing it back and making another call. “Special Agent Tebbs, I need a favor, sir,” he said as he walked out the front door.

  “Who’s Axle Sorato?” Grady asked, taking a drink from the bottle before passing it to me.

  “Nola’s former goon who was pretending to be a trainee this morning,” I answered before taking a drink.

  “You interviewed him?”

  “I got him to start spilling and then left him with Kierson. Something was off though.”

  “What do mean?” he asked, taking the bottle back for another drink.

  “I’m not sure. He was giving us a boatload of historical crimes but kept us at arm’s length from anything more recent. I have Genie and Maggie tracking down friends and relatives. And I called Mickey McNabe to reach out to Axle’s father who’s in prison in Florida.”

  Grady was passing the pint back, but upon hearing Mickey’s name he changed his mind and downed a good inch of the bottle. I snagged the bottle, capped it, and dropped it back into my bag.

  “Does Kierson know any of this?”

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. “I didn’t want to overwhelm him.”

  Grady snorted, pulling himself up from his chair. “Drop some cards and then let’s go find a place to crash for the night.”

  I pulled a pile of business cards out of my shoulder bag and passed them around, asking everyone to call me if they had any more details. Fred the car salesman told us where to find a bed-and-breakfast and said he’d give them a ring to let them know we were on the way since it was getting late.

  We paid our bill, left a generous tip, and waved goodbye to the last remaining customers before we slipped outside.

  “Thank you, sir,” Kierson said into his phone as he paced the sidewalk outside the restaurant. He slid the phone into his jacket pocket and shook his head. “That was not the most pleasant conversation I’ve had today.”

  “I’m driving Grady’s rental to a B&B. Follow us out,” I said as I walked to the driver’s side of the truck.

  “I could’ve driven,” Grady said, yawning as he slid inside and pulled his seatbelt on.

  “You’re exhausted, and you just chugged a half pint of whiskey.”

  “You have a point.” He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Three rooms, please,” Grady said to the innkeeper.

  “We’re not sharing a room?”

  “Hell, no.” Grady passed his credit card to the woman behind the reception counter. “At least six mysteries are roaming around in that head of yours right now. You won’t sleep until you fall over. If we share a room, I’ll feel obligated to distract you with sex—and I’m too damn tired.”

  “I don’t think she wanted to know all of that,” I said, nodding toward the innkeeper.

  Kierson snorted. “She gets paid to hear inappropriate crap. I don’t.”

  “I’m Mrs. Androsky, but everyone calls me Mrs. A.” The innkeeper smiled politely, placing two keyrings with room numbers on the counter but keeping the third in her hand. “I don’t usually have more than one or two rooms booked at a time. I’ll have to clean the third room.”

  I took the third set of keys from her. “Find me a dust rag, a vacuum, and glass cleaner. I can clean while I think. No reason for you to stay up.”

  “I couldn’t,” she said, shaking her head.

  “You can,” Grady said through a yawn. “It will help wear her down. You’ll be doing us all a favor.”

  She still seemed unsure but pulled the cleaning bucket and vacuum out of the closet. Grady carried the vacuum and both our overnight bags up the stairs. I followed him with the cleaning bucket, stopping at the door with the number two painted on the front.

  “You’ve got until I’m undressed to get the vacuuming done,” Grady said before unlocking the next door down.

  Kierson chuckled, walking past us to the last door at the end of the hall. “Mrs. A said we could help ourselves to the kitchen. I’m going to drop my bags off then make some coffee if you want to meet me downstairs.”

  “We’ll see how the cleaning goes,” I replied, dragging everything through the door into my room. “Oh my!”

  “What’s wrong?” Grady called out.

  “My room. It’s ah—pink.”

  Grady and Kierson walked over to stand behind me. A large bed with a pink canopy sat center of the room. The other furniture was bright white, but the walls were covered with human-size pink flowers. The men laughed before walking away and entering their own rooms.

  “This room doesn’t need to be cleaned; it needs to be doused in battery acid,” I mumbled to myself.

  ~*~*~r />
  Even though it was against my cleaning code, I vacuumed first, then dusted. The bed had a dust cover that I carefully rolled back before laying it in the hallway to take downstairs later. Entering the small bathroom, I spent another five minutes doing a quick wipe down before I washed my face and dragged my hair into a messy bun. Back in the bedroom, I walked over to the far wall, pulled back the thick, room-darkening curtains and opened the window. The temperature had dropped, but it was still warm enough to allow some fresh air to move around the room. I grabbed my phone and laptop and curled up in the Queen Anne chair to check my email and voicemail messages.

  Tech had left me a voicemail saying to check my email. Genie had left me the same message. I opened the laptop and checked my email. The email from Genie was a list of over a hundred parental abduction cases involving a father who was in law enforcement and a boy of the approximate age as Caleb.

  “Insane,” I said to myself, shaking my head.

  Before diving into the list, I switched over to read Tech’s email. He had Donovan reach out to Casey for a picture of Caleb. The employees at Silver Aces Security split up Genie’s list and found two possible matches. Tech included only the two names and said Genie was working backgrounds.

  My laptop dinged, alerting me to another email. I moved back to my inbox and read the new message. Tech confirmed with Casey that the woman he knew as Laurie Simmons was McKenzie Griffith. Caleb’s real name was Shawn. And his father, Brian Griffith, was a U.S. freaking Marshal.

  I replied to make sure Casey was deep underground and to tell him to contact Katie if needed. They’d know I meant regarding fake IDs, though I hoped it wouldn’t come to that. Katie was good with the IDs, but the U.S. Marshals hid witnesses for a living. They knew all the tricks, because they invented most of them. “Shit, shit, shit,” I cursed, thinking of all the ways our involvement could backfire.

  A light knock on my door pulled my attention from my laptop.

  “Come in.”

  “I’m hoping you have more booze in your bag,” Kierson said after he opened the door.

  “You heard?”

  “That we’re dealing with a U.S. Marshal? Yeah, I heard.”

  “Carry the vacuum downstairs. I’ll bring the booze.” After tucking my laptop under my arm, my phone in the top of my bra, and the cleaning bucket in the hand with the laptop, I pulled a bottle of vodka from my duffle bag and followed Kierson downstairs.

  At the bottom of the stairs he tucked the cleaning supplies behind the check-in desk and led me into the kitchen. I slid the vodka bottle to Kierson, and he pulled glasses from a cupboard. Finding orange juice in the refrigerator, I slid that to him as well.

  “If the father was a cop or FBI, it would’ve been bad, but—” I started to say.

  “A U.S. Marshal means we’re screwed. If I request his files—”

  “We’ll be required to turn Caleb over.”

  “But if I don’t request the files—”

  “We’re walking in blind.”

  Kierson handed me my glass. “As I said, we’re screwed. It’s near impossible to hide from these guys.”

  “Do we know what office he works out of?” I asked as I followed him to the kitchen table.

  “Arlington, Virginia. Why?”

  I opened my laptop and scanned through the missing person report. According to the report, Caleb was last seen at his school. The file also included Laurie’s last employment information at an insurance agency. I picked up my phone and called Charlie.

  “Kelsey? I’m so glad you called. I—”

  “Stop. I’m not calling to discuss the situation between the two of us. I have a job for you. A little boy’s life is on the line.”

  “What do you need?” she asked cautiously.

  “I’ll text you the name of the kid and his mother. They disappeared three years ago and have been living on the run. The kid’s father is a U.S. Marshal. I need you to go to Arlington, Virginia and dig for intel at the school, the wife’s former employment, and medical facilities. I need as much dirt on this guy as you can gather before we’re forced to turn his son over to him.”

  “Shit.”

  “Yes or no, Kid.”

  “Of course. Send me the info. And Kel?”

  I didn’t say anything. I let the silence hang between us.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I have to go. Get the information we need. And try not to get yourself arrested.”

  I disconnected, tossing the phone on the kitchen counter. I shouldn’t have called her. I should’ve called Maggie or one of the regular guards from Silver Aces Security.

  “I heard there was bad blood between the two of you, but damn.”

  “Don’t start, Kierson.”

  I took a drink of the cocktail, cringing when I realized how strong it was. I walked over and poured a third of the drink into Kierson’s already half-empty glass before retrieving more juice from the refrigerator.

  “Anything on Axle Sorato’s death?” I asked.

  “They tried to fingerprint the holding cell, but apparently there were too many samples to run. Tebbs said it was a dead end, but he’s put a rush on the autopsy.”

  I was tempted to call Mickey, but he’d call me when he had information. Pressuring him sooner could piss him off. “All right. Our hands are tied regarding Sorato and Brian Griffith, but Laurie is still missing. What do we know?”

  “She worked the morning shift, taking a break to walk her son to school, then returned to the diner. She spotted a man we believe to be Brian Griffith outside the diner around one o’clock. She snuck out the back door and was last seen a block away from her home.”

  I bit my lower lip, thinking. “Where’s her car?”

  “Maybe she doesn’t have one. She lives close enough to town to walk everywhere.”

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. “She owns a car. You don’t have go bags and boxes ready to load into a car, if you don’t have a car. Transportation would be crucial in a small town like this if they needed to get away quick.”

  “There wasn’t a car at her house.”

  I turned, hearing a noise behind me. Mrs. A. walked into the kitchen.

  “Pardon me. I just need a glass of water. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  “Mrs. A., do you know Laurie Simmons?”

  “Yes, I know Laurie. Works down at the diner. Sweet woman,” she said, smiling sadly. “Fred told me when he called earlier that you folks were trying to find her.”

  “Do you know if she owns a car?”

  “I’m not real sure, dear. I saw her walking a lot in town, but then again, most of us walk from place to place when the weather’s nice. But Fred will know. If you’re unfortunate enough to need your car towed, Fred’s guaranteed to call you and ask if you're ready to trade it in for a newer model.”

  “I imagine most people would be annoyed, but I’d find that to be a convenient service.” I grinned, turning to look at Kierson but he just rolled his eyes. I looked back at Mrs. A. “Do you have Fred’s number? I know it’s late, but we need that information.”

  “Of course. Anything to help Laurie. I’ll get my phone and be right back.”

  When she returned, she was already on the phone with Fred. “Quit cussing. This is important business. That nice lady from Silver Aces Security needs to ask you a question or two. Are you going to be nice?” She nodded at the phone before handing it over.

  Fred not only knew the make, model, and color of Laurie’s car, but he kept records of everyone’s license plate numbers as well. As I wrote down the information, Kierson was entering it into a text message. I thanked Fred and ended the call before turning back to Mrs. A. “Thank you. That was very helpful.”

  “If you need anything else, just come wake me. I don’t mind.”

  “That should be all for tonight, thank you,” Kierson assured her with a warm smile.

  “I’ll see you in a few hours for breakfast then,” she said before waddling back down the h
allway.

  I walked back to the foyer and looked at the oversized, framed, and encased map displayed on the wall. I carefully lifted the picture off the nail and carried it back to the kitchen.

  “I’m not sure Mrs. A. would appreciate you taking down her wall art.”

  “I need a map.”

  “Ever heard of Google?”

  “I work better with large visuals.”

  Kierson rolled his eyes but moved our glasses aside so I could lay the picture down on the table. “What are you thinking?”

  “Find something I can use to mark places on the map.”

  “You can’t destroy her map.”

  “It’s behind glass. I just need something to stick to the glass.”

  “Like what?”

  “Cheese.” Grady yawned, coming into the kitchen. “Last time we used cheese.” He stopped at the refrigerator and got a slice of cheese out, passing it to me. Picking up my drink, he choked on the cocktail and set the glass back down. He shook his head and went to the sink for a glass of water.

  “Did we wake you?” I asked as I tore the slice of cheese into small bits. I placed one piece at Laurie’s cottage, another at the diner, and a third at Caleb’s school.

  “No. I couldn’t sleep. Casey would kick my ass if I didn’t do everything humanly possible to find his girl.”

  “You were doing something. You were sleeping so when I figure this asshole out, you can go beat the crap out of him for us.”

  “And spend the rest of your life in prison,” Kierson grumbled.

  “Kierson, if you don’t have the balls for this case, fly back to Detroit. We don’t need you,” I snapped.

  “I could lose my badge for just knowing what I know and not reporting it.”

  “Fine. Report it. But report it to Jack. He’s our best shot at keeping it quiet. Tell him to give us forty-eight hours.”

  “Report what?” Grady asked.

  “The boy’s father is a U.S. Marshal,” Kierson answered.

  Grady froze mid step. Only his eyes moved, landing on me. He set his glass of water down and gave another glance at my drink. I moved my glass out of range.