Her Last Breath - Debt Collector 9 (A Jack Winchester Thriller)

by Jon Mills

  “And… uh… your sister. Did she ever inquire about Tim’s involvement with the women?”

  “Of course, that’s actually what I was calling about the night we spoke. She had been trying to get hold of Tim, and I wanted to make sure that she wasn’t going to cause any trouble.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Tim is a good man. A real man of God. He started that program for women out of a calling to help those who have been cast aside by society. The last thing he needs is to have someone pointing the finger at him.”

  “And by that you mean?”

  “The women, deputy.”

  “You think your sister thought he was involved?”

  “Not just my sister. Many people in the area. Let’s face it, deputy; they all come to see him for one reason or another. As much as we try to help sinners, we also put ourselves in the crossfire of accusations. False accusations. Tim has a wife and three kids. He has a reputation to uphold and I would hate to see his name dragged through the mud.”

  “Just his? Were you not involved in the program?”

  “No. Not me. My role is strictly Sundays and prayer meetings in the week. Beyond that, I’m a pretty much busy with my business. Which reminds me that I have a few errands to run. Look, is the man my sister hired here?”

  “He is.”

  “Do you think I could have a word with him? You know. Perhaps he knows something.”

  “That might be arranged, though I wouldn’t bank on getting anything out of him. Anyway, for now, we’re trying to get in contact with the landlord to see if they want to move ahead with pressing charges.”

  “Press charges? For the window you mean?”

  “That and breaking and entering.”

  “Oh, I’m sure I can speak with his mother, Mrs. Welch, and get it cleared up. We’re good friends. I would hate to see this blown out of proportion and the court’s time tied up with a misunderstanding. How much is his bail?”

  Larson stared blankly at him. “Excuse me?”

  “His bail to get him out? You’re not going to keep him in over a broken window, are you, deputy?”

  “But you haven’t even met him.”

  “If my sister hired him, I trust her instincts.”

  He nodded slowly finding it a little odd but not completely out of the question. It hadn’t been the first time that someone from a local church had stepped in to speak on behalf of someone arrested, or bail out those caught up in trouble. It would mean less paperwork and one less thing on their plate. “Look, I can’t guarantee you anything, if you want to hang tight here for a few minutes, I will go and see what I can do. In the meantime, if you phone Mrs. Welch and she’ll agree to not press charges, I’m sure we can get this cleared away tonight. Bail money might not even be required.”

  Chapter 9

  When Larson informed Jack that he was being released, he assumed it was because of the voice mail recordings. While that had helped, he was surprised to learn that the brother of Jenna had spoken on his behalf.

  “So I guess it’s your lucky day,” Larson said as he took the cuffs off him.

  “He’s here?”

  “In the waiting area.”

  “And the window?”

  “You’ll still be paying for that but he’s cleared it away with the landlord’s mother. You’re fortunate that Jenna had a good relationship with Mrs. Welch, and Corey knew her. She’s dropped all charges.”

  “I suppose so.” Jack rubbed his wrists and rose.

  “Just a word before you go.” He came back around and took a seat across from him. “I appreciate that you were looking to help but probably best you leave the investigative work to us. This is still an active case and you’re liable to land yourself in hot water if you continue to pry.”

  “I wasn’t aware the department was still involved. I thought it had been handed over to State Police and FBI.”

  Larson’s eyebrow arched. “We’re assisting them.”

  “To what extent?”

  “To the extent that it’s none of your business. Now, taking into consideration everything that’s occurred tonight, you’re fortunate that it’s worked out the way it has. A little advice; go visit one of the many state parks in the area, take in one of the scenic train rides, and enjoy some of the county’s food and wine, then move on. Leave the police work to us. Next time the department might not be as lenient.”

  Jack nodded slowly. He had no intentions of leaving. This wasn’t his first dance with the law and it wouldn’t be his last. If he shrank back every time he encountered resistance, he’d never make money in his line of work. So, he’d piss off a few locals and ride the razor’s edge of the law, that was just par for the course. At the end of the day he’d been paid good money, and he never walked away without giving due diligence. And with her brother in the loop, at least now he might be able to make some headway in finding out where Jenna might be.

  “Any questions?”

  Jack didn’t respond.

  “Right, let’s head out.”

  After retrieving his belongings from Larson, he was escorted down a corridor, through a set of doors out into a waiting area. There was a tall, broad-shouldered man standing with his back to them. He was admiring the different awards, and photos of baseball teams in a cabinet. Most of it was little leagues and different organizations that the police sponsored. Larson cleared his throat to get his attention.

  “He’s all yours, Mr. Whitmore.” He extended his hand. “I appreciate you coming by.” He turned back to Jack. “Remember what I said, okay?”

  Jack smiled but didn’t give him a response even though he looked as if he was waiting for one. Larson headed back into the heart of the station and left the two of them alone.

  “Mr. Winchester. Corey Whitmore.”

  Jack shook his hand. “Thank you for what you did tonight.”

  “Not at all. It was the least I could do under the circumstances. Would you be interested in getting a drink?”

  “Um. I…”

  Jack really just wanted to head back to the lodge and settle in for the night. He glanced up at the clock. It was just after half past nine. He couldn’t exactly say no after the guy had gone to bat for him, and besides, it would give him a chance to find out a little more about the town, the disappearances and more specifically Jenna.

  “Sure. I could use a drink.”

  Corey led the way, and he fell in step. They continued talking as they stepped outside. The rain had subsided, and the air smelled clean. Corey shot him a sideways glance. “My sister mentioned you were coming to help. I’m curious, I gather you have experience with these kinds of situations?”

  “By that you mean finding missing people?”

  He nodded, his features creasing.

  “I’ve assisted others in the past if that’s what you’re asking.”

  When they reached the edge of the curb, Jack looked around. “Where’s my vehicle?”

  “Around back. Though I can give you a lift to the bar. You hungry?”

  “Probably best I take mine.”

  “That’s fine. I was thinking of heading over to Ali’s Bar. It’s a local hangout just over on Highway 219. They do the best wings in town, and I don’t know about you but I’m starving. Just head down 8th Street and hang a right. You’ll see a BP gas station and Appalachian Sport. It’s smack bang in between those. You can’t miss it. There’s a sign outside of a woman—”

  “I know. I saw it.”

  “Right. Well, I’ll see you there.”

  He gave a short wave and headed off towards a black Ford truck. Jack pulled his jacket tighter as he started down the sidewalk at a fast pace. The sidewalk that evening was deserted. He circled around back to where there were several cruisers parked.

  A minute later, the engine roared to life, and he peeled away. Though there were a number of cars parked along the streets, for the most part, there were no signs of life in the town. It was typical. Stores closed early and the only a
reas that got any attention were the 7-Eleven, restaurants and bars. Most of the folks living in the area were either farmers or blue-collar workers. It was deathly quiet and easy to see how people could go missing. No one paid attention because they had no reason to be on the streets.

  Two blocks up 10th Avenue, Jack hung a left onto 8th Street and continued past the scene of the traffic accident. It was cleared up and they were no longer redirecting. It was a short five-minute drive to the mouth of the street. He crossed over 219 into the parking lot. About twenty feet back from the road, there was a one-story structure made from wood. It stood out with its brightly painted steel roof and a sickly neon sign that flickered like a mosquito trap. A handful of trucks and motorcycles were parked haphazardly in the lot. It certainly wasn’t the kind of bar he typically would have chosen to visit. Even Corey looked too clean-cut to be seen there. He was sure Larson had mentioned the words church leader.

  Though for a small town that had few options, it was clear to see how it would have appealed to locals, tourists and anyone that wasn’t critical about where they ate.

  A large sign with the name of the establishment hung above the buckled entranceway. It was stenciled in some ghastly looking neon red paint. It shimmered from the pot lights above it. At a glance, he figured whoever had been put in charge of the décor was either blind or perhaps the paint shop was out of regular colors. And yet on his way down from Chicago he’d seen similar dives, so perhaps it was common.

  Jack killed the engine, pushed out and crossed the parking lot and went inside. The interior wasn’t much better. It was dingy and the faint smell of mildewed wood and alcohol permeated the air. There was a large dance floor, three pool tables and a bar that stretched the full length of one side of the room. Behind the bar was a sign that read: Don’t mess with Marlinton. The owner had taken an outdoors theme with the place. Thick natural tree trunks acted as pillars throughout the interior. A large canoe was positioned precariously across the rafters, two chandeliers made from deer antlers dangled from the ceiling and the walls were covered in paddles, skiing equipment, netting, fishing tools and the typical metal signage of brands of beer.

  And old-fashioned jukebox flanked the rear exit, and a dozen tables were spread throughout. The floor was hardwood, covered in peanut shells and a thin layer of dust. Many of the chairs looked handmade.

  It wasn’t packed inside. At a rough headcount, there looked to be about twenty-two. Patrons thronged at the bar and tables while a group of guys crowded around a pool table. A couple of women danced provocatively on the dance floor trying to get the attention of the guys who were making comments to each other and laughing occasionally.

  He scanned the room looking for a place to sit. A hand shot up and Jack’s eyes darted across the room and spotted him. Corey was sitting in a booth holding a sweating Budweiser. He smiled as Jack took a seat across from him.

  “What can I get you?” he asked making a quick gesture to a pretty young waitress. She was wearing a small amount of makeup, and skinny jeans that showed off her tight body.

  “I’ll get it. I think you’ve done enough for me tonight.”

  “No, don’t be silly.”

  He shrugged. “Okay, a Bud then.”

  While he placed his order, Jack noticed how upbeat he was. For someone whose sister was missing, it struck him as a little odd. Unless of course, he didn’t think she was missing. He turned his gaze back to Jack.

  “So tell me about yourself, Jack. Where you from? What do you do?”

  “You sound like Larson.”

  He chuckled. “Sorry, just curious to know how my sister came across you.”

  “She was referred to me.”

  “Is that how people contact you?”

  “Not always. But it’s becoming quite common.”

  “So you’re good at what you do?”

  “I get paid well if that answers your question.”

  He narrowed his eyes and Jack decided to shift the attention back to him. “Larson said you work for a church. I have a friend out in L.A. that does the same. Though he would argue that he’s not religious.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Is that so?”

  The waitress returned and shifted over a crinkled beer mat and set the glass down. Some of the head rolled over the lip and formed a half-circle, soaking the mat.

  “Anything else I can get for you guys?” Jack noted the name tag on her shirt. Meghan. He gazed up at her, curious. He was about to ask her what her second name was when Corey interrupted.

  “Wings, Jack?” Corey asked.

  “Um. No, I’m good for now.”

  “Just me then, I guess. I’ll have ten barbecued wings. That’s it.” He folded up the menu and handed it back.

  Jack noticed Corey eye her ass as she ambled away. Religious or not, they were all the same. Given a chance he would have had her in bed at the first sign of interest.

  Corey clasped his hands in front of him and answered Jack’s question. “Yeah, I took a position as a leader several years back. It’s with New Hope in Green Bank. Always wanted to work in the ministry. Tim Mathers, the pastor, had a position open up, so I took it. I was already going there as a parishioner. It seemed like a good fit.”

  “Did Jenna attend?”

  He chuckled and took a swig from the bottle. “She did until all these women started going missing. Then she became obsessed with it. It took up a lot of her time.”

  “Obsessed?”

  “She lost her job working at the Pocahontas Times. They covered the disappearances but she took her interest in the case to a whole new level. I guess her boss thought she was spending a little too much time on it. An unhealthy amount of time, I believe, Jenna said.”

  “That’s too bad. And you haven’t seen her in…?” he probed.

  “In several weeks but I did speak to her the other night. That’s when I learned about you. She said you were going to help. Though I’m still not quite sure why.”

  “Why what?”

  “She said she was closing in on whoever was responsible.” Jack gave a confused expression, and then clarified. “My sister believed that they were murdered.”

  “Strikes me as a reasonable assumption.”

  “The toxicology report stated they died from drowning, likely related to a large amount of narcotics in their bodies. Mr. Winchester, I don’t know how much Jenna told you about these women or our town but they weren’t exactly clean women. They were known drug users and women of the street.”

  Jack pursed his lips. “I didn’t see many women on the street.”

  “I’m sure you know what I mean. Look around you. What do you see?”

  Jack surveyed the bar then returned to looking at him, allowing him to clarify further.

  “The two on the floor are prostitutes, the two behind the bar are as well.”

  “And you would know this because?”

  He smiled. “My sister, Mr. Winchester. She was quite vocal about what was going on, and her ideas about how they were doing it.”

  “They?” Jack asked.

  “They. One person. A figure of speech.”

  “So she believed they were targeted?”

  “Of course. Except anyone from around here knows that they aren’t picked up on the street. It’s all handled over the Internet via craigslist and backpage. Perhaps you’re familiar with the term escorts?”

  He paused as if trying to assess Jack’s moral compass.

  In an instant, Jack heard glass shatter. He jerked his head towards the bar, where a guy with long hair and tattoos appeared to be in a heated exchange with one of the bartenders. Jack eyed her with a concerned expression. Corey on the other hand glanced but then returned to the conversation.

  “As I was saying. My sister spoke with a number of these women. She visited the families of the dead. Heck, she showed more concern for their well-being than her own.”

  “So where do you think she’s gone?”

  He shrugged with a conce
rned expression. “That’s what I would like to know.”

  Jack chugged back on the beer until it was all gone. The first one always went down smooth. He could feel the alcohol kicking in and taking over. Jack shuffled out of his seat. “You want another?”

  Corey gazed at his bottle, examining how much was left. “Sure.”

  Jack headed over to the bar, threading his way through the crowd of people. Wedging himself between two guys, he raised a hand to the bartender who appeared to be taking flak from some rough-looking individual at the far end. She shot him a glance and was about to head over when the guy grabbed her wrist and raised his voice.

  “Bitch, don’t walk away from me while I’m talking to you.”

  “Get off, Aaron, you’re hurting me.”

  Jack noticed that no one was paying attention. There weren’t many sitting on bar stools, and those that were were watching some baseball game on the flat-screen above the bar. It was like they were oblivious to what was taking place or used to it. Was this a daily occurrence around here? He looked away for a second, watching the interaction in the reflection of the mirror across from him. Just stay put. Don’t do anything. You’ve stirred up enough trouble, he told himself.

  The woman struggled for a second or two, then grabbed the nearest glass full of beer and tossed it in his face. “I told you, I don’t work for you anymore.”

  The guy grabbed her by the back of the shirt and as she tried to pull away, he reared back his hand to slap her when Jack grabbed his wrist.

  Chapter 10

  “You don’t want to do that,” Jack said while tightening his grip. For a brief moment the guy stared back. Something in his expression, in the way he stared, seemed more than menacing — he was comfortable. There wasn’t any fear. He had the kind of look that was formed from time inside. Instead of resisting, he released his grip on the bartender and gave a wry smile. Jack waited a few more seconds before he let him go. The guy sneered, shot the girl a look of death and snatched up his bottle of beer before crossing the room towards the pool area. Three other men greeted him with questions and he just barged his way through them before taking a seat.