by Tripp Ellis
Her face tensed. "Let's pray a tragedy like that never happens."
She moved on, smiled, and shook someone else's hand. That was the end of our conversation.
JD muttered in my ear, "I'm beginning not to like her."
"I'm gonna keep digging," Denise said. “There's something shady about the whole thing."
"You're telling me,” JD said.
We hung out until the free drinks ended, then the three of us decided to hit Oyster Avenue. Since we were dressed up, we ended up at Keys—an upscale piano bar. There were lots of diamond necklaces, slinky evening gowns, and spike-heeled shoes. We fit right in.
We grabbed a drink from the bar.
The murmur of chatter mixed with smooth jazz.
My phone buzzed with a call from Sheriff Daniels. "We found the silver sedan."
"Where?"
"Mendoza spotted it at the Mega Mart. He happened to be cruising through, and it caught his eye. The shooters must have dumped it there and gotten into another vehicle. It had April McGee’s plates on it. Forensics is dusting the car for prints now, and Mendoza is trying to get security footage of the lot. They found 9mm shell casings in the passenger seat. It's looking like this is definitely the car that did the drive-by on Chuck. Hopefully, we can pull a print from the shell casings."
“That’s great news.”
"I didn’t have time to speak with you at the charity event. I saw you talking to Stella Turner. What was that about?"
"Just a friendly conversation."
"I don't think she thought it was too friendly. She told me she didn't like being harassed by my deputies about the way she prosecutes cases."
"I didn't harass her. I just asked questions.”
"Try not to ruffle too many feathers. We're on the same team."
"Have you looked into her Forward Fund?"
"No. I attend her fundraisers, and I write a check every year. That's it."
"Maybe you should do a little more research. I know I am."
"If you think she's doing something inappropriate, get proof. Otherwise, keep your damn mouth shut."
I bit my tongue. “You got it, boss."
He hated it when I called him that.
I ended the call and slipped the phone back into my pocket. I griped to my compatriots, “Daniels says don’t rock the boat.”
JD scoffed. “That’s what we do best.”
“We’ll just keep this investigation between us,” Denise said with a smile.
She lifted her glass, and we clinked.
A table opened up nearby, and we grabbed it. A busboy came by a moment later, cleared the empty drinks, and wiped the table down. We lounged around, listening to the piano player tickle the ivories, accompanied by a jazz trumpet player.
An idea popped into my head. Maybe it was the jazz. Maybe the whiskey. But the neurons were firing. I sent a text to Paris Delaney. This kind of thing was right up her alley. She could stir up trouble, and it wouldn’t blow back on us. [What do you know about the Forward Fund?]
37
[Oh, so you want to talk to me now?] Paris texted back.
[I talk to you all the time.]
She responded with an eye-roll emoji.
[Just thought it might be something you’d be interested in.]
[No comment. That’s all you ever say now.]
[Not true. I gave you plenty of details about Deputy Atwood.]
[Whatever.]
[Do you want a scoop, or not?]
I waited for her to respond.
[I don’t know if I’d call it a scoop when you're asking me for information. Do you have anything juicy?]
I excused myself from the table, stepped outside where it was quieter, and dialed her number. I didn’t want to put my thoughts in writing, especially when speaking about a state attorney. No telling where a screengrab might turn up or who else might see it.
“Oh, a phone call,” Paris said with surprise. “I’m honored.”
“Are you recording this call?”
“No.”
“You should look into the non-prosecution and deferred-prosecution agreements being made,” I said. “See where the funds are going and how they are being used.”
“Are you alleging corruption?”
“I’m not alleging anything. I’m just suggesting that you do what you do best.”
“Careful, Deputy Wild. That almost sounds like a compliment.”
“I acknowledge talent when I see it.”
“You know I have other talents,” she said in a seductive voice.
“I’m aware.”
“Maybe we should grab a drink and discuss this further.”
“Can’t right now.”
“What could possibly be more enticing than a deep, intellectual conversation about public corruption?” she teased.
“I’m out with friends.”
“Ditch them.”
“Tempting.”
“Don’t you want to work out all those pent-up frustrations? You can go back to hating me in the morning.”
I chuckled.
“Shit, hang on.” She clicked to the other line, then clicked back a moment later. “Sorry. Gotta run. Major car crash.”
“Never let a tragedy go to waste,” I snarked.
“We’ll resume this discussion later,” she said before hanging up.
I stepped back inside and returned to our table. I was met with curious eyes.
"What was that about?" JD asked.
"I put a little bug in Paris’s ear about Stella Turner."
JD smirked. "Not a bad idea. That girl loves to look for trouble."
"Be careful, Tyson. You make a deal with the devil, you might get burned."
We had another drink, then called it an early night. Denise had an early shift. She drove us back to the marina and dropped me off first.
I said my goodbyes, and Denise took JD home.
The boats swayed in their slips as I strolled down the dock. I got a call from Sadie along the way. “Hey, what are you doing?"
"Just getting home."
"I may need you to return the favor."
"What favor?"
"I might need to borrow your bass player."
My brow knitted. "Why? What happened?"
"Faye is no longer in the band."
"What!?"
"We kicked her out."
"Why?"
"Because she hooked up with Katie's boyfriend."
My jaw dropped, and my eyes widened. "Seriously?"
"Seriously."
"When did this happen?"
“Apparently when she and Crash were split."
"Does Crash know about this yet?"
"I don't know. I haven't told him. I'll leave that up to your discretion."
I cringed. I did not want to get in the middle of this drama. I took a deep breath, and my head fell into my hands as I thought about the scenario. "Are you sure they hooked up?"
"Hey, I wasn't there. I didn't see it. I guess Katie and her boyfriend got into a fight, and the truth came out. He admitted it to her. Then Katie confronted Faye. This all went down before we were supposed to go on stage. The two of them went at each other in the green room, and we had to pull them apart."
"What did you guys do about the show?"
"Lexi and I went on stage and played an acoustic set. Katie refused to play with Faye, and they both stormed off.”
"That sucks."
"You’re telling me.”
"What are you going to do?"
"Try to find a replacement ASAP. But as you know, that's no easy task.” She sighed. “You guys got lucky things didn't implode with Faye."
"They, kind of, did. And I'm not sure we’re clear of the fallout yet," I said.
I crossed the passerelle to the aft deck and pulled open the sliding door. Buddy bounced and barked, and I knelt down and petted him while I talked on the phone.
"I'm not trying to make this a regular thing, but are you up for a late-night visit?"
"I believe I can accommodate that request."
"Good, I need to work out some stress."
I chuckled. "You know where to find me."
I ended the call and headed up to my stateroom. I peeled out of the tux and put on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. I grabbed Buddy's leash and took him out for a quick walk.
Sadie showed up as I was heading back toward the boat. She hopped out of her SUV and sauntered toward me, looking like the alternative rock goddess that she was—white cut-up T-shirt, black lacy bra, black miniskirt, fishnet stockings, Dr. Martens.
“Oh, my gawd!” she groaned. “What a night.”
She flung her arms around me and planted a juicy kiss on my lips. “Make it all better, Daddy.”
I was certainly going to try.
38
I woke up in the morning with the punk rock vixen naked beside me. Not a bad way to wake up. We spent the morning rolling around the sheets, working out every last bit of stress. We took a shower and worked out a little more amid the steamy water.
Afterward, we toweled off, got dressed, and made our way down to the galley, where I fixed breakfast. We sat at the settee, chowing down on ham and cheese omelettes.
"I saw the bass in your room. Crash says you're actually pretty good."
"I'm just noodling around for fun."
"You might be able to solve our bass player problem."
I gave her a suspicious glance. "How so?"
"Want to be the only dude in an all-girl band?"
I laughed. "I'm not on that level."
"You might surprise yourself."
"Crash is a much better player than I am. Ask him.”
"I don't know if he's gonna want to sit in with our band after everything that’s happened.”
I shrugged.
“The songs are pretty simple. I bet you could pick them up quickly. It would just be temporary until we found a permanent replacement."
"You can't really be serious?"
"I'm dead serious. Do you know how hard it is to find a talented, reliable bass player that’s not a drug addict?”
“Trust me, I know.”
"Plus, you’re kinda hot.” She smiled. “You’ll draw in more female fans and expand our base. I only have one rule. Not that I’m trying to place restrictions on you or anything, but I'm the only babe in the band you can bang. Deal?"
"I’ll think about it."
“You’ll think about whether you can refrain from screwing my bandmates? Or, you’ll think about the gig?”
“Your bandmates are pretty hot.”
She smirked. “They are. How will you ever manage?” she snarked.
“So far, the lead singer is keeping me occupied.”
“Don't think about it too long. We’ve got a show next week, and we need to practice."
"You haven't heard me play."
“If Crash says you're pretty good, you're pretty good. Plus, I have a feeling about you. There's untapped potential there," she said with a naughty grin.
“There are too many things to go wrong with this scenario," I said.
"What's to go wrong? I can keep my personal feelings in check if you can. Business is business. Pleasure is pleasure."
"It seems like your drummer couldn't separate business from personal."
“You’re not screwing my drummer. You’re screwing me. And after the temper tantrum she threw last night, I might be looking for a new drummer too. Don’t get me wrong, I like Katie, she's fantastic. What Faye did was inexcusable. I just wish Katie would have confronted her after the show instead of before."
"Matters of the heart are often hard to control."
"I understand. I'm just saying…"
“Call Crash. Ask him to sit in."
"I'm not gonna be the one to call him up and explain the reason why we fired Faye."
I groaned. "I really don't want to be the bearer of bad news in this situation."
"Somebody needs to tell him."
"It's gonna devastate him.”
Sadie frowned.
"I'll call him after a while,” I said. “I need time to plan this out."
“He might already know. Maybe Faye came clean with him."
My phone buzzed with a call from Denise. I swiped the screen and put the phone to my ear.
"I got some interesting news," she said. “Before I get to the good stuff… Cameron Hartsell was arrested last night for DUI. He totaled another car.”
“That must have been the story Paris was chasing. Maybe this one will stick.”
“Let’s hope so.”
“Ok, give me the good stuff.”
“Marshall Noonan's DNA did not match the fetus in the Skyler Locke case. However, we got a hit on an unsolved rape case up in Pineapple Bay. It was a positive match for Noonan. Looks like he's going back to the can for a long time."
A satisfied smirk curled my lips. "Well, what do you know?"
“There's more… We don’t have Randy Murdoch’s DNA analysis back yet, but I can tell you he’s not going to match.”
My brow crinkled. "Why do you say that?"
“According to Brenda, there are matching strands that could only come from a family relation.”
That hung there for a second.
My stomach twisted. "You mean…" I didn't even want to say it out loud.
"Yup. There's only one person that could be the father of that baby. Daniels is working on getting a warrant now. He wants you and JD to get down to the station. Take Erickson and Faulkner, and bring that guy in."
"With pleasure."
39
There was no need to break down Paul Locke’s door. No need to storm his house with tactical gear and assault rifles. With his bad hip, Paul was in no condition to put up a fight.
I knocked on the door, and he answered a few minutes later. Concern twisted his face when he saw Erickson and Faulkner standing behind us. Uniformed deputies often have that effect.
"What can I do for you, gentlemen?" he asked with an air of trepidation.
"You're under arrest for sexual battery,” I said.
His face crinkled. "What!?"
“Turn around and put your hands behind your head.”
“You’ve made some kind of mistake.”
“No mistake.”
He scowled but complied.
JD slapped the cuffs around his wrists, and Faulkner and Erickson escorted him down the walkway to the patrol car. Paul hobbled along, still stunned.
I read him his rights. “You have the right to remain silent…"
We interviewed him after he was processed and printed. The sexual battery charge would be a slam dunk once we had acquired his DNA. The murder charge might prove a little more difficult. It would be best to extract a confession.
Paul sat in the interrogation room with a tense look on his face.
JD and I took a seat across the table from him. I shook my head in utter dismay. "I just don't understand how a person could do such a thing. Please explain it to me. You know, on second thought, I don't think I want to know what you were thinking."
Paul said nothing.
“I’ve got a court order that says I can take a sample of your DNA. So there’s no sense in arguing.”
Worry tensed his face.
“You found out Skyler was pregnant. She was about to tell Deborah what you had been doing to her all those years. That would have destroyed you. You had to get rid of her. You figured you could blame it on the boyfriend or the guy she was having an affair with or a random serial killer. You either bought the barrel from Randy Murdock, or you stole it from the warehouse."
Paul remained silent.
"It doesn't really matter if you confess or not,” I said, hoping for a little reverse psychology. “A first-degree felony sexual battery charge against a minor will be enough to put you away for the rest of your life. Might as well admit to the murder."
"I want to speak with an attorney."
"Sure thing. But an attorne
y isn’t gonna help you.” I opened the DNA collection kit, snapped on nitrile gloves, and pulled out the swab. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way. But I will get the sample."
Paul's face tensed.
He eventually complied, and we dropped the sample off at the lab. Paul was transferred to the housing pod. He'd be arraigned in the morning. The sexual battery charge was compounded by the fact he was a family member in custodial care. I wasn't sure if prosecutors would bring the murder charge just yet or wait until we had more evidence.
JD and I sat in the conference room, filling out after-action reports. There was no great sense of satisfaction. I was glad to have arrested Paul, but it didn't change the fact that something horrible had occurred all those years ago, and that uneasy feeling still lingered in the air.
I called Deborah and gave her the news.
She broke down into sobs. "Are you sure about this?"
"We'll have confirmation when the DNA comes back. But it’s a foregone conclusion at this point. Do you remember anything odd about Paul’s behavior the day of her disappearance?"
"He was worried at the time. At least, it appeared that way. I mistook his guilt and nervousness for concern.” She was silent a moment, then suddenly gasped. "I remember he drove a pickup at the time. And now that I think about it, there was a steel drum in the back of his pickup that afternoon. It had been in the garage for a long time, and he said he was going to sell it to a friend who wanted to turn it into a barbecue pit. Oh, dear Lord! Please don't tell me Skyler was in that barrel."
I hated to tell her it was a distinct possibility. Paul had killed the girl in the afternoon when she came home from school. He stuffed her into the barrel and waited until he had a chance to dispose of it.
We chatted more, and I did my best to comfort her. Deborah agreed to testify against Paul should the need arise.
“Thank you for discovering the truth, as difficult as it is to hear,” she said.
“You’re welcome, Mrs. Locke. I wish things could have been different for Skyler.”
“Me too, Deputy. Me too.”
I ended the call and frowned.
“Don’t take it so hard,” JD said. “We got that scumbag.”
“I know.”
We wrapped up at the station and headed over to Totally Tubular to grab a bite to eat. It was a surf-themed bar with boards hanging from the ceiling and pictures of big waves.