Pieces of January

by Ronald Paxton

  Bo smiled. “You just made my day.”

  A while later, he dressed quickly and sat back down on the bed.

  “You know, Missy, I always thought Melissa and I had a great relationship, but it turns out we didn’t have anything at all except for the sex. I’d like for things to be different with you and me. I know you need to work and take your appointments as you get them. That’s fine with me, but I hope there will be time for us to go out to supper, enjoy a movie, take my son-in-law’s boat out on the lake, and just do the things that couples do. I’m old enough to be your grandfather, so I understand if you’re not comfortable going out in public with me. You won’t hurt my feelings.”

  Missy took Bo’s hand and brought it to her lips. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for someone to say those words to me, someone who wants to spend time with Missy Hunt, the person? You’re a special person, Bo. I’d love to do all of those things with you. Age doesn’t matter to me. I’m twenty-six years old, not sixteen. That’s old enough for me to know and appreciate a good man when I see one.”

  He left a few minutes later. Things were moving fast with Missy, but it felt right, better than it had felt with Melissa when he had spent so much time worrying about the drugs and her lack of interest in anything outside of the bedroom. He was surprised at how little he missed her. The news had hit him hard at first, probably because he was already weak and vulnerable from the gunshot wound and the surgery to remove the tumor. Now she was little more than a memory fading a bit more each day.

  Bo headed out of the motel parking lot and then stopped. He made a tight U-turn and pulled up in front of the office. Bruce stood behind the desk.

  * * * *

  “Hey, Bo, I’m glad to see you. I didn’t want to bother you before, but I’d like to clear the stuff out of Melissa’s room and get it ready to rent again. Things are slow now, but my weekend business will start picking up next month. Anyway, I can let you in there, and you can take whatever you want of hers.”

  “I appreciate it, Bruce, but I don’t want any of her things. You’re welcome to do whatever you want with them. Listen, I want to thank you for keeping an eye on Missy. I figured she would be safer here than back at her trailer.”

  Bruce shrugged. “I’ve never had any serious trouble in all the years I’ve lived and worked here. God, I hope they get this guy soon. First Donna and then Melissa…it makes you wonder about people.”

  Bo nodded. “I also wanted to give you a heads up about a guy named Tommy Sale. Do you know him?”

  Bruce’s eyes widened. “Yeah, I know him. He talked me into buying some copies of his band’s CD to sell to my guests.” He pointed to a small display table next to the office door. “I’ve only got one copy left. I was planning to call Tommy in the next day or so to order ten more, along with some T-shirts. Why—what’s the problem? Is he in trouble?”

  Bo told him about the kidnapping and assault of Olivia, and their theory that he could be the person who had killed Donna and Melissa, as well as the other victims.

  “Jesus,” Bruce said. “He seemed like just a regular guy.”

  “If you see him, I want you to call me,” Bo said. “I don’t think he’ll be stupid enough to come back here, but you never know.”

  Bruce thanked Bo for the information and promised to call if he saw the Mama’s Biscuits drummer. Tommy Sale had quit the band and driven all the way to Nashville just to beat the crap out of a girl. It was hard to believe.

  He grabbed some large trash bags from the storage closet and locked the office door behind him. Clearing out Melissa’s room was going to take some time. Maybe he could sell some of her stuff on the Internet or even have a little garage sale here at the motel. A few extra dollars in January was always welcome.

  Chapter 30

  The house was quiet when Bo got home. He took a bottle of water from the refrigerator and sat down on the sofa in the living area. Callie had moved into the front bedroom on the main floor that shared an adjoining bath with Randi’s room. It was nice to have her around, even if only temporarily, since Randi now spent most of her nights with Anderson at the campground.

  Callie was at work now, and Krista was probably upstairs in her office. He could hear Randi explaining something to Monday in the third-floor classroom.

  Bo finished his water and thought about fixing some lunch. It was a little past noon, and he was hungry. He checked the pantry and then decided to wait until after he had patrolled the property. A late lunch, a light supper, and an early bedtime sounded like a good plan for the remainder of the day. Maybe he would play some Monopoly with Henry and Monday after supper if he wasn’t too tired.

  He grabbed Salem’s shotgun and a handful of shells from the closet. The candy wrapper he had found near the old boathouse had spooked him. It didn’t matter what Dodd had said to minimize the importance of the discovery. Someone had been on the property, probably the same person who had put a bullet in his back. Now Callie was staying at the house. Bo hadn’t said anything, but he was concerned Callie’s presence increased the risk for all of them. Salem and Callie had both received those crazy notes from the killer, and he had managed to survive the shooter’s first attempt on his life. Bo could envision the crazy bastard licking his chops over the opportunity to finish all three of them at the same time.

  Snow still covered the ground, but there had been no additional accumulation. Bo paid little attention to the footprints he saw as he worked his way around the house and across the yard. Callie had been out earlier, and there was only one set of tracks.

  The main boathouse was empty and secure. Bo surveyed the lake to make sure there were no boats in the area. It would be easy enough for the killer to obtain a small johnboat and a fishing rod if he was looking for a ruse to help him approach the house by water. He could secure the boat out of sight at one of the nearby docks. Hell, he could even tie it to a tree along the shoreline. Nobody would notice. It was still January.

  Bo released the safety on the shotgun as he approached the old boathouse at the back of the cove. He checked to see if a boat was tied up to any of the structure’s pilings or one of the small, but sturdy trees that somehow grew near the water’s edge. There were no signs of a trespasser.

  He made his way down the rough path and pulled out his keys to unlock the door. The only noise was the soft, gurgling ebb and flow of lake water against the bank. It reminded Bo of the sound Henry made when he drank from his water bowl.

  Callie already checked it this morning. There’s no need to do it twice in one day. Nobody’s in there.

  Bo whipped the door open and burst into the boathouse, moving fast and low with the barrel of the shotgun sweeping back and forth. It had been half a century since he completed his second tour in Vietnam, but some lessons lasted a lifetime.

  The boathouse was empty. Bo wiped the sweat from his hands and took a deep breath.

  He locked the door behind him and headed up the hill through the woods. The large oaks and pines provided excellent cover for someone to watch the house without being detected.

  The sight of Callie’s footprints made him smile. She had been thinking the same thing.

  He reached the road and turned left toward the driveway. Callie’s tracks told him she had checked the trees on the left-hand side of the drive leading up to the house. Bo stepped into the woods on the right and made his way slowly toward the house. He kept the barrel of the shotgun up and moving back and forth across his field of vision. Nothing stirred.

  Bo moved out of the trees and cracked open the gun. He removed the shells and walked across the yard and driveway to the side porch. Anderson’s truck was parked in front of the house.

  Something’s wrong. Everything was fine when I left the store this morning.

  They were sitting at the dining table. Krista had the baby in her lap, and Randi was sitting between Monday and Anderson. Everyone looked worried.

  Bo put away the shotgun and returned to the table. He sat down an
d looked at Anderson. “Tell me.”

  Anderson pulled a folded sheet of paper from his pocket and handed it to Bo. “Randi and I finally got our little hate note from the Committee killer. Jay found it taped to the trailer door when he got back from checking the homeless camp.”

  “What about Hannah or Raymond?” Bo asked. “Did they see anything?”

  “No such luck,” Anderson said. “Raymond was down the hill fishing, and Hannah was in the store room, unpacking a delivery.”

  Bo stared at the message. It was from the Book of Daniel 2:43. “‘And whereas thou sawest iron mixed with miry clay, they shall mingle themselves with the seed of men: but they shall not cleave one to another, even as iron is not mixed with clay.’ That’s Old Testament,” Bo said. “It sounds like the kind of hateful crap that’s right up Davis Lord’s alley.”

  “I don’t know,” Randi said. “Remember, he had a child out of wedlock with a black woman.”

  Bo nodded. “And based on the way Lord treats his daughter, I’d say he’s probably been beating himself up about it ever since. The fact that he committed the very sin Daniel warns against would only fuel his hatred toward interracial couples.”

  “I agree,” Anderson said. “That’s why Randi’s moving back into her room here until this is over. It’s safer than the campground.”

  “Anderson and Salem are going to check out the residences of Grace Hanes and Hal Morris tomorrow,” Krista said. “I found their addresses and pictures on the Internet.”

  Bo looked at Anderson. “You’ll need coverage at the store.”

  “Krista’s going to open for me. If Salem and I aren’t back in time, I’ll get Jay to close.”

  “That’s no good,” Bo said. “Krista’s busy with Monday and the baby during the morning.”

  “It’s no problem, Daddy,” Krista said. “Randi will look after Monday, and I’ll take Anderson with me to the store.”

  Bo shook his head. “Henry and I will open in the morning, Krista. You can close if Anderson doesn’t make it back in time.”

  “Sold,” Anderson said. “Thanks, Bo.”

  “That note makes me wonder if Tommy Sale is back in the picture,” Bo said.

  “Sale didn’t leave the note,” Anderson said. “The Tennessee cops found him in a no-tell motel on the outskirts of Nashville.”

  “What did Mr. Sale have to say?” Bo asked.

  Anderson frowned. “Not a thing. He’s dead. Sale decided to eat a bullet. Dodd said the cops told him it was messy.”

  “They’re sure it’s a suicide?” Bo asked.

  “Yeah, they’re sure. There was no sign of forced entry, no defensive wounds on the body, or any other forensic evidence to suggest it was a homicide. The medical examiner, detectives, and crime scene team are all in agreement about that.”

  “Well, at least we can check one person off our list,” Bo said.

  “I don’t know about that,” Anderson said. “He still could be our killer. Maybe he has a partner. I know Finn said the Committee was just one guy, but I wouldn’t trust Finn Watson to give me the correct time of day. Dodd’s combing through Sale’s phone and financial records. He’s looking for anything that ties him to the victims or our remaining suspects, including Finn Watson and Jack Fowler.”

  Bo nodded and got to his feet. “Thanks for the update, Anderson. I think I need a nap.”

  “You haven’t eaten lunch,” Krista said. “Let me fix you something.”

  Bo shook his head. “No thanks, sweetie. I’ve lost my appetite.”

  * * * *

  Jack Fowler cut another slice of red velvet cake and fed it to Amy with his fingers. He had picked up the cake at Carson’s on the way home from work. It was his girlfriend’s favorite.

  Amy sat at the kitchen table, wearing a pair of red panties and nothing else. She had just finished a webcam show. “God, I’m starving, Jack. Thank you for the cake.”

  Fowler nodded, too excited by the sight of an enormous woman eating an entire cake for supper to speak. Frosting coated her full lips. He leaned across the table and licked them clean.

  “How was work today?”

  He watched Amy swallow more cake. Her cheeks bulged as she chewed. A fine sheen of perspiration coated her forehead. She was the hottest woman he’d ever known.

  “The regulatory people are all over me about Melissa Wright’s murder. They’re coming next week to go over our books and operational procedures. If they don’t like what they see, there will be consequences.”

  Amy stopped eating. “What kind of consequences?”

  “Probably a fine and a requirement that we respond in writing with a detailed plan to correct any material inadequacies they discover. The worst-case scenario would be a one-year renewal of Passages’ operating license contingent upon substantial improvement in the areas they consider deficient. If we fail to bring things up to standard by the end of that period, Passages will probably be forced out of business.”

  Amy nodded and ate more cake. Fowler watched her jaw work. His pulse thundered.

  “I like your eye shadow.”

  She finished chewing and got up from the table. Without a word, she stepped out of her panties and faced him.

  Fowler was on her like a starving animal, squeezing, grunting, licking, and swearing. When he was finished, she sat down again and resumed eating.

  “You need a diversion, baby, something to take your mind off all this.”

  He re-buckled his belt and joined her at the table. There were only two slices of cake remaining. “I’d like to kill someone. I think it would be cathartic, like being spiritually cleansed and reborn. It would need to be someone who doesn’t deserve to live.”

  Amy nodded in agreement as she ate. “That sounds like a good stress reliever. We should kill that bitch nurse. What was her name?”

  “Grace Hanes,” Fowler said. “Yes, that would certainly relieve my stress, but it’s too dangerous with the regulators coming to visit. Passages can’t afford another murder on the premises. I would lose my job.” He thought for a moment. “Her mother has an apartment in the assisted living building. That’s the only reason Hanes is working here in the first place. She hates her job. Once the old lady is dead, Hanes will leave.”

  “Let’s kill her, Jack. She’s already old. We’ll be doing her a favor.”

  Fowler nodded. “We’ll need to come up with a plan.” He stared at Amy. The cake frosting sparkled on her lips. “You’ll need your strength. Finish the cake.”

  Fowler watched as she grabbed the remaining slices with her hands and stuffed them in her mouth. He waited until Amy had finished chewing before he pulled her down on the kitchen floor and satisfied his own hunger.

  Chapter 31

  Bo was already behind the front register when Salem and Anderson walked into the store. Henry was beside the door, waiting for the first customers of the day.

  “You’re early,” Anderson said. “I like that in my employees. You’ve got a bright future with this company, young man.”

  “Golly, thanks, Mr. Anderson. I’ll keep my nose to the grindstone.”

  Anderson laughed. “I appreciate this, Bo. You can call Jay or Krista if you need backup.”

  Bo waved him off. “I’ve already run the reports and counted the till. Henry and I are ready for business.”

  “That sounds good,” Anderson said. “Erin and Nina should be in soon. Salem and I just stopped by for some coffee.”

  Anderson headed back to the office where the coffee pot was located. Bo came around the counter and joined his son-in-law. Salem sat on the floor with Henry in his lap. The Yorkie’s eyes were closed.

  “You’re putting my greeter to sleep.”

  “It’s your fault,” Salem said. “You should have given him a cup of coffee and some donuts.”

  Bo cleared his throat. “Anderson thinks Randi will be safer at the house. I think it’s more dangerous for all of us with Callie and Randi staying over. The killer has us all in one place. I
’m not complaining. I just wanted you to know my opinion.”

  Salem nodded. “I agree. I also think you’re the most vulnerable. The first floor is the easiest to access from outside, and you’re down there alone. I wish you’d move to the third floor until this is over.”

  “I’m keeping my shotgun and ammunition in the bedroom,” Bo said. “Besides, you can’t leave the first floor vacant. That would be an open invitation for the shooter. You need someone to deter this guy, even if it’s just an old man with a shotgun.”

  Salem sighed. “Let’s at least move your bed across the room away from the windows. Right now, you’re a sitting duck when you’re asleep. I’ll help you as soon as I get home.”

  “All right,” Bo said. “So, I guess you and Anderson have a plan for today.”

  “Yeah, more or less,” Salem said. “We’re taking the same approach we used with Davis Lord. Anderson is going to hit Morris’s house. It should be vacant, assuming he’s still in the program at Passages. I’ll watch the Hanes place. I don’t know her schedule today, so we’ll have to play it by ear. If I can’t get in today, I’ll try again tomorrow.”

  Anderson returned with two thermoses of coffee and a box of sweet tarts. He paid Bo for the tarts. Salem gently lifted Henry from his lap and stood.

  “Good luck,” Bo said. He glanced at the clock and looked at Henry. “We don’t open for another fifteen minutes. Do you want to get an early start?”

  Henry flicked his ears and scurried over to the door.

  “That’s the spirit, Henry.”

  Bo hit the lights and flipped the old-fashioned Closed sign on the door to Open.

  Carson’s General Store was ready to receive its first customer of the day. Bo just hoped it wouldn’t be a madman with a gun in his hands.

  * * * *

  Coordinating the search of the two residences wasn’t going to be easy. Grace Hanes lived in an upscale apartment community on the western shoreline less than ten minutes away from Passages. Hal Morris lived on the opposite side of the lake in a small brick rancher similar to Davis Lord’s home. If something happened and Salem needed backup, it would take Anderson close to thirty minutes to get to him.