The muddy tracks Mrs. Zellers complained about were grayish white against the old dark wood flooring. Salt. Not mud. But they did offer a little more to work with. Several distinct tread patterns were evident. He excused himself to go back to his SUV for the camera and his fingerprint kit. If he was lucky, he might get something more than a smudge from the doorknob.
As he trudged through the sloppy parking lot, his mind drifted back to the meeting with Rose, Sylvia, and Allison. Two frantic women and a girl, who had already lost a husband, a son, and a dad, were now forced to report a missing teenager.
Logan was seventeen. Pete suspected any other kid that age would be hanging out with friends, oblivious of his parents’ concerns, trusting in his own immortality. But Logan wasn’t any other teen. He’d just buried his father. And the prime suspect in that case had turned up dead the same night the kid disappeared.
Pete opened the back of the SUV and pulled out the canvas bag with the bulging pockets. Then he slammed the door and lugged the bag back to the store.
He’d asked them all the standard-issue missing-person questions. He knew what the kid was wearing the last time Rose had seen him—blue plaid flannel shirt, jeans, blue and white Blue Demons high school jacket, winter boots. He knew the car Logan was driving—his mom’s silver Ford Taurus. The three women—grandmother, mother, and sister—had provided him with a list of friends and hang-outs.
While he’d let the Bassi women believe he’d pay special attention to the case because of his friendship with Sylvia, in truth, he feared he might be looking for a killer.
Mrs. Zellers hovered nearby as Pete dusted for prints. He held little hope he’d find anything clear enough to prove useful. He photographed the salty tread marks. Nothing noteworthy about them. Work boots would be his guess. About a size ten and a half or eleven.
“Try to do an inventory of your stock, and get back to me if you find anything missing,” Pete told her as he packed the camera in his bag.
“Of course.”
“And…” He pointed at the lock. “Get that changed. Now.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, Chief.”
He tossed his bag in the back of the SUV and climbed behind the wheel. His full attention returned to Logan Bassi, and he shuffled through the notes he’d taken an hour ago. He had damned little time. He needed to find the boy before Baronick caught wind of the disappearance. Once that happened, Logan would be assigned the official role of murder suspect instead of missing person. Sylvia and Rose would go on the defensive and clam up. And a seventeen-year-old kid would become the center of a Monongahela County Police Department manhunt.
Pete hated the thought of being the one to arrest Logan. Sylvia would despise Pete until her dying breath. But the kid stood a better chance with someone who knew him than with one of those county boys.
Maybe Logan wasn’t guilty. But then why the hell was he running? Or was he? Were Rose’s fears plausible? Had something happened to him, too? Pete had a gnawing sensation in his gut that either way, this would not turn out well for any of the Bassi family.
Zoe parked in front of the Bassi house. Rose’s car—the one Logan had borrowed—wasn’t there. Crap. She punched his number into her cell phone, but the call went straight to voicemail. What teenaged kid turns his cell phone off?
Sylvia answered the door. Dark bags draped beneath her bloodshot eyes. Deep creases etched her forehead. She’d aged ten years in the last twenty-four hours.
“Have you heard anything?” Zoe tossed her coat over the back of a kitchen chair.
“Nothing. Rose is out of her mind. I don’t think she’s slept in a week.” Sylvia led the way to the living room. “And on top of everything else, Allison is sick.”
“Sick?”
“She’s come down with the bug Rose’s mom had earlier in the week. Poor kid’s been locked in the bathroom throwing up for almost an hour.”
Zoe glanced around the empty room. “Where’s Rose?”
“Here.” She appeared in the hallway, looking even more haggard than she had a few hours earlier. “I was making some phone calls. No one’s seen or heard from Logan.”
Zoe crossed the room and enfolded her friend in a hug.
Rose shrank against her. Then she pulled away. “This can’t be real. None of it.” She shuffled to the couch and collapsed onto it.
Zoe sat next to her, and took one of her hands in both of hers. “What did Pete say?”
Sylvia settled into one of the armchairs flanking the couch. “He gave us a speech about teenagers and how they lose track of time.”
“And he said Logan’s too old for an Amber Alert,” Rose said.
“But he took all the information and is going to look for him.”
Zoe understood what Pete was up to even if Rose and Sylvia were too distracted or too unwilling to face it. Logan was a suspect in McBirney’s death. Pete would use the missing kid angle to look for him without alerting anyone else. Especially that Detective Baronick guy.
“So did you get a chance to watch them cut Jerry McBirney’s heart out?” A hint of Sylvia’s old sparkle glimmered in her eyes.
“I was too late.”
“What a shame.”
Rose made a face. “I can’t imagine watching something like that anyway.”
As if to punctuate the sentiment, the unmistakable sound of retching drifted from the back hallway.
“Poor Allison.” Sylvia shook her head.
Someone pounded on the door, and all three women jumped.
Rose’s shoulders sagged. “It’s not Logan. He wouldn’t knock.”
“I’ll get it.” Zoe beat Sylvia to her feet and headed for the kitchen. She peeked through the curtain and feared she might join Allison cuddling up to the toilet.
Detective Wayne Baronick.
Zoe hesitated. She should warn the others. Don’t mention Logan’s missing. On the other hand, if the detective already knew, he’d find their evasion highly suspicious. But did they really want the entire county police force looking for a frightened kid? A police force that not only didn’t know and care about Logan, but who believed him capable of murder?
Baronick pounded again. “Mrs. Bassi, it’s the police. Please open the door.”
“The police?” Rose staggered to her feet.
“I don’t recognize the voice,” Sylvia said. “It’s not any of our boys.”
“It’s Detective Baronick,” Zoe mouthed. Then she swung the door open, but stood blocking the entrance. “Hello, Detective.”
He eyed her. “Zoe, isn’t it?”
She suspected he knew very well who she was. “This isn’t a good time.”
“I promise to be brief.” He stood his ground, grinning at her.
Maybe he’d catch what Allison had.
Zoe stepped aside, letting the detective enter. She followed him into the living room. Over his shoulder, she made a zip-the-lips motion at the two women. If only they were psychic and could read her thoughts.
“Have you found my son?” Rose blurted.
Crap.
Zoe circled around the detective to stand between Rose and Sylvia. Baronick’s face was frozen in that toothy smile. His version of a poker face, Zoe imagined.
“Your son’s missing?”
Zoe caught both women’s hands and gave them a wrenching squeeze. If they’d been sitting at a table, she’d have kicked them in the shins.
Sylvia winced and eyed her. Zoe gave a slight head shake.
“Didn’t Chief Adams let you know? Logan’s been missing since yesterday afternoon,” Rose said.
“Really?” Baronick dragged the word out.
Zoe pictured a python being thrown a rat.
“And Chief Adams knows about this?”
“We spoke to him earli
er,” Rose said.
Zoe cleared her throat. “But the chief doesn’t believe he’s missing so much as he’s being a typical teen. Probably having a grand time with his buddies and forgot to call home.”
She met Sylvia’s gaze. The older woman’s eyes had narrowed, her jaw clenched.
Bingo. She got it.
“I’m sure that’s all it is. He’s with a friend,” Sylvia said, her voice as smooth and rich as bourbon.
Rose shot her a look.
“He’ll be home before long. I’m certain of it,” Sylvia told the detective.
“You think so? Well, that’s good.” His eyes shifted to each of them. “Actually I was hoping to have a chance to speak with Rose about a few things. Alone. But since you have company, maybe we can meet another time.”
“Oh, that’s not a problem,” Zoe chimed in. Let him stay there and chat up Rose a while. Zoe wanted to get a head start on finding Logan anyhow. Giving Sylvia’s hand a gentle pat, she said, “We were just leaving.”
“We were?” Sylvia said.
“You just got here.” Rose’s mouth and brow were pressed into a dazed frown.
“I’ll stop by later.” Zoe released Sylvia’s hand and pulled Rose into a hug. “Walk us to the door?”
Baronick wasn’t smiling any more. He scowled as he watched the interaction between the women. “While I’m in the area, I’d like to make time to speak with both of you, too. Is there a time I could stop by your homes that would be convenient?”
Sylvia puffed up her ample bosom. “I’m heading home now to take care of a few things. Two doors down, but I’m sure you know that.”
“Yes, ma’am, I do.”
“Then stop in when you’re done here.”
Zoe wondered if Baronick knew that Sylvia’s purse should be registered as a lethal weapon.
“Thank you.” The smile was back. “I’ll do that.”
Zoe tugged both Sylvia and Rose into the kitchen with her.
“What’s wrong with you two?” Rose said in a ragged whisper as they pulled on their coats.
Zoe put her arms around her and spoke into her ear. “He thinks Logan’s disappearance makes him look guilty of McBirney’s murder.”
“What? That’s absurd.”
Sylvia shushed her and joined in a group hug. “Just don’t say anything. He’s working on a murder case. Two murder cases. His only interest in Logan is as a suspect.”
They pulled apart and made a silent pact with their eyes.
“Call me if you need anything,” Sylvia said.
“I’ll stop by later.” Zoe patted Rose’s arm.
“Um. Excuse me,” Baronick called from the living room. “Zoe, you didn’t tell me when would be a good time for us to talk. I’ve been looking forward to getting to know you better.”
His smile brought back the python image to Zoe. Only now, she was the rat.
TWENTY-ONE
Pete was having no luck. He’d been to the high school. Logan Bassi was on the excused absentee list, but Pete had them check anyway. The school secretary looked up the boy’s class schedule and sent a student office-helper—a bored-looking girl with pink hair and a pierced lip—to confirm his absence.
As expected, he wasn’t there.
Pete left his card in case anyone spotted Logan.
The sky had turned a deep steely gray, and a few snowflakes drifted through the air with the promise of more. The temperature had climbed into the low thirties, but that only set the stage for another snowstorm.
Pete checked his notes and pulled out of the school’s parking lot. He made stops at the homes of several of Logan’s friends. No one claimed to have seen him since the funeral. And none of them led Pete to believe they were lying.
Zoe’s hand rested on the doorknob of Rose’s kitchen door. So close to freedom, and yet she felt trapped. Baronick had only learned of Logan’s disappearance minutes ago—thanks to Rose and Sylvia and their big mouths—and he hadn’t placed any phone calls since he’d arrived, so Zoe still had a shot of tracking the kid down before all hell broke loose. If she could only escape the detective’s questions.
“I have a busy day ahead,” she said.
Baronick’s smile vanished. “I do need to speak with you about a few things, and it’d be better to take care of this sooner than later.”
“Are you placing me under arrest?”
“What?” He scoffed. “No. Of course not.”
“Then if I’m not under arrest, you can’t detain me.”
The smile crept back onto his face. “I don’t want to arrest or detain you. I just want to chat. Why make it difficult? I could sure use your cooperation.” His gaze shifted to Rose and to Sylvia. “All of you. We all want the same thing, after all. To find out who killed Jerry McBirney.”
“Not really,” Sylvia muttered under her breath.
Zoe snorted.
“What was that?” Baronick said. “I didn’t hear you.”
“I said Zoe has to go to work.” Sylvia’s voice rang out.
“I’m aware that she’s on duty tonight. But not until four o’clock,” Baronick said.
A chill snaked its way down her spine. The detective knew her schedule. That couldn’t be good. “Um, yes, but I also manage the farm where I live. I have work to do there before my shift begins.”
“Fine. Then let’s talk right now, so you can be on your way. Is there somewhere I can buy you a cup of coffee?”
“In Dillard? No.”
The detective glared at her. “There’s coffee at the police station. We could go there.”
Sylvia cleared her throat. “You said she wasn’t under arrest.”
“She’s not.”
But if Sylvia built up her usual head of steam, Zoe feared they might all end up at the station. “Okay, just wait a minute. If you’re that intent on talking to me right now, we can sit in my truck. You won’t even have to spring for coffee.”
He nodded. “That’ll do.” He turned his attention to Sylvia and Rose. “Ladies, I’m sure you can find something to occupy your time. I’ll get to you both shortly.”
“You know where to find me,” Sylvia said. Without giving the detective a chance to argue, she snatched her purse from the chair where she’d left it, and pressed past Zoe, out the door.
Rose’s eyes appeared glazed. Too little sleep and too much stress had left her bewildered.
Zoe took her hands. “Go check on Allison. Make sure she’s okay.”
Rose gave a quick nod, glanced at Baronick, and headed for the hall.
“Allison? The daughter? She’s here?”
“She’s in the bathroom, throwing up. She caught the flu from her other grandmother. Very contagious.” Zoe faked a big smile. “I hope you’ve had your flu shot, Detective.”
From the look on his face, she guessed not.
Baronick followed her down the snow-covered sidewalk to her truck and slid into the passenger seat without further invitation. She climbed behind the wheel and turned the key to get the heater running.
“How well did you know Jerry McBirney?” Baronick opened his notebook.
Too well. “I’ve lived in Vance Township all my life. So did he.”
“Did you get along with him?”
“No one did.”
“So you didn’t like the man?”
She took a breath. “Do I need an attorney?”
Baronick shrugged. “I don’t know. Do you?”
The python-and-rat thing came back to her.
“Let’s try something else. Do you have any idea who might have wanted him dead?”
“Probably lots of people. I told you no one liked him.” Zoe wondered at what point she was incriminating herself. Logan. Rose and Sylvia. “You shou
ld pick up a copy of the minutes from the supervisors’ meetings. He wasn’t what you might call ‘popular’ with his constituents.”
Baronick made a note. “That’s a very good idea. I’ll do that. Thanks for the help.”
Zoe relaxed. Maybe she really could steer the investigation somewhere—anywhere—other than Logan’s direction.
“When was the last time you saw Mr. McBirney?”
Tension bit into her shoulders again. “Um. He came to my barn yesterday afternoon.”
“Your barn?”
“The one I manage.”
He grinned at her. “The one I’m keeping you from. Sorry.”
What was with this guy? Good cop, bad cop all rolled into one?
“Can you remember what time he was there?”
“About one-thirty.”
“And how long did he stay?”
Too long. “Fifteen, twenty minutes maybe.”
“Really?” He sounded amazed. “What was he doing there? Did you invite him?”
“No. He just showed up.” Tread lightly. “He wanted to convince me that he wasn’t responsible for Ted’s murder.”
“And did he?”
“Hell, no.”
Baronick chuckled and nodded. “And it took him twenty minutes to try to convince you? And you to say no?”
Sweat beaded under Zoe’s bangs. She turned the heater down. “He could have tried for an hour. I’d still not believe him.”
“I understand.” He flipped back a few pages in his notebook, scowling. Then he flipped forward again. Without looking up, he said, “So tell me about the night Jerry McBirney tried to rape you.”
Between stops, Pete patrolled the streets of Vance Township, searching for that silver Ford Taurus. He found several, but none matched Rose Bassi’s license number. He ran them anyway. Just in case. But every one of them was clear.
Damn it. Pete had been seventeen once. Where would he hide if he wanted to disappear? Winter made it tough. The ice cream joints and the parks were closed for the season. He made a loop past them anyway. Just in case.
Circle of Influence (A Zoe Chambers Mystery) Page 21