Thread of Suspicion (Joe Tyler Mystery #2)

by Jeff Shelby

  She’d brought along two large duffel bags and we loaded them with food, water, clothing and blankets, and trudged out into the snow with them. After ten minutes, we encountered a trio of girls huddled under the awning of a jewelry store. We approached them and when Isabel greeted, they said nothing, eyeing me with fear.

  “Gimme a minute, okay?” she said to me.

  I nodded and stepped back toward the curb.

  Isabel came back to me. “Sorry. They don’t know you. Scares them. And there’s usually a fourth. Abby. But she took off and they haven’t seen her, so they’re edgy right now.”

  “I understand.”

  “So maybe when we run into people, it would be better if you hang back?”

  “Sure.”

  “I don’t mean to be rude.”

  “You aren’t being rude,” I said. “You’re doing what you need to do for them. They’re already uncomfortable being out here. Anything you can do to make them more comfortable, you should.” I smiled. “I’m okay standing awkwardly by myself.”

  She smiled and nodded. “Okay. Good.”

  “They’re worried about their friend? The other girl?”

  “They don’t know whether they should be worried or not, you know?” Isabel said. “She could’ve taken off on her own for who knows what reason. Or something worse could’ve happened. But for them, it’s about normalcy. They’re used to being a foursome. Now they’re three, so it just doesn’t feel right to them. You know?”

  I did.

  I lost count of how many blocks we walked and how many people she stopped to talk to. As I grew tired, Isabel seemed to gain energy. She criss-crossed streets, knew where many of them would be waiting. Most seemed happy to see her. Not eager or enthusiastic, but most at least greeted her with a smile and asked for what they needed, if anything.

  My fingers and toes were numb by the time we got back to her car. We sat there for a few minutes, the engine idling, the heater charging up, attempting to warm us and the car’s interior.

  She rubbed her gloved hands together. “Takes a while to thaw out.”

  I held my hands over the vents. “You don’t say.”

  “I’m sorry if that was difficult,” she said.

  “It was fine. I’ll warm up eventually.”

  “I didn’t mean the temperature.”

  I looked at her, not understanding.

  “I watched your face,” she said, still rubbing her hands together. “You were looking for your daughter.”

  I pulled my hands away from the vents.

  “You were studying their faces,” she said, her voice dropping slightly. “Looking for her face in theirs. I should’ve realized you would do that. I’m sorry.”

  The heat began to kick in, the first few blasts of warm air filtering into the car.

  “I didn’t even realize I was doing it,” I said.

  “Wasn’t overt. I could just see it in your face. Like you were disappointed.”

  The windshield wipers moved back and forth in an easy rhythm. I probably did it all the time, no matter where I was or what I was doing. It had become as involuntary as breathing, scrutinizing every thing and every face.

  And I’d always come away empty.

  “I’m alright,” I told her.

  She stared at me for a long moment, then shifted the car into drive and eased away from the curb. “I don’t think you’ve been alright for a long time, Joe.”

  TWENTY

  “When we get to the apartment, don’t get out of the car,” I said to Isabel.

  She glanced at me. “What?”

  It was almost two in the morning and we were close to Linden Hills. The drive back was slow, the streets now covered with several inches of snow. The trucks were out, salting and sanding, but the snowfall was consistent and faster than the trucks.

  And someone was following us.

  “Car behind us,” I said. “Been with us for about twenty minutes.”

  “You’re paranoid.”

  “Most of the time, yeah. But it followed us out of downtown and made every turn we made.” I glanced in the mirror. I hadn’t been able to make out anything about the car, other than its headlights were bright. “So when we get there, just stay put for a minute.”

  She looked up toward her rearview mirror, but the skepticism didn’t leave her expression. “I think you’re tired.”

  “Maybe.”

  We turned on to the main street that ran adjacent to the apartments, then slid our way into the slushy lot. She pulled right up to the office and cut the engine.

  The headlights followed us into the lot.

  “Just stay right here,” I said, opening my door. “Until I tell you to get out.”

  “Whatever.”

  The icy air smacked me in the face as I shut the car door. The cold of the snow on the ground seeped into my shoes and my breath showed up like chimney smoke in front of my face.

  The car stopped in the middle of the lot.

  I walked toward it, shielding my eyes from the bright lights.

  The engine cut and I waited.

  Boyd and Stevie emerged from what I could now see was a newer-model Subaru wagon. Stevie’s face didn’t give away much, but the smirk I’d seen on Boyd’s face before I’d shoved him was still in place.

  “You lost?” I asked.

  Boyd laughed like that was the funniest thing he’d ever heard.

  “Just wondering if Isabel heard from Marc,” Stevie said, his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his thick field coat.

  “You could call.”

  “I did. She didn’t answer.”

  “Probably means she hasn’t heard from him then. Or just doesn’t wanna talk to you.”

  Boyd stepped toward the front of the car and I could see something in his hand, held close against his right leg. Not a gun, but something, probably a club or something he thought he might hit me with.

  “I’d just like to talk to her for a minute,” Stevie said.

  “She’s tired,” I said, my eyes still on Boyd. “She worked all night. Not a good time. And it makes me nervous when people follow me.”

  Boyd shuffled a little closer.

  “And you might wanna tell your pal here that if he gets any closer to me with whatever he has in his hand, I’m going to take it from him and break his arm with it,” I said. “Like I promised to do the other day.”

  Boyd froze, unsure of what to do now. He squinted at me through the snow.

  “Look, man, we just wanna know where he is,” Stevie said.

  “Why?”

  “Not really your concern.”

  “Your buddy made a feeble attempt to intimidate me,” I said. “Now you follow us home and he’s once again attempting to scare me. You’ve made it my concern, like it or not.”

  Stevie pursed his lips, thinking. After a moment he said, “Our boss would like to speak with him.”

  “Who’s your boss?”

  “Can’t say.”

  I looked at Boyd. “Maybe if I put you on your back and threaten to break your arm, you’ll be able to say.”

  Boyd shuffled his feet again, setting them wider, bracing himself in case I went at him.

  “Get in the car, Boyd,” Stevie said.

  “I’m not afraid of him,” Boyd said.

  “Get in the fucking car.”

  Boyd turned to him. “Come on, Stevie. I can take him and then we can talk to her.”

  “Last time I say it,” Stevie said, annoyed. “Get in the car.”

  Boyd sulked back to his side of the car and climbed inside, slamming his door shut.

  “Wise decision,” I said.

  Stevie walked to the front of the car and sat against the hood. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

  “I don’t? Help me out then. Why are you looking for Marc and hassling Isabel?”

  “I told you why,” Stevie said. “But you don’t know what you’re getting into.”

  “All I’m doing is helping out
Isabel,” I said. “I know he owes you money. She told me that.”

  He nodded. “He does. And you have my word. I’m not looking to hurt him or anything like that.”

  “We haven’t known each other long enough for me to give a shit about your word, Stevie.”

  He nodded again. “That’s fair. But I’m not.”

  “Your pal seems like he’s looking to hurt someone.”

  “Boyd ain’t gonna do shit unless I tell him to.”

  “What does he owe you money for?”

  He brushed at the snow sticking to his face. “Not important. At this point, the money isn’t even the important thing. Just need to find him.”

  “We’re going in circles here.”

  Stevie nodded slowly. “Yeah. We are. But it’s complicated.”

  “So un-complicate it for me.”

  He chewed on his lip and looked away.

  “I know who you are,” Stevie said, turning back to me.

  “Good for you.”

  “And I know what you do,” he said.

  I didn’t say anything, but my curiosity was aroused.

  “If you find Marc, you need to let us know,” he said.

  “Why exactly is that?”

  He stared hard at me. It wasn’t the stare of some stupid street punk, like Boyd. There was more behind it, but I couldn’t tell exactly what it was.

  “Joe Tyler,” he said. “Your name is Joe Tyler.”

  I didn’t say anything.

  “Might be able to help you with your daughter,” he said, his voice dropping slightly.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me.”

  I did. It stopped my heart. Turned my blood to a temperature closer to the slush we were standing in. Knotted up my gut.

  Stevie stood from the car. “You find Marc or you hear from him, you have Isabel call me. Or do it yourself. She’s got the number. Then we can talk about your daughter.”

  I stood there, paralyzed. He’d caught me off-guard and I wasn’t ready. I couldn’t move.

  “You didn’t tell me,” I said, forcing the words out, trying to regain my composure. “Why she needs to let you know if she finds Marc.”

  He stood at the door to the Subaru, his gloved hand on the door handle, his breath leaving his body in icy swirls. “Because I’m trying to keep him alive.”

  TWENTY-ONE

  I should’ve been exhausted, but I laid awake for the rest of the night.

  Isabel said she had no idea what he was talking about when I relayed my conversation with Stevie to her. She was quick to blow it off, saying he was just trying to manipulate me. She had no explanation for how he’d learned my name or knew about my daughter.

  “He said he was trying to keep Marc alive,” I said, standing in the living room of her apartment.

  Her face screwed up with confusion. “I don’t believe that for a second. I mean, I don’t think he’s really trying to hurt Marc, but every time he’s come to me, he’s been threatening and a bit of an asshole. Not exactly the demeanor of a guy who’s working to help Marc out.”

  “People have probably described me the same way at times.”

  She had no answer for that and I went back to my apartment to lay on the mattress and stare at the ceiling for a long time, working it all over in my head.

  I closed my eyes and drifted for awhile. Soon, though, the sunshine on the freshly fallen snow reflected brilliantly through the window and I felt myself squinting before I even opened my eyes.

  I showered, my tired eyes stinging against the hot water, dressed and walked down to a convenience store on the corner. The snow was like soft powder on the sidewalk, scattering easily around my feet as I walked. The streets had already been cleared, waist-high banks of snow pushed up against the curbs on either side of the street.

  I grabbed a bagel and coffee and sat down at a small table near the window. I was half-way thru the bagel when my phone vibrated. I saw the number, hesitated, then answered. “Hey, Lauren.”

  “Did I wake you?”

  “Nope. I’m awake.”

  “Then you must already have coffee in hand.”

  I smiled and blew on the surface of the cup in my hand. My ex-wife still knew me better than anyone else in the world. “Always.”

  “You alright?” she asked.

  I knew she was worried. I’d fled San Diego in a hurry to get to Minnesota without telling her where I was headed. We’d reconnected while I was there and I wasn’t sure what it was like for her, but it had rekindled emotions in me that I thought I’d locked away for good.

  “I’m okay,” I said. “I’m in Minneapolis.”

  “Then not only do you have coffee, but you’re cold.”

  “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

  She chuckled. “Trying to picture you bundled up like an Eskimo.”

  “I actually had to put socks on,” I said.

  “Well, now I know you’re not alright.”

  “Good point.”

  It was the kind of banter that existed only between people who’d shared more things than they could count. The kind that didn’t disappear even with divorce and the loss of a child. The kind that would always be there for me and Lauren.

  “Am I allowed to ask what you’re doing there?” she asked.

  I sipped from the coffee. “You really want to know?”

  The line buzzed for a few moments. “I honestly don’t know, Joe. Do I?”

  It was different for Lauren. It always had been. Elizabeth’s disappearance consumed me, sunk its claws into me and refused to let go. She had decided she had to let go, that she couldn’t live in the place I’d chosen for myself. It was why we’d divorced, even though we hadn’t stopped loving one another. The one thing we loved the most had separated us and the roller coaster of emotions that went into looking for a child was a ride she couldn’t stay on.

  But I felt like this was different.

  “I got a picture,” I said and explained to her why I was in Minneapolis.

  The line was silent for a long time when I finished talking. I drank from the Styrofoam cup, the coffee warming my throat and gut. I knew Lauren was processing and I didn’t want to interrupt that.

  “Can I see it?” she asked, her voice quiet, tight.

  “Of course.”

  “It’s her?”

  “Yeah. It’s her, Lauren. I knew it when I saw it. It’s her.”

  The line was quiet. I pictured her sitting there on the couch, her legs tucked under her, her forehead in her hand, biting back the tears. I’d seen it too many times.

  “I want to see it, okay?” she said.

  “Of course. I just wasn’t sure if you’d…”

  “I know, I know,” she said. “But if you have a picture of her. I want to see. What she looks like.”

  “I’ll get it to you as soon as we hang up.”

  “I know I’m going to regret even asking this, but…”

  “I don’t know anything yet,” I said. “I’ve talked to a few people and they’ve given me names of more people to talk to. Nothing concrete.”

  Her disappointment seeped through the phone. “Okay. You’ll let me know?”

  “Of course.”

  She exhaled loudly into the phone. “Okay. Well. Wasn’t expecting that.”

  “Were you calling for a reason?” I asked. “Or just to…” I wasn’t sure why she’d be calling. I knew she wasn’t pleased that I’d left San Diego again. So there were a million reasons she could’ve been calling.

  “Oh, right,” she said. “Sorry. You threw me for a loop.”

  I waited.

  “Your favorite person called,” she said. “Bazer.”

  It was the second time in two days I’d heard his name. “He called you? What the hell did he want?”

  “I really don’t know,” she said. “He was trying to be all friendly. I was decidedly not.”

  I smiled. We may have come to the conclusion that we couldn’t stay married, but we h
ad both remained adamant in our dislike of Bazer. There were times when I felt certain she hated him more than I did.

  “He started off acting like he was just calling to see how I was,” she said. “He didn’t get the hint when I gave him one-word answers so I finally asked him why the hell he was calling me.”

  I finished the coffee and pushed the paper cup away.

  “He was still kind of evasive, but it was pretty clear he was digging for info. On you.”

  “What kind of info?”

  “I think more than anything, he wanted to know where you were,” she said. “He asked if I’d spoken to you in the last few days. I said yes, but didn’t tell him anything else. Not that I knew where you were, but I wouldn’t have told him if I did.”

  I nodded to myself and switched the phone to my other hand. He was probably wondering if I was sticking around San Diego after showing up unexpectedly. Wanting to know if I was going to continue to be a thorn in his side. Part of me wished I was there, just to irritate him.

  “He said something like he just wanted to make sure you were okay after everything with Chuck,” she said, not hiding her disgust. “I told him the bullshit was leaking through the phone.”

  “That sounds like you.”

  “I just wanted him to know I still hate him.”

  “Mission accomplished.”

  “I guess. He never ended up saying what he really wanted. Just kind of stumbled around and ended hanging up. But I thought you’d want to know.”

  “He talked to Mike, too,” I told her. “Same kind of crap. I think he’s a little worried I might be sticking around Coronado to bother him. Think he just wants to be clear of me. Again. But thanks for letting me know.”

  There was a clicking in the line. “You won’t forget to send me the picture?”

  “I’ll do it as soon as we hang up,” I said. “And if there’s anything else, I’ll call you.”

  “I don’t want to get my hopes up.”

  “Me either.”

  “But you always do,” she said. “You always do.”

  TWENTY-TWO

  I walked back to the apartments and twenty minutes later, I’d scanned the photo and sent it to Lauren’s email address, using the computer in Isabel’s office. I thought about just snapping a picture of it with my phone, but I wanted Lauren to see the same clarity that I saw when I looked at Elizabeth’s face.