“It’s not your fault. Just get ready, will you? I’m late.” He got up abruptly and disappeared from the room.
Chas glared into his coffee cup, avoiding his brother’s gaze, which he could feel on the back of his head. He’d been avoiding Trace’s eyes all morning, knowing exactly what his twin was thinking. While last night had started out innocently enough, it certainly had ended a bit more complicated—not that he and Roxy had done anything sexual. But he had woken up wanting to. And that was where his guilt came in. So for the rest of the morning, he’d basically treated her as though she had the plague.
And she was pissed. He could tell. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her sitting in an office chair, tossing dirty looks his way every time he spoke to his brother and acted like she wasn’t there.
“Loretta Kennings is on line two, Chas. She wants to talk to you,” an officer called around the corner of the cubicle. Chas grimaced. The last thing he wanted to do was go ten rounds with Loretta Kennings this morning. Regardless, he had no choice but to take the call.
“McCall.” The greeting was curt.
“You told me to call you this morning if Tabby wasn’t back. She’s not. And don’t you dare tell me that I’m overreacting, Chas McCall. I want something done about this. This is my daughter we’re talking about and a mother knows when something is wrong.”
Chas leaned back against his desk, willing the pounding in his head to subside. “I understand your concern. I’ll send an officer to the junkyard to have a look around. I’m sure she’s with Woody and the boys—unless there’s someone else you think she could be with. Another friend?”
“Good for nothing, white trash,” she muttered. He heard her light up a cigarette. “Tabby doesn’t have any other friends. Not except that Tavish boy and we both know where he is.”
“Did Abel take a look around at the yard last night?”
“I don’t know. I left him a message after we talked,” she said sourly. “I have a feeling he got distracted because I haven’t heard from him. He’s probably at the saloon, sleeping it off in the backroom. I’ll check in with him on my way to work. Lazy bum. I’m making some changes in my life starting today. Big—”
Chas rolled his eyes and interrupted her, not in the mood for a lengthy conversation about the things her life that she was planning to change, but never got around to actually doing anything about. “Okay. We’ll send someone over to the junkyard and have a look around.” He disconnected and looked at his brother. “Tabitha Kennings still isn’t home. Her mother’s insisting something’s wrong. Someone should go find the kid and haul her ass home.”
Trace nodded wearily. “I’ll get someone on it.” He picked up his phone and made a call.
Knowing he could no longer avoid it, Chas looked at Roxy. “It would probably be a good idea for you to meet with Scott Briggs and decide on a course of action for Devon.”
“I thought he fired Scott Briggs.”
“He’s not in charge of himself, Roxy. You are in charge of him. Whether or not you use Scott Briggs as his attorney is up to you, but regardless, Devon needs a lawyer right away.”
She was quiet a moment. “I don’t have any money for another attorney. I already told you that. We have to use Briggs.”
“Then you should talk to him and make sure he gets things going. In the meantime, I have some work I need to do. You can stay here and use my phone. It’s not a good idea for you to be out running around by yourself. Not after last night.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I can’t just sit here all day. When are you coming back?”
“Roxy, I have a job I have to do. I can’t drag you with me wherever I go. It’s not only unethical, it’s dangerous.” He saw the flash of anger in her eyes and ignored it. The best thing he could do for the two of them was get some space between them.
Still angry, she stood up. “Fine. I don’t need to use your phone. I have one of my own. Is it all right with you if I step outside to use it?”
Clearly her dander was up again. “I’m giving you advice, not an order. Someone did attack you last night.”
Her face paled noticeably. “I’m well aware of that, Detective McCall.” She turned and left the office in an obvious huff.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Chas wasn’t surprised by Trace’s question. “Don’t start with me.”
“You’re going to screw this up. I can see it coming. Why did you sleep with her?”
Chas scowled at his brother. “I didn’t sleep with her.” He frowned. “Not in the sense you mean. She was upset last night. I told her I’d stay with her until she fell asleep. I was tired and I fell asleep too. Nothing happened.”
“Dude, I saw you this morning before I left for work. You were tangled up like a string of year-old Christmas lights. You may not have acted on it, but I know you well enough to figure out that you were thinking about it.”
Chas didn’t bother lying. He never lied to Trace. He just continued frowning.
Trace leaned back in the chair, his eyes narrowed. “I don’t get it. I mean she’s cute and all. But she’s definitely not your type. You usually go for big—”
“Will you just shut the hell up?” Chas avoided his brother’s gaze. “I don’t need you telling me what my type is.”
“Don’t get mad at me because you’re thinking with your dick.”
Annoyed, Chas swore. “I’m not thinking with my dick.”
Trace remained silent, which only irritated Chas more.
“You’ve done plenty of thinking with your own dick over the years so don’t throw that shit at me.”
Trace shrugged. “Maybe. But I’ve never tangled my dick up in a case.”
Chas knew that was true enough. Trace was the ultimate professional. “I’m done talking about this. Just drop it.”
Trace backed off, merely shaking his head.
Chas suddenly thought of something. “She told me something last night that warrants looking into. Apparently the guy that attacked her called her Rose.”
Trace thought that over. “Interesting. Who’s Rose?”
“According to her, that’s a name her father used to call her mother. It’s also her mother’s middle name.”
“Hank Tavish has been dead for six or seven years.”
“I want to see his case file. I want to see the file for Dinah Tavish too.”
THIRTEEN
Roxy waited for Myles to answer her phone call. Unfortunately it went straight into voicemail. She knew her friend was probably working. It was only ten on Friday morning.
Sighing, she breathed in a bit of fresh air. She was sitting in a park, down the street from the police station, trying to decide what her next move should be. She’d already called Scott Briggs and left him a message to call her back. She wasn’t sure what else she could do to help her brothers at this point. She had no transportation and no place else to go. Not only that, Chas was right, someone had attacked her the night before. She felt unsafe, even sitting in the park in the middle of the day, within a few seconds of the police station.
While she understood Chas’s sudden change of attitude toward her, it still ticked her off. He’d obviously panicked after waking up with her that morning. Hell, she’d panicked too. But she hadn’t planned on taking things out on him. After all, she figured they hadn’t done anything wrong. They hadn’t had sex. So they’d cuddled a little in their sleep. Was it really that big of a deal?
She guessed from his perspective it was. He was a policeman. He had a job to do and she was part of that job, plain and simple.
She scowled as she recalled the cold tone to his voice when he’d cut her loose that morning. His eyes had been completely void of any emotion. From what she’d seen of Chas the past few days, this was very unusual. He was rarely in a bad mood and she hadn’t seen him be nasty with anyone other than Woody McClean since she’d met him.
Apparently she brought those feelings out in him.
Glancing at
her phone, she saw a strange number pop up on the screen. She answered the call quickly.
“Ms. Tavish? This is Scott Briggs. Sorry I missed your call. I was in court this morning.”
“It’s not a problem, Mr. Briggs. I just wanted to discuss my brother’s case with you. While I know he fired you yesterday, I’m hoping you’ll accept my apology and reconsider taking his case.”
Dead silence followed her statement.
She rolled her eyes, figuring the guy probably wasn’t ecstatic to hear this news. “I can’t afford another attorney, Mr. Briggs. I know Devon can be difficult, but under the circumstances I’m sure you can understand why.”
“Ms. Tavish, do you believe that your brother killed your aunt?”
The question caught her off guard. She didn’t hesitate with her answer, though she wasn’t sure why not. Devon’s current behavior was questionable at best. “No. I don’t.”
“I’ll meet with him again today. That being said, I’m going to be honest with you. Your brother is a very troubled kid. I’ve seen his type time and time again in my line of work over the years. Rarely do these kids straighten themselves out without a lot of help.” He paused. “I’m only telling you this because you seem like a nice person. I think you should be aware of what you’re getting yourself into. Even if I manage to prove his innocence and get him acquitted, this won’t be over. Not for you.”
She shivered as the impact of his words hit her. Forcing herself to toughen up, she cleared her throat. “You just worry about your end of things and let me worry about mine.”
“Fair enough,” Briggs had the decency to agree. “It goes without saying that locating Dylan is a must here. I’ll need to speak with him as soon as possible.”
“I’m working on that. I’ll be in touch.” The call ended. Immediately the phone rang again. Thinking it was Myles calling her back, she answered quickly.
“Roxy Tavish?”
Roxy stiffened. The voice was male and not one she recognized. “Yes?” she finally said, the hairs on the back of her neck standing at attention for some reason.
“Listen carefully and don’t ask questions. I can help you find your brother. I need you to meet me. Go to the junkyard. There’s an abandoned Cadillac back behind the old workshop. Meet me there in an hour. And don’t bring the cops.”
“Who is this?”
“I know where your brother is and he’s in danger. If you want information, you’d better show up. I won’t wait long.” The line went dead.
Roxy’s heartbeat shot into overdrive. She immediately tried to scroll through her call list for the phone number of the person who had called. Naturally, it was blocked.
She looked around herself, still on edge. There were people milling about, probably on their way to work or stepping out for a coffee break. Nobody appeared to be paying her much attention.
Turning back to her phone, she contemplated calling Chas. She stopped in mid-dial. She’d been warned. No cops.
She shivered nervously, immediately thinking about what had happened to her the night before at the motel. Someone had tried to kill her. Maybe the same person was trying to lure her into a trap to finish the job. She shivered at the idea, her palms growing sweaty.
Her brother was in danger, she reminded herself. He was only twelve years old and most likely scared to death. She couldn’t just ignore that fact. She had to help him. Besides, it was broad daylight. There were people around—even at the junkyard. There were probably kids crawling all over the place by this time of morning. Chances were, the person who had called her was one of those kids. Who else would have any knowledge of Dylan’s whereabouts?
Calming down a bit, she stood up. She knew what she had to do, risky or not. Her brothers needed her help.
Chas stared down at the report that lay in front of him on his desk. Dinah and Rachel Tavish’s murders had been big news twenty years earlier. The file was several inches thick. Some of the papers had yellowed over the years. The crime scene photos were well preserved and explicit.
He stared at photograph after photograph, his stomach turning. The ones of Dinah Tavish were gruesome, as one could imagine. She’d been found on a bed in the children’s room, multiple gunshot wounds to her head and chest. She’d suffered before her death. There were various broken items in the room that had obviously been used as means of self-defense, though all of the items had failed to be helpful.
The pictures that disturbed him the most were of Rachel Tavish. She’d been six years old at the time of the murder. She’d been found on the floor, a mere foot from her mother, also shot to death. The eerie thing was the illusion of Roxy’s face in those pictures. The resemblance between Roxy and her sister had been uncanny, even in death.
“I don’t remember much about the Tavish murders. Only how sad the whole thing was,” Trace said, sitting down on a corner of Chas’s desk.
“I don’t either. We were what, twelve at the time?”
“That’s about right,” Trace agreed. “You see anything else in there that might help us out?”
Chas skimmed through the file, reading page after page of gruesome detail. He looked up at his brother suddenly. “Roxy was shot in the stomach and she played dead. Then she crawled into the closet and hid until the cops found her. She nearly bled out.”
Trace cursed, shaking his head. “That explains last night at the motel. It’s a wonder she made it out of that house alive. She obviously wasn’t able to tell the police anything about the killer.”
Chas leaned back in his chair. “Not a thing. This is a cold case. I’m wondering if it just got a little warmer.”
“Like you think the murders are connected to Myra’s? It’s been twenty years, Chas. That’s an awfully long time.”
“Maybe. I have no real connection besides what Roxy told me last night. The Rose thing has me stumped. I know she could have imagined it. I mean it’s natural that after coming back here, and after all this time, memories would resurface. I saw the look in her eyes when she told me though. It was real to her. She swears it was real.”
“Her father’s dead. Who else would call her mother Rose?”
“That’s just it. I don’t know.”
“This is a stretch,” Trace finally said. “Have you called her again? Maybe you should just go out and talk to her.”
Chas checked his watch. It had been several hours since Roxy had gone outside to make her phone calls. He’d had Josh check on her periodically. She’d ended up on a bench in the park. She’d made good on her intention to call Briggs and ask him to represent her brother. Chas had talked to Scott, who had told him that they had agreed on a meeting with Devon that afternoon. When he’d tried calling Roxy, she hadn’t answered. He knew she was angry with him. He’d been waiting for her to cool down, figuring she would call him for a ride to Spokane for her meeting with Briggs, but so far he hadn’t heard from her.
His phone rang and he grabbed it quickly. “McCall.”
“It’s Starks. Junkyard is empty. There’s nobody there.” Mitch Starks was a patrolman with the department. He’d been sent out to the junkyard in search of Tabitha Kennings earlier that morning.
“Not even Woody McClean?” Chas asked.
“Nope. I did a pretty thorough walkthrough. I was going to call you earlier but I had another situation to deal with. I was there around ten-thirty this morning. Place was quiet as a tomb. You want me to go back out there now and take another look around?”
“No, just head back in.” Chas hung up and glanced at Trace. “That was Starks. Junkyard’s empty. No Tabitha.”
Trace frowned. “So where is the kid?”
Before Chas could answer, his phone rang again. He answered curtly.
“Roxy Tavish is not at the park anymore. I thought you should know.”
Chas grimaced at the sound of Josh’s voice. “What do you mean she’s not at the park? Where is she?”
“I don’t know, man. I had to go out on a call. When I got back, she wa
s gone.”
Irritated, Chas swore and hung up the phone.
“You have a way with women, little brother.”
Chas ignored Trace’s sarcasm and tried Roxy’s number again. It went into her voicemail. Annoyed, he left her a message this time. “You need to call me. I know you’re pissed—” He paused for a moment. “I asked you to stay near here. Where the hell are you? We need to talk. Just call me.”
“Smooth,” Trace said, when Chas had disconnected the call. He scowled and picked up the phone again. This time he dialed Scott Briggs’s number. It went to voicemail too. He supposed it was possible that they were in a meeting together with Devon, but something bothered him about that idea. “She could be with Briggs. But how would she have gotten to the city without a car and no money for a cab?”
“A face like that can swindle all sorts of things,” Trace pointed out, grinning.
Chas glared at him. “She was attacked last night. I hardly think she was stupid enough to hitch a ride from a stranger today.”
Trace shrugged. “So maybe she didn’t. Maybe Briggs helped her out. He knows she has no money. That’s the type of thing he’d do if he knew he had no choice.”
Chas supposed that was true enough. “I can’t believe she just didn’t call me.”
“You were being a dick. Why would she?”
Chas glowered up at him. “You know there are days when I wonder how in the hell I survived in a small womb with you for nine months.”
Trace grinned widely. “Right back atcha, bro. Right back atcha.”
FOURTEEN
Roxy found herself rethinking the wisdom of coming to the junkyard alone almost the moment her feet hit the property. The walk from town had taken nearly forty minutes, which was more than long enough for her to have second and third thoughts about not calling Chas.
The place seemed larger and lonelier than it had the day before. The sun was sweltering and it was bringing out one interesting scent after another, none of which smelled pleasant. She wrinkled her nose as she looked around the environment. The place looked completely deserted.
Skeletons in the Mist (The McCall Twins) Page 11