Deadly Connections

by Renee Pawlish

  “That’s right.” I could hear him checking his notes again. “Merrick also rented an SUV a month ago, and a month before that.”

  I mulled that over. “Was Merrick or this big man involved in Logan’s death?” I speculated. “Did one of them drive into the alley behind Eklund’s house and drop Logan’s body into the dumpster?”

  “It’s possible, but what’s a motive?”

  “Maybe they’re buddies with Gary Pickett and were helping him get his son away from Audra.”

  “Then something happened, Logan died, and they had to get rid of the body?” Spats finished my thought.

  “I wonder what Merrick’s up to,” I mused. “He rents an SUV to kidnap Logan, then rents another to dump the body?”

  “You’ll want to talk to Merrick again and ask him about that.”

  “Oh, I intend to, but I want to see what he does overnight. You got a tail on him?”

  “Yeah, I sent someone to the gun range right after we talked. Merrick was still there, and the tail’s on him. Merrick left the gun range a few minutes ago, then to a McDonalds. Then he stopped at a bar near Golden, and he’s still there now.”

  I stared out the windshield. “I’m beat, and I need to smooth things over with Harry. I’m going home, but I’ve got the notebooks with me, and I’ll spend some time looking through them.”

  “Sounds good. I’m going to keep poking at Merrick, see what else I can find.”

  “Oh, did Kristi Arnott call you back?”

  “Nope. I tried her again, still no answer.”

  “She’s avoiding you?”

  He snickered. “She can’t dodge me forever. I’ll track her down tomorrow.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  I ended the call and drove out of the parking lot. I got on Kipling and headed toward Sixth Avenue, and at nine o’clock, I pulled into my driveway. Harry and I live on Grape Street in an older neighborhood east of downtown. He and I had bought the place ten years ago, when housing was cheaper, and we’ve done a lot of renovating on it. I love that it’s set back from the street, and that it has a big yard. And I love its warmth and comfort. However, tonight it was gloomy and quiet when I went inside. I called out, but got no answer.

  I went straight to the bar near the kitchen, poured Scotch, and sat down in the dark in the living room. I took a long drink, and the silence enveloped me. Everything from the day suddenly hit me. A little boy was dead, discarded in a dumpster like so much trash. Who could do that to someone so young, so innocent? I took another drink, coughed on it, and set the glass down on the coffee table. My shoulders sagged, and I allowed myself a moment to cry. Then I put my fists to my eyes and stopped. I wasn’t going to let someone get away with this. I was still in that position when I heard the garage door open and close. A light went on in the kitchen.

  “Sarah?”

  Harry has a smooth voice, and at that moment it soothed me like nothing else could have. He poked his head into the living room, and I turned to look at him. He’s several inches taller than me, with a solid build. He frowned at me. He looked good in a dark suit and tie.

  “How was the benefit?”

  He came over and sat down on the couch. “My guess is it was better than your evening.” He took my hand, kissed it. “Want to talk about it?”

  I shook my head. “Maybe when it’s all over.”

  He knew he didn’t need to say anything, and any irritation he’d felt earlier in the day had vanished. We sat there for a moment, then he reached for the glass.

  “Scotch?”

  I nodded. He stared at the glass for a moment, then took a little sip. “Better than what they served tonight.”

  I laughed. “I’m sorry I missed it.”

  “Don’t be.” He contemplated me for a minute. “You going to be okay?”

  “Yes.” I drew in a breath and stood up. “Come with me.”

  He stood up, and we went into the bedroom. We made love, and he was more tender than usual, sensing, I suppose, that I was in a vulnerable place. I enjoyed the feel of his touch, his soft kisses, but more I relished his caresses afterward. He held me in his arms a long time, and I fell into a dreamless sleep.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The pain came in waves. An agony almost as bad as the initial loss, that horrible aching feeling, as if the world were caving in. Having the boy was supposed to help, was supposed to fill that gaping hole, that indescribable sense of loss. Losing this boy was almost like the first time, and facing that again was unbearable.

  The room smelled of cleanser and bleach, and no traces of the boy were around. And yet, a boy should be here. This had not turned out the way it was supposed to. Anger flared, a raging fire that had to be quickly tamped down. No, not now.

  Calm finally returned, then pondering of what to do.

  There could be a replacement for the loss. Then they’d feel better. A replacement would make the sadness go away.

  Why not another one? They wouldn’t be here that much longer. It could all be worked out. The plans didn’t have to be ruined.

  Why not?

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “How long have you been up?” Harry asked as he came into the kitchen.

  I had my arm propped up on the table, my head resting on my hand. “Not too long.”

  In reality, I’d been up since the middle of the night. Harry had slept peacefully while I’d stared at the ceiling. I’d finally gotten up, rather than wake him with my tossing and turning. I’d taken the notebooks with the information on Audra and Gary Pickett, tiptoed into the kitchen, and pored over them. I read pages and pages on them, internet searches, phone records. I’d looked at countless pictures of Logan that Audra had on her laptop. None of it pointed me to a killer. I hadn’t realized the sun had come up.

  Harry bent down, put his arms around me, and kissed me. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

  I nodded, and he gave my shoulders a squeeze. He nuzzled my neck. “Mind if I turn on the TV?”

  “Go ahead.”

  He switched on a small TV on the corner of the counter, found a news channel, and then went to make coffee. The aroma filled the room, and I gratefully took a cup from him. In the background, the weatherman said it was going to be a warm day. I sipped coffee and flipped pages. Gary had a big interest in right-wing political issues and militia groups, but so far, we hadn’t found more than that. The information was starting to run together, the names and places becoming one. I rubbed my eyes to clear my head.

  Harry leaned against the counter, sipped his coffee, and watched the news for a minute. Then he quickly fixed a couple of bagels and cream cheese and handed one to me. “Make sure you eat this.”

  I glanced up at him and smiled. “Always looking out for me.”

  “Somebody has to.”

  He ate his, gulped the last of his coffee, and put his cup down. “I’m going to take a shower. I need to get to work early today.”

  I nodded. “I’ll get ready when you’re finished.”

  While he went to shower, I ate the bagel, begrudgingly admitting to myself that it did taste good. By the time I popped the last bite in my mouth, he was dressed and headed out the door. I showered and put on blue slacks and a cotton short-sleeved shirt for the warm day ahead. I clipped my badge to my belt and put on my holster with my Glock. The last thing I did was to try to rub away the dark circles under my eyes, then gave up and went back into the kitchen. I stared at the notebooks. They seemed to be mocking me that I couldn’t find a valuable nugget to help in my investigation. I took out my cell phone. Gary Pickett still hadn’t called me back. That pissed me off, but now I knew how to get him to return my call. With a small, wicked smile that gave me too much satisfaction, I shoved the phone back in my pocket, grabbed the notebooks, and left.

  I was at work before eight. I stopped at Tara Dahl’s office, and she was already at her desk. She sipped something from a Starbucks cup, then gestured with her free hand f
or me to come in. She stared at the cup, then set it down on a coaster. “I should quit buying Starbucks. I’m saving to buy a condo.”

  “I’m glad I bought my house when I did. The real estate market is expensive right now.”

  She nodded. “How are you this morning?”

  “I’ll be better if you have good news for me.”

  “I don’t know about that, but here.” She tapped the laptop sitting on her desk. “This is Gary Pickett’s. You can take it back to him.”

  “Good. How is the analysis on it going?”

  “I’ll have an in-depth profile of his internet searches a little bit later. I can tell that he’s tried to clear his history, but we’ll get it figured out. With the right kind of tools, I can find out a lot.”

  “And I want it all.”

  She laughed. I thanked her and took the laptop. Now I had what I needed to get Gary to talk to me. I went upstairs to my desk and sat down. Spats was just getting off the phone.

  “Morning, Speelmahn,” he said. “I just touched base with the surveillance guys. Merrick stayed at that bar last night until about ten. One of the detectives went into the bar. He said Merrick was sitting at the bar with a big man. He didn’t do anything else the rest of the night, just went home.”

  “Did the other guy have dark hair and a handlebar mustache?”

  “Yeah. You heard of him?”

  “I don’t know his name. He’s the man who met Gary Pickett and Merrick yesterday at that Thai restaurant.” I ran a hand across my face. “I’d like to know who he is.”

  “I’ll see what I can find out.”

  “Good,” I said. “What’s Merrick up to this morning?”

  “He left his house and went to the gun range.” He eyed the laptop. “Gary’s?”

  I smiled. “Yep. I don’t think he’ll avoid me now.” He laughed as I picked up my cell phone and dialed Gary. Of course he didn’t answer. “Mr. Pickett, this is Detective Spillman. I have your laptop, and I’d like to return it to you. Please give me a call so I can arrange this.” I ended the call and looked at Spats with a grin. “Let’s see how long it takes him to call me now.”

  “I’ll bet no more than a few minutes. Who wouldn’t want their laptop back?”

  Sixty seconds later, my cell phone rang. Spats gave me a cocky grin.

  “Spillman.”

  “It’s Gary Pickett,” he said, his tone abrupt. “It’s about time you got my laptop for me.”

  I ignored that. “We’re really busy at the moment. Could you come down to the station, and we’ll go over what we did with the laptop.” That would get him out of his comfort zone. That, and if he was out of sorts, might cause him to let slip something he hadn’t intended to.

  He swore. “I guess if that’s the only way I can get it back.”

  “Great,” I said pleasantly. “When you get here, ask for me.” I gave him the address, then had to repeat it.

  “I’ll be there in a little bit.” He disconnected.

  Spats was still grinning. “Now you can talk to him.”

  “Yep.”

  Spats stood up. “I’m going to see if I can find Kristi Arnott. She’s dodging me, so maybe I can find her at her workplace.”

  “Good. And if you get a chance, follow up on Audra’s Facebook friends. If you can talk to any of them, see if they can shed light on what happened to Logan.”

  “You got it.”

  I waved him off, then worked on a report, and soon my desk phone rang. “Spillman.”

  It was the front desk. “I’ve got a guy here, Gary Pickett. He says you have his laptop.”

  “I’ll be right down.”

  I grabbed the laptop and almost crashed into Ernie as I headed out of the room.

  “Hey,” he said. “I’m talking to some of Eklund’s friends today, see if I can find anyone who believes he might be a perv.”

  “Sounds good. I’m going to stir the pot with Gary Pickett.”

  He smirked. “I saw him when I came in. He doesn’t look too happy.”

  “Neither am I.”

  I heard Ernie’s laugh as I went to the stairs. When I entered the lobby, Gary was seated in a chair. His fierce glare didn’t match the feel of his smooth slacks and starched white shirt. He saw me and held out his hand. “My laptop?”

  “Could you come with me for a moment?” I asked. “I’d like to go over a few things you told me.” His jaw tensed and he muttered something under his breath. “What’s that?”

  “Can we make this quick?” he snapped.

  “I’ll see what I can do,” I replied.

  I motioned for him to come with me and took him to a nondescript room. He took a chair at a table. I sat across from him. The room smelled of disinfectant. He glanced around, but there was nothing else to see except gray walls.

  “There are a few things I’d like to discuss with you,” I said.

  He hesitated. “What’s that?”

  “You told me about your arrest–”

  “Yeah, I did tell you. It was a stupid bar fight, and the guy was giving me a hard time. I punched him.” His shoulders lifted up. “So what? He deserved it. It wasn’t a big deal.”

  I let that linger for a second, then said, “I also found out that you and Audra had quite a fight when you were still in San Diego, while you were in the Marines. The military police showed up at your house, and Logan’s arm was broken. Your Marine buddy, Roy, helped defuse the situation so you wouldn’t get in trouble.”

  He sat back and crossed his arms, clearly annoyed that I’d talked to his pal. I waited, then said, “Care to explain?”

  He took his time, then was careful with his choice of words. “I’d been stressed after coming back from Iraq. Surely you can understand that. Anyway, Audra knows how to press my buttons, and she did that night. I’d been drinking a little, and maybe I got a bit out of hand. It wasn’t that bad. We got into a big argument. Her fault, by the way. Money was tight, and she was spending it left and right. It put a lot of pressure on me, and our marriage. And yeah, I went out and had a few after a long day, and we argued about money. She came after me with a knife. I had to overpower her to get it away from her. In the struggle I accidentally hit her on the side of the face. But when Roy got there, it was all cool. That’s all there is to it.”

  “What about Logan’s broken arm? In the report, Audra says that you hurt him as well.”

  He shook his head. “When we first started arguing, he got knocked off his chair. That was Audra’s fault too. She was so mad at me and she got up fast and bumped his chair. He was crying, of course, making a big deal about it. And he kept crying the whole time Roy was there. I tried to get him to shut up, but he wouldn’t.” There was little compassion in what he said, and little ownership for his actions. “As far as Logan breaking his arm, that was an accident. No big deal.”

  Apparently a lot of things were no big deal to him. “Logan broke his arm from falling out of a chair?”

  “Yes.”

  “Had Logan been hurt other times?”

  “No. And Audra hasn’t been hurt either.”

  “Logan had two broken fingers as well.”

  “He fell off his bike. It was an accident.”

  That matched what Audra had told me, and the way he looked me squarely in the eye, I believed him. I went on. “She said you seemed more on edge after you came back from Iraq, that you showed quite an interest in the government, and politics. You talked a lot about conspiracy theories, that kind of thing.”

  “Everybody’s entitled to their opinions. I wasn’t happy after my service. I got things together out here, though. I got good training in the insurance business, I have a good job, and even though I got divorced, things were finally going well for me. But this … losing Logan … Oh my god, I guess nothing will ever be okay now.” He put a fist to his mouth and stifled a sob.

  I waited a second, then said, “I’m sorry that this happened. I know this is hard.”

  He wiped his eyes, the
n glared at me, the muscles in his jaw tightening again.

  “How well do you know John Merrick?” I asked.

  Something flickered in his eyes. “He owns a gun range. I see him there.”

  “You call him rather frequently.”

  “You’ve been looking at my phone records?”

  I tipped my head at him. “What do you think?”

  He swore. “You guys are unbelievable.”

  “We also checked your emails. In one of them, you talk about a secret.”

  “That doesn’t have anything to do with my son,” he retorted. “Somebody killed my son, and you’re looking at me?”

  “Convince me that I shouldn’t be.” He didn’t respond. “Have you heard of the Colorado Citizens Militia?”

  He glanced away. “No.”

  I tapped his laptop. “Huh. I could’ve sworn you’d done some internet searches on them. I’ll bet you’ve visited their Facebook page too.”

  His eyes went to the laptop, then back to me. “Maybe I have. I do a lot of stuff on the internet.”

  “Where were you the night Logan was killed?”

  “I told you, I searched for Logan, and then I was with my girlfriend.”

  “And you talked to Merrick. You seem pretty chummy with him. Not just a customer.”

  “We talk once in a while.”

  “From what I’ve seen, it’s rather more frequently than that.”

  “So what? It doesn’t have anything to do with Logan’s death.”

  “You saw him yesterday at a Thai restaurant on Broadway.”

  He gulped, managed to gather himself. “So?”

  “You know a big man with a handlebar mustache. What’s his name?”

  “None of your business.” He gestured at the laptop. “I’ve answered your questions. Why don’t you find what happened to my son, not interrogate me like I’m the criminal. Give me my laptop.”

  Protesting a little too much? I thought. “Did you tell your girlfriend Kristi not to talk to us?”