Repent, page 10
“All right,” he muttered. “So what now? Do you think a car hit him?” The sun revealed a telltale sheen to his eyes, and his voice sounded unnaturally high, reminding her that he was only sixteen. One didn’t need to be a trained investigator to see that behind the tough exterior, this guy was hurting.
She looked down at the map, taking a mental snapshot of the roads and giving Jack time to regroup, knowing he would hate for anyone to spot his tears.
“I’m going to retrace the route he took,” she said, keeping her head dipped over the map. “Starting at the bus stop. Does he have any friends or places where he might be staying? Anyone your grandmother might not know about? Places I should check first?”
“That’s a waste of time. He wouldn’t be hanging with friends.”
“What about girlfriends? Someone from school?”
“No, you don’t get it. He’d never willingly upset Gran like this. It’s like he vanished into thin air.”
Nikki gave a troubled nod. Jack and Mrs. Tanner presented the same picture. And both were very credible. Smitty’s phone call today also underscored that there was no obvious reason why Billy had disappeared. Leaving her very little to work with.
She folded the map in half, then in quarters, hesitant to mention Sonja. A psychic seemed like a desperation move. And the Tanners did not seem like a family who placed much stock in tea readings. Of course, they didn’t have to know. She’d reimburse Sonja out of her own pocket. And take her for dinner.
“Could I borrow something of Billy’s?” Nikki asked. “His favorite thing. I already checked his room but nothing stood out. I thought you’d know what he cares about most.”
“Sparky.” Jack spoke without an ounce of hesitation. “That dog means the world to him. Billy pays for all his food and sneaks out the window at night to sit with him and give him treats. Gran would have a fit if she found out he was wasting money on store-bought food.”
“Where does he get the money?”
“Collecting bottles from the ditch. People drive through here chucking things at the trees. They think everything out here is a dump.” He shrugged. “Which it kind of is.”
That explained the dog treats hidden in the fan. But she couldn’t load Sparky up in the car and drive him to the city. She didn’t think that was the type of personal item Sonja wanted.
“Why are you asking about his favorite thing?” Jack asked. “Are you using a psychic?”
Nikki crossed her arms then lowered them again. Didn’t want to look defensive. But Jack was eyeing her with more curiosity than scorn.
“I have an associate who’s helped me before,” she said. “It might be worth a try.”
“Can’t psychics talk to animals on the phone?”
“I don’t know,” Nikki said. “Up until a couple months ago, I never paid much attention to her methods.”
“But she helped, right. So check with her. It can’t hurt.”
Nikki gaped, surprised at Jack’s enthusiasm. There was much more to this kid than she’d anticipated, and she was glad he wasn’t stuck in juvie. He seemed to be doing well at his grandmother’s. He certainly kept the woodpile stocked.
She reached for her phone.
“Your cell won’t work here,” Jack said. “A lot of this area is a dead zone.”
“Then let’s go inside and use your land phone.”
“Sparky isn’t allowed in the house. Gran doesn’t hold with pets. We only have him because he was dumped close by and Billy begged to keep him. She agreed, seeing as Billy is her favorite and all.” Jack’s rueful smile emphasized how open he could be.
“We’ll have to drive up to Lena’s store,” he added.
“There’s no ‘we’. I work alone.”
“But you can’t take Sparky without me. He doesn’t know you. And he’s not used to cars. He’d freak out and bite.”
Nikki glanced down at the dog stretched out at the end of his rusted chain, head on his paws, eyes mournful. He didn’t look inclined to bite anything, other than a forbidden piece of biscuit. On the other hand, Gunner wouldn’t appreciate being stuffed into a stranger’s car either. And he definitely would bite if he thought someone was taking him away.
“Will your grandmother mind if you and Sparky go with me for a bit?’
“Not at all.” And now Jack’s smile was full wattage and almost teasing. “But don’t mention the psychic. That’s weird.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Smitty wiped his brow, hot and sticky after trudging up Ray’s rough driveway. No wonder the man kept his gate locked. The ruts would tear the undersides off most vehicles. Smitty had known Ray Gibson for more than ten years but couldn’t remember the last time he’d visited. The farm definitely required maintenance.
He should probably offer to help. Ray spent too much time on the road, driving long distances to pick up carcasses and assist with rescues. It was a tough job for a dedicated animal lover. Ray also recorded every detail of the animal’s background, working tirelessly with the SPCA and other groups.
At least he had.
For some reason the SPCA had severed their connection. Something about Ray being too zealous. Smitty shook his head. Didn’t matter. Ray was eccentric but his kindness to animals was unquestionable, and that made the man okay in Smitty’s book.
He crested the hill, glancing around with a knowledgeable eye. Ray’s property was approximately ten acres. It had been cleared decades ago, but now shrubs and underbrush had crept back. A massive evergreen stood watch over the two-story farmhouse but it didn’t hide the algae that matted the roof. Numerous paddocks and outbuildings separated the house from the barn but all the fencing tilted precariously. Ray was nowhere in sight.
A spotted llama poked its head over a rotting plank. Smitty had always liked llamas but couldn’t remember hearing about this particular one. Clearly she had escaped a tough life. An empty eye socket gaped from the right side of her head and one of her ears was ripped and misshaped, leaving a thin strip rather than a typical triangle.
The llama didn’t spit and seemed cautiously curious rather than fearful. Smitty walked over and scratched her fuzzy neck, edging to the side so he could avoid staring at the gaping hole. He’d dealt with many injured animals before but the empty socket made him queasy.
“You’re lucky you ended up here, sweetie,” he murmured. Ray had a gift for restoring animals’ trust and his knowledgeable care had brought many rescues back to full health. The man cared as much for animals as he did for people. Maybe more.
Smitty gave the llama one last pat then turned away and continued looking for Ray. The man didn’t have many friends and never spoke of family. He preferred to surround himself with animals, content to be reclusive. But animals couldn’t help Ray maintain his property.
He’d organize a work detail, Smitty decided, as he passed a donkey paddock with a rail hanging so low it barely reached the animal’s knees. He stopped and straightened the plank, tying it to a fencepost with a piece of baler twine, guessing that the donkey remained inside purely out of politeness.
He glanced around, still not spotting Ray. A beat-up truck was parked close to the verandah of the house so Smitty veered toward the left, relieved he’d be able to catch Ray before he left on his rounds.
The wind picked up, a cooling breeze that carried the hint of hay and manure along with a whiff of smoke. A grayish black plume rose from a burning barrel close to the verandah. He walked toward it, almost stepping on a lone blue running shoe. The air wasn’t as pleasant here, laced with the smell of burning clothes and plastic. He’d responded to so many car accidents that the distinctive smell left him shuddering.
He glanced inside the barrel. Ray must have been cleaning out his closet. Rags still smoldered and the missing running shoe explained the smell of rubber. It was odd that Ray didn’t consider the environment and all the recycling options. The shoe looked in decent shape. Someone might have used them.
He scooped it up, surprised at its small size. Ray had huge hands and feet. Yet this shoe was only a size nine. He felt a vague unease and glanced over his shoulder, but no one was watching.
He gently set the shoe on the ground and strode toward the verandah, relieved the house was upwind. The smells left him uneasy, prompting images he wanted to forget. The single shoe was especially haunting. He hated seeing those on the highway, knowing what they meant. Fortunately, working with the mounted unit insulated him from responding to traffic carnage. And for that he was grateful.
He climbed the farmhouse steps. The porch creaked beneath his weight and a score of cats scattered. He shuffled sideways, avoiding a three-legged tabby and nearly tripping over a bowl filled with freshly chopped liver.
“Hey, Ray,” he called, stepping around the bowl and peering through the screen. Damn, more cats. At least five were curled on the tops of two plastic crates. He glanced over his shoulder, suddenly uneasy. Ray rescued all sorts of animals, dogs included. Would a protective Rottweiler suddenly charge around the house?
But no. Ray didn’t keep dogs on his property for long. He wouldn’t tolerate any animal that couldn’t live in harmony with others. He’d been devastated when a rescued terrier had killed one of his cats.
Smitty pulled out his cell and pressed Ray’s number again. A phone chimed from inside the house. Six rings, then Ray’s polite voice sounded, requesting that the caller leave a message including the carcass location.
Smitty sighed and pocketed his phone. Ray’s truck was still here. He must be working in the old horse barn.
He veered to the left, circling the house and passing a chicken coop filled with plump chickens. They squawked in alarm, as if surprised by his presence.
He followed the beaten path to a faded red barn. Five spacious pens were attached to the east side where pigs could run in and out at will. A low trough was filled with water, and fresh straw brightened a corner. Three pigs cooled off in a concrete section, escaping the flies by wallowing in a manmade waterhole. They looked big and fat and happy, their bellies swollen with contentment.
Closer to the barn, two spotted sows nosed the ground, bickering over the head of a broken mop. The mop flopped back and forth, reddened and matted. One of the pigs grabbed it then flipped it aggressively with her snout.
A face stared up at Smitty—a distorted human face. The eyes and nose were gone but the teeth remained, along with crushed bone and shiny white cartilage.
“Oh, Jesus!” He jerked back so quickly he stumbled. His stomach lurched and he dropped to his knees. Planted his palms on the ground and retched. The entire contents of his gut came up, but still he choked and gagged and heaved, struggling to accept the sight. And what it meant.
Something moved. He twisted, his hands still splayed over the ground. His eyes widened and he raised his arm, desperate to ward off the blow. But he was too late. And the steel shovel was only a blur of movement before it cracked into the side of his head.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Nikki followed Jack’s directions, turning her car west and then east on the curving blacktop. “How far away is Lena’s store?” she asked.
“Two more miles,” Jack said, his gaze pinned on the ditch.
“You’re sure this is the quickest way?”
“Yup.”
Nikki eased the car around a deep rut. Jack had coaxed her into letting him ride along, claiming that Sparky needed him and also that he could direct her to a spot with cell phone coverage. But she had an excellent memory; the map was still vivid in her brain. And the directions Jack was giving weren’t the quickest but more likely the route he thought his brother had taken. Not surprising. She would have done the same thing in his situation. Would have wanted to check every road in the county.
But what if Billy’s body was lying in the ditch? Bloody and battered. Ripped apart by wildlife. Jack shouldn’t see that. On the other hand—and she didn’t want to voice this fear—it seemed more likely Billy had been abducted. If so, seven days was far too long to expect a happy outcome.
She glanced in the rearview window, checking on Sparky. The dog may not have been on many car rides but he was certainly taking this one with aplomb. He’d squeezed in beside the cardboard boxes from the Doberman kennel and had his nose pressed against the side window, studying the ditches with the same intent expression as Jack.
“Better open Sparky’s window a crack,” Jack said. “He’s nuts about Billy and has a great nose. If he gets within a half mile, he’ll find him.”
“So we’re actually retracing all his possible routes? Not driving directly to the store?”
Jack shifted on the seat. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I have my license but we don’t have a car. This is my only chance to check some of the other roads.”
“Okay,” she said, appreciating his honesty. “But let’s do it properly.”
She lowered the windows, easing so close to the ditch that her tires crunched over the gravel. “We’ll check this side first, then drive back and do the other side. But if we see something, you don’t get out. Agreed?”
Jack glanced at her, his mouth twisted. But he didn’t answer. Didn’t agree to anything.
“I’ll turn around, take you back,” she said, holding his gaze. “Unless you promise.”
“No you won’t. And I don’t want to make a promise I can’t keep.”
“How do you know I won’t take you home?”
“Because I can help,” Jack said. “And it’s obvious you’re really determined to find Billy.”
Her mouth tightened and she stared over the wheel, surprised he could read her so well. But he needed to follow directions if he were to ride along. She’d seen bodies before. It was agonizing, even more gut wrenching when it was someone you love. No way was she exposing him to that.
She looked back at him, hardening her gaze, copying Justin’s flat stare, the one that always had people jump to do his bidding. But Jack only lifted a mocking eyebrow. Clearly he’d squared off with far more intimidating people. Still, she couldn’t let him ride along, even if his knowledge of the area would be helpful.
She flashed her indicator light and began a U-turn.
“Wait!” Jack said, suddenly animated “I promise that I won’t freak out. And I’ve seen some shitty things. And I can promise not to get in your way. Let me stay...please.”
He made it sound like it was her decision and the “please” was a nice touch. She didn’t know what he intended to do in his future but he already seemed to have a good understanding of psychology.
“All right,” she said, straightening the car. “But I also want you to show me where Billy’s school is. Even though you don’t think it’s relevant.”
“No problem,” Jack said quickly. “I can take you to the principal’s house too.”
“You know where he lives? You’ve been there?”
“Sure, back when I was twelve. On Halloween.”
“I don’t imagine you were trick or treating,” she said.
Jack just winked and turned his attention back to the ditch. Sparky did too, jamming his head out the window, his nose snuffling.
Hiding her smile, she resumed her turtle speed along the shoulder of the road, surprised to admit she appreciated both Jack and Sparky’s company. They didn’t replace Gunner, but they were decent company in a wooded area that was both unfamiliar and isolated. And if Billy was as smart and intuitive as his older brother, he was a real crackerjack.
She just prayed she’d have the pleasure of meeting him.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“This place belongs to Billy’s principal?” Nikki eased her car to a stop, appraising the house. It looked far more prosperous than the other two homes she’d visited today. And much newer. Oversized glass windows extended around the front of the house, shaded by deep overhanging eaves. The tile roof was spotless, and the stone and wood exterior gave a rustic feel. The front lawn was landscaped and someone had been using precious water with abandon. No other way the ornamental shrubs would be so lush.
“Yeah,” Jack said. “David Dunbar. He’s a real douche. Inherited some money and wants everyone to know how special he is.”
“Single?”
“Of course.” Jack scoffed. “No grown woman would put up with him. If you’re interested, you’re not as cool as I thought.”
“Just figuring out if he’s home,” Nikki said. A lone vehicle was parked in the circular driveway, a late-model Ford Bronco. Not a speck of dust marred its metallic red coat, remarkable for anyone driving on these roads. A vanity plate read: YesUCan.
“He’s home,” Jack said, inclining his seat and propping his dirty boots on the dash. “I’ll wait here.”
“Yes, you will.” She shoved his feet back on the floor, ignoring his half-hearted protest. Jack had turned rather surly after their unsuccessful check of the ditches. In her opinion, not finding any evidence that Billy had been hit by a car was a good thing. Jack, however, seemed to consider their search a failure.
She peered over her shoulder at Sparky. The dog’s mood was unaffected. He seemed delighted to drive around in an air-conditioned car, rather than remain home chained to his kennel. At some point he’d curled up in a ball, no longer interested in sticking his head out the window and helping. Gunner never would have quit that quickly. In fairness, Sparky was probably more of a ground sniffer than an air scent dog. But dammit, she missed her dog.
She pushed open her car door, still eyeing Sparky. “We should have grabbed a piece of Billy’s clothing from your closet. All that driving around, Sparky might not have even known we were looking for him.”
Jack grunted. “He knows. Sparky doesn’t need fancy training to remember what Billy smells like. He can find rabbits and partridge quick enough. Don’t dis him because he’s a mutt who didn’t attend K9 finishing school.”
“That’s not what I was doing,” she said. But in a way it was. Gunner had been bred for police work and had received extensive training before he rebelled and Justin gave him to her. Whether it was an animal or person, when she showed Gunner a scent he remained focused. He certainly wouldn’t have curled up in the back and taken a nap. In fact, he would have behaved more like Jack, worried and despondent because he hadn’t succeeded in finding anything.
