Repent, page 8
“Yeah,” Smitty muttered. “That kid put in some long hours. But I guess he didn’t like horses as much as he pretended. He ran off last week. The court isn’t going to like that.”
Smitty knew he shouldn’t take Billy’s defection personally but he’d thought the kid felt genuinely bad about Radar. Smitty had even considered applying to keep him on and creating a paying job. Billy didn’t talk much about his home life but it was apparent his grandmother struggled just to put groceries on the table. Hardworking families like that could use a little help.
“I share your outrage, brother.” Ray reached out and gripped Smitty’s shoulder. “Animals deserve a life free from exploitation.”
Smitty took another swig of coffee, fighting his irritation. Ray’s extremist comments often got on his nerves. He had little tolerance for placard-waving prattle. And he definitely didn’t like the man’s touch.
He could better accept the familiarity if Ray were a beautiful redhead...like Nikki Drake. He’d checked her out on his computer last night and learned she was legitimate. Had put in her apprentice hours and earned her license. That had calmed him. She was only doing her job, chasing him down at the Rusty Nail, asking legitimate questions.
Now, on this sunny Saturday, he found her suspicions more amusing than threatening. He actually gave her points for having the nerve to check out his truck. She was intelligent, brave and smelled good, unlike Ray who always carried a rather unpleasant cloud of barn odors. And the man was still squeezing his shoulder, as if they were brothers in arms.
“Dammit, Ray.” Smitty forced a chuckle as he pivoted away from the man. “When are you going to slaughter those hogs?”
“Never,” Ray said, his voice reproachful. “I’d never hurt an animal. They’re family now.”
Smitty sighed. He often dropped off hay and grain, and the county provided a feed allowance for rescues, but hogs were big eaters. Ray must be digging into his own pockets to keep them healthy. “How many are you looking after?” he asked.
“Sixteen,” Ray said. “But I supplement their food with road kill. Pigs are indiscriminate eaters. They love carcasses, especially when they’re fresh.”
Smitty’s gaze lowered over the dark spatter on the man’s boots. Ray must have dashed down after carving up food for the pigs. The thought was rather repulsive. So was the pungent smell of organ meat.
He dumped the remainder of his coffee on the gravel and tossed his cup into the back of his truck, suddenly in a hurry to leave. This wasn’t a pleasant topic for his weekend off. He craved space. And fresh air.
“Want me to drive you up before I go?” he asked, not surprised when Ray shook his head. Smitty always offered but Ray never liked to cut into anyone’s time. And Smitty appreciated that.
“I’ll come down and pick up the bales later,” Ray said. He stared at Smitty, his dark eyes intent. “And don’t worry about Radar’s torturer. He’ll regret his cruelty.”
Smitty stepped into his truck with a non-committal grunt, waved and pulled the door shut. All this talk about Billy left him feeling guilty. He hadn’t been entirely truthful when questioned by the investigator last night. Hadn’t wanted to admit he’d left Billy unsupervised last Saturday. He certainly didn’t want the brass to find out.
But dammit, he’d trusted the kid. Had been totally shocked when Billy ran off. Now though, Nikki Drake’s questions left him more worried than pissed. What if she was right and Billy hadn’t chosen to ghost?
He drove a few more miles, warring with his conscience. Then he veered right, pulling into the parking lot of Lena’s, the local general store. The store offered two fuel pumps and one of them was diesel. He didn’t need gas but it was one of the higher spots where his cell phone didn’t drop calls. And he had to make things right, for Billy’s sake.
He plucked Nikki Drake’s business card from his wallet and propped it against the steering wheel. She might not answer and he certainly wasn’t going to leave a message. Maybe he wouldn’t have to talk to her yet. He punched in her number before he could change his mind.
She answered immediately and, like him, was obviously driving. Music rippled in the background. He wished now he’d thought a little more about what he would say, how he’d slide in the information without looking like an idiot. Or a liar.
“It’s Aaron Smith, Smitty,” he said, keeping his voice casual. Unofficial.
“Hi, Smitty,” she said, sounding just as relaxed. She was making it easy for him, he thought. Even though he hadn’t been cooperative last night, trying to run her off. Of course, his intimidation hadn’t worked. It had only alerted her enough to snoop around his truck. Kudos to her.
He cleared his throat. “I’ve been thinking about last Saturday. The day Billy Tanner disappeared.”
“Yes,” she said, her music no longer audible.
“Now that I’ve checked your credentials,” he said. “I feel better about discussing the details.”
“Of course,” she said.
He hesitated, hoping this wouldn’t cost him his badge. However, he’d had more time to think. And her fears about Billy left him concerned. “There’s a possibility Billy stayed a little after five last Saturday night. He might have left closer to seven. I stepped out for a couple hours when he was closing up. Just thought you should know.”
There was no sound. Three crows hopped around a metal dumpster, searching for tidbits, but Smitty couldn’t hear their caws. He was too focused on Nikki, listening for her breathing, wondering if she was still there.
Finally she spoke. “I learned he took the late bus that evening,” she said. “Now we know why. Your information helps fill in that missing gap. Do you think he stayed at the barn until seven?”
“Probably,” he said, relieved her tone was more curious than accusing. She must have seen the police report. Noticed the glaring omission. But she wasn’t jumping on him. Was even using the term “we” as if they were in it together.
“Billy was worried about Radar’s itching,” he added. “He wanted to stay and see if a new ointment would help. But he wasn’t upset or anything.”
“So you didn’t personally see Billy after five o’clock?”
“Correct,” Smitty said. And even though he’d just admitted to a huge security breach, a weight lifted from his shoulders.
“Okay, thanks. I appreciate your call.” She promised to update him with any new information and cut the connection, sounding more concerned about Billy than aghast at how he’d left the kid unsupervised.
Smitty dragged a hand over his jaw, his thoughts wrapped around Billy. Maybe Mrs. Tanner’s concern was justified and her grandson hadn’t run off. Maybe that hadn’t been Billy he’d seen by the mall. At least someone was looking into it, even if it was a lone investigator with limited resources. There wasn’t much Nikki could do on her own. But that was going to change. He’d make sure of it.
He wheeled his truck out of the lot, in a hurry now. He’d drive to the station and make an official push for more action. He also knew every animal organization in the county. They were always ready to post lost pet pictures and would be keen to help find a local teen. Their volunteers would have social media buzzing. His superiors wouldn’t have to know it came from him. He should have put this in motion earlier instead of resenting Billy for breaking his trust.
His tires squealed as he careened around a sharp corner. A blur of brown leaped from the ditch. Thump. He didn’t have time to brake, only caught panicked eyes and a flash of white as a deer ricocheted off his bumper.
He jerked to a stop and checked the rearview mirror. A crumpled heap lay motionless, splayed near the middle of the road.
“Aw, hell.” Groaning, he backed up, stepped from his truck and checked the deer. A plump young doe in her prime, now very dead, just another unfortunate animal for Ray to collect.
He checked his phone. But there were no bars, just the dreaded “no service” message. He’d leave the doe on the side of the road and call Ray later with the location. Hopefully the man would pick her up today on his rounds.
He circled the front of his pickup, stooping to check the damage. Not much, just a cracked grill and a shiny spot where the deer had rubbed dust off the bumper. He straightened, sighing with regret.
The doe had shot unexpectedly from the brush, but he’d been driving too fast, thinking of Billy and not the road. Unfortunately she had paid the price. A moment ago, she’d been a picture of grace and beauty. Now she was a twisted carcass stiffening beneath the sun. Already flies circled, drawn by the blood trickling from her nostrils. More scavengers would appear soon, eager to feast on her body.
Smitty sighed again and lowered his tailgate. He’d never been one to drive past, leaving animals on the road to rot, and this one was his responsibility. Besides, it was only a short detour back to Ray’s, and the man would be appreciative.
Fifteen minutes later, Smitty wheeled back onto the gravel at the bottom of Ray’s treed driveway. The hay bales still sat by the closed gate.
He dragged the deer off the back of his truck and positioned her behind the hay, out of sight of passing cars. Scant traffic used this road, but he didn’t want to cause Bambi nightmares for any children.
Already her body was changing. Fleas visibly scattered, leaving their host as her body cooled. Grimacing, he stepped back, wishing his phone worked here so he could alert Ray. Carcasses deteriorated fast in the California sun, and she should be collected and gutted soon.
He glanced once more at the deer then at the locked gate. It was possible to walk around the fence if one didn’t mind squeezing through some ugly brush. After about twenty feet, the mesh stopped and he could loop back onto the driveway. It wouldn’t take a whole lot of time to walk up and find Ray.
Sighing, he pushed into the woods surrounding the locked gate. The underlying brush was even thicker than he remembered, and he had to bend much more than his back liked. Brambles tugged at his shirt, scratching his skin, but he bulled forward, accepting the thorns as his penance. He angled a sharp right, guessing by now he was well clear of the mesh barrier. When he crashed from the woods, he was on the gravel on the other side of the gate.
Tugging off a stubborn briar and wiping pinpoints of blood from his arms he began the hot trudge up the driveway. This shouldn’t take more than ten minutes and no doubt Ray would be happy to see him, grateful to have an unexpected supply of fresh meat.
After all, pigs were always hungry.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“These biscuits are delicious,” Nikki said, lifting a second one off the plate. She wasn’t an enthusiastic cook but she appreciated good food. And these biscuits were light and flaky and seemed to melt in her mouth.
“Fill your boots.” Mrs. Tanner pushed a chipped butter dish closer to Nikki. “You’re the first person to take the time to drive out here since Billy disappeared. The cops never bothered. ”
“The police are very busy,” Nikki murmured, trying to keep her lips from smacking in delight. She couldn’t remember when she’d tasted such fantastic biscuits.
“But my taxes pay for policing,” Mrs. Tanner complained. “And they haven’t done a thing. On television, cops always visit the house and look around. Of course, Jack might have refused to let them in.” She glanced over her shoulder, looking through a spotless window decorated by frilly yellow curtains and a handmade sun catcher. “He doesn’t like the police much.”
Nikki gave an encouraging nod, her mouth too full to talk. Besides, she was curious about Billy’s brother and it was wiser to let Mrs. Tanner vent. Nikki had already heard the woman’s opinion of Jack’s probation officer, but she could sift through that conversation later, searching for any nugget of information. The most inconsequential detail might be the one to help find Billy. Men generally opened up with a little flattery but women often just needed people to listen. To know that someone else cared.
“Jack doesn’t like the Social Services people either,” Mrs. Tanner went on. “They keep threatening to take him. But he’s kept his nose clean for the past five months.”
“It must be a challenge.” Nikki pulled her eyes off the plate of biscuits, reluctantly resolving not to eat a third. “Raising two teenage boys.”
“Billy was easy. He takes after his mom. But Jack is like his father, God rest their souls.” She straightened the butter knife so it was more properly aligned on the edge of the plate. “The boys may look alike but Billy has always been the gentle one. Sparky hasn’t stopped pining since he left. Just lies there like a useless lump.”
“May I talk to Jack?” Nikki asked, glancing out the window to where a dark-haired teenager angrily split wood.
Angrily. Nikki didn’t like how that word jumped into her head. But Jack’s body language was unmistakable. Tension corded his wiry shoulders, and he ignored the small brown-and-white dog who watched with mournful eyes.
“I’ll ask him to come in,” Mrs. Tanner said, reaching for her cane. “He’s wary of authority. So don’t expect much.”
“No need to interrupt him yet,” Nikki said, knowing it would be easier to check the house while Jack was outside. Not dogging her steps, watching her every move with hostile eyes. “First, I’d like to see Billy’s room. And his computer.”
“He doesn’t have a computer. Just the shared one over there where he types his schoolwork. That’s where he wrote his letter of apology. But like I said, we don’t have internet service.”
Nikki eyed the blocky computer. It looked like a relic from a local library and still had a “purge” sticker pasted on its side.
“Billy and Jack share a room,” Mrs. Tanner went on. “And Jack won’t want you poking around in there.”
“But I might see something that will help find Billy.”
“You won’t find anything in there. Billy is a good boy. Jack is too...now. And I can’t have you stirring up trouble, maybe siccing Child Services on us.”
“I’m only here to find your grandson,” Nikki said. But her suspicious mind was racing. Mrs. Tanner’s concern about losing custody was troubling. The woman didn’t seem strong enough to physically abuse anyone but Jack certainly was. The power in his body was obvious in the way he wielded the axe. Did the two of them have something to do with Billy running away? Maybe it wasn’t Billy’s work place that had prompted him to disappear. Perhaps it was his home life.
“I’d like to use your bathroom as well,” Nikki added, not wanting Mrs. Tanner to dig in her heels. She wasn’t the type to be pushed. But letting Nikki use the bathroom was a good first step.
“Help yourself.” Mrs. Tanner peered out the window again, seemingly more concerned about Jack’s movements than Nikki’s. “The bathroom is the first door on the left. And while you’re down there, Billy’s room is across the hall. You can go in there if you’re quick. It shouldn’t take you long to look around. Jack doesn’t have to know.”
“Thank you,” Nikki murmured, quickly rising from the table. Mrs. Tanner wanted her to hurry and she intended to heed the woman’s advice.
The hall was less than fifteen feet long and seemed to run downhill. Nikki reached the bathroom in three long strides. She pushed open the door, stepped inside and locked the door. She didn’t actually need to use the facilities but bathrooms were a treasure trove of information.
She peered around, noting that someone in the Tanner household had superior cleaning skills. Everything gleamed, from the faded beige floor tiles to the white toilet bowl. Three toothbrushes stood in a sparkling glass, alongside a tube of toothpaste neatly folded from the bottom. Three towels hung over a crooked rack. There were very few hiding places.
She turned on the tap, using the running water to hide the sounds of her lifting the lid of the toilet tank. Nothing there but water and the flush apparatus. Someone had recently replaced the orange bulb. She carefully replaced the lid then peeked in the cabinet above the sink.
For three people, the shelves were relatively sparse: toothpaste, razors, low-dose ASA, two bars of generic soap, and five bottles of prescription drugs. She picked up each bottle, scanning the dates and labels. All were prescribed to Elizabeth G. Tanner including a blood thinner, medication for gastric reflux, and an antibiotic for emphysema. There was also a container of muscle relaxant, long expired and barely used. Certainly there were no drugs on display for Billy, legal or otherwise.
She closed the cabinet and checked behind the shower curtain. Only soap, shampoo, and a well-scrubbed tub. Someone had recently added caulking around the faucet and the pristine walls glistened. Nothing more to be learned here other than the Tanners possessed enviable cleaning and handyman skills.
She turned off the running tap, flushed the toilet and peered out the window.
Jack was still chopping, scattering wood chips with the ferocity of his blows. Sparky had wisely retreated to his dog house. Only the tip of his nose was visible, and he pulled it back every time a wood chip flew too close. Other than that, the dog remained unmoving.
Nikki crossed the hall and stepped into Billy’s room, relieved she’d have a few minutes alone. It shouldn’t take long to look around. The room was tiny. Two single beds—made with military precision—occupied most of the floor space along with a dresser, one brown wooden chair and an ancient fan. The only window in the bedroom slid open so easily she suspected it also served as an exit.
The closet door was ajar and she eased it wider, glancing inside. There were two distinct sides, separated by a plastic pant rack. Jack seemed to have most of the hanger space, but that was probably because of age privilege rather than any type of abuse. His clothes were two sizes larger and typical street teen while Billy’s clothes were mainly plaids and jeans, exactly like the photos Mrs. Tanner had provided. Nothing was out of place in the closet and Nikki found nothing tucked in their pockets or hidden in their shoes.
She moved to the dresser, listening for a cautious moment before edging open the drawers. Mrs. Tanner may have given her permission, but any self-respecting teen would resent a stranger poking around his underwear. On the other hand, Jack had spent time in juvenile detention so he was probably no stranger to random room checks.
