Repent, page 9
Yet there wasn’t anything of interest. Even after running her hand along the bottom of each drawer and checking both mattresses, she turned up nothing except a men’s magazine. Certainly no drugs, liquor, or anything to make fire bombs. This room was as empty of clues as Billy’s social media footprint. Definitely nothing to suggest abuse or reasons to flee. Unfortunately there was also nothing to indicate where he might hole up if he had chosen to go to ground.
She backed up to the door, giving the room one last scan. Probably even Gunner wouldn’t have been able to find anything here. Mrs. Tanner ran a tight ship and if Billy had something worth hiding, he must have kept it outside.
Her gaze drifted around the room then back to the fan. It wasn’t plugged in and took up precious space. The California nights had been cool and likely the fan hadn’t been needed for a while. It felt wrong.
Crouching down, she peered inside. Saw only four crooked paddles with surprisingly little dust. Metal clamps held the motor compartment in place. She pulled out a coin and pried open the back.
A plastic baggie dropped at her feet.
She scooped up the bag and inspected it by the window. Weird. Not powder or pills or edibles. It looked like dog biscuits: milk bones, the kind that came in the red box on the grocery store shelves. She opened the bag and gave it a cautious sniff. Yes, definitely dog bones. But why would someone hide dog food in their room? Was Billy starved for food?
Jack appeared well fed. He was lean and lanky but had plenty of muscle. Smitty and Lara had said nothing about Billy losing weight, but would they have noticed? Maybe Mrs. Tanner was punishing Billy for throwing the firebomb and causing potential attention from Child Services. And when he had run away, she’d felt so guilty that she’d hired Nikki.
On the other hand, what would stop Billy from getting up in the night and sneaking some food from the kitchen? Anything would be tastier than dog biscuits. Nothing in the room suggested restraints and there wasn’t a lock on the door. But perhaps Jack was the enforcer. He was older and bigger, and no doubt had learned several intimidation methods while running with a gang.
Nikki left the room, stopping only to check the doorknob. It had no lock. And she’d already noted that the window would permit the exit of a flexible teen.
Mrs. Tanner was standing in front of the kitchen sink, hands deep in soapy water. She turned at Nikki’s approach. “I don’t imagine you found anything,” she said. “The boys were brought up to be neat.”
“Very neat,” Nikki said, her gaze sweeping over the fridge and cupboards. There didn’t appear to be any locking mechanisms but her suspicions were on high alert.
“I just need to grab a glass of water,” she said, reaching up and opening a cupboard door. It opened easily, revealing cereal, crackers and rice.
“Not that cupboard,” Mrs. Tanner said. “Glasses are to the right.”
Nikki put on a show of struggling to find the correct cupboard and by the time she picked up a glass, it was obvious there was food readily available. And not a single lock.
“So what’s your plan?” Mrs. Tanner asked as she took Nikki’s glass, filled it with cold water and passed it back. “Where are you going now?”
“I want to retrace Billy’s route after he got off the bus. But first I’d like to have Jack’s input.”
“All right. But he doesn’t know anything or else he’d have found Billy himself. And he’s been miserable. Barely comes inside except to sleep.”
“Did the boys get along well?” Nikki asked, watching the woman’s expression. “Was Billy having any problems at home? At school? With you?”
Mrs. Tanner’s eyes widened with such incredulity it was impossible to believe the indignation in her voice wasn’t real. “Of course not,” she snapped. “Whatever happened is related to that police horse. I just know it!”
Nikki gave a soothing nod and pulled out her notebook. “I just want to check every angle. Can you tell me the name of his school? And his teachers?”
“Greenfield Consolidated,” Mrs. Tanner muttered, her voice resentful. “I don’t know the names of his teachers. There’s a bunch of them.”
“That’s okay,” Nikki said, jotting down the information. “I’ll talk to the principal.”
“Jack might know more of their names. But you’re wasting your time. You should check out the cops where Billy worked. That’s why I hired you, because the police weren’t taking me seriously. I see you’re not either.”
The woman’s eyes glittered with unshed tears and Nikki gentled her voice. “I just want to be thorough. We know Billy got off the bus. So something happened between your house and that last stop. I want to concentrate on this area, including what road Billy might have taken to go home.”
She pulled out a satellite map, one of several she’d printed, and positioned it on the table. “It looks like there’s a fire road that cuts through the woods,” she said, tracing it with a finger. “Or else he might have followed the blacktop to where it splits right here. There’s also a possibility he hitchhiked.”
“Billy wouldn’t hitchhike.” Mrs. Tanner’s voice shook with emotion. “He’d never take a ride from a stranger. And that old fire road is full of deadfalls. It wouldn’t save any time.”
“But there’s a possibility?”
Mrs. Tanner wrung her hands, her eyes fixed on the map. “That bus wasn’t his regular one so I can’t really say. I hope he’s not hurt and lying out in the cold, fighting off varmints.”
Nikki gave the woman’s shoulder a comforting squeeze and scooped up the map. “I’ll just step outside,” she said, “and see what Jack thinks.”
“Wait a sec.” Mrs. Tanner fumbled for a napkin. “Take him the rest of the biscuits. He’s been so grumpy lately. Maybe they’ll soften him up, put him in a helping frame of mind. I can make a fresh batch for when you find Billy.”
Her tremulous smile tugged at Nikki’s heart. The woman’s devotion to her youngest grandson made it unlikely she’d ever harm him and Nikki was almost embarrassed by her earlier suspicions.
Jack, though, was another matter. Because Billy had ridden the bus to within a mile of his house. Something—or someone—had stopped him from coming home. And sibling rivalry could be a dangerous thing.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The screen door clicked behind Nikki as she stepped outside onto the Tanner’s aging back porch. Three boards had recently been replaced and their light color contrasted with the rest of the wood. A clothesline ran from the top of the porch to a stout evergreen. Jeans dangled from the line along with an assortment of shirts and underwear. Rain barrels had been placed on both sides of the house as well as a smaller blue barrel next to the chicken coop.
She climbed down the steps and detoured around a vegetable garden with a drip hose running through the middle.
Sparky stepped from his dog house, his chain rattling a welcome, watching her approach with lively interest. Mrs. Tanner had complained of his barking but right now the dog was silent. He sat and waved a paw in the air, staring at the food in her hand with beseeching eyes.
“Your dog has a good nose,” Nikki said, smiling at Jack. “Guess he smells the biscuits.”
Jack just scowled, his hands gripping the axe, not nearly as friendly as the dog. The knuckles of both hands were reddened and his right hand was marked with puckered white skin. A tattoo extended below the sleeve of his black T-shirt, draping over well-defined muscles. If she’d spotted him in a city alley, she would have entered with caution.
“It’s not surprising your dog wants one,” Nikki went on, determined to soften his defenses. “Your grandmother is a wonderful cook.”
Jack glowered, still not speaking. For a boy of sixteen, he was rather intimidating. She wondered what his role had been in the youth gang. His right hand looked jagged white against the tan of his skin. And the skin on his hands was thickened from numerous scrapes.
She had to give him bonus points for Sparky’s behavior though. If the dog had been afraid of Jack, he would be cowering in his dog house, not looking bright-eyed at the food. That knowledge was comforting and it proved the dog might be a conversation starter. Few people could resist talking about their pet.
“It looks like he wants me to shake his paw,” Nikki said, ignoring Jack’s hostility. She would have felt better if he put down the axe but they weren’t at that point yet. “May I give him a piece of biscuit?”
Jack didn’t answer.
“My dog, Gunner, looks at me like that when he wants a treat,” she said. “He doesn’t raise his paw though. He doesn’t know many tricks.”
“Billy taught Sparky to shake hands,” Jack finally said, his voice rusty, as if he hadn’t used it in a while.
“So he’s Billy’s pet?”
“Sparky’s not a pet. He finds rabbits so we can shoot them.” Jack’s voice turned mocking. “In season of course.”
“I wouldn’t imagine anything else,” she said.
Jack eyed her, as if wondering if she was making a joke. Then he shrugged and turned away, picked up another piece of wood and split it with an expert stroke. He tossed it on the chopped pile and methodically scooped up another stick.
Nikki sighed. She couldn’t make him talk; she had to make him want to help.
“So, may I shake Sparky’s paw,” she said, “and give him a piece of biscuit?”
“If you insist,” Jack muttered. “But Sparky’s a pain. And don’t let Gran see. She gets upset when we waste food.”
Nikki turned so she blocked the view from the kitchen. Stooping, she shook hands with the little dog then slipped him a piece of buttery biscuit. The food disappeared in seconds. Sparky licked his lips and waved his paw again. He had an adorable brown patch over his left eye and a white tail that whipped back and forth, and she sensed Jack liked the dog far more than he pretended. She’d also noticed how Jack had eyed the biscuits, almost as interested as the dog.
“Looks like Sparky wants more,” Nikki said, keeping a straight face. “Should I give him the rest?”
“No!” Jack slammed the axe into the chopping block so hard the wooden handle quivered. “People food spoils dogs. I’ll eat them.”
Nikki passed him the bundle of biscuits. He didn’t look too happy about approaching her, but at least he hadn’t escaped into the woodshed. And she was even more relieved that he’d put down the axe. “My name is Nikki Drake. I’m a private investigator. Your grandmother hired me to look for your brother.”
“You charge us money to stand around and eat biscuits?” Jack asked, his voice sullen.
“There won’t be much of a charge,” Nikki said. At least he was talking.
“Then what’s in it for you? Social Services paying you to come out here and dig up dirt?”
“I just want to find Billy. We know he got off the bus about a mile from here, around nine-thirty last Saturday night. We don’t know where he went after that. Your grandmother said he wouldn’t hitchhike. What do you think?”
She smiled, desperate to keep Jack talking. But he wouldn’t look at her. He silently chewed the biscuits, his gaze locked on the stack of wood.
“Maybe there’s a shortcut he took?” she went on, pulling out the map. “I don’t know this area like you. So your opinion is important.”
That didn’t sway him. He just swallowed and wiped his mouth, obviously in a hurry to eat and return to his wood chopping.
“Your grandmother is hoping you can help,” Nikki said. “Because this map is hard to read.”
She kept her focus on the map, feeling Jack’s reluctance even as he edged closer. He jabbed a thumb at the paper then stepped back as if burned.
“Billy would have taken that road,” he mumbled. “Not the back trail. This road is the fastest. It’s longer as a crow flies, but there aren’t as many hills.”
Despite Jack’s hostility, he was clearly a swift thinker. It hadn’t taken him long to figure out their current location and the map scale.
“Okay, great,” she said. “And if a car came by, would he have stuck out his thumb?”
Jack set his jaw, looking every bit as stubborn as his grandmother.
“This has nothing to do with curfew or probation or Social Services,” Nikki said. “Or bending a few rules. I just want to bring Billy home.”
Jack’s eyes narrowed on her field pack. “Who exactly do you work for?”
“Myself,” Nikki said. “And my client. Who in this case is your grandmother.”
“You’re not obliged to pass information to the police?”
“Only on a case-by-case basis. And only with approval from my client or the client’s attorney. Otherwise, my license could be yanked.”
Jack shook some crumbs off the napkin, crumpled it up and jammed it in his pocket. His gaze remained on her the entire time, as if doubting the truth of her words. “I suppose it’s like a lawyer,” he finally said, more to himself than her. “Do you carry a gun?”
“I’m licensed to carry a weapon, yes.”
“Licensed in how many states?”
“Just one, California.”
“So you’re small time,” he sneered. “Exactly how many missing persons have you found?”
“One,” Nikki said, her voice thickening. These were the questions Jack’s grandmother had the right to ask but hadn’t. She crossed her arms. Didn’t want to talk about her sister.
Something flickered in Jack’s eyes and she could have sworn she caught a hint of compassion. But when he spoke his voice was granite hard. “Gran told me a little bit. She thinks you’re a hotshot investigator. And I don’t want her disappointed.”
“I can’t promise results,” Nikki said. “But I can promise I won’t give up.”
He eyed her for a long time, his gaze assessing. Then he gave a grudging nod. “Guess that’s all we can expect,” he said. “And yes, Billy would have accepted a ride. Maybe he wouldn’t have hitched because he always followed Gran’s rules. But if someone stopped and offered, he wasn’t an idiot. He would have got in.”
Jack bent and stroked Sparky’s head, outwardly nonchalant but Nikki caught the tremor in his voice. “Guess that means some perv took him.”
“There are other possibilities,” she said. “Maybe he met with some friends. Found some drugs or alcohol and couldn’t resist. Does he have any camping equipment?”
“No. And he never went to bush parties. He would have come home. Even if it was just to make sure this damn dog was fed.” Jack remained bent over Sparky, his restless fingers moving over the dog’s ears.
Nikki waited, tamping down her questions, sensing he had more to say. Sparky’s tail thumped against the ground but he was the only one who seemed happy.
“I know some guys who race along there,” Jack finally added. “Thought they might know something. Even suspected they might have hit him. But we talked and they weren’t on the road that night.”
“Think they were telling the truth?”
“Maybe not at first,” Jack straightened, staring into her eyes. “But they weren’t lying when I finished.”
His statement lacked bravado, full only of the simple truth. Jack reminded her of a friend she’d hung around with the last time she ran away, when Justin had found her sleeping on a park bench and convinced her to go home and finish school. That guy had been no angel either.
She eyed the scar on Jack’s right hand. There was still some healing to do, although maybe the skin was permanently discolored. Clearly he had used his fists often. They were getting along so well, she hated to change the tone. But the difficult questions had to be asked. The reaction might be more important than the answer.
“So you worked your car buddies over a bit,” she said. “Did you ever do that to Billy?”
“Hell, no!” Jack recoiled as if she’d smacked him in the face. “He’s my little brother.”
“You didn’t give him any reason to leave? What about your grandmother? Did she ever ask you to discipline him?”
Jack’s jaw dropped. “Leave Gran out of this,” he said, his voice as chilly as his eyes.
“Just covering all the bases,” Nikki said. “At one time you were taken away. I can’t get in the youth offender files to see the reason. Maybe something here drove you away...”
“That was my fault. Not Gran’s. Never hers.” Jack pressed his fists against his chest as if afraid of lashing out. “And you can fuck off now.”
Nikki knew she was pushing, searching for his hot button. But his control was admirable. At his age, she’d have been going for the jugular. But he might know more than he was saying. For Billy’s sake, she had to dig. So she waited, the taut silence broken only by the clothes flapping on the line and the harsh scolding of a scrub jay.
Jack glowered. His breathing was ragged and a muscle in his jaw pulsed. He didn’t seem inclined to run her off. But he wasn’t talking either. It was obvious he held his grandmother in high esteem. And he’d seemed genuinely shocked by her suggestion that he might have hurt Billy.
“I’m just doing the job your grandmother hired me to do,” Nikki said.
“Yeah, but you’re way off base.” Jack smacked his fist in his hand, the abrupt sound startling. “Gran loves Billy. He’s her favorite, deservedly so. She’d never do anything to harm him. Neither would I. Because, I...I love him too.”
He reddened, as if embarrassed by the admission, but his emotion gave credence to his words. Which meant Billy’s family hadn’t driven him away. And she’d use that information to shape her search.
“If throwing out abuse accusations is how you help,” Jack went on, his hands still fisted, “we don’t want you. How much did you fleece her for?”
“Your grandmother paid seventy-four dollars and promised a batch of biscuits. After tasting her cooking, I consider this to be paid in full.”
Jack’s mouth twisted, as close to a smile as she’d probably get.
