by Robin Mahle
“Not my problem anymore. So you see everything is fine. You can go to sleep now. That’s where I’m headed.” She stood up but Nolan gripped her arm.
“Mom. You’re sure that’s it? There’s nothing else?”
She held his gaze knowing full well that Tommy Boyce had yet to be tracked down. “Nothing else. Goodnight, sweetheart.”
“Goodnight, Mom.”
Light spilled into Allison’s bedroom. A new day arrived and yet the day before had played on a continuous loop and denied her sleep. The echoes of gunfire and thoughts of Tommy Boyce’s whereabouts swirled.
Allison had led a sheltered life up to now. A stay-at-home mom for twenty years, working for the state in fraud investigations for the past five years. Being the only witness to a double murder? Not on her bucket list. But she wouldn’t take this lying down, literally or figuratively.
Allison tossed her legs over the bed and sat upright. Glancing at the alarm clock on her bedside table, she noticed it was barely 6 am. Nolan would still be asleep, so she stood quietly from her bed and padded into the kitchen.
She brewed a pot of coffee and while it finished, she retrieved her phone from the living room. A text message had arrived from an unrecognized number. Allison returned to the kitchen and rested her elbows on the island countertop, swiping open the message.
“I haven’t seen my dad. Can you help?” the message read.
Allison pulled upright again, re-reading it as though she hadn’t understood it the first time. It was Boyce’s daughter. She had given her a business card from her job at the state and had written her personal number on it. The message was sent over an hour ago. But why contact Allison about this? The girl must’ve had other family, Boyce’s friends or work colleagues.
Allison typed her reply. “I can try to help. Do you have other family?” The coffee maker finished and she poured herself a cup when the phone buzzed with another incoming message. Allison rushed to it, and a few drops of coffee splashed over the cup’s edge and onto her shirt. “Damn it.” She placed the mug on the counter and swiped a paper towel to blot away the drops, then immediately reached for her phone.
“My dad’s a widower. We don’t have any family here,” the girl had replied.
It never occurred to Allison that Tommy Boyce could’ve been married or had a child, let alone be a widower who was raising a teenaged daughter on his own. Her heart went out to this girl. She didn’t even know her name, hadn’t bothered asking last night and just felt awful for having intruded.
“I can come back to your house and we can talk if you want. I don’t know your dad well, but he gave me some work and we can probably put our heads together for answers. What’s your name?” Allison pressed send.
“Lucy. Please come when you can. Thx.”
It was settled. Allison was going to meet Lucy and get to the bottom of what happened to her dad.
The drive to Boyce’s home wasn’t long enough to pull together a cohesive plan as to where this meeting would lead. Allison was flying by the seat of her pants now. The turn down Boyce’s street unnerved her, but she couldn’t back out of this one. Lucy Boyce needed to know what happened, at least, as much as Allison knew.
She arrived at the home once again. It looked much different in the light of a new day. Fresh, clean. The fan palms at the entrance swayed gently in the breeze and the grass was a lush green and manicured with care.
Allison stepped out of her car and walked toward the home when the door opened before she made it ten feet onto the pathway. The girl looked younger than she had last night, fragile somehow. She reminded her a little of Micah. There was a resemblance in the eyes. Micah looked almost the same when she learned of her parents’ impending divorce. Innocence stolen; heart broken. That was how Lucy Boyce looked now.
“Hi. Thanks for coming.” Lucy stepped aside. “Please, come in.”
Allison walked in. “I’m glad you reached out to me.”
“I have some coffee if you want it. Donuts too. They’re a day old but still pretty good,” Lucy said.
“That’d be great. Thank you.” Allison didn’t want to refuse the kind offer even if she’d already had three cups of coffee and this fourth would set her nerves on fire. That, along with the sugar rush from the donut, and she was about to be in for quite a ride. “You still haven’t heard from your dad?”
Lucy led the way into the kitchen of the modern home. It was much nicer than Allison’s house. Boyce had done well for himself.
“No. I guess I was hoping you’d come here with news,” Lucy replied.
“I’m sorry. No.”
Lucy nodded and reached for a cup in the cabinet. “Cream and sugar?”
“Just cream, thanks.” Allison pulled up a stool at the breakfast bar. “Lucy, does your dad usually get called out to work late?”
“Sometimes, but he always tells me when to expect him home.” She handed Allison the mug. “I haven’t heard from him since yesterday around 5 pm.”
“That’s about the time I met with him. He did mention he had some work going on, which was why he asked me to cover a quick assignment for him.”
“How long have you known my dad?” Lucy sipped on her coffee.
“Honestly? About a day. I met him through a friend. He was good enough to throw some work my way. I’m sorry. That’s probably not what you want to hear.”
“I don’t know many of the people my dad works with.”
“You don’t? How long have you lived in the area?”
“About 8 years. My mom passed away two years ago and Dad sort of buried himself in his work. We don’t get to spend much time together. I have school at the community college and he has work. But he does his best to keep in contact with me.”
Allison was relieved to know that Tommy Boyce seemed to be a good father. “I’m sorry about your mom. That must’ve been very difficult for you both.”
“Yeah. Dad took it pretty hard.”
Allison sipped on her coffee and eyed Lucy. “And you too, I imagine. You know, I have a daughter about your age. Her name’s Micah. I don’t see her much. She goes to FSU.”
“Ms. Hart, what can we do to find my dad?”
“Please, call me Allison.” She paused for a moment. “Well, I have a few ideas.” The thought of telling Lucy about her father’s office wasn’t appealing. It would only worry the girl even more. “Does your dad keep any of his work files here? Something we can look at that might tell us where he was going last night or who he might have been meeting with?”
Lucy appeared to think about the question. “He does have an office here, but I have no idea what his computer password would be.”
Allison nodded. “I see. Well, what about…” an idea began to take shape. “I don’t suppose you and your dad have a family locator app on your phones?” She had installed apps on her kids’ phones for when they were with their father. Now, she rarely used them and wondered if the kids had deleted them.
“Actually, yeah. Dad’s an ex-cop and he doesn’t trust anyone. He said the only way I could get a phone was if he put a tracker on it. I said fine but that he had to have one too.”
Allison smiled. “Smart girl.”
Lucy retrieved her phone from her back pocket. “I didn’t think to check this. I guess I kind of forgot about it till now.”
“You’ve been worried. It’s no wonder.” Allison waited for Lucy to open the app and take a look at the information. “Anything helpful?”
Lucy peered at her phone, thumbing buttons, zooming in on a map. “According to this, his last registered location was 4562 Channelside Drive. That was at 8:15 last night.”
Allison’s face drained of color. She knew instantly where that address was because she’d been there last night less than thirty minutes later.
“Do you know that place?” Lucy pressed on.
“Um, no. I know the general location, but it doesn’t ring a bell. I could go and check it out if you want. In fact, I’d like to, if you’re
okay with that.”
“Please, yes. If you could do that. I—I could come with you too.”
Allison shook her head. “No. No, there’s no need for that. I’ll tell you what, I’ll run down there now and check it out. If he’s not there sleeping in his car or something, I have a friend I can see and ask for more help.”
“A friend?” Lucy asked.
“A cop.” Allison watched as Lucy grew worried. “It’s fine. Look, cops are pretty good at finding people and your dad was a cop with Tampa PD anyway, right? I’ll bet one of them has heard from him and knows where he is. There’s no need for you to worry, Lucy. You said you go to the community college, which one?”
“Hillsborough,” she replied.
“My son goes there. His name is Nolan.”
“I don’t think I know him.” Lucy looked at her feet.
“Why don’t you go on to school and I’ll head over to this address? Then, if all else fails, I’ll go and talk to some of the guys who know your dad. Does that sound okay?”
“You’ll text me if you find him?”
“I’ll do you one better, I’ll have him text you himself, okay?”
“Yeah. Okay. Thank you, Ms. Hart.”
“It’s Allison, remember?” She stood and took a final bite of her donut. “Thanks for breakfast. I’ll be in touch very soon, Lucy.” She placed her hand on Lucy’s arm. “This will all work out. I’m sure your dad just lost track of time or is snoozing away in his car after a long night. Don’t worry.” Allison started outside and made her way to her car. A final wave to Lucy and she stepped inside, waiting for the girl to close the door.
There was no point in going to that address. She knew what she would find there, a gruesome murder scene. Probably cops and police tape. The question that burned in her mind was why? Why was Tommy Boyce at the very place he’d sent her to stake out? It didn’t make sense. She didn’t know Tommy Boyce at all. Sure, Milo did, but people always had an agenda. If he had been there, why?
Allison drove away from the home and headed straight to the place she’d left only a few hours earlier, the stationhouse. Shane was going to help her find Tommy Boyce.
7
It was no accident that Allison returned to the station while Detective Montoya was out working the crime scene. He’d made it clear she wasn’t to continue pursuing any leads regarding the investigation because, as she recalled, he had said it was better left to the professionals. Allison was a problem-solver and Montoya wasn’t going to keep her out of this as long as she had a problem to solve, and that was locating Tommy Boyce.
Allison approached the front desk and caught sight of Shane discussing something that must’ve been humorous with a young female officer. Before the woman behind the desk could greet her, she interrupted. “I see him.”
He noticed her arrival. “Ah, you’re back. Good. I’ve been waiting.” Shane turned to the officer. “I’ll catch up with you later?”
“Sure.” The woman nodded and disappeared into the corridor.
“I hope I didn’t interrupt anything,” Allison said.
“What? Her? No. Just shooting the breeze,” Shane replied.
“Well, as it turns out I could use your help. It’s about Boyce.”
“Surprise, surprise.” Shane pushed off the desk. “Your timing is impeccable, and I have a feeling you intended it that way. Montoya is still at the scene talking to neighbors and building a timeline of events.” He started toward his cubicle. “What’s on your mind?”
Allison followed him back and the two arrived at his desk. “Tommy Boyce has a daughter. She reached out to me after I made contact with her in the late hours of last night when I needed to find Boyce.”
“What did she want?”
“I—um, after what happened, I tried to track down Boyce. I was scared and confused, and I needed to tell him what happened. This was after I made the 911 call, of course.”
“Go on,” Shane said.
“I knew where Boyce’s office was and after my calls to him went unanswered, I drove there. Shane, someone had broken into his office. The door was jimmied. I went inside.”
He leaned over his desk. “You went inside? Knowing what had just happened?”
“Yeah. I know it was a risky call.”
“Risky? Are you kidding me? Christ Allison, what were you thinking? Did you leave prints?”
“No. I was careful not to leave a trace. I’m sure of it.”
“Funny, you don’t sound so sure. If they find evidence you were there, a big shiny spotlight will be sitting right on top of your head.”
“They won’t find anything. After seeing the state of his office, I assumed it would be better if no one knew I had been there. My point is that someone was looking for something in his office. It all just seems too coincidental for it to have been a run-of-the-mill break in. I looked for his home address and when I found it in one of the files I drove straight to his house. That’s when I met the daughter. It wasn’t until after dawn that she texted me and asked for my help because Tommy hadn’t returned home. I’m here because I’m swimming in unfamiliar waters, Shane, and I promised that girl I would find her dad.”
“The first rule of being a good cop is not to promise the families something you might not be able to deliver on.”
“Well, as we both know and Montoya so eloquently pointed out, I’m not a cop. There was something positive that came out of my meeting with her.”
“Thank God for small miracles. What is it?” Shane asked.
“Her name is Lucy and both she and her dad had a locator app on their phones. According to his last known location, which she clocked at around 8:15 pm, so before the shooting, was Goodfellow’s apartment building.”
“I’m sorry, did you say that was good news because what I just heard was that Tommy was at the scene of the crime 45 minutes before two people were gunned down.”
“It isn’t good news in the traditional sense,” Allison replied.
“Then please tell me how this is good news at all?”
“I take it to mean he might’ve been confirming I would show up. You know, checking that I was going to do the job he hired me to do. Then when he realized I was there, he probably left.”
“Okay. Where did he go after that? Why was that his last known location?”
“That’s why I’m here. I don’t know how to track him down and I was thinking maybe you could check the activity on his phone after 8:15. Calls, texts, anything that might tell us where he went later in the evening.”
“First of all, this isn’t my case. I have no authority to do what you’re asking. That would be up to Montoya.”
“I can’t go to him. He doesn’t like me. But you can. You can tell him about Lucy, and she can provide details about Tommy’s phone and the app. He’ll want to pull records after that, I’m sure.”
“That’s a possibility. To be honest, she’s probably on his list of people to talk to already. Same as her dad. He was hired by the husband, that much is known. Look Allison, these things take time. I understand you want to jump in and help this girl, but you can’t. We are at the mercy of Montoya’s investigation. I’ll go to him and mention this. But it will be up to him to follow through on it,” Shane said.
“Thank you. In the meantime, I’ll figure out another approach. Regardless of whether I should or shouldn’t have promised that girl help, the fact is, I did. And I won’t let her down.”
Marjorie Park Marina was located near the Channel district along with other smaller marinas and a nearby yacht club. Randy Newsome had taken off the day from work to take his son on a boating trip.
The seas were a little choppy after the passing of a weak tropical storm and when Randy double-checked his location, the screen on the GPS went black. “What the…?” He flipped the switches to reset it. Nothing. “Come on now.” Randy tapped on the screen and still nothing. The 35-year-old father looked at his son who sat in the bow. “Hey buddy, I’m having trouble with the GPS.
I think we’re going to have to head back in.”
“No, Dad. We just got out here. I just got my pole ready.” The boy of 15 wore disappointment like only a teenager could.
“I know son, but I don’t trust going out any farther without the GPS. I’m sorry.” Randy turned the wheel and started back toward the marina.
The boy slunk toward his fishing rod and broke it back down, returning it to the storage under the bench. “Didn’t even get to have lunch,” he murmured.
They were only a mile away from the marina and as Randy steered, the bay came into view. “Hey son, let’s get the ropes ready to tie off, okay?”
“Okay, Dad.” He readied the boat to enter the slip which was now just a few yards ahead. As he leaned against the edge of the railing, something caught his eye. “Hey, Dad? It looks like there’s something hitting the slip.”
Randy faced starboard as he steered the vessel but couldn’t see anything. “Here, come take the wheel for a minute and I’ll have a look.” He waited while his son approached. “Okay, just keep it on this bearing. I’ll go see what it is.”
When he reached the spot his son had been, he peered over and squinted hard. “What is that?” He removed his sunglasses and looked closer. That was all it took. Randy knew exactly what he was looking at. “Oh no.” He shot a glance to his son. “Radio for help.”
“What did you say?” The boy asked.
“Radio for help! Now!”
Shane stood from his desk to show Allison to her car when he spotted Detective Montoya rush through the doors and hustle up to the Major Crimes Unit. “What was that all about?” He looked at Allison.
“Something’s up. Can we go see?”
“Why not? I have no business being up there but what the hell.” Shane started toward the elevators.
They arrived on the fifth floor and continued into the halls. Shane turned to Allison. “Hang tight. I’ll see where he went.”
The stocky man with black hair and intense eyes arrived at his captain’s office. He leaned in the doorway. “Captain, we just got a call from the Coast Guard. Someone found a body floating in the Marjorie Park Marina.”
