We introduced ourselves and followed the officer into the small, empty police station. It consisted of four rooms total: a front lobby with a desk in the middle and three offices behind the lobby. The middle door had a sign on it that said CHIEF. He saw my eyes linger on the door for a second.
“No, I’m not the Chief. He doesn’t work weekends. He doesn’t work period, except on an administrative level. It’s cool, though, no one else wants the job. Plus, I think he has dirt on everyone in town, even the nuns over at the Catholic school, so who’s gonna tell him otherwise.”
He led us to the office on the left and motioned for us to sit down. He looked relieved to be sitting again.
“Philip down at the hotel tells me you have a missing friend. Who’s missing?”
I said, “His name is Boyd Avery Dallas. He’s 5’10”, about 190 pounds. Short, close-cropped sandy brown hair. Blue eyes. Lives in denim jeans or khakis, pullovers, or casual button-downs. No hat. Fit, but walks with a unique swagger as a result of fused bones in his left ankle.”
“Like a limp?”
“No, like a swagger. Trust me; if you were to look for someone with a limp, you’d miss him.”
“Alright, a swagger. What’s your story?” the officer asked, looking straight at me.
I pulled out a business card with all my information on it and handed it to him.
“A doctor. Except for your hair, I thought maybe you were a cop. They teach you to talk like that in medical school? Just the facts and all that.”
“I worked in the ER. You learn to be succinct.”
“Like now,” he said, smiling. “What makes you think your friend Boyd is missing?”
Jessica chimed in. “He said he’d call on Wednesday, and he didn’t call. And because he hasn’t been seen at the hotel since Wednesday either, even though all his stuff is there, and he was only paid up through yesterday.”
“Lots of reasons why a guy might not call. Most of them usually have something to do with women. Maybe he’s having the time of his life and hasn’t gotten around to it.”
I said, “Two problems with your statement. Boyd’s the last person you’d expect to be easily swayed by a woman. And he was working on a case, which is even more likely to be the time of his life.”
Jessica said, “You’re forgetting when Boyd says he’s gonna do something, he does it.”
Officer Albert looked at Jessica. “You’re saying he’s a stand-up guy. Someone you can count on.”
“Indubitably,” Jessica replied.
“He’s working on a case. What do you mean by that?”
I pulled one of Boyd’s cards from my wallet and handed it to him. “He’s working on a missing person’s case. And yes, I have pondered the irony of that statement.”
“A private investigator. Maybe he’s doing whatever private investigators do and can’t get away to call.”
“Look, Jessica’s assertions about his dependability are an understatement. Boyd and I served together. We’ve been through hell and high water together. Boyd’s rock-solid, trust me.”
“The kind of guy who would die for you. Is that what you’re saying? Because I understand that bond.”
Officer Albert’s question caused me to pause, allowing the question to marinate inside my head as I seriously considered his definition of the bond I shared with Boyd. It wasn’t a dumb question. Woefully inadequate but not dumb. Dying for someone you love is easy. Dying requires nothing more than the decision to give up yourself for someone else. Dying hardly seems a sacrifice. Death is inevitable, anyway. Killing for someone is different. Killing is exponentially riskier. Killing comes with the possibility of guilt, of sacrificing your ideals, of risking your very identity and sense of self-worth. Living with the repercussion of killing could be infinitely more painful than dying.
But I didn’t feel like saying all that to some stranger. I wasn’t even sure I could say those words out loud to Jessica, although I suspected she already knew that about me. “Boyd would kill me for. And vice versa,” I said flatly.
The officer stared at me for a few seconds as he let those words bounce around inside his head before nodding in recognition of the type of relationship Boyd and I had. “Meaning he’d call you before he’d call his own brother.”
He didn’t fully understand, but it was good enough. I nodded.
“What else can you tell me?”
“We can tell you the make and model of the rental car he was driving along with the license number. Jessica got it from the hotel manager.”
I slid a piece of paper across the desk with the automobile information on it.
“Thanks, this might come in handy. You know anything about the missing person he was looking for?”
“No. The case is confidential. The client is confidential. We had to figure out on our own he was even in Wisconsin. All I know is it’s big. He said it would be a headline grabber. Something worthy of CNN.”
“Seems odd anything big would happen in my town, but I guess stranger things have happened. Let’s officially write down a few details, and I’ll let the other officers know what’s going on. I’ll call the sheriff’s office, too. The more guys looking for your friend, the better.”
He asked us again for a physical description of Boyd along with his pager number, home phone number, and address. The process took a few minutes.
“I’ll head over and take a look at his hotel room once I finish sending this out. You two see anything unusual in there I might not notice?”
I thought about mentioning the lack of firearms or anything related to weaponry but changed my mind. “No. Everything left behind could be easily replaced. You’ll see what I mean.”
“I saw your pager number on your card, Dr. McCain. If we hear anything, I’ll reach out as soon as possible.”
We thanked the friendly officer and left him in his office so he could get busy making his calls. Neither of us knew the town or what we should be looking for, but we were too keyed up to go to the hotel and sit around waiting. Hitting the restaurants and gas stations to see if anyone had seen Boyd seemed like a good idea. Two waitresses at two different restaurants remembered him as well as one gas station attendant at the east end of town.
“I don’t think Boyd was looking for anyone in this town,” I said after pulling out of the gas station.
“Why not?”
“This is a small town. Real small. I think the sign at the edge of town listed the population as around thirty-eight hundred. He might not want to sleep and eat in the same town where he is investigating. And the only people that recall him are on the east side of the town. So, either he is avoiding the other parts of town, or he’s traveling east to do his investigating.”
“So, do we check out the next town over?” Jessica asked.
“We can. My guess is Boyd has been lying low in the town where he’s working, so no one will remember him. But it beats doing nothing.”
Jessica agreed with my assessment and my decision. As I guessed, no waitresses or gas station attendants remembered ever seeing him. We tried the next town over with the same results. It was early in the evening when we returned to the hotel to discover Philip energetically awaiting our return.
“Dr. McCain, Mrs. McCain, has Officer Albert got a hold of you?”
“No.” I pulled out my pager. No calls.
“He was by here looking for you a few minutes ago. You might want to call him. Here’s the number. You can use the phone in my office.”
He led us to his office, where I dialed the phone number Philip gave me. A dispatcher answered, telling me to wait. Several minutes later, Officer Albert answered wasting no time with introductions. “Dr. McCain, I was on my way back to the station to grab your card. Where are you now?”
“At the hotel.”
“I’ll be right there.”
“You got news?”
“I think so. We’ll talk about it in a few minutes.”
Officer Albert showed up less than fi
ve minutes later. He didn’t have the look of a man getting ready to deliver bad news. I worked in a Level I Trauma Center for over a year. The kind of place that treated the worst injuries. Gun shot wounds. Heart attacks. Major car accidents. I knew how people looked when they were getting ready to deliver bad news. His expression was more one of confusion or curiosity. We walked back to Philip’s office and sat down waiting for him to begin.
“I think the sheriff in the next county over might have found your friend’s car.”
“Might have?”
“They found an abandoned car matching the make and model of the car you described. The license plates were removed, so we’re not completely sure yet. They are running the VIN through the system and should have an answer soon.”
“Where’d they find it?”
“In a state wildlife area east of here.”
Jessica cast me a knowing glance, which did not go unnoticed by Officer Albert.
“Something I should know?” he asked.
“No, my husband guessed Boyd was investigating in a town east of here.” The officer kept looking at Jessica questioningly. She explained my theory to him.
“That’s a keen assumption. Is there something you’re not telling me about yourself, Dr. McCain?” he asked suspiciously.
“I haven’t always been a doctor, but that’s a story for another time. Back to Boyd.”
“Sure. You say he was working on a simple missing person’s case, right?”
“I never said it was simple. Apparently, he’d been working on it for weeks, and it was something big. By default, that probably means it was anything but simple. Why do you ask?”
“It might be nothing, maybe just some kids having fun with an abandoned car, but the car we found was shot up.”
***
“What,” Jessica exclaimed before I had a chance to respond. The concern in her voice was undeniable.
“Just that, Mrs. McCain. Sheriff Jessup says the car he found had numerous bullet holes in it. Looks like more than one caliber was used. Some of the holes were pretty big. Like someone was using slugs.”
“Someone was shooting at our friend?” Jessica nearly yelled.
“Jessup says it’s hard to say. The bullet holes were all over the car, but there’s no sign of anyone being in the car at the time. No sign of blood anywhere. He’s also pretty sure the car was shot up somewhere else and dumped there.”
“Why is that?” I asked.
“No shell casings anywhere, inside the car or out.”
My mind started playing through different scenarios to the degree I was barely hearing the words coming out of Officer Albert’s mouth. He became almost indecipherable. Like an adult in a Charlie Brown cartoon. I did hear enough to know the car didn’t look like it had been cleansed in any way other than the license plates. That Sheriff Jessup was calling in forensic guys to examine the vehicle in light of Boyd’s disappearance.
The next thing I knew, Officer Albert and Jessica were standing up and shaking hands. I absently shook his hand and thanked him for all his help. He attempted to sound reassuring. Probably because he misread my silence for fear or anxiety, which was partially true. He didn’t realize I’d moved way past fear and went straight to angry. Someone went after my friend, and I had a pretty good idea who.
Jessica waited for Officer Albert to leave before speaking. “Earth to Legend. Where are you right now? You completely zoned out.”
“I know. I’m sorry. First, I was surprised, then worried, and then I started making plans.”
“You forgot the part about you being angry.”
“That’s when I started making plans.”
“Legend, I know you try your hardest to hide your anger, but you’re not as good at hiding it as you think. Right now, your anger is almost palpable.”
“Yeah, okay.”
“Don’t yeah, okay me, sweetie. I worry about you sometimes.”
“You worry about me? Why?”
“That’s a stupid question. I worry because I love you.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I’m just wondering if you shouldn’t get a physical or something. If someone harmed Boyd, then you’ve got every right to be angry. It just seems that you’re edgy lately, easier to irritate. Plus, you are so tired in the morning. It’s like trying to wake the dead. You basically died last year, Legend. Maybe there is something wrong, some lingering after-effect.”
I stared at her not knowing what to say.
Jessica said, “Forget about it for now. Just tell me what we’re doing next.”
“It has to be Marino.”
“Marino?” Jessica didn’t sound convinced.
“You get everything packed while I make a call. I’ll explain on the way.”
Jessica left Philip’s office to pack while I asked him if I could make a call. Jessica was ready to go by the time I had finished.
She volunteered to drive while I navigated. “Okay, where are we going?”
“Springfield, to see my mother. It’s interstate all the way.”
“I thought we were going after Marino.”
“We are, but I know nothing about Marino other than he sells furniture. I called Mom and asked her to get in touch with Rutherford to find out what she can.”
“Rutherford is a millionaire a hundred times over. You think she can simply call him at eight o’clock on a Saturday night and say ‘hey, what can you tell me about Nick Marino?’“
“Mom’s not exactly slumming it. Besides, she knows people. Political people. Connected people. She’ll get a hold of him. Trust me.”
“And if he doesn’t cooperate?”
“I’ll call him at midnight when we get to Springfield, wake him up, and convince him it’s in his best interest to help. I’ll scare him if I have to. Tell him the Outfit might be coming after him next.”
Jessica was quiet for several minutes. I could tell she was thinking. Looking for holes in my logic. It was something she did, and I had learned to trust her thinking.
“Legend, I’m all for seeing your mom and going after Marino, but this feels off to me. I know Rutherford hired Boyd to get the horses, but you ran point at the end, especially from Marino’s perspective. Wouldn’t he be more likely to want to come after you? You’re the one who made it personal by hitting him and throwing him in a trunk. Boyd was all business. And how would they even know to go after Boyd? I doubt Rutherford would have given him up.”
She was shooting holes in my logic. Big holes that were hard to argue with.
“Look, Jessica, I’ve got a missing friend and nothing else to go on, so I’m going with my gut on this one. If I was the one missing, I might suspect Beyers was involved somehow, but SOB doesn’t know Boyd.”
“Alright, Legend, you’ve thought this through. Let’s go see Marino. I’m not convinced Boyd’s disappearance is related, but if it is, then I’ll help you take him down. I’ll even help you take him out, and with my background in environmental engineering, I also know which chemicals to use to make his body unrecognizable if it’s ever found. But promise me this — make sure you’re right before you do anything you can’t take back later.”
“I promise.”
CHAPTER 8
Mom still lived in the same modest ranch home that my parents bought when they first moved to Springfield. Even as Dad’s trucking company prospered, they stayed in the upper middle-class neighborhood, although Dad did build a detached three-car garage to facilitate his love of cars. I imagined Mom stayed in the home for the same reason I enjoyed coming home — the house was full of good memories. It was the home of my childhood after Dad left the NFL. There were a few bad memories, mostly related to the loss of my father, but I had come to grip with those. The worst memories involved my treatment of Mom after she sold dad’s trucking company without considering my feelings. She knew my father was my hero. And that I was attending college to take over Borders Trucking. She sold it anyway, which set off a 14-year estrangement.
Alienating my mother was my biggest regret in life, one that I wasn’t sure I could ever atone for. The one thing I asked God to forgive me for every day for the last two years. One thing was for sure — knowing she had divorced Scott Beyers helped to make the house feel like home again.
Mom greeted us when we arrived shortly before midnight, giving Jessica a big hug before hugging me. “I was able to reach Mr. Rutherford. Do you want the information now or in the morning?”
“Thanks, Mom. The morning is fine.”
“I get up at six.”
“I’ll be up at seven.”
Jessica said, “I think my man is getting old. I drove all the way, and he sounds like he’s the tired one.”
I sounded like the tired one to Jessica because I was tired. No matter how much I slept, it seemed like I’d been tired for months. I couldn’t blame it on work. When I worked in the ER, the hours were long and laborious. The hours were late into the night. Now, I worked until seven. Comparatively, my current job was a cinch. Maybe I was simply feeling my age. Given the poor quality of sleep over the last few months, my weariness was mostly likely due to a constant state of worry. Having my best friend missing wasn’t helping.
The familiar smell of breakfast pizza, a favorite of mine as a child, woke me the next morning. I pulled on sweat pants and walked into the kitchen to find Jessica and Mom sitting at the breakfast nook, finding comfort in how well the two had bonded in such a short time. They talked on the phone regularly and were even thinking about taking a vacation together without me.
“Good morning, sleepyhead. You look tired.”
“Not you, too,” I replied.
“Yeah, me too. Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes. Say, how is the new place working out?”
“Let me guess, you knew about it before I did?”
“Jessica told me you were surprised. I was wondering what you think of the place.”
“It’s okay.”
“Only okay?” There was a mischievous tone to her voice.
“I think my wife made a smart purchase. It will be a good looking home when it’s finished.”
Deadly Promise Page 10
