The Gossip

by Nancy Bush

  “It’s down the hall.” She inclined her head in the direction of the hallway from where she’d first appeared.

  Mackenzie left Taft with her. She didn’t really need to use the facilities but she wanted to get away from Racquel. Seeing Detective Haynes on-site was a good indication that there were questions regarding Granger Nye’s death, no matter what Racquel said. She couldn’t wait to talk to Taft about it.

  The rest of the Best Homes staff appeared to have left, and the place was quiet as she made her way to the ladies’ room. Coming out of the facilities she heard a male voice emanating from one of the offices around the last corner. The door to the room was shut but his voice was loud and Mackenzie recognized it. Seth Keppler.

  What was Seth doing at Best Homes?

  She hesitated. If he came out and caught her, she had no excuse. Still . . . She moved closer.

  “. . . following me. I don’t give a shit. I’m going there tomorrow and he won’t be in the way. He leaves me alone. Fuck, man, I’m doing everything I can. I wouldn’t have come here if it wasn’t important.” A pause. “Soon as he’s gone, come here. I’m in your office.”

  Mackenzie tiptoed away, hearing the call was winding up. Was he talking to Andrew Best? Whoever it was, she didn’t want to be caught eavesdropping and was worried that if Keppler decided to leave the office he would see her before she could get Taft and vamoose.

  Racquel was showing Taft a packet of information when she slipped back inside the door. The room had a window to the inside entry and compared to the dimness of the rest of the building was lit up like a film scene.

  Mac grabbed her stomach. “Babe, I think I ate something wrong.”

  Taft gave her a hard look, alert. “You want to go?”

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  Racquel said, “I’m so sorry you don’t feel well, Brooke. I could get you some sparkling water from the kitchen if you—”

  “No, thanks, I really just need to go.”

  Taft got up from the chair and moved toward her, putting a solicitous arm around her. “The baby?” he couldn’t help himself from saying. She could read him and knew he was getting a little kick out of the whole thing.

  “Don’t forget your packet.” Racquel practically thrust it into Taft’s free hand. “I don’t have your cell number. Do you have a card?”

  “I’ll call you tomorrow,” Taft said, guiding Mackenzie out of the room.

  Racquel followed them a few steps. “My number’s in the packet.”

  Taft nodded to her and then he and Mackenzie were out in the night air. The rush of cold was almost welcome.

  “What?” he asked her as they slammed shut the doors to the Rubicon.

  “Seth Keppler’s in an office inside, maybe waiting for Best?” She quickly related what she’d overheard in the conversation.

  “Damn it. What’s Keppler doing here?” Taft muttered as he pulled out of the lot, his expression tense. “I asked my CI to put a tracker on Keppler’s truck, which he did.”

  “An illegal tracker?” She supposed she should’ve guessed. “Who is this guy?”

  “Someone close to this investigation. He went out of his comfort zone to place the tracker.”

  “Okay. Fine.” Clearly he didn’t want her to know and she got that. “I didn’t see Keppler’s truck at Best, did you?”

  “No.” Taft was clear on that. “Once we’re out of the lot I’ll pull over and we’ll wait and see where he goes next.” He looked troubled. “He must be driving something else, or he Uber’d over. A Best Homes cube truck? Shit. You heard Seth say he was ‘going there tomorrow’?”

  “Yes, and ‘he won’t be in the way,’ whoever he is.”

  “Not Best, I’d wager.” Taft was thinking fast. “Don’t know why I haven’t heard from my CI. I suppose Seth could ride share back as well. Why doesn’t he have the F-150? If he knows about the tracker, he knows he’s being watched.”

  “He did mention something about ‘following me.’”

  “Damn.” Taft looked as angry as Mac had ever seen him.

  “Where do you think he’s going tomorrow?”

  “To the meeting. The exchange. The big finale . . .” Taft’s eyes were on the traffic as he took a left onto the street and drove toward the place he could pull off and meld with other vehicles, a gas station. “Wish we had your RAV to catch him both ways. If he turns right . . .” He shook his head.

  They sat for a couple of minutes in silence, then he drew a breath and asked, “What do we know about Keppler?”

  She sometimes forgot he’d been with two different police departments; his moves were so outside of procedure. But it was the question always asked about the players in an investigation: What do we know about him or her?

  “Seth’s worked off and on for Best Homes and he’s a friend/frenemy to Andrew Best. He’s currently employed as a trainer at Good Livin’, a workout guy. He’s dangerous, likes guns. Hank Engstrom, Bibi’s husband, described him as gun crazy.” Mackenzie’s gaze was trained on the street. “He dated Rayne Sealy, then jilted her . . . for Patti? He moved on to Patti, in any case. He drives a white F-150 Ford truck. He’s Troi Bevins’s weed dealer and Troi dated Rayne before Seth.”

  “What else?” he asked, although he sounded sort of far away, like his mind was working a different path.

  “I’ll have to think. What do you know about him?” she asked him.

  “Seth Keppler’s from a small-time crime family.”

  “Oh, right. The vicious kind.”

  “He’s serious about his workouts. He took the job at Good Livin’ after Best let him go, but he’s still tied in with Best. Maybe Best got nervous about having Seth run his side business out of Best Homes and that’s why Seth was hired, fired, hired again, fired again. Best wants him close but not too close.”

  Mac nodded. “Can’t quite let him go.”

  “And Keppler’s moved from small-time to big-time in the drug business. Moved away from whatever his family is into to a new level of crime, which may include both Andrew Best and Mitch Mangella. I don’t want it to be with Mangella, but it doesn’t look good. At any rate, Seth recently made a jump up.”

  “How recently?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “But when you realized it, that’s when you took me off the case,” she said.

  He didn’t deny it.

  “I’m still on the case,” she told him. “Mine and yours. What’s the tie-in that you think is with Mangella?”

  She was afraid he might not answer her, but he said, “Mangella wants Seth out of the way while he’s working on a partnership with Best, so there’s something there. My CI has been doing some digging for me.”

  “What if we just follow him home? What if he just goes there?”

  “Then we’ll figure out where he’s going tomorrow,” he said.

  Mac shrugged. Easier said than done. “Maybe south . . . like when you were following him?”

  He grunted. “His family’s mostly east, near Gresham, but . . .”

  Mac suddenly remembered, “Troi said Seth would take Andrew Best to his dad’s farm to shoot. Where’s that?”

  “Dead end. His dad’s gone. He was the patriarch and he and Seth never got along anyway. You’re sure Troi said his ‘dad’?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Hmm. The Kepplers don’t have a farm, to my knowledge.”

  “Then where did Seth take Best shooting?”

  Taft leaned back against the headrest. “He had a stepfather once, years ago . . . but like with his father, he and Seth were at odds. Seth has anger issues. Wouldn’t be surprised if he’s a roider. Doesn’t make for sustaining relationships.”

  “The information you have on Keppler is pretty in-depth.”

  “Like I said before, I have friends in high places.”

  Taft’s phone buzzed. He pulled it from his jacket pocket and looked at the number. After a moment, he answered, “Taft.”

  Mackenzie couldn’t make ou
t the words but she thought it was a male voice. Taft listened in silence and then said, “Good,” and hung up.

  “Your CI?” Mac guessed.

  He threw her a smile as he switched on the ignition. “Yep.”

  “We’re leaving?”

  “He saw Uber pick up Keppler and followed. It was lucky timing because he wasn’t planning on surveilling him with the tracker in place. He followed him to Best and he’s in the parking lot. He saw us leave.”

  “So we pick him up tomorrow outside his town house and see where he goes.”

  “I’ll follow him and let you know—”

  “No, I’m in at the start.”

  “This has gotten bigger than—”

  “I’m going with you, Taft,” she insisted.

  “I have other things I need from you. I want to know the status on Granger Nye’s death. You can check with Cooper Haynes, and I’ll let you—”

  “Hell, no. You can get that information from those people you know in high places.”

  “Let me do the reconnaissance and I’ll call you.”

  “You won’t,” she charged.

  “No, I will. I mean it. I will. Go home now. Get ready.”

  “I’m going with you,” she said again as he drove them back to her vehicle. She was still arguing as he pulled into his slot beneath the carport, but he wasn’t listening.

  “I’ll call you. Promise. Goodbye, Laughlin.”

  Son of a bitch.

  She gave him a tight smile, got out of his SUV, and stalked to her car. He could push her off all he wanted, but she determined right then and there she was going to follow him to wherever he was going and he could just eat it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Thad left Lorena and Gram at the house and climbed into his truck. They’d picked up Goldie Burgers on the way home and had eaten them in the kitchen together like they were one happy family. What a joke. Thad had wolfed down the meal, still seething about the retard at Ridge Pointe and his mother’s and grandmother’s comments about Rayne. Now Lorena and Gram were upstairs, settling down to watch television in Lorena’s room. Lorena didn’t like it much and had angled to put Gram in Thad’s room, as he had a TV and the spare room didn’t, but he’d put his foot down and for once Lorena had just thrown up her hands and snapped, “Fine.”

  What the fuck was he going to do with them? He couldn’t live with them. They both needed to go. He’d had dreams of burning down the house with them in it, but that would destroy his lair. He was going to have to get rid of them a different way . . . and soon.

  He was heading toward Brenda’s apartment again. He’d loaded up the truck bed with whatever he could find around the house and the garage that might be useful in case things went awry as he romanced her. Twine, two gunnysacks from the original Stillwell Feed and Seed, a box of latex gloves, several gallons of bleach, and a smattering of other tools were loaded under a gray tarp he’d stretched across the bed. He did not have a gun, which bothered him a bit, but he’d never been into firearms.

  He was passing by the Waystation on his way home, his head full of plans for Brenda, hoping she’d finally come back from wherever she’d been. His mind snagged on Laughlin, and he yanked the wheel and pulled into the lot. He had a feeling he was going to be disappointed that his quarry still wasn’t back, so he might as well learn more about the woman who’d bewitched him at the bar. He thought about her and then got a distinct shock.

  She reminded him of a slimmer, prettier Rayne.

  “Aaargh!” he howled as he threw the truck into park. Rayne was the one who’d bewitched him. He hated her. Hated her.

  He dug his hands through his hair and bit his lip. The rip he’d torn broke open and blood ran down his chin. He had to wait till it stopped bleeding and swore in his mind at both Rayne and the raven-haired Laughlin ex-cop.

  It took twenty minutes before he got himself in hand and presentable. His anger once again on a leash, he swept up the cowboy hat and jammed it on his head. It looked like Gillis’s vehicle was here. He didn’t see the ex-cop’s vehicle but maybe . . .

  He entered the Waystation and saw Gillis at the bar, alone. Of course, he couldn’t be that lucky.

  “Hey, man,” a voice greeted him.

  Thad looked over and saw it was the guy who’d called him a cheater standing by the pool table, a smirk on his face. Thad’s blood boiled and he had to internally scream at himself to keep from overreacting. It was worrisome that the fabric of his controlled demeanor was fraying, but he managed to hold it together. In a moment of clarity he recognized he’d crossed the Rubicon into a new world. Before Rayne, he’d been satisfied with living his life online, but since having her, killing her, that satisfaction was gone. He needed more. He needed a woman to love and kill.

  Thad ignored the asshole. He was just about to turn back and head out when Gillis looked over and saw him. His brows drew together, then cleared.

  “You!” he called, waving him over. “C’mere. I owe you a beer!”

  Thad almost left anyway. His hope of finding the ex-cop at the bar had been a serious misstep. If he wanted her, he could find her online. Why hadn’t he done that? There had to be something about ex-River Glen PD cop Laughlin somewhere. With his skills, it wouldn’t be hard. He’d been too distracted, waiting for Brenda to return, worrying about Lorena and Gram . . . and Gillis.

  And now the man had recognized him.

  He could kick himself for letting his cock drive his decisions. He lifted his chin in recognition and sauntered over to Gillis.

  “Did I say thank you?” Gillis asked loudly. Too loudly. It almost hurt Thad’s ears. “You took me home. I owe you, man. Hey!” He signaled the bartender.

  Thad resisted the desire to pull his cowboy hat lower over his eyes. He wasn’t wearing his boots today. Was dressed more like usual in jeans and a close-fitting dark T-shirt that showed off his physique.

  “Can’t stay, man,” Thad said, remembering to drawl. “Gotta get goin’.”

  “Aw, c’mon. One beer. Or did you like vodka, like Mac, maybe. Can’t remember.”

  “Beer’s fine.” Actually he hated beer, but he drank it upon occasion just to keep up his persona.

  “Give him the same as me,” Gillis called to the man. Then, to Thad, “Did you find her?” as he took a long swallow of his own beer.

  “Who?” he asked automatically.

  “Mackenzie. You were looking for her, right? I remember that part. You asking about her.” As Thad’s blood chilled, Gillis wagged his finger at him.

  Mackenzie Laughlin.

  The bartender snorted as he brought over Thad’s beer.

  “Hey,” Gillis said to him, affronted, but the bartender, a young man with a hoop earring, just waved him off as he left.

  Thad was getting in deeper and deeper. Not only Gillis but the bartender knew about his interest in Mackenzie. He was going to have to leave her alone. He was going to have to stay away, because if he had her, if he got her to the lair, and then she disappeared, which was kind of his thinking on her, just have her disappear—poof!—and these jokers remembered he’d been asking about her . . .

  He could bury her in the lair, maybe. Or outside, between the houses, maybe. The people who lived next door were rarely in residence. Fucking elites lived in Colorado half the time. Maybe he could get away with it. But it was dangerous.

  “Told ya she was mine,” Gillis warned him, smiling, trying to sound sorta friendly about it, but the thin line of his teeth gave him away.

  Thad decided right then and there that he would kill Gillis. Maybe not right away. An accident. Some drunken evening he would run the sucker off the road or something. There were lots of ways to kill people and get away with it. He just had to come up with the right plan. But Gillis deserved to die for getting in the way of his plans for the ex-cop.

  Maybe there’s a way you can still have her. Gillis and the bartender won’t think it’s you. Especially if you keep showing up, become one of the regulars.
Talk about some other woman you’re with. Brenda. Or Rayne. Just don’t use their names.

  No one will suspect you.

  “Chas!” Gillis said suddenly, snapping his fingers. “I remember!”

  Thad forced a smile and nodded at the asshole.

  Now it was too late. He would have to deal with Gillis at some point.

  He drank his beer and tried hard not to give his churning thoughts away. He managed to leave the bar after choking down the beer, touching the edge of his cowboy hat at the pool player who still tried to get him into a game.

  His thoughts were black as he drove through the darkening skies toward Brenda’s apartment. He had a sensation of doom that he couldn’t dispel. Nothing was working out. He could feel himself on the edge of that vortex. One wrong step and he would swirl around and around like a leaf in an eddy, caught for eternity.

  Traffic was a bitch. Everybody getting off work for the weekend. Neon bar signs beckoned the crowds as he drove up Hawthorne, already certain and fuming that Brenda wouldn’t be there. She’d obviously quit her job as a dental hygienist. Probably a good thing. He liked the profession, but he thought about her dirty hands in someone’s mouth. She was a party girl. Liked to go out at night with her BFFs, a bunch of empty-headed women with too much makeup looking to get laid. Thad knew enough about Brenda to be repelled. He’d purposely steered clear of her, hating her from a distance. But then he’d hooked up with Rayne and things had changed. He’d found Brenda less repulsive. Of course it was sickening the way she ran through men like Rayne had, but if he was the last one, then that was worth something.

  He drove past her apartment complex and there was her car . . . in a different spot. She was back! She’d moved the vehicle. She had to be back....

  He drove around the block, unable to find a parking spot on the street. Shit. He slowly cruised by her place again, turning into the lot at the last minute, parking in an empty numbered spot, thinking. If the apartment owner came out and found him in their slot he’d be fingered and that was a no-go, but he had to know if Brenda was really home.