The Dead Rogue

by L B Wyatt

  “I just recently picked up her case,” Veronica informed and it wasn’t a lie. She had overheard a co-worker talking about it one day and they were laughing. That’s what had set her off, what had made Veronica curious to look into it. Police officers weren’t supposed to think a missing person was a laughing matter. But more than that, they dismissed it as if it was already a closed case. She had been angry and that combined with her curiosity was what ultimately drove her to start snooping. As soon as she saw the senator might possibly be involved, she knew why her comrades were so eager to let this one go. Politicians had a way around the law—or at least they thought they did. Veronica wasn’t the type to turn the other cheek. No matter the situation.

  “I haven’t had the chance to go through all the information, so forgive me if I ask things you’ve already heard.”

  “That’s no worry. Anything to try and find my little girl. Do you want some coffee? I just made some fresh,” she offered and when she smiled that hope-filled smile at Veronica, she felt her heart break a little harder. This woman still thought her daughter was alive. Darlene’s eyes were expectant in an almost pleading manner. Her gaze was so intense, Veronica looked away as she declined the offer for the beverage.

  “Do you live here alone?” Veronica wondered casually, even if she already knew the answer. There had been no report of Amelia’s father passing or divorcing so Veronica assumed he was at work. She was just testing the waters. Often times it was the most innocent line of questions that brought to light the most sinister of confessions.

  “Oh, no! My husband is at work. He’ll be here this afternoon,” Darlene confirmed.

  Veronica nodded deciding that was genuine enough. “When was the last time you talked with Amelia?”

  “The night before she went missing.”

  “What did she say?”

  “Nothing unusual. She was attending school and she never really had a lot of time to talk.”

  “What was she majoring in?”

  “Business degree. She wanted to be able to run her own yoga studio someday.” As soon as the words left the woman’s mouth, a pained expression overcame her delicate features and she bent forward on her knees. She started crying hysterically as if the pain was brand new. As if she’d just been told Amelia couldn’t be found all over again. This was the part Veronica had dreaded. This was the part that made her more than just a little determined to keep digging until some sort of semblance of closure could be found.

  Veronica looked around for some tissues, but there was nothing in reach. She stood up and went to the kitchen to grab a paper towel. She paused in her efforts when she saw about twenty prescription bottles on the counter. She took a second to look at one, but she had no clue what it was for or even how in the hell one was supposed to pronounce it. She returned to the living room quick enough that it didn’t seem as though she had been probing and handed the woman a napkin.

  She gratefully took it and finally collected herself after a moment. “I’m so sorry,” she muttered.

  “Don’t you dare,” Veronica ordered sternly causing Darlene’s eyes to dart upward. The sadness behind her gaze glistened with the tears and the raw emotion drew deep lines into her face. “Your daughter is missing. I would never judge you for crying over her,” Veronica assured.

  Veronica’s words caused the woman to smile, but it looked more like a grimace.

  “Mrs. Mason, was there anything unusual about Amelia’s behavior before she went missing?”

  “Please, call me Darlene. And not really. Like I said, she was stressed. She was trying to get through school and then I got sick.”

  “I’m sorry,” Veronica offered and then it dawned on her the reason this lady’s hair looked so odd was because it wasn’t actually her hair. It was a wig. She knew then why there was a pharmacy in the kitchen as well.

  Cancer.

  “She worked on top of going to school and she sent us every extra dime she had to help with my treatments.”

  “She sounds like an amazing girl.”

  “She’s everything to me and her father.”

  “Where did she work?”

  “The Cracker Barrel in Franklin.”

  “Can I see her room?” Veronica requested.

  “She never had a room in this house. We moved right after I got diagnosed. Amelia was already in college at that time.”

  “Did she live on campus?”

  “No, she had a roommate.”

  “Were they on good terms?”

  “Are you kidding? Those two were thick as thieves!” Darlene exclaimed. “Poppy is like our adopted daughter.”

  “I’d like to speak to her, if you think she wouldn’t mind.”

  Darlene stood up and grabbed her telephone, jotting down Poppy’s number from the contact list. “She would do anything to help us find Amelia. They were best friends. Here, I put her address on there for you too.”

  “Thanks,” Veronica said taking the paper and folding it over. She took in a deep breath. “And you’re sure even with the stress of school and your illness that Amelia wouldn’t have just ran off to get away from it all? Did she have a boyfriend?”

  “My Amelia isn’t the running kind, Miss Covey. She’s a hard worker and a fighter,” Darlene assured. “And no, she didn’t have time for a boyfriend. Not that she ever mentioned to me and we talked. I feel like she would have told me.”

  Veronica nodded, feeling a little put out. She was hoping for more, but she supposed if there was more to go on this girl would have been found by now. “I thank you for your time. I’m sorry to put any emotional burden on you with my showing up like this. I’ll be in touch if I find out anything.”

  “Thank you.” Darlene stood up and shook Veronica’s hand fiercely.

  Despite the woman’s sweet smile and overt gratefulness, Veronica still felt terrible when she got in the car and headed back toward the city. Whether she came out and said it or not, she’d given that mother a renewed sense of worry and concern and hope and every other emotion that came along with not knowing what happened to her child.

  Veronica drove right to the address Amelia’s mother had given her, but no one was home. She figured she’d been away from the station long enough Quinn might not be there anymore, so she headed back.

  Thankfully she was right as she started toward her desk. Her eyes were cautiously looking out for her former flame so much that she barely noticed most eyes in the station were on her. She paused when she was almost at her desk and knitted her brow. Everyone she looked at quickly looked away and that’s when she started to get a sinking feeling in her gut. Something was up. Her first thought was maybe Quinn had opened his big mouth about that tattoo, but in the back of her mind she knew he wouldn’t do that. She was about to just ask what the hell everyone’s problem was when the lieutenant came out of his office and motioned for her to follow him.

  Damn, she thought. Not good for sure.

  She dismissed the curious sideways glances and followed her boss down the hall to the chief’s office.

  Oh shit, she thought this time.

  Before the door shut behind her, she knew exactly what had happened.

  “Damn it to hell, Covey!” Chief Morro growled as soon as the lieutenant shut the door behind them.

  Veronica smiled her best fake smile. “Afternoon, chief. Nice to see you too.”

  Morro jerked his balding head up and glared at her for a moment. She could see the veins in his temple popping out. He always looked a little haggard and she supposed it came with the job description but today he was looking exceptionally worn and she thought she might have some inkling as to why. He had thrown the dark gray jacket that matched the rest of his suit onto the back of his office chair. His white button-down shirt was wrinkled, his tie loosened at the base as if he’d been struggling to breathe with it noosed so tightly around his thin neck.

  “I gave you a chance here. You’ve done well for the past few years. I put you on misdemeanors to help Me
rritt get the swing of things. What in Sam Hill happened?”

  “I’m sorry, sir, I don’t know what you mean,” she said politely. She watched her lieutenant walk up next to her and put his hands behind his back with a grimace on his face.

  “Did you know about this, Caraway?” The chief asked the lieutenant.

  “No, sir. Nor did I authorize any such investigation.”

  Well, way to throw me under the bus, she thought with an inward smirk. She expected nothing less, of course. Caraway was most likely eating this up. He probably wanted her to get the boot. After all, she could have had him fired a hundred times over with several counts of sexual harassment. She’d dealt with his slimy hands where they didn’t belong and his inappropriate comments (not to mention those beady eyes roaming where they shouldn’t) for at least a couple years now. When he made a move on her one evening a few months ago, Veronica had broken his thumb by bending it back too far. She promptly told him to head home to his wife and kids and leave her the hell alone. She had rolled her eyes several times when he started spreading the story around the station that he’d caught his thumb in the garage door and that was the reason it was broken.

  Veronica knew better and she laughed a little when she thought about how he’d screamed like a woman when his bone snapped. She hadn’t reported him yet because she didn’t want to be a snitch. And she certainly didn’t want the attention. She could take care of herself without involving Internal Affairs or any other higher-ups. And besides all that, she was an outcast enough around the place. She didn’t need any more enemies on the inside—they were piling up on the outside as it were.

  She could feel Caraway’s eyes on her, and she knew he must feel a bit uneasy every time she was called into the office with him. But she didn’t care and she efficiently ignored him to focus on her real boss.

  Morro’s hard eyes turned back to Veronica and he slowly shook his head. He stood up, turning his back to them and looking out his window for a moment. “Of all the people. Of all the nerve. On a golf course in front of the damn mayor?” Morrow sighed heavily. “If I weren’t so disappointed, I’d praise you for that ballsy move.”

  Veronica took that as a compliment and crossed her arms.

  “But it was a mistake. The commissioner called me the minute your cart left that fairway.” Morro finally turned around and faced her and she certainly didn’t like the look on his brow.

  “You cutting me loose, boss?” she wondered, trying to get a move on things. She wouldn’t stand here and be ridiculed or mocked, although she’d never thought of Morro as the type. Caraway on the other hand. What a douche bag. He’d love to see her fired and humiliated. He’d probably want it done in front of the entire force. So if this was the end (and strangely enough, that didn’t bother her as much as it should have) she wanted it to be over with quickly.

  “Not yet,” Morro said with frown. “Two week suspension is the best I could do. You’re lucky you still have a job at all.”

  Veronica nodded. She hadn’t considered this particular move on the chessboard. It was a crafty one, she knew. But it didn’t have the effect she was sure Senator Ross wanted. He wanted her to be upset, desperate, to cower. This move only solidified her original theory, though. This was about more than just setting an example. He wanted her to back off because he was hiding something; she knew it now more than ever before.

  “I appreciate you vying for me, sir, but it wasn’t necessary.”

  “What proof do you have?” he demanded suddenly.

  Veronica hesitated for a split second, knowing it was going to sound lame and insufficient, but she went there anyway. “Just my gut, sir.”

  “That’s it?” he scoffed and she hated that look on his face.

  Like a disappointed father. She pretended it didn’t bother her, though in reality she respected the hell out of chief and his disappointment was hard to fathom.

  “That’s enough,” she countered resolutely, despite the slosh of emotions stirring in her stomach.

  Morro looked directly at her and then jerked his head to the side in a signal for the lieutenant to leave. Once the door snapped closed behind Caraway, Morro leaned heavily on the back of his chair and expelled a deep breath from his lungs.

  “Your father was a good man, Veronica. He saved my ass time and time again in the service. He would be disappointed in us both if I had to fire you. And you are one hell of a detective. I don’t want to lose you, but you have got to be more careful. Bold doesn’t always work. Sometimes with these things…” he hesitated but continued, “You have to take a more subtle approach. And God knows subtle isn’t your thing.”

  He didn’t come right out and say it, but she could see it on his face. He was rooting for her. Why else would he give her such a powerful piece of advice?

  She nodded her head quietly. “Thank you, chief,” she said, forcing herself to keep her inward smile masked. Her face remained stony and to the point.

  “Don’t just sit around on your ass for two weeks either, you hear? I need you sharp for when you return. Now get the hell out of my office.”

  Veronica turned on her heel to march out the door she’d walked in when he called her name again. He was looking at her hip and gestured with his fingers for her to hand over her badge. She had to admit, it hurt a little to do so.

  “Be careful,” he said meaningfully, meeting her eyes as she placed the metal in his open palm.

  “Always,” she said with another nod and walked out of the office without looking back.

  Veronica gathered a few things off her desk, feeling some disappointment that she wouldn’t be able to tell Merritt good-bye. She dismissed her emotions as foolish. Merritt wasn’t going to miss her. Who was she kidding?

  Feeling like there was nowhere she truly belonged, Veronica felt angry with herself as she turned to head out of the station for the last time. Before she made it to the door, she realized most everyone was out for lunch and the debriefing room Quinn Murphy had occupied was not only empty, but open. She glanced around to make sure no one was paying too much attention and then she slowly eased into the area to examine the photos. Physical evidence was out of the question as of that moment. Everything collected at the crime scene would still be in processing at the forensic laboratory, but she had the pictures and some idea of what she was searching for as her eyes combed over the photos.

  After a moment, she found herself disappointed once more. Something was missing…something only Veronica knew to be missing. And she couldn’t come forward with any of it without incriminating herself. The photo of the girl’s body face down on the pavement snagged Veronica’s attention before she could completely turn away and slip out.

  She stood there and stared much longer than she should have, a tidal wave of guilt crashing down on Veronica’s shoulders. She felt the sting of tears and that annoying, yet awakening emotional response is what finally prompted her to leave. She couldn’t stand there weeping in front of crime photos without raising some eyebrows. And besides all that—Veronica didn’t cry. She pulled in a heavy breath and reinforced the walls around her heart with it.

  She left the station with her head held high, holding onto to as much dignity as she could scrape up off the floor.

  Chapter Four

  That night she dreamed of her father. Veronica could feel the motions of the boat as it swayed on the vast openness of the ocean. It wasn’t as much of an illusion as it was a memory, though she’d always thought there was a thin line between memories and dreams. She could see his face as clear as it had been the last time she saw him. Despite being an older man, he still had a head full of hair and his skin was smooth and tan, creased only where he smiled, which was often when he was in the presence of his daughters. Veronica’s sister Victoria had gone on this trip too, but she wasn’t holding a pole. She had opted for sunbathing on the bow of the boat as she always did during one of their ‘family’ trips. Her sister had been of farer skin than Veronica, taking back after the Ir
ish that ran through their father’s veins. Victoria, or Tori as her family had called her, had been older than Veronica and their interests were vastly different. Veronica had always tried to do whatever made her father happy, while Tori usually did whatever made herself happy—and it was often something involving vanity like trying to get a tan.

  But this dream wasn’t about her sister. No, in this dream, Victor Covey was standing on the stern with a fishing pole in one hand. There was a cigarette between his lips and that stupid sailor’s hat he wore every time they went out on the boat. Veronica felt the coarse material of the handle beneath her fingers as she held a pole much too large for her petite frame. She had something on the line and she was struggling to stay aboard. Her small body was pressed against the metal rail of the side when she gave the pole a good tug and lost her footing. Her father had saved her life that day, pulling her back by her long braided hair. It had hurt like hell, but the sensations of pain were lost in the illusion. Veronica only felt happiness, love and gratitude.

  When she turned her wild, grateful eyes up at him she saw him laughing with her hair still wrapped around his palm like a rope. He gave it another tug before letting it go and taking the pole from her.

  “Always keep your hair long, Ronnie. It’ll give me something to hold on to next time you head overboard.” He winked at her as he tugged her catch in over the side of the boat.

  Veronica came awake wondering what it was she had caught. It hadn’t been anything memorable, she knew, but she was grasping for the details, desperate to hold onto them. For a moment while she lay there in the dark, she could still smell the salty sea mist and feel the ocean air burning her cheeks. Her heart betrayed her as old emotions melted away and the reality she lived in now sank in.

  Veronica sat up in her bed, cautiously looking around to make sure no one was lurking in the dark again. When she was certain she was alone, she pulled her long thick mane over her shoulder and ran her hands through it. She had always kept it long, not because she liked the maintenance, but because of her father’s words.