With a Vengeance

by Annette Dashofy

The rumble of an approaching diesel engine ended their private conversation. “That must be Kramer’s man,” Pete said. He took her by the arm and escorted her the two steps back into the light.

  The officer pocketed his phone. “Sullivan’s mother claims she hasn’t heard from him since yesterday afternoon.”

  “Do you believe her?” Zoe asked.

  Pete gave her a look. “What do you think?”

  From his tone, she gathered he had his doubts.

  The diesel grew louder, and the glow from its headlights grew brighter. A moment later, the truck appeared around the bend behind Sylvia’s Escort. Zoe cringed, hoping he spotted the small car in time and didn’t flatten it. She relaxed when the flatbed swung clear of the little Ford and lurched through the washout before hissing to a stop in front of them.

  The driver’s door opened, and a young man in dark coveralls emblazoned on the back with Bud Kramer’s logo stepped down.

  Pete intertwined his fingers with Zoe’s, drawing her close to him. “You might as well go,” he said, just loud enough for her to hear over the idling diesel. “It’s going to be a long night.”

  She looked up into his icy blues and grinned. “What about that physical exam?”

  The corner of his mouth tipped up. “I’ll meet you back at the station. If we nab Eli the Snake quick enough, I’ll let you examine anything you want.”

  Fifteen

  “What do you mean you lost him?” Pete’s temples throbbed. This case might be the one to give him a stroke.

  For once, Baronick wasn’t flashing his devil-may-care smile. “Sullivan ditched his ATV and took off through the game lands on foot. We lost him in the thick underbrush and trees.”

  “So we have the ATV?”

  The detective brightened. “Oh, yeah. Plus we have the entire area locked down and the search dogs on the way. As soon as it gets light, we’ll nail him.”

  Pete closed his eyes for a moment and leaned back in his office chair. He wished he felt as confident as Baronick sounded. They’d had this punk “locked down” twice before and he’d gotten away. “I want the report on the tire treads ASAP.”

  “Lab’s already working on it.”

  “Any firearms stashed on the quad?”

  “None.”

  Pete came forward in the chair. “So he may still have his weapon on him.”

  “I indicated that much on the BOLO.”

  “All right.” Pete placed his palms on the desk and stood. “Let’s see what Sullivan’s buddies have to say for themselves.”

  The trio was cooling their heels in the station’s conference room with Nate nearby in case they tried to get their stories straight prior to questioning. He assured Pete and Baronick the only words spoken by any of them was a request for a smoke from one muscled and tattooed brute wearing a buzz cut and sporting a nervous twitch.

  Pete had that one brought into interrogation first. With the recorder running and Baronick standing in one corner, arms crossed, Pete read the guy his rights and established his name was Lathan Stegenga.

  “But I go by Steg,” he added.

  Pete could understand why. “How old are you, Steg?”

  “Twenty-two.” He squirmed in his chair. “Hey, I really need a cigarette, man.”

  “Sorry. No smoking.” Pete tapped the table between them with his pen. “But you answer my questions and I’ll make sure my pal here takes you outside so you can light up.”

  Baronick narrowed his eyes at Pete.

  “I don’t know nothin’,” Steg said.

  Pete shrugged. “Then we may have to order out for some nicotine patches.”

  The kid bit his lip. “Okay. Ask. But I really don’t know nothin’.”

  Pete opened a folder and removed a photo, which he spun toward Steg. “You know this guy?”

  “Oh, sure. Snake. What’d he do?”

  “You tell me.”

  Steg shook his head, a movement that looked as much like a small seizure as a negative response. “How should I know?”

  “You were with him this evening.”

  “Yeah.” He dragged the word out and ended with an uptick.

  “What were you doing?”

  “Riding our quads.” Again, it sounded more like a question that a statement.

  “What time did you first meet up with Snake?”

  The kid wiped his upper lip. “He’d texted me and the boys this afternoon and told us to meet out there at that parking lot to ride at six o’clock. I got there a few minutes early, but everyone else showed up between six and maybe six fifteen.”

  “What about Snake? What time did he get there?”

  “He was on time. Six. Maybe a couple minutes after.”

  “And the four of you rode together the whole time?”

  “Yeah. Until Snake spotted the big cop waiting when we was coming back. Then he took off.”

  Pete made note of the times. “So you were with him when he set the car on fire?”

  The kid’s eyes widened. “What? No. What car? We didn’t do nothin’ like that.”

  “You said you were with him the whole time. From about six to almost eight.”

  “Yeah, but we just rode our quads. We didn’t set no cars on fire. Hell, we didn’t even see a car the whole time we was back there.”

  Pete studied the kid. Antsy. Jonesing for a smoke. And terrified. If he was lying, he was damned good at it. “Did Snake take off on his own at some point?”

  “No.”

  “Not even to maybe go explore on his own?”

  “No, man. I told you. We was all together. None of us took off alone.”

  Pete stared at the kid. Watched him squirm under the scrutiny. Finally, Pete shrugged and turned to Baronick. “Okay then. Take him back to the conference room with his buddies.”

  “Wait.” Steg came forward in his chair. “What about my smoke?”

  Pete knew the kid wasn’t under arrest—yet—and could get up and walk any time he wanted. But Steg clearly hadn’t figured that out. “You didn’t tell me anything.” Pete started to rise.

  “Wait. There was something a little weird.”

  Pete shot a smile at Baronick and sat back down. “I’m listening.”

  Steg chewed his lip for a moment before going on. “We don’t usually ride there. I mean like ever. Me and the other guys tried to talk Snake into goin’ to one of our other spots.” He shifted in his seat.

  Pete read between the lines. He’d come across these “spots” on occasion. Evidence of a campfire with assorted trash indicating drug use and other assorted activities they’d prefer to keep hidden from law enforcement. Or parents.

  “But Snake insisted we had to meet there at that time. It was kinda odd, ya know? Not normal.”

  “Did he say why you had to ride in that particular area?”

  “No. Well, sorta. He didn’t come right out and tell us, but he hinted around about maybe having a buy or something set up out there. But nothin’ happened.”

  Pete traced invisible circles on the table with his pen. Nothing Steg said fit with the scenario he’d worked out. And admitting they’d anticipated buying drugs didn’t seem like the smartest lie. “Detective, take Mr. Stegenga out back and let him light up.”

  Baronick gave Pete a look. “Seriously?”

  Pete fixed him with a look of his own that didn’t require clarification.

  “Fine,” the detective muttered.

  Two hours later, all three bikers marched out of the station having provided similar accounts of the evening. They agreed Snake was with them the entire time. None of them knew anything about a burning car. And the second two confirmed Steg’s statement about that part of the game lands being an unusual area for them to meet and ride.

  No one knew where Snake might be, and the BOLO on him
hadn’t produced so much as a possible sighting.

  Pete sat in the conference room updating the timeline on the whiteboard when Baronick ambled back in, covering a huge yawn with the back of his hand.

  “Go home,” Pete told him. “Get some sleep.”

  “You should do the same.”

  He studied the board while rubbing the ache above his right eye. “Yeah. Maybe next week.”

  Baronick leaned against the doorjamb. “What’s your take on the terrible trio? Are we chasing the wrong guy? Or are they all providing each other with alibis?”

  Pete had been asking himself the same questions. “Have you heard from the lab about Sullivan’s quad?”

  “Not yet.” Baronick glanced at his watch. “It’s after midnight. Come on, Pete. Let’s get out of here and start fresh in the morning.”

  He hated to admit the detective was probably right. They hadn’t accomplished a whole hell of a lot. Snake Sullivan was still in the wind, meaning the county’s emergency personnel were still in danger. But at least he was without his mode of escape. Maybe they’d get a reprieve until he could replace it. “We need to contact all the dealerships that sell ATVs to keep an eye out for Sullivan. And check the newspaper ads for anyone selling used ones.”

  Baronick pulled out his phone. “And Craigslist too.”

  “Who’s Craig?”

  The detective chuckled. “Crawl out of your twentieth century cave once in a while, Pete. It’s an online classified ad site.”

  Oh. Pete tossed the dry erase marker onto the whiteboard’s shelf. “Fine. Anyone who’s selling an ATV, new or used, needs to be keeping an eye out for this kid and needs to contact us if they hear from him.”

  “On it. Now are you going home on your own power, or do I have to drag you?”

  Pete gave him the Look. Just try it, buster.

  Baronick held up his hands in surrender. “Well, I, for one, am outta here.”

  Pete followed the detective to the front door, let him out, and flipped the lock. Nate, Kevin, and Seth were still out patrolling, checking on all of Snake’s haunts. County and state had officers manning roadblocks. But Pete had a feeling the rest of the night was going to be quiet.

  Snake most likely had taken after his namesake and slithered into a hole somewhere. With a desk piled high with reports, Pete had no plans to go home, knowing he’d only lie awake until dawn.

  He glanced into the front office. Sylvia had left at some point. He thought she’d given Zoe a lift to Rose’s.

  But there Zoe sat—on the floor, her back in the corner, her legs stretched out, and her chin tucked toward her chest—asleep.

  Pete paused in the doorway and smiled. Her short blond curls framed her face. She’d been so tense lately, but at that moment, she was the picture of tranquility. A slumbering angel.

  His angel.

  He eased toward her, keeping his footsteps light, and knelt at her side. “Hey,” he whispered, brushing a honey-colored lock from her forehead.

  She drew a deep soft breath, and her eyes fluttered open. “Hey, yourself.” She covered a yawn with her fingers.

  “Why are you still here?”

  “My truck’s in the shop.”

  Lame excuse. “Why didn’t Sylvia give you lift?”

  Zoe caught her lower lip in her teeth for a moment. “Uh. I…thought you might still need help?”

  He smiled, glad she’d stayed even if he didn’t buy her excuse. Hell, she didn’t sound like even she bought it. “Well, I don’t. Now what are you going to do?”

  She stretched and gave him a sleepy smile. A damned sexy sleepy smile. “Don’t suppose I could bother you to drive me home?”

  “Sorry,” he said, feigning total disinterest. “I have a ton of paperwork to do.”

  With an exaggerated sigh, she said, “Guess I’ll have to walk home. In the middle of the night. With a killer on the loose.” Zoe drew her legs in and started to push up.

  Pete stood and offered a hand, which she took. She popped to her feet, but he didn’t release her, drawing her closer instead. “You still owe me an exam after my wreck this evening.”

  “What about your paperwork?”

  “It’s not that important.”

  She glanced toward the security camera. “What if someone sees the tape?”

  “I’m the chief. I’ll burn it.” He planted one fist against his hip. “Besides, do you really think anyone around here would be shocked by video of us?”

  “I guess we’re not the best-kept secret in town.”

  “Not really.” Pete let his imagination play out for a moment. Pictured Sylvia viewing the resulting video footage. He could hear her now. “It’s about goddamned time!”

  Of course, the one night he and Zoe had spent together—one spectacular night—had been followed by a disastrous morning, which had taken weeks…months…to recover from.

  Maybe his dream of spontaneous sex in the police station wasn’t such a good idea.

  Damn it.

  He studied Zoe’s lips, slightly parted, so close to his he could taste her warm coffee breath. “Come on. I’ll walk you home.”

  “Walk?”

  “The Explorer’s in the shop too. Remember?”

  She stepped back, her gaze locked on his. He could tell she was thinking, but he had no clue what about. Was she remembering that night and the next morning too? Was she silently rehearsing how to let him down once they got to the door—because the home he planned to take her to was not Rose’s.

  I was only kidding.

  I have a headache.

  We should stick with being just friends.

  Zoe opened the bottom desk drawer and retrieved her purse. “I’m ready.”

  Pete stepped to one side, allowing her to brush past him out of the office.

  And the phone rang.

  He bit back a string of profanity.

  Zoe choked out a desperate laugh. “Maybe it’s a telemarketer.” But she retraced her steps and snatched the receiver from its cradle. “Vance Township Police Department.”

  Pete watched as Zoe’s smile faded.

  “That’s right.” She grabbed a pen and slid into the chair, tucking the phone between her shoulder and ear. “When did you notice it missing?”

  Pete moved behind her, reading the notes she scribbled over her shoulder. The name she’d written—Jack Utah—wasn’t familiar to him, meaning either he wasn’t local or hadn’t had any run-ins with law enforcement.

  She added one a.m. next to the name.

  “What kind of car was it?”

  He watched her write 1986 Chevy Cavalier. She glanced back at him and tapped the paper.

  The burnt car from the game lands had been an older model Cavalier. He held out his hand for the phone.

  “Hold on, Mr. Utah. I’m going to put Chief Adams on the line.” Zoe covered the mouthpiece and whispered, “He’s calling to report his car’s been stolen. He’d heard the news earlier, but just got home and noticed the car was gone.”

  Pete traded places with her and took over questioning Utah.

  “So, you think that was my car?” The man’s voice sounded a tad boozy.

  “I can’t say for sure, but it matches the description.”

  “Was it green? ’Cause mine was green.”

  Pete had no idea what color the torched car had been. Any paint had been burned off. “Can you give me a license number?”

  Utah mumbled a response, which Pete noted. “If it is my car, when can I get it back?”

  “Sir, if it is your car, I’m afraid there isn’t much left.”

  “Oh.” The line fell silent for a moment. “Shit. I knew I shouldn’t have gone out drinkin’ tonight.”

  A question popped into Pete’s mind. “Mr. Utah, out of curiosity, where were you tonight?”
<
br />   “I wasn’t drinkin’ and drivin’, if that’s what you’re gettin’ at. I had a—a desig—a designated driver.” He stumbled over the word, carefully enunciating each syllable.

  “Good. Happy to hear it. But I’d still like to know where you were drinking.”

  “We was at Rodeo’s.”

  Jack Utah babbled on, assuring Pete he could ask anyone about his innocence regarding any potential DUI charge.

  But Pete only half heard him. The part that interested him was the bar. Rodeo’s.

  Snake Sullivan’s hangout of choice.

  Sixteen

  Zoe and Earl stood at the coffee cart next to the hospital’s gift shop. She sipped hers and winced at the bitter brew.

  He doctored his with creamer and sugar. “Wanda didn’t give you any idea what Curtis wanted to talk about?”

  “She didn’t know. He just told her it was important.” Zoe removed the lid and added some of the stuff passing as a dairy product to tone down the coffee’s burnt taste. “Sorry I volunteered you to come along without asking.”

  Earl sampled his before turning away from the cart. “That’s all right. Olivia was a little miffed because I backed out of helping her take the kids to church, but it’s Curtis. If he needs to talk to us, we have to come, right?”

  Short of dumping more creamer into the cup than coffee, Zoe decided the stuff was as good as it was gonna get. “Right. I felt bad because I had to put him off until this morning. He wanted to see us last night.”

  They crossed to the elevators and waited with a dozen or so others.

  “So have you heard anything more from Pete?” Earl asked.

  On the drive into the city, she’d told her partner about the events of the night before. She left out the part about nearly going home with Pete prior to the phone call reporting the stolen car. Instead, he’d walked her to Rose’s door before going home to pick up his personal vehicle and heading out to speak with Jack Utah. “Not a word. Hopefully he got some sleep after taking the report about the Cavalier.”

  One set of elevator doors swished open and the waiting crowd drifted toward them.