Zoe choked. “Barry?”
“And Seth Metzger. The two of them grabbed Hector and dragged him away. Metzger probably should’ve arrested him, but Hector finally cooled off and apologized.”
Zoe sunk back in the chair, her mind swirling. Barry and Curtis. Yancy and Jason Dyer.
And Seth.
Fear bordering on panic sent an icy chill through her. “Yancy, I have to go.” She climbed to her feet and reached over to give his good hand a squeeze. “You take care.”
“You’re gonna tell Pete?” Yancy knew her too well.
“Yeah,” she said.
Before Seth became the next victim.
“Eli, shut up.” Andrew McCoy appeared ready to slap his client.
“But—”
“Just…” The attorney tightened his fist and his jaw. “Shut up.”
Snake complied, hunched in his chair like a sullen teenager.
Amused, Pete watched the family squabble in silence.
McCoy made a visible effort to regain his professional stature. “About that deal…”
Pete struggled to keep a straight face. “Seems like your client has already confessed to possession of drugs.”
“For which I’d rather see him not charged. I promise you, he’s not guilty of anything more egregious than possession.” The attorney shot a fierce glare at his client. “With no intention to sell.”
“Is criminal stupidity a chargeable offense?” Baronick muttered from his seat by the conference room door.
Pete cleared his throat to cover a laugh. At least the detective finally saw the light regarding Snake as an evil mastermind.
If McCoy heard Baronick’s comment, which he surely had, he made a good show of ignoring it. “However, Mr. Sullivan does have certain information that might help you in your homicide investigation.”
Pete grew serious. “Such as?”
“Do we have a deal?”
Pete turned to look at Baronick, who appeared noncommittal. To the attorney, Pete said, “No guarantees. But if your client has something we can use, and if he has nothing to do with the deaths of Barry Dickson and Jason Dyer, I can probably talk the DA into not pursuing drug charges.”
Snake straightened, a smile on his lips.
“If,” Pete added, “he agrees to going into rehab.”
Snake’s smile faded.
McCoy gave a nod. “Agreed. Ask your questions.”
Pete sat back and crossed an ankle over one knee. “Why’d you run when your buddies stopped?”
Snake slid farther down in his chair. “Because I didn’t want to get busted.”
“For possession,” Pete offered.
“Well…yeah. I only had a little on me. Some crappy brick weed I’d brought from home. I was hoping to score a lot more though.” Snake mashed his lips together and shook his head. “I knew something was off when that dude called me. But I didn’t know for sure until I saw you cops.”
“Didn’t know what?”
“That I was being set up. Framed.”
Pete picked up his pen. “Start at the beginning, Eli. What ‘dude’ called you?”
“My name’s Snake.”
McCoy elbowed him. “Answer the man’s questions, Eli.”
He huffed. “I don’t know who he was. Some dude called me and said he’d heard I might be in the market for some good bud. Really high-grade stuff, you know? So I told him, yeah, sure. And he told me to meet him out there in the game lands—”
“Back up a second. He called you.”
“Yeah.”
“How?”
Snake rolled his eyes. “On my cell phone. How else?”
Pete heard Baronick shift in his chair. “Do you have your phone on you?”
“Sure. Why?”
“Give it to me.”
Panicked, Snake looked to his uncle. “Do I have to?”
Pete held out one hand and snapped his fingers. “Do you want us to confirm your story or not?”
McCoy motioned to Pete. “Give it to him.”
Snake dug in his pocket while mumbling something Pete couldn’t hear.
But McCoy could. He turned sideways to fix his nephew with a fierce stare. “Watch your mouth, boy. I’m representing you as a favor to your mother, but I’ll happily walk away and leave your ass to a public defender if you give me any more lip. You understand?”
“Yes, Uncle Andy.” Snake slapped his phone into Pete’s palm.
Pete handed it over his shoulder to Baronick, who snatched it and left the room.
“Do I get a receipt?” Snake asked.
“If we keep it,” Pete said. “This ‘dude’ who called you. What can you tell me about him?”
“Not much. I didn’t recognize his voice, and he didn’t give me a name.”
Stupid and trusting. Bad combination for someone determined to be a badass. Pete jotted a note. “So it was a male voice?”
“Yeah. A dude. I told you.”
“Can you tell me anything about his voice? Did he have an accent? Anything distinctive about it?”
“No accent. But he sounded old.”
“Old?”
“Yeah. He didn’t talk like the guys I hang out with. He talked like you.”
McCoy muffled an exasperated sigh.
Pete decided in this case to take “old” as a compliment. “Tell me, Snake, do you make a point of meeting total strangers in desolate locations to make drug buys?”
“Well, yeah…no. But he was offering me a really good deal.”
McCoy covered his face and groaned.
“What about the ATV you were riding? You told us you sold it.”
“I did. I sold mine. I borrowed that one from a buddy so I could get out there. Which reminds me. When can I get it back? He’s gonna be plenty pissed when he finds out I ditched it.”
“That might take a while. It’s being held as evidence.”
Snake swore under his breath.
“Why did you take your friends with you? To share the wealth?”
“Well, yeah. I told you I wasn’t gonna sell it. Honest. And I didn’t really trust that dude who called me. Especially when he told me to come alone.”
“He told you to come alone?”
“Yeah. He made a big point of telling me twice—no, three times.”
“Yet you ignored him?”
“Hell yeah. I’m not stupid, you know.”
Pete managed to maintain a poker face, but noticed McCoy roll his eyes. Another scribble in his notebook caught his attention. “By the way, where were you between seven fifteen and eight thirty Thursday evening?”
Snake rubbed one of the studs piercing his brow. “Thursday? I already told you. I was at Rodeo’s. Ask anyone.”
“We did. Everyone agreed you were there. But we also learned you left at quarter after seven and didn’t come back for forty-five minutes. Where were you?”
The kid’s face flushed. He leaned over and whispered in his uncle’s ear.
“You what?” the attorney asked.
Snake leaned toward him as if to whisper some more, but McCoy blocked him with a hand. “No. I heard you the first time.” He gestured toward Pete, clearly exasperated. “Just tell him already.”
Pete waited.
This should be good.
Snake shifted again. “One of my buddies offered to give me another piercing. So that’s where I went.”
“To get a piercing?”
McCoy closed his eyes and shook his head. “Do yourself a favor. Don’t ask where and definitely don’t ask to see it.”
Oh.
Pete was saved from asking anything more about the new jewelry. Baronick stormed back into the room and motioned for him to step into the hall. Pete gratefully excused himself, gathered his
notebook, and followed the detective.
Baronick pulled the door closed behind them. “The phone number’s a match.”
“To what?” Pete asked.
“The number in Snake’s received calls list is a match to the burner phone used to call EOC last night to report the car fire. And that’s not all. The tread marks from the ATV Snake abandoned don’t match any of the tracks we’ve found. Not the ones from the hunting blind and not the ones from any of the crime scenes.”
“Which supports Snake’s story claiming he’s been set up.”
Baronick made a pained face. “Looks that way. And before you can say ‘I told you so,’ you were right. That kid isn’t exactly the brightest bulb in the box.”
“What about the rest of the tread marks? Do the ones from the hunting blind match the ones from the previous nights?”
“Afraid so.”
Pete glanced at his watch. Almost three in the afternoon. Damn it. “Looks like we have another long night ahead.”
Twenty
Zoe parked Sylvia’s Escort next to Wayne’s unmarked black sedan in the Police Department’s lot. Pete’s personal vehicle sat in the next spot.
There was another car too. A dark Mercedes. She had no clue who it belonged to.
The bells on the door clanked and jangled when she entered. Pete and Wayne, who stood in the hallway outside the conference room door, looked up.
Pete spoke to the county detective in a voice too low for her to hear and aimed a thumb over his shoulder toward the room.
Wayne nodded and moved in that direction while Pete headed toward her.
“I need to talk to you,” she said.
He must have picked up on her anxiety. “Come into my office.”
As she entered, she eyed the coffeepot in the corner, but the last thing she needed was more jitters. Instead, she passed it and pulled one of the chairs closer to his desk.
Pete settled himself in his own chair. “What’s going on?”
“I’ve been to see Yancy.”
“Oh? Is he all right?” Pete winced. “I mean, I know he isn’t all right, but—”
“He’s about the same as when we saw him yesterday.”
“Good. I’ve been intending to check on him.” Pete let his voice trail off. He studied her, his eyes narrowing. “He told you something?”
“Yeah.” Zoe started with her morning visit with Curtis, poured out the tale of Lucy’s connection to young Jason Dyer and her volatile visit to the ambulance garage, told of Sylvia’s revelation about Hector’s shooting prowess, and concluded with everything Yancy had told her regarding the confrontation at the accident scene and Hector’s survivalist background. Including the guns. And Seth’s part in the confrontation.
Pete remained silent even after she’d finished.
“Did you know any of this?” she asked.
“Not nearly enough,” he said, his voice a low growl.
She thought of the Mercedes parked out front and Wayne’s retreat into the conference room. “Are you questioning someone?”
“Eli Sullivan turned himself in. He and Andrew McCoy are across the hall.”
“Eli? Snake? How on earth can he afford an attorney like McCoy?”
“Family discount.”
Zoe didn’t make the connection.
“McCoy is Sullivan’s uncle.”
“Oh. What’d he have to say?”
Pete’s mind appeared stuck on Zoe’s disclosures. “He claims he was set up. Someone called and lured him out there with the promise of a drug buy.”
“A drug buy? He told you that?”
“Indeed he did.”
“Huh.” Zoe leaned back in the chair. “And you believe him?”
Pete met her gaze. “Would you admit to scoring drugs for any reason other than avoiding homicide charges?”
She considered the possibilities. “Lesser of two evils?”
He shook his head. “If the kid was smart enough to stage three scenes to bait emergency responders, I think he’d be smart enough to come up with a better alibi.” A pained look crossed his face. “And the more I get to know Sullivan, the less I think his name and ‘smart’ belong in the same sentence.”
No argument there.
A spark glimmered in Pete’s eyes. “I wonder if Hector owns an ATV.”
Pete pulled into the Livingston’s shady driveway half expecting to see a camo-clad Hector lurking behind one of the trees. Remembering how the man had slipped up on him during his last visit, Pete suspected he’d never see—or hear—Hector unless he wanted to be seen or heard.
The silver Hyundai was parked in front of the dilapidated garage, although not in the same spot as before. The dented blue Ram pickup was noticeably absent. Pete swung his Ford Edge around and backed in front of the Hyundai. This time the garage doors were closed.
He climbed out of the SUV and paused to survey the place. Last night’s rain had scrubbed the air clean, creating a perfect early autumn afternoon. A few wispy clouds floated in a deep blue sky. Humidity had dropped well into the comfortable range. Nothing moved. Not a leaf. Not a squirrel or a bird in the maples. Perhaps the local wildlife knew the owner of this property was an avid hunter and had moved to more hospitable digs.
Staying alert, Pete strolled toward the house knowing he was being watched, provided anyone was home. At the back door, he knocked. Waited. Listened. There was no hint of footsteps, no rustling from inside. He knocked again. “Hello?” he called. “Miss Livingston? Hector? Vance Township Police. Anyone home?”
When Pete still received no answer, he ambled back down the porch steps. A pinpoint red light in a nearby tree drew his eye. A trail cam was aimed at the back of the house…and at him.
Pete stared into the lens with the same expression he’d use with a suspect, letting Hector know he was aware of the camera.
As Pete headed back toward his vehicle, he wondered if that was the only camera Hector had rigged up. Probably not. So much for clandestine snooping.
A bird yelped from behind the ramshackle garage. Pete stopped. A case could be made that the birdcall sounded almost human. Like someone calling for help. Sworn to protect and serve, Pete had a duty to investigate.
Yeah. That would work.
The flatbed trailer he’d almost tripped over on his last visit was gone, revealing a wide, previously concealed path next to the structure. The weeds had been flattened from frequent use, and Pete noticed the parallel set of grooves in the earth carved from a small vehicle. Riding mower?
Or ATV?
He picked his way to the rear of the garage, keeping vigilant for signs of movement and for hidden cameras.
Behind the building, a smaller lean-to had been pieced together from odd-sized sheets of T-111 siding, some of it painted, some of it blackened from weather exposure. Pete recalled similar scraps stashed inside the garage.
He followed the path to the rear of the lean-to where a pair of rickety plywood doors sagged open on warped hinges. He eased closer, his hand instinctively resting on his Glock.
The lean-to held an assortment of what appeared to be automotive parts. Belts and gizmos, which Pete didn’t recognize, hung from nails pounded into the two-by-fours that framed the structure. Several red plastic gas cans sat in one corner. A snow plow, the kind he’d seen attached to the front of a garden tractor—or an ATV—perched on blocks in another corner.
The bulk of the space, however, was empty. A pair of oil spots on the floor suggested two small vehicles usually resided there.
As Pete’s eyes grew accustomed to the shed’s lack of light, he noticed a series of framed photographs hanging askew on the far wall. He edged closer.
The photographs were covered in a thick layer of dust, but not so thick he couldn’t make out the subjects—Hector and Lucy Livingston posed proudly with a pai
r of trophy bucks and their high-powered hunting rifles—in front of a pair of ATVs.
“You don’t have to be here, you know.” Sylvia deposited her luggage-sized handbag into the front desk’s bottom drawer. “I handled the phones and the radios here all by my lonesome for many years.”
Zoe hung her own purse over the back of one of the chairs. “I know you don’t need me. But I wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway, so might as well do something useful.”
“Don’t tell me you’re joining our insomniacs’ club.”
Zoe forced a smile. “Temporarily. Until they catch this guy.”
Sylvia lowered into a chair with a grunt. “I understand. I know we can’t really do anything to protect our boys.” She raised an eyebrow at Zoe. “And girls. But I feel like I’m keeping watch over them from here.”
“What do you mean, we can’t do anything?” Zoe gave Sylvia a pat on her shoulder. “I think we can do a heckuva lot. You know the back roads better than anyone. Between the two of us, we can shave minutes off response times to these remote locations. That alone could save a life or two.”
Sylvia sighed. “I hope so.”
The police radio next to her elbow crackled to life. “Vance Base, this is Thirty.”
Pete’s voice held an edge that made Zoe’s shoulders tighten.
Sylvia keyed the mic. “Go ahead, Thirty.”
There was a pause. “Are you coming back to work full-time?”
“Yes, and since I’m also a township supervisor, I’m giving myself a raise.” Sylvia released the button on the mic to add an editorial comment off the air. “Smartass.” Keying it again, she asked, “What do you want?”
“I’m at Hector Livingston’s place. No one’s home, and there’s evidence he and his daughter own quads. Put a BOLO out on him and his pickup. I’m going to sit here for a while in case he shows up, but I’m available if you need me.”
With a Vengeance Page 18
