“Sleep good?” he asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Those pain pills knocked me out, but I’d rather not have to take them anymore.”
“Hungry?”
She grinned again, as she answered, “Yeah.”
“I’ll fix something for us while you get ready.” Seeing her eyes widen slightly, he said, “You’ve got to come into the station with me this morning. We need to find out everything we can about the connection between you and George.”
The light left her eyes, dulling the green to a dark color. Pulling in a breath through her nose, she nodded wordlessly. He watched as she put slight pressure on her injured foot as she made her way into the bathroom. The cuts on her face were still visible, but would fade soon. The bruise on her neck from the seatbelt was darker and angrier looking than the day before, but he knew that was normal and would fade as well. Hearing the water run, he shook his head and walked into the kitchen, pulling out the ingredients for an omelet, knowing it was going to be a difficult day so they might as well face it with a full stomach.
Jade sat in the BPD workroom, her gaze darting around, feeling as though she were in a detective TV show. And just like on TV, she was saying, “I don’t know anything”, when the viewers always knew they really did know something that would crack the case. But I don’t.
The whole force was there, including Mildred and Mable clucking over her, plying her with pastries and coffee from Jillian’s shop. She looked up as another man walked in, his crisp, tan uniform drawing her eye as the handsome man greeted the others.
Introduced to Colt Hudson, the North Heron Sheriff, she swallowed her pastry bite in haste. The confection suddenly tasted like cardboard, as she no longer felt as though she were just among friends. The reality she had tried to keep at bay up until that point, crashed down on her.
Lance noticed her shaking hands and reached over, taking them in his own, steadying her nerves.
As Mitch settled in with the others, he smiled at her, saying, “We need to determine if there is a tie between George’s murder and you, as much as you hate that thought. You ready for this?”
Knowing it was a lie, she nodded.
“Let’s start with your relationship with George Caday, and by relationship, I mean any communication you had with him at any time.”
Taking a deep breath, she cast her mind to the past. “I first met George not long after I moved to town, when Tori introduced us. I was living in the Sea Glass Inn and she was taking me all around town to meet people. We went to the harbor one morning when the fishing boats arrived from their first early run. She explained to me that the local fishermen sell to individuals before most of their catch fills up the waiting trucks of the restaurants. I met George, the Taylors, the Carsons, and a few of the others that came in.”
“Okay, how did your relationship progress?”
“I stop by the harbor about every other week, usually on Saturdays, and buy from George and the Carsons. I usually skip the Taylors, other than greeting them, ‘cause I’m not really into cooking crabs myself. I just buy a couple of fish from George…uh, bought, I guess…and the Carsons…uh…they filet it for me and wrap it up and I pop them in the freezer when I get home.”
“What did you talk about with George?” Ginny asked, her eyes sympathetic. “Anything at all, no matter how innocuous it might seem.”
Biting her lips, she forced her mind back over her conversations. “Uh…the weather…he’d always comment on how the weather affected his fishing. Sometimes I asked about how he was feeling…he once told me that his arthritis was worse in the cold.” Sighing, she shook her head slowly, “I don’t know…we never had any in-depth conversations about anything.” Looking up quickly, she amended, “Oh, once he told me his wife died from cancer and that he has a son in prison…um…for drugs, I think.”
Lance gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, as he asked, “Anything else? Anything at all?”
She felt choked from the pressure of so many pairs of eyes centered on her, dissecting her every word. Looking up at him, she confessed, “I can’t think with everyone staring.”
“Close your eyes,” he instructed gently. “Just close your eyes and let your mind wander back to the times you talked to him.”
Trusting him to keep her safe, she nodded and leaned back in the chair, closing her eyes. Without any visual stimulation, she cast her mind back to the harbor. “George’s boat was older…the Carson’s bought a new boat when they increased their fleet, and I think it made George a little sad that his boat was so old…and stinky.” A slight laugh escaped as she remembered, “I could never figure out why his vessel was so much smellier than the Carson’s. It never bothered the restaurant vendors who came…they climbed on board George’s boat to buy from him.”
“And did George ever ask you anything personal?” Lance prodded, his voice soft.
Shaking her head, with her eyes still closed, she said, “No, we didn’t talk about my family, but then…oh, wait. He knew I was a teacher. We talked about my classroom kids some. I talked with the Carsons also, because I have the grandson…well, son also, in my class. But George always asked how my week had gone. He would ask if I liked Baytown…just stuff like that.”
“Did you find you had anything in common with George?” Lance continued.
“In common?” she scrunched her nose, then winced as her cheek hurt. She lifted her hand and touched her small lacerations with her fingerstips. Her eyes still closed, she missed Lance’s narrowed-eye look of anger.
“Well, um…we both liked flounder—” she jerked her eyes open, a blush creeping up her face, and said, “I feel dumb…I can’t…think of anything.”
“Shh,” he shushed gently, ordering once more, “Close your eyes and don’t worry about what you say or how it sounds. We’re trying to look for any possible clue and sometimes they come in the tiniest thing.”
Pressing her lips together again, she again closed her eyes. “I once told him that I’d love to go out on his boat to see how he caught the fish and he said that he would like that, but we never did. When I got Ricky Carson in my class, the Carsons asked if I would like to go out with them and I was going to make arrangements one Saturday when Ricky was out with his dad and granddad. But I also wanted to talk to George about going out with him, since I kinda felt like he was a little jealous of the other boat.”
“Jealous?”
“Well, George would look over at the Carson boat with a wistful expression on his face and he admitted he needed a new boat to stay competitive in the business.”
“Did you get the feeling that there was a competition between the two fishing businesses?” Mitch prodded, his eyes catching Lance’s.
“Sure, there was an implied competition, but there was no animosity there. I mean, when they arrived at the harbor, both of them had restaurants and seafood trucks ready to buy their catch. The owner of the Sunset View Restaurant was often there and he always boarded George’s boat first before going over to the Carson’s…at least when I was there. That’s not to say that on other days he didn’t go to the Carson’s first.”
Lance watched as Burt and Ginny scribbled down everything Jade was saying, knowing she was providing a lot of information without realizing it. Nodding toward them, he squeezed her hand. “You’re doing great, Jade. Keep going…anything else you can think of.”
Smiling at the memory, she said, “He once asked me why I was up so early on the weekends, saying most people came to the harbor in the evenings after their second run. I told him that I liked to get up early and walk on the beach. He asked if I looked for shells and I told him I looked for sea glass. Oh, yeah…he liked that and said his wife was a sea glass collector. I thought that was sweet and he even said he would give me some of her collection since he had no use for it, other than to keep a few pieces for sentimental value.”
Her brow lowered in concentration as she remembered, “He did give me some one time…when I bought some fi
sh. I took it into the school for an art project with the kids.”
“When was that?”
“In the spring. So about six months ago.”
“And none since then?”
Shaking her head, she said, “No, but he did mention it again the last time I saw him. But then one of the restaurant owners came by and I headed on to the Carson’s boat.”
“Anything else?”
“I told him once that I would see his boat out on the bay when I was on the beach and that even though I knew he couldn’t see me, I would always wave.” Her chin trembled slightly with sadness. “He seemed really touched by that…said it made him feel like someone was looking out for him.”
Jade opened her eyes and looked around at the faces all turned toward her. Shaking her head, she said, “No, I can’t think of anything else.” Sucking in her lips, “I don’t understand what’s happening. I discovered his…body, but that was by pure happenstance. As far as someone trying to hurt me, I can only imagine whoever murdered George thinks I know something or have something. But I don’t.”
Lance pulled her closer to him, kissing the top of her head, not caring if the gesture was unprofessional. “I’ll make sure you’re safe, Jade,” he promised.
She smiled, but wondered if it was a promise he would be able to keep.
22
With Jade now safely ensconced in his office, Mitch began to assign duties. “Burt, I want you on the computer finding everything you can about George, the Carsons, their fishing business and bank accounts. Sam, while you’re on patrol, talk to anyone who might have known him well. I’ve informed the mayor that our resources are spread thin, but we’ll do the best we can. Lance, you and Grant head to George’s house. Comb through it and see what you can find out.” He looked over at him and, rubbing his chin, said, “Lance…I know you’re supposed to be part-time right now, but we could really use your investigative skills in this case. Tell you what, Ginny, I’m reassigning you to go with Lance and Grant to George’s house, but after he has a chance to look around I want Lance back here with me. He and I’ll talk to Skip to find out why no one reported George missing. Then we’ll talk to the Carsons and take a trip to visit George’s son in the Indian Creek Correctional Center in Chesapeake.”
“What about Jade?” he asked.
Mitch thought for a moment before shaking his head. “We don’t have the personnel to give her full-time protection and haven’t made a connection between her and George. The only thing I can think of is for her to stay here at the police station.”
His heart plunged, knowing how she would hate that suggestion, but he was also unwilling to leave her unprotected.
“She can ride with me for part of the day,” Sam suggested. “It’ll get her out of the station and I can make sure she’s protected.”
“Can she be with others, as well?” Ginny asked. “If she’s at the pub, I know Brogan and Aiden will protect her.”
Lance nodded, saying, “Maybe a combination of those…part of the day with Sam and part of the day at the pub.” Looking at Ginny, he asked, “Will you talk to Brogan? Let him know what’s going on?”
“Done,” she said, standing and leaving the room as she pulled her phone out.
“I agree,” Mitch said. “As long as she’s protected and moving around, she should be safe.” Looking back at Lance, he added, “You good for working this case? I know we have to keep a check on your hours and not exceed what you’re being paid for.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he replied, receiving appreciative nods from all in the room.
Lance pulled up behind Ginny and Grant’s SUV in the weed-infested, gravel driveway of George’s house, set back from the road with few other houses visible. Climbing out of his vehicle, he stood for a moment, hands on his hips, surveying the area. Tall weeds in the yard, a sagging front porch, and a window shutter that hung at an awkward angle.
“Wow,” Ginny said, as they approached the porch. “This looks terrible.”
“I know he worked all day, only hired a few seasonal workers at a time on his boat, but still, I would have thought with his restaurant connections he would be doing better than this,” Grant surmised.
Lance interjected, “We’ll know more once Burt has a chance to look into his finances.” They entered a hall that appeared to run the length of the house, beneficial for allowing a breeze to blow on hot days. He was halted by the sight of the living room, closely resembling Jade’s in its destruction. The couch had been pulled from the wall and slashed with cushions tossed to the floor. The TV was left unmolested, but the easy chair had been destroyed.
“Fuckin’ hell,” Grant cursed, stepping into the room, snapping on his gloves.
Ginny walked in the opposite direction. He looked over his shoulder as she entered the dining room that appeared to not be used for eating, with its table scattered with bills, magazines, and newspapers.
The kitchen opened to the back of the dining area, exposing a sink, cluttered with a few dishes, and old appliances. The cabinets had been opened and the contents scattered all about. The refrigerator and freezer doors stood open but they were unable to ascertain if anything had been taken. Drawers had been emptied and the floor contained the remnants of the search.
He moved toward the back, entering a bedroom on the left that appeared to be the master. The mattress had been slashed, women’s clothing scattered from the open dresser drawers. The musty scent made him wonder if George had slept in this room at all since his wife died. Moving to the closet, his thoughts were confirmed when he saw the only clothing was a woman’s. The closet had been searched but, other than clothes off hangers, there was nothing else there.
Moving across the hall, into what may have at one time been the son’s room, the bed was also slashed, but the room appeared to have been lived in recently. George’s clothes were in the closet and on the floor.
As his appraisal moved over the house, he shook his head. What would George have that someone was looking for and why would someone think Jade had it?
Jade sat in Mitch’s office, in the old, squeaky chair behind his desk, twirling out of boredom. Looking up as Lance came in, she smiled.
Lance had left Ginny and Grant to complete the sweep of George’s house, and headed back to the station to report to Mitch and check on Jade. Finding her spinning, he met her smile. “Bored?”
“God, yes! I went out with Sam for a while and that was interesting…for about twenty minutes.”
“Well, I’m taking you to the pub and leaving you there while Mitch and I make a run into Chesapeake to talk to George’s son.”
At the mention of George, Jade’s smile left and she heaved a sigh. Not wanting to be a pest, she nodded and said, “That’s fine. Whatever I need to do.” Standing, she added, “But this can only continue for the next couple of days, you know. Monday morning I’ve got to be back at school.”
Lance said nothing in return, but wondered how that would work, if they were no closer to finding George’s murderer.
From the doorway, Lance observed the meeting room at the Indian Creek Correctional Center. He learned from Mitch that the ICCC was an intensive, long-term, institution based treatment program for incarcerated substance abusing offenders. George’s son, Anthony, had been held in the medium security, dormitory designed facility for three years and was scheduled to be released in about six more months.
Walking in, they sat down at the table where Anthony was already sitting. The clean-cut young man reached his hand out in greeting as they were introduced.
“I know you’ve come about my father,” Anthony said, his voice shaky. “I’ll be able to attend his funeral, but…” sighing, “I can’t believe I never had the chance to stay goodbye. I hate that the last thing he thought about me was that I was a still here and not out yet. Fuck…we had plans.”
“When was the last time you spoke to your father?” Mitch asked.
Rubbing his forehead, Anthony replied, “I called him on h
is birthday, which was about two months ago. We chatted for the ten minutes I was allowed and I haven’t talked to him since. I would’ve emailed, but he never got into computers, so that left us with just the phone calls.”
Anthony shook his head, his lips pinched together.
“Did that bother you? About the computer?”
“Yeah, sure it did. I don’t mean just so I could have talked to him more, but even for his business. Dad still used the phone to make calls, set up restaurant contracts…hell, everything. He could have done so much more with his business if he’d stayed up to date with technology.”
“You mentioned plans earlier. Can you elaborate?”
“When I was growing up, the last thing I wanted to be was a fisherman like Dad. You know, typical teenage rebellion. I never wanted to go to college, but thought about working on cars or something like that. Hell, I even thought about joining the military at one time. Anything but smelling like fish all the time.” Shrugging, he admitted, “But I got in with the proverbial wrong crowd. Started doing stupid shit like staying out half the night, smoking weed, then moved on to coke. Tried heroin, but coke was my drug of choice. I got my hands on it easily from a supplier and then started selling. Hell, I thought I was the shit, man. I made more in a week than my dad made in a month or more out on his boat fishing from sunup to sundown.”
Lance noted as Anthony grew introspective, a blanket of sadness settling over the young man. He had no idea if it was from past screw-ups or getting caught. “Something change with your dad in recent times?”
Anthony’s gaze jumped to his before sliding over to Mitch. “Detox was a bitch and I hated the counseling at first, but I gotta tell you, I don’t want to be back in here again. I also know that it’ll be hard getting a decent job when I get out, so I got to thinking about my dad in a different light. He was his own boss. Worked hard but, at the end of the day, he got paid decently for what he did. He spent his days outdoors, not stuck in some cubicle somewhere.” Sighing, he added, “After Mom died, Dad was lost, but seemed excited when I started talking about joining him when I got out. Said he had some plans for increasing the business. Said he wanted to buy a bigger boat. I remember he got kinda jealous when the Carsons bought a new boat.”
Picking Up the Pieces Page 16
