“So you think you’re going to find that Ava Johansson?”
I lowered the bottle from my lips and frowned. “How do you know I’m looking for Ava’s body?”
He shrugged. “People talk. You found the boyfriend so, yeah, people are saying you’re on the case.” He shrugged with palms up. “But if you’re not looking for that girl, it makes no difference to me. I’m sure she’ll turn up eventually.”
“Her mom asked me to see if I can find her,” I admitted.
“Not surprised. Must be hard on her not knowing where her girl is. Unfortunately, Washington is a big place, you know? Finding that girl is like a needle in a haystack and her mom, well, she wanted all officers searching for her girl.”
“Makes sense, right?” I said. “I mean, if it was your kid, you’d be frantic and you’d be pitching a fit until she was found.”
“Sure.” He nodded. “No insult to the woman intended but giving somebody a massage isn’t the same thing as finding a body. Best to leave it to people like us who know what we’re doing, right?”
In my experience most people could be a little frantic about finding the remains of their loved ones. Hysterical even.
“You’re probably wanted over there.” I nodded to the clutch of officers gathered around the body and a second group around the family.
“Yeah, I’d better get to it.”
When he started to walk away I called out to him. “If you were searching for Ava, where would you look?”
“Me personally?” He walked back to my window with chest a little puffed up with pride.
“Yeah, you personally.”
He looked pleased to offer his opinion as his face scrunched up in concentration. “It’s gotta be near where he killed her, right?”
“In the state park?”
“Yeah, I know we searched that entire community high and low but I still think she’s gotta be in the park somewhere.”
“You don’t think he drove her body somewhere and dumped her?”
“Oh yeah that’s entirely possible. She could be anywhere.” He spread his arms wide. “Needle in a haystack. Like I said.”
Thanks for being the least helpful person on the entire planet.
I tried to give him one last chance to redeem himself. “I know the evidence is stacked against Ron Low. The ransom note came off his laptop, he went missing at the same time she did, and now he turned up dead himself but, if it wasn’t Ron...or if he was working with a partner and it could be anyone else...who would be your next guess?”
“Maybe that roommate.”
“Really?” I blinked in surprise. “But he was in Korea when it happened. Kind of hard to be across the world and commit a kidnapping and murder, right?”
“I don’t know.” He took out a tissue and dabbed at the sweat that was beaded on his forehead. “But there’s something about that boy that’s just...off.”
I thought about Joon Kim on the drive back home. When I used the hose on the side of the house to water my wilted flowers, my phone chimed to announce there was someone activating the camera on that side of the house.
“No shit, Sherlock. It’s me.” I blew out an annoyed breath as I clicked on the app and then pocketed the phone.
The next sound announced a text from Garrett: Traffic must’ve been hell. Welcome home.
I just sent him a kissy emoji. I didn’t want to explain I’d been sidetracked by finding a body in a lake. He’d find out soon anyway, once it hit all the news stations.
I let Wookie run in the yard for a few minutes and then we went inside and I filled his water and food dishes for him. While he slurped his water and chomped his kibble I started up my new laptop. The entire process of getting everything up and running took entirely too long. By the time things were ready to go, my stomach was grumbling and demanding food so I made myself a grilled cheese sandwich. I brought the sandwich and the laptop to the sofa and turned on the TV as background noise while I went through my emails.
One email in particular stood out. James Low. Ron’s father. It was simple and to the point: Thank you for finding our son.
While I nibbled my sandwich and sipped a can of Coke I debated how to reply. There was a lot I still wanted to know about Ron and, although parents seldom knew everything, I felt like it would be a good place to start. I remembered the website Ron’s parents had put up for tips to find their boy. Both the media and the public had dragged them across the coals for putting up such a public request when he was the perpetrator and not the victim. When I clicked open the page now I noticed the section to submit tips had been taken down and the only thing on the website home page was a statement saying Ron had been found and the family was asking for peace and privacy at this difficult time.
I was about to invade that solitude and disturb that peace as I picked up my phone and looked at the message from Joon Kim forwarding the Low’s home phone number.
James Low answered the phone and I introduced myself.
There was a poignant pause followed by, “Thank you for finding our boy.”
“I’m truly sorry for your loss, Mr. Low, and I know this is a horrific time for you and your wife but I was hoping I could come over to talk about Ron.”
“Why?”
The simple question stumped me.
“Well because I, um, I was hoping to get more information about him and—”
“You’re working for Ebba, right? That’s what we were told. That’s why you found Ron when and where you did.”
“I’m working for Ava’s mom. Yes.”
“And you’re hoping we can tell you where our son dumped her body. Well, that’s not going to happen, Julie, on account of we don’t think our Ronnie killed that girl so if you don’t mind—”
“I don’t think so either,” I blurted trying to stop him from hanging up on me. The air stretched between us on a fat pause.
“Is that so, or is that just what you’re saying?”
“Look, I knew Ron from high school and, well, he was nice to me. He stuck up for me when others didn’t. He sure didn’t seem like the kind of guy who could hurt a flea.”
This was all true. Although he could’ve snapped and killed Ava, even if he did Ron had still taken a bullet in the back of his head so he was also a victim here. I was doubtful the coroners had shared that with the Low family yet and it sure couldn’t come from me.
“But you are working for Ebba.”
“I am.”
“Then I got nothing more to say to you.”
“But she hired me to find her daughter’s body, not to find evidence against Ron,” I said hurriedly. “And if I do find her body, it could prove who killed Ava, and that could clear Ron’s name.”
There was another lengthy pause and if it wasn’t for background television noise coming from his end of the line, I would’ve thought he’d ended the call.
“I don’t want my wife to know we met. She doesn’t need the heartache. She’s getting her hair done in town tomorrow morning at ten o’clock,” he said quietly into the phone. “You can come to the house then and I’ll give you a few minutes of my time.” He rattled off the address and added, “Don’t be late.” And then the call went dead.
“Looks like it’s a work day tomorrow.” Wookie was on the sofa next to me and I rubbed his head. “Maybe you can give that doggie daycare a try rather than staying home alone. You know, in case someone tries to slide you a burger laced with sleeping pills again.”
He yawned and rolled over for a belly rub.
The next morning my alarm went off and I padded to the kitchen in only a long tank top with an open back. I let Wookie outside to do his business first and listened to my phone chime as the app for the video camera announced movement. I texted Garrett to tell him this was getting beyond annoying. He replied with a thumbs-up emoji. Big help.
After Wookie was back inside I filled his water and kibble and then started on coffee for myself. My phone chimed again at the same time that Wookie began
going ape shit at the front door. The hair stood on the back of my neck as I checked my phone and then I rolled my eyes because walking toward the house was the green-haired girl, Tracey, holding two cups of coffee. I frowned at the app watching her get closer. Wookie sounded like he wanted to go through the door and take a pound of flesh.
“Just a sec!” I shouted through the door and then I instructed Wookie to go to his bed, which he did in a sulky manner.
I ran to the bedroom and slid on a pair of sweatpants. When I opened the door I did it quickly and carefully so Wookie wouldn’t be tempted to escape.
“Hey,” she said holding up the coffees. “You looked like a Starbucks latte kind of girl.” She thrust a paper cup into my hand.
“Um. Did Garrett ask you to bring me coffee now? Because really that’s just messed up and a little stalkery.”
She laughed and sat down on the concrete steps at my door. “No. It’s my day off and when I don’t have to work I always drive the ten minutes to Monroe and get a Starbucks and I was thinking to myself, I bet that Julie girl doesn’t even know there’s a Starbucks that close and I bet she’d really like a latte.”
“Oh. In that case, thanks a lot.” I sat down next to her, not sure what to make of this girl and her bizarre assumption about my coffee habits, which, for the record, was entirely off base. I was not a fancy coffee kind of girl.
“Cheers.” She tapped her cup against mine and then we sat there sipping our drinks. “So I heard you found that kid at Blackmans Lake.”
“Yeah.”
“That’s your gig then? You drive around and find wayward bodies and stuff? It’s like you’re some kind of superhero and finding dead people is your superpower.”
I cringed and slid a sidelong glance at her to see if she was joking. “I guess all I need is a cape or something and maybe a tiara.”
Tracey smiled but her face was otherwise impassive as she wrapped her hands around her coffee cup and I noticed the double rings that were braces around her knuckles.
“Those braces ring things...” I pointed to her fingers, wanting to change the subject. “You said it’s some kind of condition.”
“Ehlers Danlos.” She took a drink. “It’s a genetic condition that means that all my connective tissue is fucked. Held together with more spit than glue so all my joints do weird things. Including my fingers.”
“Oh.”
“I’ve had more surgeries than I’d like to count just to keep everything connected but I’m not a complainer. We all got our own shit going on.”
We sat there on the steps sipping our coffee and listening to sparrows chirp in the bushes nearby. Neither of us said a word and it was kind of nice so I found myself regretting that I was going to have to break the moment.
“I have an appointment in Blaine and I need to drop Wookie off at doggie daycare before so-o-o...” I got to my feet.
“I could come with you on your appointment.” She got up and smiled excitedly. “All superheroes need a sidekick, right?”
“I’m not a superhero.” My words came out snippy and I quickly added, “I’m meeting with a family member who lost someone so I really need to just do it alone.”
“Sure. Of course. I understand.” Her words were serious now and the previously animated look on her face was shut down.
I’d hurt her feelings. Christ. “But, hey, maybe you can come with me another time, you know? Four eyes are better than two, right?”
“You mean that?” Her eyes brightened. “That would be so cool and I absolutely would not get in your way at all.”
“Thanks so much for the coffee.” I raised the cup, and as I turned away I immediately realized my back was visible and I felt exposed.
“Wow.” She said it quietly and her cool fingers lightly touched my back and traced the deep, grooved scars caused from a grandmother with a whip made particularly to inflict as much pain as possible.
I flinched away. “Don’t.”
“Sorry,” she said quickly. “I got a shitload of scars too so I wasn’t judging or anything.”
She turned and lifted up the back of her shirt exposing a thick keloid snake that ran up the length of her spine. Her scar was obviously surgical and not brought on by someone repeatedly trying to beat the devil out of you when you were a child. Still, she was trying to connect with me on that level so I just gave her a friendly smile.
“Oww,” I said in empathy.
“Spinal surgery when I was a kid.”
“I guess we’ve got scars in common,” I said, anxious to go now. “So I’ll see you around then.”
“I got your number so I’ll text you next time to see if you’re free instead of just popping by, okay?”
“Sure.” I waved goodbye and walked back inside the house. I started to get ready to leave and it wasn’t even five minutes later when Tracey fired me off a text.
See you soon! with happy faces and a superhero emoji.
I sent her a thumbs-up in reply.
I really liked her so I hoped she wasn’t going to turn into a pain in the ass.
Seconds afterward Garrett also sent a message saying that he liked my new coffee buddy but next time I should invite her in. I could’ve replied explaining Tracey didn’t like dogs. I could’ve also raged at him to mind his own business and that he was crossing the line. Instead, I just ignored the message and prepared for my day.
Ron Low’s parents lived only a couple miles from the property I once shared with Gramps, him in his house and me in my trailer, just over a year or a lifetime ago. It was hard as hell to be in that area. I played an audiobook so loudly my windows shook as I turned down their gravel road and spied the single wide trailer claiming a weed concrete pad in the center of a few acres of farmland. My breath caught in my throat and my stomach clenched with fear. It could’ve been my place. My cramped trailer surrounded by wannabe fields that lay fallow.
I probably would have barfed if I didn’t practice every one of Dr. Chen’s deep breathing and mindfulness exercises right there in my Jeep. I sat in my vehicle a long while, until the white curtains in the dingy kitchen window parted and I felt eyes watching and questioning what the hell I was doing having a meltdown in my car.
“This isn’t my home,” I told myself, climbing out of the Jeep.
Swallowing my fear, I strode strong and purposefully to the door and it was thrown open before I even raised my hand to knock.
“Wondered if you were coming in or writing a book out there,” Mr. Low barked. “Come in already.”
I stepped inside, relieved to see the interior of the trailer was not at all like my old place. It smelled of pine cleaner, and the décor was very feminine with any available space covered in crocheted doilies and lace.
“Sit,” Mr. Low instructed, pointing to a seat across from him at the small dining nook.
Just getting up from the table was a bald man a few years older than me. I recognized him as the one standing at the back of the search party with Wes’s arm around him.
“You must be Ron’s brother, Jay,” I said.
I held out my hand and he wordlessly shook it.
“You want me to hang around?” he asked his father.
“We’re good,” Mr. Low announced.
Jay headed down the short hall and disappeared into one of the bedrooms. I took a seat at the nook table and Mr. Low sat across. He picked up a mug of coffee and drank without offering me one. This wasn’t a social visit and he was making that clear.
“My wife will be back from the salon not long from now. She can’t... She won’t... I don’t want her to see you here.”
“I understand.”
“You couldn’t possibly.”
He didn’t have the market cornered on loss or grief and I could fill a book on my own but I wouldn’t deny him his. Grief was its own demon that made a home nestled deep in your gut. It could be fed and stirred by a simple token and today I was that reminder to poke and prod. He was angry but he’d earned it.
&
nbsp; “You found our boy and that’s the only reason I invited you over.”
“I appreciate that and so I’m going to get right to the point. You don’t think Ron killed Ava.”
“I sure as hell don’t.” His hands went to fists on the top of the table before he relaxed them and wrapped them around his coffee mug.
“And you don’t think he kidnapped Ava and demanded a hundred Gs from Ebba Johansson?”
“Nope, and that just ain’t me standing up for my boy and defending what’s mine. Ron just wasn’t that kind of guy. He didn’t give a rat’s ass about money. He worked just enough to pay for what he needed. He could’ve had more...worked harder...gone to school...made something more of his life...but he turned all that down.”
“You’re saying he could’ve gone to college but chose not to?”
I tried not to sound judgey but he obviously heard it that way.
“We had money set aside for it.” He leaned forward and stuck a finger in my face. “We’d put away a little bit every month since the day the boys were born. When it came time, well, he just said ‘nah, you two enjoy it.’” He choked on those last words and cleared his throat. “Those were his exact words.” I waited while he drank some coffee and then he continued. “All that boy wanted was to work enough to pay for a roof over his head, food in his mouth, and all that gear he needed to hike here and there. He loved the great outdoors. That was his calling.”
“Did Ron ever talk about traveling so he could hike at more exotic places?”
“Sure. Hiking was all he ever talked about. That boy would’ve traveled to Timbuktu if it had a good trail and he had the money.”
A hundred thousand would’ve gone a long way toward feeding that hiking obsession.
“If Ron didn’t do it, then who?”
I watched him drink the rest of his coffee and then put the mug back down while he slowly shook his head.
“I got no idea who would’ve kidnapped and killed that girl. If I could’ve picked anyone, it would’ve been that Joon Kim boy that lived with Ronnie. That boy always rubbed me the wrong way but they say he was in Korea and, as far as I know, they haven’t yet invented a way for someone to be in two places at one time.”
A Grave Search (Bodies of Evidence) Page 15
