by Kathi Daley
“We hit a bit of a dead end with the theory that Tim may have been killed because of something relating to his job, so we’re looking at other angles,” I began. “Can you think of anything else going on in his life that seemed to be causing him stress or was throwing up any red flags as far as you were concerned?”
“We didn’t spend as much time together as people seemed to think. Sure, we were friends, and we went out from time to time, but he spent a lot more time with his volunteer work and his friends than he did with me.”
“What sort of volunteer work?” I asked.
“He helped out at the church quite a bit. He did odd jobs for Pastor Brown, and I know he helped deliver food and supplies to the needy. He also ran a Narcotics Anonymous group in the church basement on Monday and Thursday evenings. You might want to speak to Pastor Brown. He spent more time with Tim than I did.”
“I will. What can you tell me about Tim’s friends?”
“He managed to kick his drug habit, but he missed hanging out with his old friends, so he made plans to play pool with them a couple of times a week. I thought hanging out with his drug buddies was a bad idea, but he seemed to handle it okay. I never noticed any signs that he was using again. I think in his own mind, Tim used his time playing pool with the guys to try to save them.”
Harley asked a few more questions that didn’t really provide us with anything more than we already knew while I paid for my lights. By the time we left the store, it had started to snow. I looked out toward the horizon, where dark clouds were beginning to gather. It looked like we might be in for another storm.
“Should we head over to the church next?” I asked Harley after we settled into my Jeep.
He turned to look at me. “I know this might sound totally off the wall, but there’s an idea rolling around in my head that seems ludicrous that I think should be discussed.”
“You think Jared Martin might be Doc,” I stated.
Harley looked surprised. “Yes. How did you know?”
“I thought the same thing,” I admitted. “Jared seems like a really nice guy. I knew he and Tim were friends, and the first time I spoke to him, he didn’t say anything that led me to believe he was selling pharmaceuticals on the black market. Still, we know Tim was now an advocate for a drug-free lifestyle, so what if he found out Jared was dealing drugs and threatened to turn him in? Jared would realize he’d not only be arrested but he’d also lose his license, so he panicked and killed Tim.”
Harley and I sat in silence as we let the idea sink in. Harley didn’t know Jared, so he probably didn’t have a strong reason to reject the idea, but I did, and while the theory made a lot of sense, I couldn’t quite wrap my head around it.
“So, even if we believe this could be a possibility, what do we do? Do we just show up at the pharmacy and confront him with our suspicions? Or do we call the police and tell them what we think might have happened to Tim?” Harley asked.
“We have no proof Tim was murdered, so I don’t think they’ll take what we have to say seriously. Maybe if we come up with something that shows our theory is valid, we could convince them to take a second look.”
“Should we speak to Jared directly?” I asked.
“If he did kill Tim, that’s a really bad idea. We need to dig around a bit more first. Maybe we should take one more look at Tim’s place. This time, we’ll specifically look for proof Tim knew who Doc was and planned to expose him.”
“Fine by me,” I agreed. “Should we go by to speak to Pastor Brown?”
“Let’s go to Tim’s first. We can always run by the church later.”
******
We arrived at Tim’s cabin—me for my third time—and headed inside. It still didn’t look like anyone had been inside to clean up. Once again, I wondered who Tim’s next of kin might be. Someone must have inherited the cabin, although I had no idea who that could be. As I had during my previous two visits, I opened drawers and cupboards and looked under furniture for clues to what could have happened to him.
“I wonder why the police are so sure Tim’s death was an accidental overdose when someone obviously broke into his home,” I said. “You’d think a break-in coinciding with a death of any sort would send up all sorts of red flags.”
Harley picked up a box, looked inside, and put it aside. “That’s a good point. Maybe the investigating officer had a specific reason to assume Tim’s death was nothing more than an accidental overdose.”
“Like what?”
He paused and looked in my direction. “Off the top of my head, we’re assuming Tim didn’t buy the heroin, but we don’t know that for certain. Maybe the police have proof he did. We’re also assuming Tim was alone when he died, or at least alone with his killer. What if he wasn’t? What if there was a witness we don’t know about?” Harley took a deep breath and turned back to the stack of boxes he’d been looking through. “To be honest, if the man in the photo didn’t kill Tim, which seems to be the current theory, maybe he really did just fall off the wagon and OD.”
I picked up a book and flipped through the pages. “Do you really think that could be what happened?”
He sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe. I haven’t been close to Tim in a long time. If I’d just heard he OD’d and he hadn’t sent me that letter, I would have assumed he’d fallen off the wagon. I know a lot of people who deal with drug and alcohol problems, and it happens. Even after years of sobriety.”
I turned in a circle and looked around the room. “I guess the question is, how can we know?”
“Unless we find something conclusive, I’m not sure we can.”
“If Tim was in crisis before his death, he would most likely have spoken to his pastor. Let’s head over to the church to see if he’s willing and able to tell us anything,” I said. “We can always come back here if we feel the need.”
I had just put my key in the ignition of the Jeep when my phone buzzed. I looked at the caller ID; it was blocked.
“Hello?” I answered.
“Hello, love. Have you missed me?” Shredder asked.
I smiled. “Surprisingly, I have. Is finding out the answer to that question the only reason you called?”
“Actually, no. I wanted to let you know that, thanks to your help and the brave actions of your friend Tim, we now have Pickard in custody.”
“That’s wonderful.”
“The world is a safer place with him out of circulation. He gave us the name of the man who was to buy the thumb drive and we have people on the way to arrest him as well.”
“Sounds like you managed to tie everything up nice and neat. Congratulations.”
“Just doing my job. I can’t talk long; I just wanted you to know how things turned out.”
“Before you hang up, did you happen to ask Pickard about Tim?”
“He said he didn’t kill him and didn’t have him killed. He was angry when Tim didn’t make the handoff and he did send someone to his house to look for the thumb drive, but by the time his man arrived in town, Tim was already dead. I need to hang up, but thanks again for everything.”
The line went dead.
I looked at Harley, who was watching me with a curious expression on his face.
“That was Shredder. He wanted to let me know he caught up with Pickard. The man is in custody and will most likely never see the light of day again.”
“That’s great. Did your friend ask Pickard whether he killed Tim?”
“Shredder said he didn’t do it. Pickard sent someone to recover the drive, but Tim was already dead when he got there.”
“Which could mean the police don’t even know the house has been tossed,” Harley pointed out.
“Okay, how’s this for a theory,” I began. “Bear with me while I restate some of what we already know. Tim stopped at the gas station on his way north. We can assume he had the thumb drive with him, and that he decided at some point not to hand it off as he was supposed to. He stopped at the bar and hid it in the bathroo
m. He then came back to Rescue; we can assume he went to his home because we found the gas receipt from his fill-up on his way out of town there. Somehow, he OD’d the next night. The police discovered his body shortly after he died. They could very well have come by his home to check things out, but they didn’t find anything out of order. Tim had a history with drugs, so when his body was found, they assumed he fell off the wagon and OD’d. Meanwhile, Pickard found out the drop didn’t happen. He probably tried to get hold of Tim, who was already dead and so not returning his calls. He sent a thug to try to locate the drive, which was the point at which the cabin was trashed. It seems reasonable no one knew about that until you and I and Jake stopped by on that first day.”
I looked at Harley, who had a contemplative look on his face.
“That all makes sense,” Harley admitted. “But why did he OD?”
I paused before I answered. “Everyone we’ve spoken to has said Tim was clean in the days before his death, but they’ve also said he was worried and stressed out. Tim was so worried, in fact, that he sent you the note and the photo of Pickard. I suppose that amount of stress, coupled with his decision not to turn over the thumb drive, could have led him to seek comfort in numbness. He must have known Pickard would come after him.”
Harley didn’t answer right away, but I knew he was considering the situation. “I can buy your theory up to a point. The thing is, why would Tim buy heroin when his drugs of choice were cocaine and painkillers when he was using? And why shoot up in a ditch? Why not come back to his cabin and get high in the comfort of his own home?”
“I suppose he might have fled when he realized Pickard would be looking for him. Maybe the place he died is where he met the dealer.”
Harley tilted his head. “I suppose it could have gone down that way. But again, why heroin? The stuff is nasty. The possibility of overdose is pretty high compared to other drugs he might have found relief from his stress with.”
I cringed as I had a horrible thought. “What if that was the reason he chose heroin?”
Harley frowned. “Are you suggesting he committed suicide?”
“Maybe. He had to know that by hiding the thumb drive and failing to make the exchange, Pickard would hunt him down and kill him, although he might very well have tortured him first. Maybe he decided to take matters into his own hands.” I hated that this theory made sense, but I could see that might very well have been how things had played out. I felt certain that when Tim took the courier job he didn’t realize he was transporting sensitive information, but it seemed he figured it out at some point. Maybe he wanted out, but Pickard wouldn’t let him go. He might even have threatened the lives of those close to Tim. Maybe Tim intended to make that last drop, but his conscious got the better of him, so he hid the drive, came home, and ended his life before Pickard got to him.
“How can we know?” Harley asked.
“We need to talk to Pastor Brown. If Tim intended to end his life, he might have taken the opportunity to clear his conscious first.”
When we arrived at the church, the pastor said he couldn’t betray any confidences Tim might have shared, but I explained our theory, then asked him if he thought it held any water. He admitted it was a very good theory indeed.
After we left the church, Harley and I headed to my place. I needed to feed the puppies and let the dogs out.
“So, is that it?” Harley asked as we walked through the woods with the dogs.
“I suppose that’s up to you. But if Tim used the heroin of his own volition, whether he intended to kill himself or not, I’m not sure there’s much more we can do.”
“It seems wrong somehow to stop looking before we know for sure.”
We walked in silence, each in our own thoughts. I felt our new theory made more sense than any of the others, but I also wondered why, if Tim had realized his days were numbered and decided to take control of his own death, he’d chosen drugs as his method of suicide. He’d been an advocate for a drug-free lifestyle for a while. The use of drugs as his last statement in this life just didn’t fit, and that’s what I said to Harley after a bit.
“I agree.”
“So, we keep looking?”
Harley nodded. “I say we stay the course until we know for sure one way or the other.”
Chapter 16
Harley left after we walked the dogs because I had to get ready for the cookie exchange that evening. I wasn’t in the mood to go, but I’d promised Chloe and, for some reason, it was important to her. I showered and changed, took one last look around, then headed out. It appeared the bad weather I’d noticed earlier in the day was still lurking on the horizon.
I drove down Main on my way to Chloe’s Café, where the exchange was being held. As I passed the pharmacy, I saw Jared’s car in the alley. Despite everything we’d learned, the idea that Jared was Doc had been lingering in the back of my mind. I pulled into the lot and parked. I probably shouldn’t just walk in and say, “Hey, Jared, how’s it going? Say, you aren’t running a drug business on the side using the alias Doc, are you?”
Even though I didn’t have a plan, I found myself getting out of the Jeep and walking up to the front door of the pharmacy. Unfortunately, it was locked. I could see a light on in the back, so I decided, probably unwisely, to go around to the door there in the hope it would be unlocked.
It was.
I could hear voices coming from Jared’s office, so I slowly crept into the storage area and listened.
“I told you the price for this product was going up the last time you were here,” a voice that sounded like Jared’s said.
“I know you did, but I’m not made of money,” another man, whose voice I didn’t recognize, answered.
“The price stands. Do you want it or not?”
“Yeah, I want it, but I’m not happy about the price change,” the second man complained.
It sounded like a drug deal could be going on, but it also could be a legit pharmacy customer who had come by after hours and wasn’t happy that the cost for his prescription had changed. I needed to get closer, so I slowly scooted toward the office door.
“Did Frank come by?” the voice that didn’t belong to Jared asked.
“Not yet. He knows I need to leave by eight. Will you want the same order next week?”
“Yeah,” the second man groaned. “Not like I can take my business elsewhere.”
I plastered my body against the wall when I realized the men were leaving the office. I hoped they wouldn’t notice me in the dim light.
They did.
“Harmony, what are you doing here?” Jared asked.
I tried not to look as terrified as I suddenly felt. “I saw your car in the alley and wanted to talk to you some more about Tim.”
“Isn’t that the dude you had me off?” the second man blurted out.
“You killed him?” I asked, totally stunned. Even though the reason I’d stopped there tonight was because I suspected Jared could be guilty, I was still surprised to have that suspicion confirmed.
“Nice going, Bruno,” Jared said with a look of irritation on his face.
“Hey, the broad heard us talking. I knew you were going to have to eliminate her anyway, so what’s the big deal?”
“You’re going to kill me?” I screeched.
I glanced at Jared, who looked conflicted. I hoped he would have enough of a conscious to cut me some slack and let me go.
He didn’t. “Take her to the icehouse.”
The icehouse? I knew there was an abandoned building just outside of town that had been used as an icehouse at some point. In fact, if I remembered correctly, it was very close to where Tim’s body had been found.
“You aren’t planning to shoot me up with heroin, are you?” I asked as Bruno dragged me to his truck.
“No reason to. No one would believe you fell off the wagon. Someone would, however, believe you went out on a rescue and froze to death.”
I tried to wrap my head around e
xactly what was going to happen as Bruno tossed me into his truck, then took off from the alley with tires peeling. I knew I had to get out of the truck and I had to do it fast, but I had no idea how I was going to escape a man who weighed at least twice what I did and had a gun.
When we arrived at the icehouse, I tried to make a run for it, but he grabbed me by the arm so hard, I knew he’d left a bruise, then dragged me into the dark building. I couldn’t see much, just enough to know he was headed to the insulation room where the ice was stored years ago. I knew I should scream, but I couldn’t catch my breath as Bruno opened the door and tossed me inside. My heart fell to my feet when I heard him lock the door from the outside. The idiot planned to leave me here to suffocate.
I needed to do something—anything—but I was frozen with fear. I’m not sure how long I just stood there in the dark before my mind began to work again. The room was totally dark, but I had my phone. It provided light but, unfortunately, there wasn’t any service in the enclosed room.
I tried the door, but it was locked, as I’d thought. I looked around but didn’t see another point of exit. I knew the room must be airtight, but it was large, so I wouldn’t run out of air right away.
I needed to think. I needed Jake.
I sat down on the floor near the door and focused my energy. I’d only recently been able to intentionally connect with those I chose, and only within a rescue. I’d never connected with someone who wasn’t in need of rescue, and the only two-way communication that had been successful had been with the little girl in the car accident. Still, I had to try. It seemed to be the only card in my deck.
I calmed my nerves, took a deep breath, and closed my eyes. I focused all my energy on Jake’s face. I knew he was at Neverland, so I focused on that as well.
Jake. I need you. Please hear me.
I waited, but he wasn’t coming through.
Jake. Please listen. I need to be rescued.
I still wasn’t seeing anything, but I had to keep trying and pushed every other thought from my mind. It took me about ten minutes, but I finally was able to make a one-way connection. I could see Jake. He was standing at the bar, talking to Wyatt.
