by Blair Howard
After I’d spent a couple of years in uniform, I was assigned to Harry as his partner. It was one wild ride, right up until he quit. Now he runs a very successful private investigation agency in Chattanooga.
Harry’s big. Six-two, rugged, fit as hell. He’s witty, and smart—bordering on genius, I think, though he’d deny that. Harry has a conscience… and a dark side. He will, without hesitation, hurt you if he has to.
He also has this weird sort of sixth sense thing going on. I never have really gotten a handle on it, but it’s there. It’s not that he speaks with dead people, but if you told me they follow him around, I wouldn’t be a bit surprised.
And he’s like a damn dog with a bone. He never lets go. He’s a great detective, teacher, mentor, and lover. There are times, even today, when I miss him.
We had something special, did Harry and I. Too bad he blew it. His loss. But in a funny way, Amanda’s gain. He’s changed a lot over the years. We both have. I think it’s for the better.
That night, we sat together and gazed out at the Tennessee river. I remember there was a full moon. The surface of the water was a field of glittering silver, the soft glow of the lights on the Thrasher Bridge reaching toward us like golden fingers. The mood lasted for… oh, I don’t know, maybe thirty minutes. And then he broke it.
“So,” he said, quietly. “How was your first day without me? You going to be able to cope?”
Oh, for the love of God…
“It was fine; long, but fine. You know how it is.”
He nodded, “Anything you want to run by me?”
“Uh… no.” No! “Not that I can think of, why?”
“Just trying to be helpful. This is, after all, your first case as the lead, and if I can help in any way, you only have to ask.”
I nodded, but said nothing. I wanted to stand on my own two feet; I had to be able to make it without him. And that’s a paradox. Today, I have no problem bringing him in to help with a case. I’ve been doing it for years. It’s now gotten to the point where Chief Johnston expects to find him working difficult cases with me. But then? I was going to find Jasmine’s killer, and with no help from Harry Starke.
I changed the subject. “Hey, guess what! I have a new partner.”
“Whoa. That didn’t take long. Anyone I know?”
“Oh, yes. You know him. It’s John Tracy.”
I could see by the look on his face that he didn’t know whether to laugh or just stay quiet; he chose neither.
“Oh boy.” He shook his head. “That’s not good. I’m sorry, Kate.”
“Don’t be. I can handle him.”
“He was at the academy with me,” Harry said. “Smart as a whip, but no drive. His mouth has a bad habit of running away with him, which is why he spent all those years in Narcotics. You’ll have to lead him around by the nose.”
“I already figured that out,” I said, and proceeded to tell him about my… inspiring meeting with Detective Tracy. Inspiring for him, anyway.
By the time I’d finished, Harry was smiling. “Well, I guess it’s like you said. You can handle him.”
I made a face. “No thanks. One and done.”
Harry laughed. He has a great laugh. “So. Jasmine Thomas. You’re certain it’s her, right?”
I nodded. “It’s her; I sent Tracy to break it to the family. I’m wondering now if I might have made a mistake. He was quiet for most of the day, but when he did open his mouth…” I was thinking about the way he’d handled Joe Thomas.
“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Harry said. “Let him do his thing. You never know. So, are you going to tell me about it, or not?”
I sighed. “It’s not going to be easy. I’m starting out cold. She was abducted almost weeks ago, on her way to the mall. At least I assume that’s where she was going. It’s what she told her mother. Whatever, she didn’t make it, or if she did that’s where she was grabbed, if she was grabbed… maybe she knew her abductor, went with him willingly.” I was rambling, thinking out loud. Harry just sat quietly and listened. He’s good at that; it’s what makes him a great detective.
I went on in like manner for several more minutes, finally stopping at the point where I’d gotten the positive ID from Margo. I leaned back on the sofa, sipped on my wine, and stared out at the glistening field of silver and gold.
“Suspects?” he asked.
“The usual. Family first, then boyfriends and wannabes, neighbors… One neighbor in particular, Russell Hawkins. Jasmine’s father thinks—no, he’s sure this guy’s been stalking her, but I won’t know until I interview him. Then there’s an uncle. The man is built like a brick whorehouse. I’m sure he’s on steroids.”
“You want me to help out? I could do some of the—”
“No,” I interrupted him. “You’ve been gone less than three days. How the hell d’you think it would look if you had to come back and rescue me? I’m betting Johnston will be keeping an eye on me.”
I snuggled up to him, he put his arm around me, I kissed his cheek. “Thanks anyway.”
I lay there in his arms enjoying the moment, then I sat up, linked my hands at the back of his neck, and pulled him to me. His lips tasted of scotch.
Hmmm, maybe I could get to like it…? Nah.
I leaned back and looked at him, my hands still at the back of his neck. “I need an early night. You want to put me to sleep?”
He grinned widely at that. “I wouldn’t have put it quite like that, but what the hell, I’d like an early night myself.”
Early night, my ass. I was still awake an hour later and loving every minute of it. I know he was too, because eventually I had to put a stop to the fun. After a quick shower together—he does have the nicest hands—I hit the sheets and remembered no more until Harry shook me awake, handing me a cup of steaming black coffee to make up for it.
Chapter 7
Wonder of wonders. I arrived at my cubicle at eight o’clock that next morning to find Dick Tracy waiting for me. Even more shocking was his appearance. Yes, his hair was still too long for my liking, but he had on a brand-new pair of sports pants, a FootJoy golf shirt, and tan loafers, no socks. He looked good, and he obviously knew it, grinning at me as I stared at him.
“Nice, right? Council Fire Golf Club. I can’t wear a suit, I’ve been undercover way too long. But this is ok.” He spread his arms, admiring himself.
“You’ll do, Cowboy. I thought you had to be a member to shop at Council Fire?”
“Yeah, that’s right. I’m not, but my brother is. I bought a half-dozen shirts, three pairs of pants, the shoes, a couple—”
“Fine. Let’s get to it. Pull up a chair,” I said as I sat down at my desk. He did.
“You went to see the parents last night, right? How did that go?”
“Not good. Mom had a conniption, ended up collapsing. Cletus had to take her to the emergency room. I went with them. They gave her something to knock her out, so I took off. It was pretty bad, Kate—I mean, Sergeant. I don’t think I handle that stuff well. I’ll try to be a little more gentle next time, if there is a next time…” He stared at me, the open question in his eyes. Clearly, he was hoping I’d decide against a next time. I ignored him.
“Well,” I said, “now they know, so we can start filling in some holes. The Thomases are the first stop this morning, then Russell Hawkins, then Joe Thomas.
“We’ll need a decent photo of Jasmine, and a list of her friends, especially boyfriends, if she had any. I want her car; give Charlie Peck a call, see if they’ve found it. I also want CSI to go over her room and bathroom, which the Thomases won’t like. I’m looking for a journal. Most kids have some way of venting, even if it’s in e-mail or texts with friends. … maybe she had an iPad, or a laptop. I didn’t see one in her room, and that’s weird.”
He didn’t hear me. If he did, he didn’t respond. He was talking to the Traffic Commander. I waited.
Finally, he disconnected, “They don’t have it. Not yet.”
&nbs
p; “Damn. They looked at the airport and the malls?”
He nodded.
“Damn,” I repeated. “There aren’t that many places it could be without being noticed. It should be easy enough to find unless it’s in the river, or outside the city limits… I need to call the sheriff.”
Sheriff Arnold Crupp was a long-time friend of Harry’s, which gave me an in. Yes, I was prepared to use Harry’s name from time to time; no, that didn’t count as getting help. What’s the point of having friends if you can’t drop their names now and again?
In this case, I wouldn’t have to drop it. Arnie knew me almost as well as he knew Harry and, though I wasn’t supposed to have it, I had his cell number.
“Hello, Sheriff,” I said. “This Kate Gazzara. You got a minute? I need a favor.”
“The hell it is? The hell you do? It’s been a long time, Kate. By the way, how did you get my number?”
The truth was, I didn’t know, and that’s what I told him.
“So, what’s the favor? Not that I’m making any promises.”
“I know you must have heard about the girl in the pipe, Arnie. Well, I caught the case.”
He was silent for a moment, then said, “What do you need.”
I knew the man; he would move heaven and earth.
“We can’t find her car; a light blue Honda Civic, 2005. I was wondering if—”
“Yeah, of course. I’ll tell my boys to be on the lookout. If we find it, you want me to call you?”
“That would be good. Thank you.”
“I don’t have your number,” he said, sarcastically.
I almost laughed out loud, but I gave him the number instead and thanked him, disconnected, then leaned back in my chair to consider my options. I picked up my phone again and called Margo Harris.
“Hey Margo. I was wondering, how many of those ten-cards matched prints found in Jasmine Thomas’ room?”
“All of them. I was just preparing my report. I’ll send to you as soon as I’m done.”
“All of them?”
“Yes. They were all taken from family members, correct?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“So yeah, they were all in there at one time or another.”
“Thanks, Margo.”
I wasn’t expecting that. Now I had some thinking to do. So, I did. Then I called Detective Sarah Foote.
“How’s it going, Sarah?” I asked.
“Going is about all I can tell you right now. We’re still working the door-to-door. There are a lot of residences up there.”
“Just the ones backing onto the quarry site is all we need for right now,” I said.
“Yeah, I know that, and that’s what we’re doing. There were a lot we couldn’t speak to yesterday; either they weren’t home or just not responding. So we’re on our second go around, trying to get the ones we didn’t get yesterday.”
“Any idea when you’ll be done?”
I could almost see her shaking her head, “Sometime early this afternoon, I hope. In the meantime, if I find anything I’ll call you. Oh, we have found three unofficial entrances to the site. Just trails, well hidden. If you didn’t know they were there, you’d never see them. Two of them lead off from back yards, one on Aston, the other on Lord, and guess what?”
“Those are two of the houses where you didn’t get a response,” I guessed.
“Yeah, but the house on Lord is vacant, locked up tight. I have two officers searching the yard and the trail; so far, nothing. The other house, the one on Aston, is occupied, but they must be at work or something. I dropped by last night, just after nine, but the lights were out and nobody answered the doorbell. I’ll keep trying. The third trail is a narrow track that leads directly through the trees from Ridgecrest Drive to the quarry. It looks like it’s used pretty often. There’s just room enough to walk it. I’d say that’s the one the kids use. Speaking of kids, I have a couple of names. You want them now, or later, when I get back to the office?”
“Later is fine—I need to go talk to the family. You know we got a positive ID on the body, right?”
“Yeah, I heard. Good luck with that. I’ll see you at the office this afternoon, around two-ish?”
“Yes. If anything comes up, I’ll let you know.”
I sat and thought for a minute, then I called Margo Harris again. She picked up on the first ring.
“Margo,” I said. “Sorry to bother you again, but there’s something I need to know.”
I asked the question. She told me what I needed to know. I disconnected, leaned back in my chair, closed my eyes, and took a moment. I let the buzz of muted conversations float past; the place never was really quiet, not even at night.
I thought about Jasmine, wondered what she’d been like.
Joe Thomas said she was wild. Loud and sassy, I bet. A kid without a care in the world.
I opened my eyes. Tracy was watching me expectantly.
I stood, “Let’s go see the Thomases.”
Chapter 8
We arrived at the house on Wickman Lane at five past ten that morning. The front door opened even before we were out of the car and Cletus Thomas came out to meet us.
“I want to see her. Me an’ her mom; we want to see Jasmine. We have a right, and you can’t stop us.”
“You’re right, Mr. Thomas. I can’t stop you, nor would I, but it’s not a good idea. Not until the undertaker has made her look…”
Oh shit…
“Has made her look presentable.”
“Screw you, Detective. I want to see her—”
“Here,” I said, interrupting him, and flipping the lock screen on my phone. “Take a look, and then tell me if this is the way you want to see her, or your wife for that matter.”
I pulled up the autopsy picture I had taken and said I wouldn’t use unless I had to. Well, I had to. I had to shut it down before Mrs. Thomas entered the argument.”
“Oh, Jesus Christ,” he gasped. “Oh shit, oh my God, my poor baby girl.”
He was gasping for breath, his chest shuddering.
“Okay. Okay,” he blurted. “Put it away. If Arlis see that she’ll, she’ll, she’ll… Oh, my God. I’m gonna kill the mother f—”
“Stop,” I interrupted him again, as I slipped the phone into my pocket. “Don’t say something you’ll regret. We don’t know who killed—”
“Hell yes you do!” he shouted. “I told you who done it. That piece o’ crap Hawkins done it. When’re you gonna arrest him?”
“Calm down, Mr. Thomas. We’re doing all we can to catch the person who did this, and we will. I promise.”
“Yeah, right, just like all the other murders that have gone unsolved in this damn town. You’ll spend a couple days screwin’ around, then you’ll shove it on a shelf somewhere and forget about her. Just like you always do.”
“That’s not going to happen. I’ll find the person who did this and we’ll put him away.”
“Put him away… put, him, away?” He was shaking his head, his chin almost on his chest. Then he raised his head, and looked me straight in the eye. “You’d better get to him first.” Involuntarily, he glanced up the lane toward the Hawkins house “Because if you don’t, I’ll put him away. I’ll bury the son of a bitch alive, is what I’ll do.”
And I could tell, he would do just that. Or worse. I could also tell he really did believe that his neighbor was responsible for his daughter’s death.
I looked over my shoulder. I could just see the southern corner of Hawkins’ roof poking up above the trees.
My next stop, I think.
I looked at Tracy. He still standing beside the car door, watching Thomas. There was no telling what he was thinking.
I heaved a sigh and followed Cletus Thomas into the house. The family was waiting for us, all of them, including both children and Uncle Joe.
The boy, Michael, sat white-faced beside his uncle on the sofa. Sophia was seated at the table beside her mother, Arlis, who was in a st
ate of near collapse.
“I want to see her,” she said.
“No, you don’t,” Cletus said, putting his arm around her. “It’s best we remember her as she was, not as she is now. Trust me, Arlis. You don’t want to see her.”
She burst into tears and buried her head in her husband’s chest. Joe Thomas sat rigid on the sofa, clenching and unclenching his fists, his face an angry mask. I looked at him and shook my head. He glared back me, his eyes mere slits, his jaw set.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I know this is a very bad time, but I have to ask you some questions. Do you have somewhere I can talk to each of you privately?”
Cletus was clearly offended. “Privately? What the hell are you talkin’ about? Whatever you’ve got to say, you can say it to all of us. We ain’t got nothin’ to hide.”
“I know that,” I said, gently. “You’ll all tell it like it is, but I need to do it one on one; it’s protocol.”
“Protocol my ass!” But he pushed past me toward a door off the living room. “I use this room as an office. Don’t friggin’ touch anythin’. Y’hear?”
“I hear, and we might as well begin with you, Mr. Thomas. The rest of you… if you don’t mind waiting, please. I’ll be with you as soon as I can.”
I let Cletus take his own seat at the table he used as a desk. I sat down opposite him, Tracy pulled up a chair next to me.
I glanced at Tracy. His face was a mask. I knew he was used to interviewing suspects, so I intended to make use of him. I’d already told him on our way over what I was looking for. He was to follow my lead, and jump in whenever he wanted to, within reason.
I opened my iPad, took a small digital recorder from my pocket, turned it on, and set it down on the table in front of Cletus Thomas.
He stared at it, wide eyed, as if he thought it might rear up and bite him.
“If you don’t mind, Mr. Thomas, just to make sure we keep the record straight, I’ll be recording this interview. It’s just a formality to make sure I don’t miss anything. Are you okay with that?” I hoped the tone of the statement was soft enough to put him at his ease, because I was going to record it whether he was or he wasn’t. Fortunately, he was.
