by Thomas Scott
Chapter Twenty-Three
Betty stood up and said, “Wait here.” Then she disappeared into the sheriff’s office. Thirty seconds later she came back out and said, “Go on in.”
Patty and Carl walked into the sheriff’s office, and if they thought Betty looked bad, they discovered the sheriff looked even worse. His face was pale and he was wiping the sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief. He offered no greeting of any kind. “Tell me everything you know and make it quick. My hands are full right now.”
Patty explained the situation at the cultural center, and when she was finished, the sheriff looked at her and said, “Isn’t that what that fellow Stronghill is for? He’s a BIA agent. I’d get him looking into it if I were you.”
“He is looking into it,” Patty said. “I simply wanted you to be aware of the situation.”
“Color me informed,” Holden said. Then to Johnson: “Tell me everything you know about Graves and Mizner. It’s not like those boys to disappear.”
“That’s exactly what I’ve been thinking. I feel a little like a dope for waiting so long to come in and make a report because they’re grown men and all, but as you said, it’s not like them to simply disappear. They didn’t show for lunch a few days ago, and they haven’t been into the diner for breakfast since. I went to their houses and neither one of them were home.”
“What about their vehicles? Did you see them?”
“Mizner’s truck is gone, but Graves’s is at his house.”
“So in all likelihood, they’re together, wherever they are. What about their phones?”
Johnson shook his head. “Straight to voicemail on both, and neither of them answers their landlines.”
Holden looked back at Patty and said, “I know you and I got off to a rough start a few years back, so I’m hoping you don’t take offense at what I’m about to say. The people at the cultural center are free to come and go as they please. Do I have that right?”
“Of course they can,” Patty said.
“Then if a few of them decided it was time for a change of scenery, I don’t think there’s much I can do to help you, especially right now. Do you have reason to believe any of them may be in danger?”
“Not necessarily, but don’t you think it’s odd that while they might be leaving of their own free will, it just so happens that you’re missing a man, and no one can find Graves or Mizner?”
“I do find it odd,” Holden said. “Are you suggesting that some of your residents may be involved in the other disappearances?”
“If I’m being honest with you, Ben, I don’t know what to think. But Virgil has reason to believe that one of the residents, Johnny Hawk, may be involved with the death of a delivery driver up north.”
The sheriff’s face seemed to brighten, if only a little. “What’s that look for?” Patty said.
“Two reasons: Up north is not my problem. The other is simple. It’s the kind of look you get from an old man when a pretty purple-haired young lady calls him by his first name instead of his title. I’ll get with Tony just as soon as I can, but right now, I have to keep my priorities straight. That means Hall, Graves, and Mizner come first. If you or Tony have any additional information, come back and see me.”
Patty felt a little defeated, but she knew the sheriff was right. “Okay, I get it.”
Holden stood from behind the desk, his knees causing him to wince in pain.
“What are you going to do?” Johnson asked.
“What else? I’m going out to the Graves and Mizner residences to do a welfare check.”
“Mind if I ride along?” Johnson asked. “I’m pretty worried about those guys.”
“It’s a free country,” Holden said.
Johnson looked at Patty. “I’ll catch you later?”
“Sure thing, Carl. Be careful.”
“We will.”
They all walked out of Holden’s office, and when they did, Betty looked at the sheriff and said, “Where are you going?”
Before he could answer, the desk phone behind the counter rang. Betty answered it quickly, then said, “Hold on, Detective.” She handed the receiver to the sheriff and said, “It’s for you.”
He took the phone and said, “Sheriff Holden.”
“Ben, it’s Virgil. I wanted to let you know the superintendent of the ISP is sending some troopers down your way as we speak. They can help with the search of your man if you want, but their primary responsibility will be to cover for your deputies while they’re out looking for Hall.”
“Damn it, Jones, you might be okay after all. I still haven’t made up my mind. But tell them to send as many as they can, because it’s not just Hall who’s missing. Basil Graves and Angus Mizner haven’t been seen for days. Me and Carl Johnson are headed out right now. If we don’t find anything, in addition to the troopers, it’d be nice to have a little investigative help headed our way, especially since they’re sort of your partners or business associates, or whatever.”
Virgil didn’t hesitate. “I’ve got two guys way up north right now, and Murton and I are working on a series of murders in both Boone and Grant counties, but I’ve got a guy who really knows how to find people. I’ll get him headed your way as soon as we’re done talking.”
“Then let’s not waste any more time,” Holden said. Then he hung up.
Betty looked at him and said, “You didn’t answer my question. Where are you going?”
“At least we know you’re not listening in on my phone calls. Didn’t you hear what I just said to the man? We’re going to go look for Graves and Mizner.”
“Where’s your gun?”
“In my desk drawer, where it belongs.” Then before Betty could give him any more grief, he looked at Carl and said, “Let’s go.”
Once they were out the door, Patty looked at Betty and said, “Is he okay? He didn’t look quite right.”
“Probably not. But don’t try to tell him that.”
Virgil got back on the phone and called Becky at the shop. “Do you have Ron working on anything at the moment?”
“Nothing that can’t wait,” Becky said. “What do you need?”
Virgil gave her the particulars, then said, “Tell him this is just like that Bob Foster guy from the FAA. I want him to pack a bag and don’t come back until he’s found Graves and Mizner.”
“You got it, Jonesy. I’ll send him right now. He keeps a go-bag right here at the office, so he can be down there right away.”
“Good enough. I’ll get with Patty. He’ll want to meet with her as soon as he arrives.”
“Why?”
“He’s going to need a place to stay. The Esser house is empty. Tell him to get the keys from her, and he can use that as his base.”
Sheriff Holden and Carl Johnson went to Nick’s kitchen first and interviewed both the waitress and the cook. Both of them said almost exactly what they’d told Johnson a few days ago. Neither man had been in to eat and they were definite regulars. The sheriff informed them that should either man show up, to please give his office a call and let him know.
“Do you think they’re okay?” the waitress asked. She had a nervous look on her face.
“Probably not if they’re regulars here,” Holden said. “Maybe we should try the Gastroenterologist Center over in Shelbyville.”
Back in the car, Johnson looked at Holden and said, “How in the hell did you ever get elected?”
“I keep asking myself the same question,” Holden said. “I think it must be my charm.”
Johnson had no reply to that.
They hit Basil Graves’s house next, which was a fairly long drive from Nick’s Kitchen. When they finally arrived, the truck was in the drive, exactly as it had been last time Johnson saw it. Both men climbed out of the sheriff’s vehicle and walked up on the front porch. When they knocked, they got no response. They circled the house and peered into what windows they could, but they didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. All the doors and windows wer
e locked.
Graves had an older, but well-kept barn on the opposite side of the drive. Holden went that way and pulled open the sliding door, and found nothing out of place. Johnson was right behind him.
“I don’t know what to make of it,” Holden said. “It feels like we’re wasting time. For all we know, they headed off to the casino to spend some of that cash that keeps pouring in from their portion of the gas deal.”
“Ah, they don’t gamble,” Johnson said.
“They spent the better part of their lives as farmers. If that ain’t a gamble, I don’t know what is.”
Johnson considered the sheriff’s statement for a few seconds, finally coming to the conclusion that while his assertion might have been a fair one, it still didn’t ring true regarding Mizner or Graves. “Let’s at least go check out Mizner’s place.”
“Might as well,” Holden said. “But if they aren’t there and everything checks out, I have to tell you, Carl, my priority is going to shift back to finding my man, Hall. Let’s go. It’s starting to get late. We’re running out of daylight.”
Ron Miles turned into the cultural center’s parking lot, walked inside the building, identified himself to the receptionist, then asked to speak with Patty.
“I’m sorry, Detective, but she’s not—oh wait, there she is now.”
Miles, who’d never met Patty before, turned and saw a very pretty young lady with purple streaks in her hair climbing out of her vehicle. He thanked the receptionist, then walked back outside toward Patty’s car. When they were close enough, Ron could see that the purple streaks in the woman’s hair matched the violet shade of her eyes. When Patty smiled at him, Ron thought, I’m getting old.
“Miss Doyle? I’m Ron Miles. Did Jonesy tell you I’d be coming down?”
“He did,” Patty said. They shook hands, then Patty pulled a key from her ring and handed it to Ron. “This is for the Esser house. We used it as our base of operations until the cultural center was completed. It’s empty now…of our things, I mean, but it is fully furnished. I understand you’ll be staying there.”
Miles nodded at her. “That’s right. I’ve been tasked to locate a Mister Graves, and Mister Mizner.”
“Do you know where the Esser house is? Did Virgil give you directions?”
“I’m afraid not. I got my marching orders and marched. There seems to be some urgency surrounding the entire thing.”
“There is,” Patty said. “Let’s go into my office and I’ll fill you in on what I know, and draw you a little map on how to get around.”
Ron smiled at her and said, “Lead the way.”
Patty turned and headed across the parking lot, and Miles, following, watched her walk. Had the getting old feeling all over again.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Patty told Ron everything she knew about the entire situation, from the moment Johnny Hawk walked away, the other residents leaving, Hall’s disappearance, and Carl Johnson’s discovery that Mizner and Graves were nowhere to be found.
“Most of what you’ve said is information I already have,” Miles said, though he was taking copious notes as Patty spoke.
“Where are you going to start?”
Miles frowned in thought. “They were last seen at some sort of cafe in the town of Flatrock, as I understand it?”
Patty nodded. “According to Carl, yes.”
“Carl Johnson. Is that right?”
“It is,” Patty said.
Ron checked his watch, then peeked out Patty’s window. “There’s not much I can do tonight. It’s going to be dark soon, but I think I’ll take a quick run out to the Graves’s and Mizner’s residences to get a feel for things. After that, I’ll get started in earnest first thing in the morning. Probably go speak with the sheriff, mainly as a courtesy, then I’m going to speak with the neighboring households, Johnson as well, of course, and just sort of see what I can see. We’ve got our researcher looking into their phones and credit card usage, so if it turns out that they simply decided to take a little vacation without telling anyone, we’ll know by tomorrow morning at the latest.”
Patty tipped her head slightly. “You guys can do that? The phones and credit cards and everything?”
Miles tipped his own head slightly, just as Patty had, and turned his palms up. “We have certain, mmm, resources available to us. Nothing I should probably talk about though.”
Patty got it. “Well, let me grab that map so you can get to it. Boy, I hope everyone is okay.”
Miles sat in his car for a moment and looked at the map that Patty had given him. She’d circled and noted the locations of the Esser house, Basil Graves’s, and Angus Mizner’s as well. Since the Graves’s household was the closest, he decided to go there first. Then he’d run out to Mizner’s before heading over to the Esser place to settle in for the night.
He didn’t know it at the time, but when he arrived at Graves’s place, he’d missed the sheriff and Carl Johnson by about three minutes. He gave the place the once over, doing all the same things Holden and Johnson had. After fifteen minutes of rooting around—and finding exactly nothing out of place—he got back in his car and headed for Mizner’s house.
Dusk had settled in, and by the time Holden and Johnson made it to Mizner’s, Holden was leaning forward over the steering wheel, the headlights on his vehicle not quite bright enough to his liking.
“You okay, Ben?” Johnson asked. “Maybe when we’re done here I should drive us back.”
Holden jammed the car into park, then said, “I wish everyone would quit asking me if I’m okay all the damned time. I’m old is all. My knees are shot, my blood pressure is off the charts, there seems to be something wrong with my left arm, apparently I’ve got cataracts now, and I’m sweating like I hold the patent on it. Anything else you want to know?”
“Maybe a trip to the doctor is in order.”
“Like I need that kind of grief. Let’s go, Betty.” He tried to hide his smile when he spoke.
They climbed out of the car and did the same things they’d done at Graves’s house. When they knocked on the door, it went unanswered. When they checked through the windows nothing seemed to be out of place.
“Check around back, will you?” Holden said. “I don’t think I’m up for the walk.”
“Sure thing, Ben. Wait right here.”
As Johnson made his way to the back, Holden thought about going to look inside the barn, then he remembered that Mizner’s new barn had one of those fancy roll-up doors operated by remote control. The problem was, Mizner’s truck was nowhere to be found, and that, Holden thought, is where the remote would be.
When he tried to peer inside the front door again, he could feel his left knee was about to pop on him. He grabbed the door handle for support, and to his surprise, the front door opened right up. He carefully stepped inside and shouted out for Mizner, but didn’t get any response. When Johnson came back around to the front and saw the door hanging open, he stepped inside.
“How’d you get in?”
“I teleported,” Holden said. Then before Johnson could respond, he said, “How do you think? The door was unlocked.”
“Anyone here?”
“Yeah. You and me.”
Like many old farmhouses, the front door opened right into the kitchen, where both men now stood. “Maybe we should take a look around,” Johnson said. “Check the bedrooms or something.”
Holden knew he shouldn’t ask, but the house was a two-story affair, the steps up to the bedrooms would be steep, and his knees were all but done for the day. He flipped on the kitchen lights, then said, “Good idea. You take the upstairs. I’ll check down here. Don’t think I could make the climb.”
“Maybe you ought to sit down, Ben. You look a little pale.”
“Just check the place out, will you please?”
Johnson said he would and walked out of the kitchen. Despite his stubbornness, Holden was indeed about to sit down when he noticed an overhead door remote sitting o
n the counter next to the coffee maker. Made sense he thought. If Mizner parked his truck in his fancy new barn, he’d want an opener in the house as well. He picked it up, pointed it at the barn door, and saw it start to inch open.
He let out a weary sigh and walked back outside toward the barn.
It was almost fully dark now, and Holden had to duck over to his squad car and grab a flashlight. He turned it on, but instead of pointing the beam of light into the barn, he shined it down to see where he was walking. When he was close enough that the beam began to light up the interior of the barn, he looked up and inside the structure. When he saw Hall’s squad car parked right next to Mizner’s truck, he thought he heard himself say, “Oh, no.”
He moved as fast as he could and had to squeeze past Mizner’s truck to get to Hall’s vehicle. That’s when the smell hit him. He turned the light and pointed it inside the bed of the truck and saw the broken and lifeless bodies of Basil Graves and Angus Mizner. When he looked into their lifeless eyes, a shooting pain ran down his left arm, its intensity taking his breath away.
He fought through the dizziness and pain and directed his light inside Hall’s squad car. When he opened the door, he almost couldn’t bring himself to do it, but he reached down and pulled the lever that released the trunk lid. His breath came in ragged gasps as he hobbled to the rear of the vehicle. When he looked in the trunk he felt as if a vise had clamped its jaws around his heart. Then, out of nowhere, the floor began to tilt, almost in slow motion, and Holden couldn’t quite understand why the ground seemed to be getting closer and closer to his face.
He ended up on his back, his right hand clutching his left arm, his heart beating in an irregular fashion, unable to take even the slightest of breaths. He tried to call out to Johnson, but he couldn’t get any air in or out of his lungs, his mouth moving like a fish that had just jumped from its aquarium.
