Never Look Back

by Burton, Mary

  She dialed her mother’s number. “Mom, how’s it going?”

  “Elena is still sleeping.”

  “She’s doing all right?”

  “The poor kid is exhausted. I wonder when she last had the chance to sleep this well. You were much the same when you came to live with us.”

  “About that. The woman who had custody of Elena, Bonnie Guthrie, said she knows me.” Melina pinched the bridge of her nose, focusing her energy on a calm, even tone. “She said she was the one that left me on the side of the road outside of Nashville when I was a kid.”

  The line was silent. “I don’t understand.”

  “That’s my point. I think she’s telling the truth.”

  “What kind of monster does that to a five-year-old girl?”

  “Believe me, the world has plenty of them.”

  “I’d like to meet this woman face to face.” A sharpness honed the edges of her mother’s words.

  “You’ll have to stay clear for now.”

  “Just let me know when I can.”

  “Unsettled business, Mom?”

  “Damn right.”

  Using the same car dealer was not really smart. But it had been almost ten years since he had bought from the dealer. If a cop should come across this place, no one here would remember him from all those years ago.

  He walked into the dealership as soon as it opened. A car salesman was at his side in minutes. An hour later, a deal was sealed, and he was driving off the lot in his new van.

  It would take a smart and determined cop to connect all the dots, and so far, he had not crossed paths with any cop who had the staying power to track a guy like him. Cops were somewhat lazy by nature. Most were looking to get home alive and make it to retirement. They had no skin in the game.

  Feeling confident, he pulled into a Hardee’s drive-through and ordered three burgers, a bucket of large fries, and a jumbo soda. He had not eaten much in the last few days. Worry always stole the appetite right out of him, and now that he had his van, he was feeling more like himself.

  When he pulled up to the window, a pretty young girl with dark hair and a bright smile took his order and handed him back his change. Too bad his van was not ready for her yet.

  “Thanks, darlin’,” he said.

  “Have a nice day.”

  “Always do.”

  He drove to the center of a large retail parking lot and sat, eating his burgers first. Second, he ate the fries one by one, and then he drank the soda. It was a quirk of his and never varied.

  One food at a time. One woman at a time. Undivided attention was the best.

  He dumped his trash in a grocery store trash can and then used their restroom. He washed his hands carefully and bought several protein bars and waters before sliding behind the wheel. He started the engine, savoring its hum. He had had his last van for over ten years. A lot of good memories, and if he thought too hard about it, he got emotional.

  “No looking back.”

  He switched on the radio and pulled out onto the highway, following it toward the interstate. He could have gone anywhere in the country. He had never hunted in the Southwest, and he imagined they grew more wholesome girls out there. He would not mind finding himself a big-busted beauty with full, round hips. A man needed something to hold on to.

  As he was considering driving north versus south, he felt a pull west back to Nashville. His thoughts turned back to the brown-eyed girl who had taken one of his punches and come out swinging. Ms. Perky Breasts. She was unfinished business. He would start his search with the Mission.

  Feeling excited, he cranked up the radio and turned northwest on I-75.

  “Hang on, darling. Daddy’s gonna fix up his van just for you. And once I find you, we’re going to have the best party you ever did attend.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Thursday, August 27, 10:00 a.m.

  Melina made her way back across the Cumberland River into Nashville and down to Lower Broadway. Warm summer days brought tourists out in droves, and today was no exception. The streets would be filled within the hour with people dressed in shorts and newly purchased Nashville T-shirts, eating ice cream and carrying bags filled with their latest souvenirs.

  She drove down the center of Lower Broadway until it fed into First Street, which skimmed along the Cumberland River.

  Melina found parking across the street and jogged quickly to the Nashville Tours address. As she drew closer, she saw the red, white, and blue trailer. OPEN flags flapped by the front sales window occupied by a guy who looked too old to be summer help. Gray hair swept back in a ponytail with a matching handlebar mustache made him look like a walrus.

  She waited as a couple of women dressed as tourists paid for the ten o’clock tour. When they were done, she held up her badge. “I’d like to ask you a few questions about Jennifer Brown.”

  “I have a few questions myself,” the man said. “She didn’t show up for her scheduled tours and I haven’t seen her since.”

  “What was the last day you saw her?”

  He shoved out a sigh as he stared at a paper calendar in the booth. “Sunday, August sixteenth. She worked double shifts that day. She was supposed to work a big tour the following Monday afternoon but didn’t show. So if you see her, tell her she’s fired.”

  “Your name, sir?” she asked.

  “Sean Terrell.” He dropped his gaze and shuffled through the morning receipts. “I own Nashville Tours.”

  “Sean, Jennifer was murdered.”

  Sean’s sour face softened as he lowered the slips of paper. “Dead? Shit. I thought she just blew the job off.”

  “We believe she died sometime around August seventeenth or eighteenth. And you’re sure you saw her on the sixteenth?”

  “Yeah. She picked up her paycheck.” He rubbed his hand over his mustache in what she guessed was a common expression of frustration. “She could be a flake but was nice to everyone. Who would want to kill her?”

  “That’s what I’m trying to find out. How many tours did Jennifer take the week leading up to the sixteenth?”

  “Close to twenty. She was my busiest tour guide. She’s real popular with the guests. They liked it when she sang. She had dreams of making it big like half the other folks in this town.”

  “I understand she liked to travel with bands.”

  “She used to do it a lot, but in the last year not as much. Money and tips are too good giving tours and she’s getting a little old.”

  “She was thirty-nine.”

  He held up his hand. “I’m not saying she’s old, but on the concert circuit a lot of those girls are barely eighteen. Hard to compete. And don’t get your back up with me. Just relaying what she told me.”

  “I get it. Did anyone on the tours take a particular interest in her?”

  “I don’t follow our buses.”

  “If a woman is going to tell you she’s washed up at thirty-nine, she’s going to say something about a customer hitting on her.”

  “We have a strict no-touching policy. All our guides are instructed to call the cops if a guest gets handsy.”

  “I get it. But I’m thinking this guy’s attention would have been welcomed. If I had to guess, I’d say he was in his late thirties and a big guy. Strong. Maybe even charming.” One of the tour buses pulled up.

  “Let me get this group unloaded and the next tour going.”

  “Sure. Go ahead.”

  Sean jogged over to the bus and exchanged glances with the tour guide as she readied to board the bus. The woman was tall, lean, and appeared to be in her midforties. She was dressed in country-western garb and reminded Melina of vintage Opryland.

  Melina held up her badge. “Got a second? Ms. . . . ?”

  “Jefferson. Dolly Jefferson. This must be about Jennifer.” She reached in her back pocket and pulled out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter. She lit the tip and inhaled.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “I know Jennifer. What’s
she done now?”

  “She’s dead. Murdered.”

  The woman drew in a breath but didn’t seem too torn up about the news. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “You good friends with Jennifer?”

  “We worked together. Got along well enough. Look, I don’t want to be a witch, but I have exactly ten minutes to have a smoke before I go out again.”

  Melina felt no sense of urgency. Her questions would take as long as she wanted. “Do you know who she was dating?”

  “There was a guy, Billy, who worked as a bartender, but they broke up about three months ago.”

  “Where did he work?”

  She hesitated, as if searching for the name. “Red’s, I think. I remember because he treated me to a round of drinks. Jennifer hung out there a lot.”

  “Her sister said she was sober five years.”

  “She didn’t do drugs, but she still drank. In her mind that was sober.”

  Melina scribbled more notes. “Anyone recently?”

  “She met a guy at Red’s a couple of weeks ago. Jennifer liked him and said he had asked her out. He knew music and some of the bands. They had a lot in common.”

  “Did they hook up?”

  “Yeah. She was like a schoolgirl after their first date. He said he was in the music business and could introduce her to people.”

  “Did she believe him?”

  Another puff of smoke crossed her lips as she shrugged. “If I had a nickel for all the faux music producers I’ve met, I’d be rich. I don’t think she really believed him, but they were having a good time.”

  “Your boss said she worked her last shift on Sunday, August sixteenth. Did she have a date with her guy that night?”

  “Yeah, I think she did.”

  “And do you recall his name?” Melina asked.

  “I’m not sure. It was a young-sounding name. The kind a little boy uses.”

  “Sonny?”

  Her gaze brightened. “Yeah, that’s exactly right.”

  “Thanks.”

  Sean trotted toward them, and the woman dropped her cigarette and ground it onto the pavement. “I’ve got to go.”

  Melina stood still as the woman grabbed a water bottle and then jogged back toward the open-air bus.

  “Well, good morning, Nashville!” she shouted. The bus engine roared as it pulled away onto First Street.

  “I’m going to need to see your receipts, Sean,” Melina said.

  “Sure. Whatever I can do. How far back?”

  She would bet money this Sonny guy had not just appeared. He either frequented Red’s or had taken several tours and gotten to know the guides until he’d found the one he wanted. “Take it back a month.”

  “That’s a long time. It’s going to mean at least a thousand tickets.”

  “Thanks.” She handed him her card. “The sooner the better.”

  Sonny knew from his surveillance operations that in the late afternoons the residents of Melina’s Nashville town house complex had not arrived home just yet. They were packing up at their downtown offices and getting ready to call it a day. For the next hour or so, the parking lot would be fairly free of traffic.

  He was dressed in a maintenance uniform that mimicked the crew who serviced the building. His shirt and pants were not an exact match but close enough to convince anyone he belonged there.

  He touched his ball cap and crossed the lot. As he approached her door, a cat meowed from the bushes. He did not like cats. They creeped him out, the way they were always lurking around.

  He knocked on the door, and when he heard no answer, reached for the pick set and worked the instruments into the lock for several seconds before the lock and dead bolt clicked open. He quickly pocketed the set and, grabbing his toolbox, hurried inside.

  “Maintenance,” he shouted.

  No answer came, but he still moved cautiously, peeking into the living room and beyond it to the galley kitchen. He moved up the stairs to the second floor. There were two bedrooms on this floor. One housed two road bikes and some camping gear and served as a makeshift storage room. Steps away was the second room.

  He set his toolbox down and crossed to Melina’s unmade bed. He raised her crumpled pillow to his nose and inhaled the faint scent of jasmine shampoo. It was a nice soft scent that he never would have put with a woman like her.

  Carefully, he replaced the pillow exactly where he had found it. He knew she was the type of woman who noticed the small details.

  He was the same. They shared the same quirks and mannerisms. So much alike. So much shared past.

  Crossing the standard beige carpet, he lifted his toolbox and headed down the stairs to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. She kept a small bottle of milk, a carton of eggs, and a few apples. The pantry was filled with a few staples, including a dozen cans of tuna fish.

  When he closed the door, his gaze was drawn to a picture of Melina taken with an older man and woman. She called them Mom and Dad, but they were not her real parents or family. He was her family. He snapped a picture of the image. He took a video of the entire residence.

  He had been keeping tabs on her for years, but this was the first time he had stepped into her space. Not wanting to intrude was important to him. But until Bonnie left town, it was best he kept a closer eye on his kid sister.

  He sat down on the leather couch, glanced over the article in the open Forensic Magazine and then toward the television. A click of the remote brought up a home decorating channel.

  She was not any more interested in picking up a paintbrush or making curtains than he was, but images of cozy homes comforted her. He was exactly the same. Stress always sent him into furniture stores, where he wandered from room to room, imagining what each piece would look like in that nice cozy home he was building just for the two of them.

  He leaned back on the couch, closed his eyes, and smoothed his fingers over the plush leather. They had been apart for too long, and it was time their family reunited. Only then would he feel whole.

  The complication now was Bonnie. So far, she was keeping her mouth shut and had not told the cops about the jar. But he was too smart to believe that Bonnie was finished with him. She had said she wanted to help him and to make things right. He did not believe her. She would never leave until she had what she wanted.

  Bonnie was also enjoying jerking him around. She had always gotten a kick out of hearing him say he needed her right before she took off. A part of him still wanted her to stay. Still savored the way she kissed his cheek when he had been good. And a part of him wanted to be a family again.

  Sonny cursed. He knew women like her broke men’s hearts for sport. And he was finally smart enough not to let it happen again. He should have killed her when he had the chance, but the kid had stopped him. He did not know where Bonnie had found the girl but damned if she was not a carbon copy of Melina.

  “Fuck you, Bonnie,” he muttered. “You’re not going to play me.”

  This time would be different. He was in control.

  He drew in a breath, smoothing his hand over the sofa’s creased, worn leather. He shifted his thoughts back to Melina. His sister. His blood.

  This is where Melina sat when she was home. He imagined for a moment what it would be like to sit beside her like he used to.

  The sense of peace was fleeting. Because, as always, images of Bonnie crept back into the dream. Bonnie had ruined everything in his life he had loved, and this time it would be different.

  Pushing to his feet, he removed a small camera from his toolbox. Carefully, he crossed to an air vent in the wall, unfastened the screws, detached the grate, and placed the camera just inside. He checked his phone to make sure the camera was transmitting and, when he confirmed it, replaced the covering. Taking an extra moment, he wiped up the few specks of dust that had fallen out and scooped the particles up and dropped them into his box.

  Standing at the threshold and looking back, he inhaled, drinking in her scent one last time, a
nd then closed the door behind him. The cat was gone. The curtains in the unit next door were still, and there was no activity in the parking lot.

  With a renewed sense of purpose, he strode toward his car. For the first time in years, he did not feel lonely.

  Bonnie tugged her sheer blouse over her black bra and glanced over her shoulder at Ralph. He lay on the motel bed, as naked as the day he was born and passed out cold.

  When she had coaxed him back here, she had stripped and slid her hands down his pants and taken that man to places he had only dreamed about. If Bonnie could do anything well, it was screw a man silly. When he had fallen asleep, she had dug a few tranquilizers from her purse and ground them into a fine powder. She then made coffee in the motel coffee maker and waited for him to stir at the aroma. He took two sugars and two creamers. She had smiled when he’d said he had to get back to work. To buy time for the sedatives, she had taken his nearly empty cup and given him a blow job. Five minutes later, he was out.

  She had done the same with her late husband. There were times when he had gotten drunk and had been ready to whale on her, Sonny, or Melina. She had protected those kids then, not only because she liked them but also because they did not need the cops on their doorstep. All in all, she had done a good job until she had fucked up with Melina and then later Sonny. Maybe she was getting sentimental in her old age, but she had a chance now to make it right for both of them.

  She rummaged in his pants pocket and dug out his keys and wallet. She fished out the bills and a credit card and left the rest for him. She liked Ralph and did not want to put the old boy through a trip to the DMV for a replacement license. That was just plain cruel, even for her.

  She figured he would be out for twelve hours before he woke up and reported it. Smiling, she tucked the card in her back pocket. Bonnie could do a lot of damage in twelve hours.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Thursday, August 27, 3:00 p.m.

  Melina sat in her car checking emails outside of Red’s, waiting for it to open. She had barely scrolled through a couple when her phone rang. It was Ramsey.