Florida Son

by W. J. Costello

  She picked it up before answering.

  “Hello?” she said, and listened into the phone for a moment. “Hang on a second, Dusty.”

  She put the phone on speaker and set it on the table.

  Detective Woods and I moved nearer the phone.

  “Can you hear me okay, Dusty?”

  “Y-yes, Julie.”

  “I’m glad you called me back.”

  “I n-n-need to see you.”

  “Okay. Why do you need to see me?”

  “I have something to tell you.”

  “Why can’t you just tell me now over the phone?”

  “This is a bad idea. F-f-forget it . . .”

  “Wait, Dusty. Don’t hang up. I’ll meet with you.”

  “All right.”

  “Where do you want to meet?”

  “Outside th-th-the Florida Aquarium?”

  “Fine. What time?”

  “Seven tomorrow m-morning?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “Me too.”

  “Is this about Max? Is that what this is about?”

  “I think you know.”

  He hung up.

  CHAPTER 47

  THE FLORIDA AQUARIUM is located in the Channel District of Tampa. It is ranked among the top ten aquariums in America. It contains over twenty thousand aquatic plants and animals. In their Caribbean Cantina you can order Caribbean chicken with mango salsa—that alone is worth the price of admission.

  The morning traffic near the Florida Aquarium was heavy and slow. Sun glinted off chrome and glass. Horns blared in angry spurts. Shouts erupted from open windows.

  We had to circle around the block a couple of times before we finally found a parking spot on the street. There was some shade outside the entrance to the Florida Aquarium. We stood there waiting for Dusty.

  “How many more times you going to check your watch, Julie? He’ll be here. Stop worrying about it. Morning rush hour on a bicycle? You have to expect him to be a little late.”

  “I know,” she said to me. “I know.”

  “Try to think about something else. See that building over there?”

  “Tampa Port Authority?”

  “How about we head over there after we meet with Dusty. We can check out their cruise schedule. You feel like taking a cruise somewhere? Cozumel? Costa Maya? Grand Cayman? Belize City?”

  “You mean just drop everything and go on a cruise?”

  “Sure. Why not? Three days to lose yourself and forget about everything. A change of scenery helps you refocus. Puts things in perspective.”

  “What about Mom?”

  “We can bring her back a souvenir.”

  “What?”

  “I mean she can go with us.”

  She studied me.

  “I know what you’re doing, Rip.”

  “At least one of us does.”

  “Very funny. But I still know what you’re doing.”

  “Care to share?”

  “You don’t really want to go on a cruise.”

  “I don’t?”

  “No. You’re just trying to help me get my mind off of Dusty.”

  “Moi?” I said, and arched an eyebrow.

  “Don’t act innocent. I know what you were doing and I love you for it. Thank you.”

  She kissed me.

  Then she glanced at her watch again.

  “Where is he?” she said. “He’s half an hour late.”

  “You could phone him.”

  “What do you think he wants to tell me?”

  “No idea.”

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw the blur of a bicycle. I turned my head and looked. It wasn’t Dusty.

  “Mom seemed sort of glad to hear about Heath’s death.”

  Naturally. He had been one of her in-laws.

  “How about you?” I said. “How do you feel about it?”

  “Surprised mostly. For a while I thought he was the one causing all the trouble. But he couldn’t have been. He’s been dead. Dead. From cancer. I can’t believe it.”

  One less suspect. Progress.

  “You know what I keep wondering?” she said. “I keep wondering who dug up his body.”

  “I keep wondering who buried him.”

  “It’s probably the same person. The digger had to know where the body was buried. It’s not like Heath was buried in a cemetery with a headstone to mark his grave.”

  “You could be right.”

  She nodded.

  “You plan to phone Heath’s parents?”

  “When I get time,” she said. “Right now all of my attention is focused on Dusty. Besides I think it’s best to let them grieve on their own for a while before I contact them.”

  “Cops probably delivered the bad news to them last night.”

  “A parent’s worst nightmare. I can tell you from experience.”

  I put my arm around her and she smiled sadly.

  Where the hell was Dusty? What was taking him so long?

  “Rip, when do you think the police will find Tina and Moe?”

  “Soon as their neighbors begin to complain about the smell.”

  A bus lumbered past and I felt heated winds swirl around me. Air brakes hissed. The bus shuddered to a stop. Bus doors hissed open. Perspiring passengers alighted. Bus doors hissed shut again. Air brakes hissed again. The bus engine growled. Black exhaust plumed from the tailpipe. I coughed.

  Julie looked at her watch again.

  “Mom still hasn’t told me about the man in that photo. She’s been avoiding the subject. I don’t think she’s ever going to talk about it.”

  “Here comes Dusty.”

  His red mountain bike braked and went into a slight skid and then came to rest in front of us. Dusty climbed off the bike, leaned it against a metal fence, unshouldered his backpack to the sidewalk. He turned and faced us.

  “S-sorry I’m late,” he said, and pushed up his glasses. “I got a flat tire. I had to stop and fix it.”

  “Traffic’s pretty bad this morning,” I said.

  “I’m used to it.”

  I jerked my thumb toward the Florida Aquarium.

  “You ever eaten in their Caribbean Cantina?” I said. “You ever try their Caribbean chicken with mango salsa?”

  Julie spoke up.

  “Dusty, what did you want to tell me?”

  A pause.

  “It’s about M-Max. Yeah. Uh-huh. About Max.”

  “What about Max?”

  Another pause.

  “Did you l-l-love him?”

  “What?”

  “Max. Did you love him?”

  “Of course. Why would you ask me that question, Dusty?”

  He shrugged. He fiddled with his watch. His eyes darted.

  “Dusty, are you going to answer me?”

  “You know who t-t-took him. Don’t you, Julie?”

  “No. I don’t. I wish I did.”

  “You really don’t know?”

  “Dusty, you’re not making any sense.”

  Julie rolled her eyes helplessly at me.

  “I think Dusty knows,” I said. “I think he’s trying to tell us he knows who took Max. That right, Dusty?”

  He nodded vigorously.

  “I s-saw them,” he said. “I saw them when they drove away from Toddler Town Day Care that day. M-Max was sitting in the backseat of the car. He waved to me.”

  Julie gasped.

  “Who’d you see, Dusty?” I said. “Who took Max?”

  “Nine-eight-one M-X-S.”

  It took me a moment to figure it out.

  “That a license plate number, Dusty?”

  “Yeah. Uh-huh.”

  “Florida plate?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “You still remember the number after all these years?”

  “I never f-forget anything.”

  CHAPTER 48

  TRACING A LICENSE plate number is easier than it used to be. Now there are several websites that enable you to do i
t. They charge a small fee for the service. Once you have paid you go to a search box on the website and you type in the license plate number. Your search results will include the owner’s name and zip code.

  I switched on my laptop and waited for it to boot up. Moments later I brought up a website, reached into my wallet, pulled out my credit card. I entered my information.

  A search box appeared on the screen. My fingers typed the license plate number into the box. I clicked a big red button.

  I waited. My adrenaline surged. I cracked my knuckles.

  The search results appeared. They showed the owner’s name and zip code. I stared at the screen.

  Unbelievable.

  Wow.

  The news would crush Julie.

  I pressed a speed-dial button on my phone and it began to ring.

  “Hello?”

  “Julie, I traced the license plate number.”

  “Who does it belong to?”

  “Come on over. I’ll show you.”

  She was at my door in seconds.

  I showed her the search results.

  The news crushed her. She was stunned, angry, confused.

  She had questions. She wanted answers.

  When she reached for her phone I held up my hand.

  “Wait, Julie. Don’t call yet. Let’s talk about this first. There may be a better way to handle this. If you call right now, you’ll lose the element of surprise.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I think we should drive over there and show up unexpectedly. If you call before we go over there, evidence could be hidden away by the time we arrive.”

  “Evidence? You mean Max?”

  “Possibly.”

  “What if nobody’s home when we get there?”

  “We wait.”

  “For how long?”

  “Long as it takes.”

  “I wonder if Max has been living there for the past five years. Why wouldn’t he have tried to phone me? Or write me? Or something?”

  “Maybe he was told you were dead.”

  “Who would do that to a child?”

  “A child abductor.”

  Julie frowned.

  “Maybe Dusty lied to us about what he saw that day.”

  “Lie?” I said. “Dusty? I don’t think so. I don’t think he’s capable of lying. He seems pretty straightforward to me.”

  “Then maybe he didn’t really see what he thought he saw.”

  “Only one way to find out.”

  She nodded.

  We sat staring at the website on my laptop screen. It still showed the license plate number and the owner’s name and zip code.

  Unbelievable.

  “Julie, you know what this means, don’t you?”

  “What?”

  “It means Heath could have been involved too.”

  “With Max’s abduction?”

  “And with everything that happened afterward.”

  “That makes sense.”

  I looked again at the name on the screen.

  The license plate was registered to somebody Julie knew well.

  It was registered to Heath’s father.

  CHAPTER 49

  LETTUCE LAKE PARK is spread out over two hundred and forty acres. It has a bicycle path, a boardwalk, a fitness course, an interpretive center, an observation tower, a playground. Park activities include birding, canoeing, fishing, hiking, picnicking.

  Heath had been buried in a shallow grave in Lettuce Lake Park.

  His parents lived only blocks away.

  Had they buried him?

  Had they dug him up?

  Their house was set a little apart from its neighboring houses. It had a carport but no garage. The carport was empty.

  My assumption: Nobody was home.

  Where could they be? Out burying another body? Or digging up one? Or abducting another child?

  I circled the block once and then parked within sight of the house. Julie and I got off the motorcycle and stood surveying the street in both directions.

  The bright orange sun pierced westward clouds. Daylight was dying. Night would come. Darkness would descend. House lights would come on. We would know who was home and who wasn’t. We would make our move then.

  My eyes searched for a good place to wait out of sight. I saw a cluster of palms nearby. We went there.

  As a deputy U.S. marshal I never used to sit in my car when I was on a stakeout. Too many cops get killed that way. I always used to get out of my car and position myself somewhere else.

  According to statistics a police car is the most dangerous place for a cop to be. The most common injuries occur from accidents.

  A cop feels safe in a police car. A cop rarely feels any sense of danger there. Not even when prisoners sit in the backseat. But it isn’t uncommon to find weapons on the backseat floor: knives, razors, scissors. This is especially true when a cop fails to search the police car at the start of a tour.

  I don’t have a car anymore. Now I have a motorcycle. I have moved up in the world.

  From behind the cluster of palms I could see the house where Heath’s parents lived. It was across the street and half a block away. It looked like a normal house. But so had the Crowley’s house. Appearances can be deceiving.

  Heath’s parents owned a black Toyota SUV. Julie and I kept our eyes peeled. We expected it to pull into the carport.

  “Heath and I used to visit his parents quite often,” Julie said. “We spent a lot of holidays in that house. They never invited me over again after I filed for divorce. That was over five and a half years ago.”

  “You divorced their son,” I said. “Did you really expect them to invite you over for dinner again?”

  “They are Max’s grandparents. Divorce doesn’t change that.”

  What complicated lives some people lead.

  After a while the sky got dark and the bugs got loud.

  No lights came on in the house.

  We would make our move soon.

  “Do you want children, Rip? I mean I know you’re forty-seven. Some men think that’s too old to start a family. Maybe you’re one of those men. Maybe you aren’t. I know you became a born-again bachelor after your divorce. But do you think you may want children one day?”

  “Look—a dark SUV’s coming down the street.”

  Headlights fanned toward us and we ducked back behind the palms. Tires whispered on the blacktop. Louder and louder, then softer and softer. Taillights glowed red in the darkness.

  Could it be Heath’s parents? Would the dark SUV pull into their carport?

  It slowed as it approached their driveway.

  Brake lights flashed.

  Would it turn into the driveway?

  Brake lights died.

  No. It wasn’t going to turn.

  The SUV roared, lurched forward, disappeared into the night.

  “Was it a Toyota, Rip? Did you see the license plate number?”

  “Too dark and too far away.”

  “Do you think it was them?”

  “Doubt it.”

  “Then what was that driver doing?”

  “Who knows. World’s full of squirrelly people.”

  “I guess Heath’s parents aren’t coming home anytime soon. Are you sure you can break into the house?”

  “You doubt my skills?”

  “I withdraw the question.”

  I nodded.

  “Do you think Max would recognize me now? He was only three years old when I last saw him. Five years have passed since then and I look different now. He may not even remember me at all. God, wouldn’t that be horrible? My own son not remembering me.”

  “You ready to head over to the house now?”

  “Do you think they told him I died? Do you think they poisoned his mind against me? Do you think he hates me?”

  “Time to go. Let’s go now. Coast is clear.”

  By the time we made it to the dirt at the edge of the blacktop the coast was no longer clea
r. We ducked out of sight into a roadside ditch when headlights blazed over the small rise in the road. We were almost caught in the twin beams of light.

  The glow brightened and the growl of the engine grew.

  Two hundred feet away. One hundred feet. Fifty.

  As soon as it went past we clambered out of the ditch.

  We were close enough to see it clearly.

  It was another SUV. A black one. A Toyota.

  “Must be them,” I said. “Let’s move back behind the palms.”

  We watched from the cover of the palms.

  The black Toyota SUV swung into the driveway, pulled into the carport, rolled to a stop. The engine died. The headlights went dark.

  For a moment the SUV sat silent in the dimly lit carport.

  Then the hand brake ratcheted.

  The driver’s door swung open and a man of about sixty stepped out. He was a big beefy man with a round moon face and slits for eyes. He slammed his door shut.

  “That Heath’s father?” I whispered to Julie.

  “That’s him. He’s put on some weight since I last saw him.”

  His big hands fumbled with keys as his boots scuffed toward the side door of the house. He unlocked the door and went in.

  We lay motionless, breathing, waiting.

  Would somebody else emerge from the SUV?

  We kept watching.

  Nothing happened.

  Watching. Waiting. Breathing.

  Finally the passenger door swung open. A white-haired woman in her sixties got out carefully. She looked like a female version of the big beefy man. She shut her door gently.

  “That Heath’s mother?”

  “Yes.”

  The big woman toddled toward the side door of the house. When she got to the doorway she stopped. She turned. She looked back at the SUV.

  What was she doing? Was she waiting for somebody else? Was somebody else still sitting in the SUV? A boy maybe? Max maybe?

  My heart raced and my breathing stopped.

  I heard Julie swallow.

  Then I heard something else. Something louder. Much louder.

  The ground shook.

  Orange lights crowned the top of the slowly approaching truck. Eighteen-wheeler. Big diesel engine. Rumbling. Growling. Gears gnashing and groaning. Mammoth metal body clanking.

  The leviathan took up most of the street as it lumbered toward us, downshifting loudly, belching puffs of black smoke.