DEAD GONE a gripping crime thriller full of twists

by T. J. Brearton

  The driver revved the engine, and the truck crept forward.

  Tom shut the door and faced Alicia.

  “I’m so sorry to come here like this,” she said.

  “What happened?” It was obvious, but he still needed to hear it from her.

  “He’s been acting crazy all day.”

  “Who? Is it your boyfriend?”

  “We broke up weeks ago.”

  Gwen had her head on her mother’s shoulder, thumb stuck in her mouth. Tom gently put his hands around the girl to take her, but Gwen shrank from his touch. “Alright, well, sit down.”

  Alicia found her way to the couch in his living room. She was a small woman, mid-twenties, and Gwen was just four years old.

  Tom pulled his cell phone out. “I’m going to call it in, okay?”

  Alicia hesitated, glanced at the front door, and then nodded.

  He dialed the number for the Everglades County Sheriff’s Office. At the same time, he heard the engine of the truck drawing closer and walked to the window. He moved aside the curtain and peered out.

  The truck rolled to a stop in front of Tom’s building. Tom kept watch while he listened to the phone ringing the police station. Finally, patrol division picked up the line.

  “Sheriff’s Office.”

  “This is Special Agent Lange with the FDLE.”

  “How can I help you, Agent Lange?”

  “I’m reporting an assault. Victim is Alicia Strong. She’s at my house now, I’ll give you the address. Can you send a unit to pick her up?” He moved the phone away from his mouth and asked Alicia, “What’s his name? Your ex?”

  “Josh McDermott.”

  Tom relayed the information while watching through the window. McDermott was still sitting in his truck. There was a landscaping company insignia on the side, a phone number included. The truck was parked just below the steps down from Tom’s condo, blocking their exit.

  “Okay,” said the officer, “I’ll put it out to the shift commander — tough thing is, a lot of patrol in your zone are assisting at Rookery Bay right now. We’ll get someone, just might take a bit.”

  Tom turned from the window, thinking he should’ve expected it. Everglades County was trying to cover a huge swath of territory. It was a lot of manpower.

  The officer continued, “Your Agent Blythe appropriated an additional deputy about an hour ago to look at video from Rebnar’s main building. We’re adding deputy shifts. Like I said, I’ll put out the call — the victim is with you now?”

  “Yes. There’s got to be a road deputy to come assist. If anyone is in the area, have them swing by, alright?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Tom ended the call and stared at Alicia for a moment, thinking. He couldn’t call Naples Police, either. People with homes along the edge of the ocean benefitted from city police, but where Tom lived inland fell in County jurisdiction. He could call his own highway patrol troopers, but there was no telling how long it would take them to arrive — Troop F was headquartered in Bradenton, and the troopers mainly dealt with traffic safety.

  “Be right back,” Tom said. He bounded up the stairs to get his gun. He checked the weapon and slid it back into the holster. He pulled on a blazer and went back downstairs.

  “Can I use your bathroom? I want to clean my face.”

  “Don’t.” Tom shook his head. “We’ll get pictures at the hospital.” He started toward the window again and stopped. “Josh has done this to you before?”

  She nodded, tears brimming again, and turned her face away.

  He came a little closer. “What happened the last time? Did you call the police then?”

  She shook her head, biting her lower lip and stroking her daughter’s hair. “I’m so sorry. I just met you . . . and now here I am, dragging you into this. I should go.”

  “No. We have to report this and press charges.”

  Her face contorted in anguish. “Why? What’ll it do? Then I’ll have to go to court . . . miss work . . .”

  He shook his head emphatically and sat beside her. “Not necessarily. Only if he pleads not guilty. But with pictures of your face, your statement . . .” He looked at the little girl, worrying about talking like this in front of her. But the way she clung to her mother, there was no choice. “Did she see it?”

  Alicia looked mortified. “No, of course not. She was in the other room.”

  “Okay, okay.” Tom stood up and faced the curtained window. “Does Josh have a lawyer?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “Then he’ll be assigned a public defender. The PD will go for a guilty plea or at least no contest and they’ll plea bargain the prosecutor. Does he have any prior domestic violence convictions?”

  Again she shook her head.

  “Well then, that’s still the most likely outcome. Look what he did to you. And not the first time, right? So now you have to fight back. Alicia, he needs to go to jail. This needs to get on his record. Okay?”

  She struggled against the tears and at last nodded her head.

  “Okay. We’re gonna go through that door, down the short steps, and into my garage. We’ll get into my Jeep, and I’ll take you to the hospital.” He helped her stand up.

  “I parked in front of your garage,” she said.

  He hesitated, considering it. “Then we’ll take your car.” He held out his hand. “Keys?”

  “I left them in the ignition.”

  Shit. Okay, so the only way to get out of there was through McDermott. Who the hell did this guy think he was? Obviously he didn’t know this was a cop’s home. Well, he was going to find out. And then, if he had any brains at all, he’d get the hell out of there.

  Tom moved Alicia and Gwen toward the entrance. He opened the door, urged them outside, and got in front of them. “Stay behind me.”

  * * *

  Before they reached the bottom of the steps, Josh McDermott got out and leaned against his truck, crossing his arms. He was calm and emotionless, his eyes cold as a snake’s.

  “Let’s just go right by him,” Tom whispered to Alicia. “Right to your car.”

  “Leesh,” McDermott called. “What’re you doin’? Is this the guy?”

  Just a couple feet away from McDermott, on the last step, Tom stopped. “I’m Special Agent Lange with the Florida Department of Law Enforcement.”

  “Oh. Well, I’m Josh McDermott. With Four Palms Landscaping.” He kept a straight face and stuck out his hand in greeting.

  Tom saw Charlene across the street, walking her dog, headed in their direction. Tom ignored McDermott’s offer of a handshake and got moving again, keeping a protective arm around Alicia and her daughter.

  McDermott lowered his hand. “Hey now — where y’all goin’?”

  Tom opened the rear door so Alicia could deposit the girl in her car seat. He realized they couldn’t have taken his vehicle anyway without switching the seat over. Alicia tried to put Gwen in, but the girl resisted.

  “No, Mommy. Noooo. I don’t wanna get ’rested . . .”

  “You’re not getting arrested.” Alicia pried open the little girl’s hands, laced tightly around her mother’s neck. McDermott sidled over.

  Tom moved to the back of the car and put his hand on his weapon. “That’s far enough, Mr. McDermott. Stay back.”

  McDermott stopped and narrowed his eyes. Tom glanced at Charlene. She slowed her pace. A car drove into the complex, and Tom recognized Jack Vance, another neighbor, behind the wheel. Vance raised his hand in a tentative wave, rubbernecking the situation as he rolled by. Vance was retired Air Force, good at keeping secrets — after eighteen months of neighborly conversation, Tom still didn’t know what Jack Vance had actually done while in the service. Charlene, on the other hand, would have everyone in the whole place apprised of the situation within the hour. So much for my relative privacy, Tom thought.

  But there were more pressing concerns. McDermott turned his attention to Alicia. “She doesn’t wanna go, Alicia. Why do
n’t you just let her be?”

  Tom held out a hand and released the break snap on his holster. “Stop. We’re causing a scene here.”

  “A scene?” McDermott’s eyelids fluttered with incredulity. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about I shoot you, put one in your leg. It causes a disruption.” His heart was pounding now and he questioned the threat he made as soon as the words came out of his mouth. But McDermott was either stupid or dangerous or both.

  “Hey,” McDermott called to Alicia. He pointed at Tom, his finger close enough for Tom to grab. “This the guy here, Leesh? Just tell me, so I know. That’s all I want, is to know. You owe me that, don’t you think?”

  Alicia finally got Gwen in the seat and came closer. “I don’t owe you anything,” she said through gritted teeth.

  Now Tom was in between them. “Alicia, get in the car.”

  McDermott grinned, amused by it all. “Oh, I see. You takin’ orders from him now. Does he do all the things you like, Alicia? Is Mr. Miami Vice gonna tie you up, put the handcuffs on you?”

  McDermott reached out and patted Tom’s cheek. “Yeah, I can see you two getting nasty.”

  Tom jerked his head away and grabbed the man by the wrist. He pinned McDermott’s arm behind him and shoved him against the back of the car, grabbed him by the head and folded the man over, slamming his jaw down on the trunk.

  Tom’s mind raced. He could release McDermott and pull his gun right now, put it to the man’s temple, teach him a fucking lesson. He felt the rage boiling. He looked at Alicia and yelled, “Get into the car right now!”

  She stared at McDermott, who grunted, but didn’t fight back. Somewhat defiantly, she dropped into her seat.

  Tom let off the pressure, yanked McDermott to his feet, and shoved him toward the truck. At last he pulled his weapon and pointed it, keeping his finger away from the trigger. “Get in your truck and drive away.”

  McDermott massaged his arm, more dumbstruck than aggressive for a moment, but then Tom saw the violence brewing in his eyes. McDermott wanted to come back at Tom right now and tear him to pieces.

  Charlene was standing on the other side of the drive, staring. He imagined other residents at their windows, watching the whole thing too. Tom took an aggressive step toward McDermott. “I said get out of here. Go home and wait for the police to come pick you up. That’s your only option right now.”

  “You don’t tell me my fuckin’ options.” McDermott had completely dropped the affable act.

  “She doesn’t want to be with you.” Tom adopted a calmer tone. “Go home.”

  McDermott flinched, as if struck, but continued to sneer, his eyes shining with hate. “That bitch? Fine. She’s a fucking slut, she’s all yours.”

  His aspersions carried across the complex. Anyone within earshot was hearing the foul language. Bitch. Slut. Charlene finally headed off, walking briskly.

  “Alicia,” McDermott barked. “It’s alright, babe. We’re not going to let this get us down. You listening to me? You fucking cunt?”

  “Shut up,” Tom said. “Get in your truck.”

  But McDermott didn’t budge.

  As Tom was deciding what to do, Jack Vance drove back toward the scene and rolled down his window. “Everything alright here, Tommy?”

  “Had better evenings.”

  “Yeah.” The older man’s eyes pinned to McDermott. Vance put the car in park and opened the door.

  “Jack, you should stay in your vehicle. The police are on their way.”

  Vance’s keen eyes devoured the scene. He kept coming, waving a hand in the air. “It’s alright. I don’t mind.” He stopped a few feet from the truck. “Why don’t you go ahead, Tommy? Take those two girls where they got to go.”

  “Can’t do that, Jack. I really appreciate it, though.”

  “No, no,” Vance said in that same tone. “I think that’s the best thing.” His kindly voice was betrayed by the hardness in his eyes. Vance was pushing seventy, but one thing he’d shared with Tom since they’d gotten to know each other was how he’d never lost a fight. He may have been discreet about his responsibilities in the Air Force, but was happy to talk about his days as a young, bar-brawling pilot.

  McDermott sized up Vance, then he turned, spat at Tom’s feet, and climbed into the truck. He revved the engine and squealed the tires as he pulled away, leaving black streaks on the asphalt. He raced out of the complex way too fast, tires squawking a second time as he turned and tore away into the twilight.

  Tom put his weapon away.

  “You’d better get going,” Vance said. “I’ll keep an eye on your place.”

  Tom thanked him and hurried to Alicia’s car.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “Did they teach you that self-defense in police school?” Alicia had climbed into the backseat to sit beside Gwen, trying to calm her down. They were a few minutes away from the hospital.

  Tom felt shaky, the adrenaline had yet to settle. “I’ve never done anything like that before in my life.” It wasn’t entirely true.

  There was no sign of the landscaping truck on their tail. Tom weaved through the sparse traffic, the sky turning dark. “But yeah,” he said. “They taught us self-defense. I just, ah . . . didn’t expect to have to use it so soon.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He looked at her in the mirror. “It’s okay. He . . . ah, thinks you’re having an affair?”

  Her eyes shined. “He’s crazy.”

  “With me? He thinks you and I are . . .?”

  “He’s been following me. He knows I came to your house last night.”

  Tom took the turn onto Rattlesnake-Hammock Road and headed toward the hospital. They were close now.

  “It’s alright,” he said. “Let’s just get this on the record, get you looked at.” The hospital was at the next intersection. He stopped at the emergency entrance, opened the rear door for her. Alicia unbuckled the child and they all went into the hospital, leaving the car running.

  He checked in at the main desk, showed his badge, explained the assault, and that Alicia needed pictures and a full report for the police.

  “We’ll take care of her,” the nurse assured him. “You can wait right over there.”

  The nurse walked Alicia and Gwen down the corridor toward one of the emergency suites. Little Gwen stared at Tom over her mother’s shoulder as she was carried off.

  * * *

  Tom parked Alicia’s car, then spoke to Blythe from the hospital waiting room and told her what had happened. “I want to take a look at McDermott. When County picks him up for the domestic battery, I want to talk to him about Rookery Bay.”

  “Lange . . .” Blythe sounded doubtful.

  “Just a little look. He’s a woman beater.” Tom had a magazine in his lap he’d been leafing through but not really taking in. He rolled it up now and squeezed it.

  “He might be,” Blythe said, “but the odds that he had anything to do with our Jane Doe are a long shot, at best.”

  “Follow every lead, right? They drilled it into our heads in training.”

  “It’s barely a lead . . . But alright, I’ll tell you what. If and when County picks him up, I won’t let you in the room, but you can observe.”

  “Thank you.”

  “And I wanted to let you know I followed up with Machado on the domestic battery short list.”

  “And?”

  “Darlene DeMerse gave up a name — Alex Juarez. He worked double shifts at Lowe’s last week. County pulled his time sheet, he checks out. Sturgess, who assaulted the school accountant, has been in the hospital. He resigned from the school and attempted suicide. That leaves Kimberly Monroe and her husband Frank, who may have given her the concussion, but Frank was out of town at the estimated time of death.”

  “Well, let’s keep looking.”

  Tom took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. He was off his routine. School and training had kept his life in balance, same thing ev
ery day. Swim or jog in the morning, go to class, come home, workout, eat, go to sleep. He’d kept to himself, and he worked the program Dr. Camden had helped him to learn many years before. Now, in a single day, all that had been disrupted. He wished he’d brought the cigarettes from home.

  He left the waiting room, went out of the hospital and spied a Quick Mart in the plaza across the highway. He started toward it.

  “Where are you going?” Blythe must have heard his movements over the phone.

  “Nowhere. What about the couple from the kayaking tour? We never talked about that.”

  “Not much to talk about. Joe and Linda VanCott. Married for eighteen years, they take a trip twice a year from New York to kayak the bay. They like the sunrise trip.”

  He’d gotten the same information from Susan Libby. “Yeah, well, Joe is a donor. Supported research on the mangrove die-off.”

  “So what? You want to take a look at him? What’s the motive? We don’t know anything yet.”

  “What about Libby? Anything interesting on her?”

  “If dedicating one’s life to nature conservancy is interesting. She’s practically a nun. Unmarried, no kids, pretty much spent her whole life doing what she’s doing today. Grew up in Naples. Never really been anywhere else.”

  He waited for a break in the traffic then jogged across the multiple lanes to the plaza. “How is it going with the volunteer list?”

  “They’ve gone through more than half of it. Everybody checks out so far. Nobody missing . . .”

  He entered the Quick Mart and approached the counter.

  “Tom. Stay with your friend, get her home.”

  “I’m not taking her there. This guy is liable to come back before the Sheriff’s Office gets him into custody.”

  “Then take her to your place. Whatever you’ve got to do. Listen, I know you’re . . . This case we’ve got is still just shaping up. You’re doing fine. The sketch artist was at the morgue for an hour, you’ll have an email with the sketch tonight. Tomorrow is a new day, alright? You’ve got to get into gear, take it slow and steady.”

  “Alright,” he said. He felt a touch of embarrassment but she was right. He wished her a good night and got off the phone. Then he bought a pack of cigarettes from the waiting clerk.