“They’re noisy, and that is one unhappy little girl.” The woman crossed her arms over her paisley shirtwaist dress.
“Emma?” Amy asked, and the woman fixed her with an arch look.
“Brittany.”
“Can I get your name, please?” Rob poised his pen over his notepad.
“Maureen Sutter.” She rattled off her address and phone number, leaving the impression she’d done this whole scenario before.
“I understand you called in a noise complaint last night?”
“Because I knew where all that was headed.” She pointed toward the trailer. “Whenever they get together with their friends, that little girl gets riled up. One day, someone is going to get hurt.”
If she hadn’t already been. Amy rested her foot on the bottom step. “Did you see anything this morning? Any visitors? Brittany around the house?”
“No.” She shook her head, arms still folded over her chest. “I heard Zeke’s truck when he left—that boy really needs a new muffler.”
“Do you remember what time that was?”
“Around six thirty. Today in Georgia was about half over. I heard it again when he came in around lunchtime, but nothing in between.”
“All right.” Rob extended his card. “If you think of anything, even if it seems minor, please give me a call.”
She examined the card, turned with a harrumph and walked inside.
“Well.” Rueful humor colored the word as Rob joined her at the bottom of the steps. “That was fruitful.”
They strode across the road. Rob spun his wedding band, a sure sign he was thinking hard. “Zeke Jenkins has what looks like fresh scratches on his neck.”
“I saw them when the crime-scene guys were swabbing his hands.” Amy tucked her hands in her back pockets. Behind her sunglasses, she squinted at the scene. Two more Chandler County units had joined those already parked along the drive. Beyond the trailer, figures moved in the field in a painstaking cross-search.
“His story feels legit, though. He doesn’t deny they argued, and everything he says squares with Troy Lee’s version. Plus, he’s consistent. Doesn’t matter what I ask or how I ask it, his story never changes. Do you know how rare that is?” Rob gestured toward the fields where Zeke had joined the searchers, although it appeared Tick Calvert had been careful to keep the young man separate from Brittany’s parents. “And he’s worried about the baby.”
Amy darted a look at him. “What makes you say that?”
“He had real fear in his eyes once he figured out that Brittany wasn’t with any of her friends and that meant not only was she gone, but so was his little girl. He’s not our guy.” The gold band made another circle around Rob’s finger. “He might not be the best husband in the world, but I can’t see him putting that baby at risk, either.”
“Last time I checked, being a bad husband wasn’t a crime.”
“Good thing. You could have Calvert put me under the jail.”
“Rob.” She reached out to catch his arm and drew him to a stop. He looked down at her, his green gaze troubled. “You have never been a bad husband. We’re just in a rough spot right now.”
“Hey, lovebirds.” Madeline approached, tablet in hand. Cheeks warm, Amy let her hand fall from his arm. “Zeke’s story seems to check out with the cell-phone pings. His has been bouncing off the closest tower all morning, so apparently he’s been in the vicinity, which fits with him working the fields.”
“And the neighbor says she heard him leave around six thirty and then come home at lunch.”
Madeline nodded. “Britt’s, of course, quit pinging this morning around eight thirty. I’m still trying to get the provider to send me their text and call records.”
“That can take days.” Amy feathered her bangs away from her face, the ends sticking to her skin. Any early-morning coolness was long gone, and the sun burned down.
Madeline tilted her chin at Rob. “What next, hotshot? You’re in charge.”
“That’s an easy one. Rule of twenty-fours. Trace her steps, interview the last people she had contact with, which means we start with the friends.”
*
“All right, I admit it.” Montgomery’s lazy voice shivered over him, and Blake smiled and let out a couple more inches of line. Sunlight sparkled across the brown river water, and the scent of bedding fish hung heavy in the humid air. A slight breeze moved through the woods lining the river, setting gray moss to dancing. “This really isn’t that bad.”
“Told you fishing could be fun.” Not that she was really fishing. She lounged in the folding chair, rod and reel propped between her elbow and knee. But they had the afternoon free, she was with him even after the debacle of the night before, and that was reason enough to smile. He tugged the lure to the left. “I’m sorry about last night.”
“You’ve said that about thirty million times, and I’ve told you, thirty million and one now, it’s okay.” She rested her free arm on the back of the chair, sunlight glinting off her thin gold bracelet. She rotated her arm and grimaced. “I think I’m getting burned.”
“Hang on to this and I’ll get the sunscreen.” He passed his rod off to her and jogged the best he could up the riverbank to where his truck sat under the shade of a water oak. He snagged the sunscreen and picked up his phone from the console as an afterthought. Even though he was a senior in college, his mom still got antsy when he didn’t check in at least once a day.
Thirty-seven text messages?
Frowning at the screen, he slipped and slid down the bank, sand shifting under his feet.
One from Zeke: u seen britt?
One from Mike: hey man looking for britt for zeke u hear from her today
And after that, a flurry of panicky texts from his sister Lyssa and their mutual friends, all asking him about Britt, if he’d seen her, if he’d heard she was missing…
Missing?
“What the frick?” He kept scrolling, the sunscreen forgotten on the sand.
“What?” Juggling the rods, Montgomery straightened. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know. Everybody’s looking for Britt. This doesn’t make sense.” The final text was from his Uncle Tick and sent foreboding shivering under too-warm skin.
Call the station. Ask for Investigator Bennett. Needs to talk to you ASAP.
“Looking for her?”
“Yeah. I don’t know what’s going on.” He jerked a hand through his hair. “I’m supposed to call the sheriff’s department.”
Montgomery’s phone trilled with the arrival of a text. She frowned at the screen. “Troy Lee. Who’s Investigator Bennett?”
Blake shook his head. “I think we’d better go find out.”
Once they had the gear reloaded in his truck, he circled around to head back out the rough gravel road. On Highway 3, he paused at the Randall City crossroads. Straight and headed south would let him show up at the sheriff’s department as directed. A left turn and going east would let him run out to Britt and Zeke’s, see what was going on for himself.
He hooked the left.
“This isn’t the way back into town.” Montgomery’s voice was quiet and subdued, something he wasn’t used to with her. She’d slid on her sunglasses, so he couldn’t see her eyes.
“No. This is the back way to Britt and Zeke’s place.” The traffic signal at 19 flared red, and he slowed to a stop, tapping his fingers on the wheel. “I’ve got a really bad feeling about this.”
Montgomery’s thumbs flew over her phone screen. “I’m letting Troy Lee know we’re going there.”
The light turned green, and he accelerated through the intersection. “Ask him to tell Uncle Tick too.”
The dread only grew as they neared the farm. What had happened after he’d left last night? Maybe he should have stayed or talked Britt into coming with him. It wasn’t like his mama would have cared—their house was always full of his sisters’ friends. He rubbed his palm around the leather steering wheel. He could have called his
Aunt Tori; she’d have known what to do.
He’d simply figured Troy Lee had everything under control.
And he’d never thought Zeke of all people would hurt Britt, not physically. He wasn’t that kind of guy.
At least he didn’t think Zeke was. Blake’s gut snarled into a set of knots. Maybe he’d been really wrong about Zeke.
“Quit beating yourself up.” Montgomery feathered a touch over his nape. “We don’t even know what’s going on.”
“I keep thinking I shouldn’t have left—” He bit the words off and idled to a stop in the road, staring at the spectacle before him. “Holy frick.”
Cop cars lined the driveway to Britt and Zeke’s. A couple of state patrol units parked along the shoulder of the road, sharing space with news trucks from the two local television stations. A GSP helicopter rumbled overhead, spinning wider and wider circles over the farm. Seeing the same thing on TV a million times was nothing like this, especially knowing they were looking for Britt and the baby. That realization made him want to puke.
“They’re not going to let us in there.” The same sickened awe shaded Montgomery’s quiet tone.
“Yes, they will.” He pulled his wits together and made a three-point turn to park on the opposite shoulder. No way he was getting trapped here. He killed the engine and pulled out his cell. “Come on.”
Walking up the road, he dialed his uncle, who answered on the second ring.
“Calvert.”
“Uncle Tick, it’s Blake. I just pulled up at Britt’s driveway.”
“You’re here? I told you to call Bennett.”
“This was closer.” As lies went, it wasn’t the biggest one he’d ever told. He eyed the news trucks. A reporter from WALB stood before a cameraman with a portable camera and gestured toward the police cars behind her. “Can you tell me what’s going on?”
“Not on the phone.” Voices and a dog barking hovered behind his uncle’s terse words. “Wilson’s at the drive. I’ll tell him to let you through. Bennett should be at the trailer—”
“Montgomery too.”
“What?”
“Montgomery Farr is with me. Troy Lee says she needed to talk to Investigator Bennett.”
“All right. Let me call Wilson.”
Blake jammed his phone in his pocket and tugged his cap lower, aware the camera from WALB had turned in their direction. Without a word, he shifted his body so he blocked the camera’s view of Montgomery as much as possible. Heat shimmered off the road in the distance and blasted his bare legs. Sweat trickled between his shoulder blades and down his spine.
How long could a little kid like Emma stand being out in the heat like this?
Deputy Wilson waved them through, and the heat gave way a little once they were walking on dirt rather than asphalt. Maybe wherever Emma and Britt were, there was shade.
He didn’t even want to think about scenarios in which it wouldn’t matter if there was shade or not. His phone pinged, and he glanced at the screen. A mobile alert from WALB glowed on the screen.
Young mother and child reported missing in Chandler County.
Nearer the trailer, he could see people out in the fields and the woods. Brittany’s name drifted to him on distant yells. Cookie had a county map spread out on the back of a patrol car, pointing out areas to a small group of officers.
Frick, this was really happening.
Zeke hunched on the bumper of his old Ford, head in his hands. Eyes narrowed, Blake headed straight for him. “Zeke.”
“Are you supposed to talk to him?” Montgomery scrambled to keep up.
“I don’t care if I am or not.” He stopped in front of his friend. “What’s going on?”
“She’s gone.” He hadn’t seen Zeke look or sound that miserable since the afternoon he’d told Jamie, Blake and Mike that Brittany was pregnant, which meant he wouldn’t be going off to room with Mike at ABAC after all.
“Gone? What does that mean, gone?”
“She’s just gone.” Zeke’s voice rose, his mouth pinched and white.
“What happened after I left last night?” Blake demanded. He looked around and scowled. “Where’s Mike?”
“I don’t know. What does it matter where he is? Emma’s gone—”
“What happened after I left last night?” Even his own voice was pitched higher, anger and fear and guilt all melding together in him. “What happened, Zeke?”
“Nothing, man! We—”
“Are you Blake Calvert?”
With an effort, Blake pulled his attention from Zeke and faced the young officer in a department polo and khakis. Blake tugged his cap off and scrubbed a wrist across his sweaty brow. “Yes, sir.”
“And Montgomery Farr?” He nodded at her.
“Yes.”
“I’m Investigator Bennett. I need to speak with both of you, please.” His gaze skittered over Zeke. “Privately.”
*
In the end, Rob had decided to perform the interviews back at the sheriff’s department so the statements could be videotaped. For some reason known only to him, he’d saved Blake Calvert’s for last, after talking to both Montgomery Farr and Tanya Harris, and in the small interview room, Amy perched in the chair set off to one side as Rob took the chair across the table from Blake’s.
After a few preliminary questions ascertaining Blake’s name, age and relationship to Zeke and Brittany, Rob leaned back, elbow on the chair arm, chin between his index finger and thumb. “So tell me about last night.”
Blake nodded, but dropped his gaze for a moment to where he rubbed the table edge with his thumbnail. “Britt wanted me to come for dinner. We ate and hung out a couple of hours, then Montgomery and I were ready to go.”
“Something happen then?”
Blake’s dark eyes flicked up to meet Rob’s steady gaze. “You already know she got in a fight with Mike and that Troy Lee caught the call.”
“I do.” Neither Rob’s relaxed position nor his equally casual tone changed. “But I’d like to hear your version.”
“There’s no version. We went out there for dinner. Zeke grilled, we ate supper, then sat around and talked for a little while. I really wanted to be with Montgomery instead of them, so we were ready to go. Mike was being an ass like always, and Brittany got mad. She…she went after him with a bat.”
“After Mike?”
“Yeah, um, yes, sir.”
“And?”
Blake spread the fingers on both hands, wrists rotated so his palms were up. “And I wasn’t going to let her do something that stupid. I caught the bat before she could get a swing in. She fell, and then Troy Lee showed up.”
“She hurt herself, maybe cut herself, when she fell?”
“No, sir.” Blake frowned as if trying to picture the scene. “She scraped up her hands because she fell forwards, kind of like a hard pushup to keep from face planting on the patio—it’s made out of red brick—she must have hit her chin, because it was raw, but it was only scrapes. No cuts or anything.”
Rob glanced once at Amy, but she couldn’t read anything in his green eyes. “You’re sure?”
“Yes, sir.”
“How was Mike being an ass?”
“I don’t know…he’s just…” Blake sighed, lifted his hands palm up and let them fall again. “He was giving her a hard time about being a good mom, which she is. I mean, she’s the best mom she can be.”
“This wasn’t the first time he’s given her a hard time.”
“No.” Blake turned away a moment, staring hard at the generic tan wall. His jaw worked. “He’s ragged her the whole time.”
“The whole time?”
“Since the baby was born.” His jaw tensed and relaxed once more. “The whole time she and Zeke have been together.”
“What’s his beef with her?”
The young man’s whole body went tight. His brows dipped, and his gaze went back to the wall. “I guess he doesn’t like her. They’ve never gotten along, even before Zeke and
Britt got together. He and Zeke have been buddies forever, and I guess he kind of resents her.”
“How does Brittany feel about Mike? That resentment mutual?”
Blake shrugged. “How would you feel about someone who was on you the whole time?”
The corner of Rob’s mouth quirked, dimple flashing for a moment. “Tell me how she feels about him.”
The younger man sighed and covered his mouth with one hand. “She hates him. And Zeke gets caught in the middle.”
“What do you think happened to Brittany?”
“I don’t know.”
“Come on, Blake. You have an idea or you wouldn’t have been all over Zeke like you were earlier.” Rob finally dropped the too-casual air and leaned forward. “What do you think happened?”
“I told you. I don’t know.” Temper glinted in the boy’s dark brown eyes. “My daddy taught me not to jump to conclusions and not to talk about something I didn’t know anything about.”
“Smart man.”
“He is.” Blake’s chin lifted, almost to a challenging angle. “Are we done?”
“For now.” Rob pulled his badge case from his pocket and extracted a card. “You think of anything you believe I need to know, I want you to call me.”
“Yes, sir.” Already on his feet, Blake shoved the card in his pocket.
“You know how to get out of here?” Rob rose and opened the door.
“Yes, sir.”
“Thank you for talking to me today.” Rob extended his hand, and with a brief handshake, the younger man was gone.
Hands braced at his hips, Rob stood watching him walk away. Amy joined him at the door. “What?”
“I’d love to know what his theory is. That kid knows something he doesn’t want to give up. We could have worked him all day and he still wouldn’t have given in.”
Amy frowned. “Do you think he’s involved?”
“Him?” Rob snorted. “No, but he knows more than he’s telling. We’ll pull his cell records, just in case.”
He stepped back to let her precede him into the hall. Amy glanced up as they walked toward the multipurpose room. He looked tired and dragged out, dark circles of sleeplessness under his eyes, and his mouth was tight with frustrated tension. “What next?”
Gone From Me: Hearts of the South, Book 10 Page 7
