Wild Secret

by Tripp Ellis

  When she saw us approach, her face went pale, and she slipped her hand from the young man's grasp. She looked like a kid that had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

  "Tyson… JD…” she said, forcing a smile.

  "How are you getting along, Ellie?" JD asked.

  She swallowed hard and nodded. "Good. I'm trying to get out and get my mind off of things.”

  There was an awkward pause.

  “I’d like you to meet Aaron,” she said.

  The guy smiled and extended his hand. "How do you do?"

  We shook and exchanged pleasantries.

  “Aaron is a yoga instructor over at Mind, Body & Spirit," Ellie said. "He talked me into getting out after class to clear my head.”

  "That's very considerate," JD said.

  Aaron was a good-looking guy—square jaw, blue eyes, light brown hair. Slender build, but well-defined muscles. He looked like he did well with the ladies.

  There was another awkward silence.

  "Well, I hate to interrupt,” JD said. “But I just wanted to stop by, say hello, and make sure you were doing okay.”

  Ellie forced another smile. “Thank you.”

  JD extended his hand to Aaron. "Nice to meet you, Aaron…”

  "Pennington. Aaron Pennington.”

  “You two have a good evening,” JD said.

  We left the table and strolled away.

  "Yoga instructor, huh?" JD muttered under his breath. "I'll bet he's teaching her a few new positions."

  We left the restaurant and stepped onto the sidewalk. Oyster Avenue was bustling with activity. Tourists drifted up and down the sidewalks, slipping in and out of bars and restaurants. Music spilled onto the street, and an array of colored lights painted the avenue. The smell of food filled the air. The energy of the night was building.

  "Maybe they're just friends," I said, trying to remain objective—I didn't believe it for a second.

  JD scoffed. "I think we need to look into that little weasel."

  We ambled down the block to Crush. Faye’s band didn't go on until 10:30 PM, which gave us plenty of time to get sufficiently lubricated. It was an alternative bar that rotated themes. Wednesday night was disco. Thursday night was ‘80s alternative. Friday night was classic rock. Saturday night was hip-hop. Sunday night was smooth jazz. It was a cool little place—dim lighting, deep velour couches. It had a Gothic vibe.

  Shadows of Saturn occupied the stage as we arrived. They rocked out an alternative, emo vibe mixed with a little sci-fi psychedelia.

  We weaved through the crowd toward the main bar. Faye hung out with her bandmates.

  Sadie Savage was the lead singer. She had raven black hair, stunning blue eyes, creamy skin, and a figure that was hard to take your eyes off of. The girl had lungs—she could belt out tones that ranged from gravelly rock ’n’ roll to angelic pop falsetto. Lexi Spark was a shredder on guitar. The stunning red-head could work the frets like nobody’s business. Katie Thunder pounded out the beat on drums.

  Together they formed a quartet that was part punk rock, part ‘80s New Wave with a dash of ‘90s Alternative. They had stage presence and all the requisite elements of stardom. They wore short skirts and lacy bras. T-shirts and tank tops cut up and tied tight, exposing flat midriffs. Their makeup was severe and sexy with heavy liner and smoky eyes. They looked like a gang of vampire hunters or a group of girl spies in a B-movie action flick—each with a special power.

  Faye greeted us both with a hug. "Thanks for coming!"

  "Gotta do our part to support," I said.

  "You know the rest of the girls… Sadie, Lexi, Katie.”

  JD and I smiled and waved. The girls gave a perfunctory smile back. We weren’t their favorite people. We’d taken their bass player, and there was an air of suspicion and distrust toward us.

  "Are the rest of the guys coming?" Faye asked.

  "Dizzy and Styxx should be here soon,” I said. "I take it you haven't talked to Crash?"

  "I haven't figured out exactly what to say yet. I don't want to make things worse. I need to sort out how I feel. Have you spoken with him? How’s he doing?”

  “He’s upset with me, but he’ll live.”

  “Why you?”

  I filled her in on the situation.

  Faye rolled her eyes. “That’s stupid. You gave him good advice.”

  It wasn’t long before Dizzy and Styxx showed up.

  Shadows of Saturn finished their set and loaded their gear offstage. We helped Lip Bomb set up their gear, then hung back and enjoyed the show.

  The crowd swelled towards the stage, and Sadie belted into the microphone while the band rocked behind her. Crush was a small venue, and it was packed full.

  The girls put on a damn good show. Afterward, we helped them break down the gear and load it out. I think that's the main reason they invited us to see the show.

  We loaded the gear into the back of Sadie's SUV. It was big enough to hold a few amps, speaker cabinets, and guitars. Katie had a system for fitting her entire drum set into the back seat of her car, utilizing the front passenger seat as well.

  "You know, you guys aren’t half bad," Sadie said in the parking lot as we finished up.

  The glow of a mercury vapor light painted her face. Music seeped out from the club, and the stars flickered above.

  "At first, I thought you guys were the typical asshole musicians. But you guys are alright."

  Dizzy smiled.

  "We ought to do a double bill sometime," Sadie suggested.

  The guys looked at each other and, after a brief nonverbal conference, gave a nod of approval.

  "I'm sure we can arrange a show where you open for us," JD said.

  Sadie laughed. "I was thinking maybe you guys could open for us."

  JD frowned at her playfully.

  Sadie let out an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. I guess we can open for you guys. If you twist my arm."

  "Talk to Tyson," JD said. "He's the manager."

  "I'm all for the idea," I said. "But… I'm not gonna schedule anything until a certain situation gets worked out." My eyes found Faye.

  She huffed. "Is he really gonna be that much of a bitch about it? Is he really at the point where he can't be around me at all?"

  I shrugged.

  "I told you this was a bad idea," Styxx mumbled to himself.

  "Excuse me?" Faye said.

  "Nothing."

  The two exchanged a look.

  "Party on the boat?" Dizzy asked, changing the subject. "What do you say, Tyson?"

  I shrugged. "Whatever."

  Dizzy turned his attention to the girls. "Ladies?"

  The girls exchanged glances, communicating telepathically.

  20

  "Sure,” Sadie said. “Why not? We'll meet you at the boat after we load the gear back into the practice studio.”

  The girls hopped into their cars and drove away.

  We hung out in the parking lot for a moment.

  “Do me a favor,” I asked. “Keep it tame tonight. Don’t do anything that’s going to make the current situation worse.”

  “Relax. It’s just a few drinks,” Dizzy said with a disarming smile. “Faye’s off-limits. We get that. But the others…” he had a mischievous glint in his eyes.

  “We’ll see you at the boat,” Styxx said with a pat on the back and a mischievous grin.

  They headed toward their car, and JD and I walked back to Oyster Avenue. We hustled down the sidewalk. We had parked on a side street a few blocks away. We found the Porsche and drove toward the marina. We cruised with the top down, listening to music, the cool night air swirling around.

  “We need to improve the ratio,” JD said. “We’re going back to the boat with four girls, and two of them are off the market.”

  “Two?”

  “The drummer. She dates the singer for that death metal band, Malice Eternal. We might have to round up a few more prospects. Just say’n.”

  The light ahead flash
ed from yellow to red, and we pulled to a stop at the crosswalk.

  Two cars revved their engines, squealed their tires, and launched across the intersection as the light turned green for them. White smoke billowed from wheel wells, and the cars rocketed forward. The Mustang got the jump off the line, but the Corvette quickly made up ground.

  The rip of exhaust echoed through the night air.

  At 2nd gear, the driver of the Corvette lost control.

  The car spun out and careened across the oncoming lanes of traffic, narrowly missing a vehicle. Rubber tracks stained the asphalt. The Corvette plowed into a telephone pole on the corner, and the hood cracked and crumbled, splintering fiberglass. The brand-new pumpkin orange sports car was a mess.

  As soon as the light turned green for us, JD banked a hard left and sped to the crash site a block away.

  The Mustang was long gone.

  The driver of the Corvette tried to get the car started but couldn't get the engine to turn over. It was a prior model with a front engine before they switched to a mid-engine design.

  I hopped out of the Porsche and stormed toward the driver’s side of the Corvette. With my weapon drawn, and my badge displayed, I shouted, "Coconut County! Out of the car, now!"

  The kid kept trying to get the car started, but it wouldn't turn over. The airbags had deployed, and the kid was dazed.

  "Out of the vehicle. Now!"

  I recognized him. He was Nick Hartsell’s kid, Cameron.

  I yanked open the driver’s door, and grabbed hold of his shirt collar, and pulled him out of the vehicle. He staggered and stumbled to the ground, clearly intoxicated.

  JD pounced on him and slapped the cuffs around his wrists.

  His girlfriend sobbed, blood trickling from her nose. Her face was scuffed and raw.

  An airbag deploys like a cannon. They may save your life, but they can create injuries of their own—abrasions, broken bones, ocular damage.

  I dialed 911 and attended to the girl.

  The EMTs arrived a few minutes later. It wasn’t long before several patrol cars were on the scene. Flashing lights bathed the area.

  We took pictures of the scene, and EMTs treated Cameron and his girlfriend. A crowd had gathered around. Traffic ground to a halt, and deputies managed the chaos.

  In an abundance of caution, Cameron and his girlfriend were transferred to the ER where they’d receive x-rays and CT scans to make sure there was no brain trauma or internal bleeding. Afterward, Cameron would be booked on DUI, reckless driving, and a host of other charges.

  It was a damn shame the sleek sports car was mangled. But it didn’t mean anything to Cameron. He didn’t pay for it. It was a car from his father’s dealership. It had dealer plates. I'm sure Nick wouldn’t be too happy about the situation.

  A wrecker towed the vehicle away, and a cleanup crew swept up bits of fiberglass and plastic from the roadway. It took about an hour to sort out. I called the guys to tell them there would be no after-party on the boat tonight. It was probably for the best, anyway. I'm sure Crash wouldn’t have been too thrilled about Faye partying with us on the boat, even if they were broken up.

  We wrapped up at the scene and headed to the station to fill out after-action reports. Not exactly how I wanted to spend the latter part of the evening. It was almost 2 AM by the time JD dropped me off at the marina. I told him I'd catch up with him in the morning and ambled down the dock toward the Avventura.

  The rumble of the Porsche’s engine filled the air as he peeled out of the parking lot and raced home.

  I took Buddy for a walk, then settled in for bed.

  In the morning, I called Denise and asked her to find out as much information as she could about Aaron Pennington. "He's a yoga instructor at Mind, Body & Spirit.”

  "Do you really think Ellie’s having an affair with him?"

  "Sure looked like it last night,” I said. “I'll reserve judgment until I know more."

  "Ballistics came back. Chuck was shot with a 9mm. Probably some type of submachine gun, judging by the amount of bullets and the statements given by Justin and his girlfriend, Kennedy."

  "Thanks. Keep me posted."

  "I will."

  I hung up and called JD. He swung by the marina 15 minutes later and picked me up. We headed over to Paul Locke's house at 2113 Atlantic Avenue. He lived in a pastel yellow home with a cobblestone drive and walkway. There were a few palm trees out front, and the flower beds were set off with stone trim. A silver compact SUV was parked out front. The one-story home had vaulted ceilings and transom windows. It looked like it had been recently renovated. It was small but nice. Extremely well maintained.

  We parked out front and strolled to the front door. Paul was retired, so I hoped we'd catch him at home. I banged on the door and waited.

  21

  Through the frosted glass, I saw somebody approach the front door. Paul pulled it open, and I flashed our credentials and made introductions.

  Paul was in his mid-70s. He was bald on top and had stark white hair on the sides that was close-cropped. He had a round face and a rounder torso. His plump cheeks sagged, giving him deep laugh lines. His chin gave way to a saggy neck. He had bushy eyebrows and deep-set eyes that were probably vibrant blue at one point but were more of a hazel-grayish color now.

  Paul had a little bit of stubble, having skipped the morning shave. The man had a nice complexion but was a little red in the cheeks. There was a bulbous growth in the corner of his nose that was hard not to notice. “I spoke with Deborah. I figured you'd be stopping by at some point.”

  I expressed our condolences, and Paul invited us in.

  There was a study to the left of the foyer with a desk and bookshelves that were full of leather-bound tomes.

  Paul escorted us into the living room, hobbling behind us. “I’m a little slow these days. This hip threw craps on me.”

  He offered us a seat.

  "Nice place you’ve got here."

  “Thank you."

  "Is this the home you were living in at the time of Skyler’s disappearance?" I asked.

  Paul nodded. "Can I get you boys anything to drink? Water? Soda? Beer?"

  I smiled. "Thank you, but no."

  He took a seat and winced as he gently lowered himself into the recliner. “Deborah gave me all the gory details." Paul shook his head. “It’s just horrible. I sure hope Skyler didn't suffer.” He sighed and his eyes misted. “I guess it's just random chance you found her. Funny how that works out. I always hoped we’d learn the truth, but I thought I’d probably go to my grave without knowing. It's been eating away at me all these years."

  "Can you walk me through the day she disappeared?"

  "Well, I was off work that day. Skyler never came home from school, which wasn't entirely unusual. You know how kids are. They get sidetracked with their friends sometimes.”

  "Where were you working?"

  “In those days, I owned my own truck and was driving drop and hooks at night, mostly.”

  He told us the same story Deborah did.

  “When Skyler hadn’t shown up by 9 o'clock, Deborah was in a panic. She called all of Skyler’s friends, and nobody had seen her since school. She called that boyfriend of hers, Marshall. He came over to the house that night, and I remember he and I went driving around looking for Skyler. He took me to all the hangouts the kids frequented in those times. We didn't find hide nor hair of her. We must have gone out looking for her every night for the next couple of weeks."

  "What are your thoughts about Marshall Noonan?" I asked.

  Paul shrugged. "I think he was an okay kid. He had his issues. He got in a little trouble here and there. But hell, we all did at that age. I didn't ever see their relationship as anything long-term for Skyler.”

  "You think he could have had some involvement in her disappearance? Deborah mentioned he was the jealous type and didn't seem to control his anger well."

  "I know Deborah never much cared for Marshall. But I spent a l
ot of time with that kid looking for Skyler. If he was faking it, he was a damn good actor ‘cause he was beside himself. Utterly distraught."

  "What about Skyler’s friend Tiffany McKnight?”

  His brow lifted, and a grin tugged his lips. “Whew! She was a looker. Let me tell you. I'm surprised she didn't go on to become a model or a beauty queen or something like that. That girl developed fast if you know what I mean. I see her every now and then on the TV commercials. Looks like she’s still got it."

  "How long did Skyler live here?"

  Paul thought for a moment. "Oh, let me see. I think she was 12 or 13 when her dad died. They came to live here for three years or so until she disappeared. I think her mother stayed around another year before she met Victor. I'm kinda hazy on the timeline. It was a long time ago."

  “Did Skyler ever talk to you about anything that was bothering her?”

  "What do you mean?"

  "Problems she was having with other people. Anybody who might have wanted to hurt her?"

  "You think this was somebody she knew?"

  I shrugged. “It usually is.”

  "I always figured she was picked up by some random serial killer. Or maybe some boys lured her into a trap and killed her. I don't want to think about what could have been done to her."

  "How was your relationship with her?”

  "I think it was good. I mean, kids can be difficult at that age. They start to rebel. I let her mother discipline her, for the most part. Every now and then, I had to lay down the law. It was my home, after all." He sighed. “But she was a good kid. It’s a damn shame. She had so much potential.”

  He wiped his eyes as they misted.

  “If there’s anything else you can remember about that time...”

  “If you really want to know what was going on with her, talk to Tiffany. I’m sure Skyler told her everything.”

  “She’s on our list.”

  "I'm sure glad you boys are on top of this. Maybe after all these years, Skyler can get some peace."

  "I hope so," I said.

  I handed him my card. “If you think of anything else…”

  He pushed off the armrests to stand.