Speed Trap

by Patricia Davids

  “Talking to most of those teenagers is a waste of time.” Fred said with a scowl.

  Donna nodded sagely. “I know you think your meth education programs can make a difference, but I’m not so sure. I sit with those kids in after-school detention three nights a week. Some of them will use drugs no matter what.”

  Mandy lifted her trooper’s hat from the wooden coat tree outside her office door. “But some won’t, and those are the ones I’m trying to reach. Besides, we need to get a lid on these robberies. We need tips on suspicious activity. We can’t do it alone. If we don’t get the community involved, things are just going to get worse.”

  Only Ken nodded in agreement. Donna and Fred merely exchanged skeptical glances.

  Mandy knew there were kids she couldn’t save. People turned to drugs for any number of reasons and no amount of education could stop it all, but if she saved one person, it would be worth all her time and effort.

  As it turned out, the school talk wasn’t as difficult as she feared. Many of the students seemed genuinely interested in helping law enforcement keep their community drug-free. There were a couple of jokers in the crowd who snickered and shouted out wisecracks, but for the most part Mandy felt she’d gotten her message across.

  With Agent Riley to help field questions and present what the KBI was doing to combat the problem, the hour passed quickly.

  The high school principal, Cedric Dobbs, stood waiting for them when they left the stage. “Thank you for speaking today. I’ll see that your hecklers spend a couple of hours in detention. Especially Luke Holt. You’d think having an older brother who is a deputy would deter some of his rowdy behavior.”

  Cedric’s voice held a ragged edge that made Mandy look more closely at him. In his early sixties, Cedric had been teaching in Timber Wells his entire life.

  Today, his usually impeccable suit was rumbled. His thick white hair was mussed, as if he’d been running his hands through it. He looked like a man under a lot of stress.

  Mandy smiled at him. “It wasn’t as bad as I expected.”

  “These kids. I don’t know what’s going to become of this town. For two cents I’d quit this job. I’m nothing but a glorified babysitter. Excuse me.” He left to stop escalating horseplay between two boys.

  Agent Jed Riley, dressed in a dark suit and tie, offered Mandy his hand. “Nice speech, Sheriff.”

  She shook it. “Thanks. Yours was better.”

  “I’ve had more practice. What’s wrong with Mr. Dobbs? He looks like he’s ready to tear out his hair. I don’t remember him being so down on his students.”

  “His wife has cancer.” Mandy didn’t know the woman well, but had met her a few times at her mother’s Bible study class before she became ill.

  Sympathy filled Jed’s eyes. “No wonder he looks like he’s aged since I was here last year.”

  “According to my mother, his wife’s doctor wants her on a new experimental therapy, but their insurance won’t cover it. They’ve used up nearly all their savings. They even had to sell their house and move into a smaller apartment. Are you on your way back to Topeka now?”

  “No, I’ve got another talk to give in Council Grove. Any new information on your homicide?”

  “I’m waiting on crime lab reports from the Highway Patrol.”

  “The Kansas Highway Patrol has quite a backlog. You may be waiting a while. Did the hits we gave you on those prints at the farm supply store robbery take you anywhere?”

  “What hits? I haven’t gotten anything from the KBI on that case.”

  “Really? I’m sure my office faxed you the report.”

  “I haven’t seen it.”

  “We came up with prints for a couple of small-time crooks named J. J. Fields and Daniel ‘Spike’ Carver.”

  “I know them. They’re a couple of local hoodlums. I never got the report.”

  Jed drew his cell phone from his pocket and dialed. Holding it to his ear, he said, “Connie, this is Jed. I need you to do me a favor. E-mail a couple of reports for me to the sheriff in Morrison County.”

  He gave her the details, then snapped his phone shut and smiled at Mandy. “You should have them in ten minutes.”

  “Thanks, Jed. I’ll have one of my deputies bring in J. J. and Spike for questioning. It might be the break I’ve been looking for.”

  After leaving the school, Mandy pulled into the Turner gas station and truck stop near the south edge of town to fill up before making the two-hour drive into Wichita. The sky, overcast since early morning, discharged a brief sprinkle that left the air smelling sweet and clean.

  The station, operated by Aaron Turner and Mike Peters, was a hodgepodge business that had been doing well since the pair bought it six months ago. A tall rusting fence of corrugated tin enclosed a salvage yard at the back of the property. The sign out front offered auto repair and tow services, as well as free coffee and a doughnut with a fill-up.

  A half-dozen clunkers sat waiting to be fixed or junked beside the large garage at the back of the property. Several eighteen-wheelers idled in front of the diesel pumps.

  The majority of the place’s business came from catering to the over-the-road truckers taking a break from the long and sometimes boring Kansas highway. They didn’t seem to mind that the coffee was stout enough to dissolve horseshoes or that the doughnuts were stale because the station owners managed to keep their diesel fuel price at least a nickel lower than the gas station in the nearest town.

  As Mandy slipped the gas nozzle off the pump, she saw a semitrailer loaded with smashed cars pull up to the salvage yard entrance. Mike came out of the building to open the gate, but stopped short at the sight of her.

  She lifted her chin in acknowledgment to the small, skinny man in greasy gray overalls. He dropped his gaze and quickly went about his business.

  “Don’t mind Mike, he’s just shy.” Aaron Turner appeared at the hood of Mandy’s truck. Slightly above medium height with dirty, dark blond hair that needed trimming, he exuded the confidence his partner seemed to lack. His red shirt was unbuttoned halfway down his chest and tucked into tight-fitting faded jeans.

  “Maybe he doesn’t like cops,” Mandy suggested.

  “I think he has a crush on you.”

  Flabbergasted, Mandy didn’t know how to respond. Aaron moved to take the pump nozzle. His hand brushed down her arm.

  She drew back. “I thought this was the self-serve pump.”

  He leaned toward her with a knowing smile. “We try to give law enforcement special consideration.”

  Mandy doubted Fred, Ken or anyone else in her department had been treated to the man’s too-familiar charm. She folded her arms over her chest. “My officers don’t expect or condone special considerations.”

  Aaron’s smile faded. “I meant no disrespect, Sheriff. Have you caught the man responsible for running that poor woman off the road?”

  Hating to admit she had almost nothing to go on, she said, “Not yet, but we will.”

  “I heard her ex-husband is a suspect.”

  Shooting him a sidelong glance, Mandy asked, “Where did you hear that?”

  “Oh, you know. People talk.”

  “We’re still working the case.”

  “How about the farm supply store robbery? Any leads there?”

  She didn’t need reminding that her unsolved caseload was mounting. “We’re checking into several leads.”

  “A lot of the merchants in the area are getting worried. Crime is going up.”

  “Do you have a point, Mr. Tucker?”

  “Personally, I’ve got nothing against women police officers, but I thought you should know that some people are saying you can’t do the job.”

  The smirk in his tone told her exactly how much he enjoyed repeating the gossip.

  The pump dinged to signal her tank was full. Aaron replaced the handle. “Will that be cash or charge, Sheriff?”

  “Cash, Mr. Tucker. And should anyone else be wondering if I can do this
job, the answer is yes.”

  Fuming, Mandy climbed in her truck and headed down the highway. First, Garrett accused her of not doing her job and now, if Aaron Tucker was to be believed, the whole town was wondering if she was up to the task.

  God, I know I can do this job, but I need your help. Give me something to go on.

  Drawing a cleansing breath, she blew it out and felt the tension in her body ease. God was on her side. She should never doubt that.

  She also knew what good police work was. The logical place to start solving Judy Bowen’s murder was with the victim’s coworkers and neighbors. The first name on her list of people to interview was the Reverend Carl Spencer, a pastor of a small church in a poor section of the inner city where Judy Bowen had worked.

  Intermittent showers gave way to clearing skies on the long drive into the city. The country music flowing out of her radio did little to distract her thoughts. The person she couldn’t stop thinking about was Garrett Bowen.

  She was starting to believe he wasn’t involved in his ex-wife’s death. A guilty man would be laying low, trying to avoid drawing attention to himself, not walking into her office and demanding she do more.

  His dark eyes, so wary and watchful, were impossible to read. At times, she felt he looked at her more deeply than other men did. As if he wanted to see some part of her she didn’t show the rest of the world. As if he knew her tough attitude was a cover for feelings she didn’t care to share.

  At other times, he looked past her, as if afraid of what he saw.

  Shaking off her preoccupying thoughts, Mandy was relieved when the outskirts of the city finally rolled into view. Finding her way to the South Broadview Community Church proved to be easy enough, but as she pulled into a pothole-filled parking lot, she couldn’t believe her eyes.

  Garrett stood, shaking hands with a small, white-haired man dressed in a dark gray suit. Garrett’s dog, his pink tongue hanging out, sat between them.

  Mandy threw open her truck door and slammed it shut before marching up to Garrett. “Bowen, I thought I told you to stay out of my way.”

  He stiffened. She sensed his defiance, but his reply was calm. “I’m here to visit with a friend of Judy about funeral arrangements. I’m not looking to get in your way.”

  If he’d just get good and mad, she’d feel better about him. His icy control made her wonder what he was thinking.

  He wasn’t breaking the law, but the urge to slap him in cuffs was getting stronger by the minute. His dog chose that moment to yip at her and beg for attention, straining at his leash.

  Garrett pulled him back. “Behave, Wiley, or the sheriff will lock you up for disturbing the peace.”

  The black-and-white fur ball sat obediently, but his little body wiggled with suppressed excitement.

  Mandy turned her attention to the elderly man who was watching them intently. She held out her hand. “Good afternoon, sir, I’m Sheriff Amanda Scott of Morrison County. Are you Pastor Spencer?”

  He took her hand in a firm grip. “That would be me. I’m pleased to meet you, Sheriff, but I certainly wish it were under happier circumstances. Judy was a member of my congregation and a dear friend.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss, Reverend.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

  “Certainly.”

  She shot a sideways sour look at Garrett. “Is there somewhere we can talk in private, sir?”

  Garrett tipped his hat in her direction. “Wiley and I were just leaving. Thanks for your time, Pastor Spencer.”

  “Certainly. I appreciate how difficult a time this is for you. Just know that Judy is at peace with our Lord at this very moment.”

  Mandy caught a glimpse of deep sadness in Garrett’s eyes and saw a muscle twitch in his cheek. He didn’t reply. He merely nodded and turned away.

  “It’s hardest on the ones who don’t believe,” the reverend said softly. “Now, Officer, what questions do you have for me?”

  “I understand Judy worked for you.”

  “Yes. She started coming to church here about six months ago. It was her enthusiasm for our work with abused women and children more than her typing skills that prompted me to offer her a job.”

  Mandy fell in step beside the reverend as he began walking toward the church. “Did you know Judy had several arrests for drug use when she lived in Timber Wells and in Kansas City?”

  “She was a very troubled young woman when I first met her. She’d witnessed the murder of a friend at the hands of their drug dealer. It was her friend’s death and Judy’s narrow escape that finally forced her to confront and kick her habit.”

  At the side of the church was a small stone bench. He sat and indicated the space beside him. “Were you aware that Judy had an inoperable brain tumor?”

  Startled, Mandy shook her head as she sat down.

  Pastor Spencer sighed heavily. “When she found out about her condition, she became determined to see that Colin was taken care of.”

  “What about the baby’s father?”

  “You’re asking the same question Mr. Bowen asked. Unfortunately, I have to give you the same answer. I have no idea who Colin’s father is.”

  “Judy never mentioned him?”

  “I did ask her once when she confided in me about her illness. All she said was that she had caused him enough grief and couldn’t burden him with a child. I thought perhaps he was a married man with a family of his own, but that was only my assumption. Judy planned to place Colin up for adoption.”

  Mandy knew she should be saddened by the news, but she wasn’t.

  The reverend continued, “It was very important to Judy that Colin be raised in a family that shared the same faith she’d found such comfort in.”

  “Did Judy have any other family?”

  “No, she was alone.”

  And now so was Colin.

  The seed of an idea began to take root in Mandy’s mind. She could care for him, raise him in a faith-filled home.

  Was it possible? Maybe Garrett wasn’t the father.

  Adopting a child had never occurred to her before, but then, she hadn’t met Colin yet.

  There would be time to consider what such a move would mean later. Right now, she needed to focus on the case at hand. “Did Judy have any enemies?”

  “Not that I was aware of, but the man who murdered her friend was never caught.”

  Now that was some serious motive. “Do you know his name?”

  “No, and neither did Judy. The Kansas City police were never able to locate him.”

  That meant the case was still open. Mandy made a mental note to get the case file and review it for leads.

  “Judy was terrified this man would come after her. She hitchhiked out of Kansas City and ended up here. When I met her, she was living on the streets and struggling to stay off drugs. Our women’s shelter was a Godsend for her.”

  “Did you ever hear her say she was afraid of her ex-husband?”

  “No.”

  “What about money? Is there anyone who’d benefit from Judy’s death? Life insurance—anything like that?”

  “Judy was as poor as a church mouse. Believe me, I know how poor that is.”

  Mandy smiled. “You said that she planned to put the baby up for adoption.”

  “Yes, she had an attorney. Donald Victor is the man’s name. I’m sorry, I gave Mr. Bowen the card that Judy kept in her desk drawer, but I’m sure he’ll be listed in the phone book.”

  Bowen again. Mandy pressed her lips together to hold back a comment. She pulled her own card from her shirt pocket. “Thank you, Reverend Spencer. You’ve been a big help. If you think of anything else, please give me a call.

  After leaving the church, Mandy used the computer in her vehicle to look up Donald Victor, attorney-at-law. The address was across town. When she arrived at the location, she wasn’t surprised to see Garrett was there ahead of her. His dusty pickup, looking decidedly out o
f place, sat parked between a new silver Lexus and a cherry-red Corvette.

  Wiley, tail wagging and tongue lolling, raced between the partially rolled-down windows, barking at anyone who came close. As a watchdog, he wasn’t much of a deterrent, but then Mandy doubted a thief would pick the beat-up truck over the red beauty beside it.

  At least Garrett had chosen a parking spot in the shade of a tall sycamore tree. The consideration for his pet raised her opinion of him a notch. One.

  Pushing open the heavy glass doors with the firm’s name painted in gold lettering, Mandy entered a spacious foyer. In the center of the room, lush green plants were artfully arranged in pots beneath a domed skylight. The faint trickle of water from a small fountain could be heard over low classical music playing softly from hidden speakers.

  The thick navy carpet muffled her footsteps as she approached the receptionist seated behind a low counter.

  “Good afternoon. How may I assist you?” The woman’s voice was cool and cultured. Her perfectly manicured nails matched her red dress. Not a single hair dared spring free from the French twist at the nape of her neck. Mandy couldn’t help wishing she were dressed in something other than her drab uniform. She quickly dismissed the vain thought.

  “I’m here to see Mr. Victor.”

  The woman glanced at the computer screen. “Do you have an appointment?”

  Mandy smiled. “No, but this is official business. Has Mr. Bowen already gone in?”

  The woman relaxed and nodded. “Just a few moments ago. He was very insistent about speaking to Mr. Victor.”

  “Which way?”

  “Down the hall. First door on your left.” She picked up the phone. “Shall I let them know you’re here?”

  “Don’t bother. Mr. Bowen will be expecting me.”

  Garrett glanced over his shoulder when the door behind him opened. The sheriff hadn’t wasted any time getting here. She had a smile on her lips, but it wasn’t a warm one.

  He turned his attention back to Mr. Victor. The man was frowning at the woman who had just barged into his office.

  Mandy came forward and extended her hand to the attorney. “Sheriff Amanda Scott of Morrison County, Mr. Victor. I’m investigating the death of Judy Bowen.”