Callie shook her head. “That won’t work, Krista. Bo took Melissa to Passages and got her checked in. Somebody there will recognize him and blow the cover story. Besides, I doubt if Missy does girls.”
Salem got up from his chair. “All right, I guess that’s it. Jay, I’ll need you to open the store the next couple of mornings since Anderson and I will be sitting on Davis Lord. I don’t know about closing yet.”
“I’ll close for you, Jay,” Krista said. “Tell Hannah to give me a call if she wants me to cover her lunch at the campground store.”
The meeting broke up, and Krista took Monday upstairs to bed while Salem cleared the table and loaded the dishwasher. He was finished by the time she returned.
“Are you tired?” he asked.
“No, not really. How do you feel?”
He grabbed her hand and guided it downward. “I’m hard. Let’s go to the boathouse.”
The slate walk leading down the hill to the dock was buried under the snow. Salem held Krista’s hand as they waded through the drifts. The wind was blowing hard off the lake, and it was snowing again.
They reached the dock and felt their way through the dark and the blasting wind to the boathouse. Salem unlocked the door, and they tumbled inside.
Krista pushed him against the wall and hissed in his ear. “Fuck me.”
Salem bit her lip and pinched her breasts.
They broke apart, and Salem watched as Krista tore off her shirt and sweater and stepped out of her pants. The moaning wind drove the waves against the dock and rocked the boathouse.
He stumbled out of his pants and faced his wife. Krista’s lips were parted, and her breath was coming in short gasps. Her eyes glittered like black diamonds. She screamed as Salem spread her legs and plunged into her from behind. The storm roared its approval. Somewhere out there, a killer was planning his next murder. Nobody inside the boathouse cared.
Chapter 24
Bo made his way carefully down the short rocky path to the old boathouse at the back end of the cove. Despite temperatures in the low twenties, he was dripping with sweat. Walking through deep snow was a great way to burn calories if you didn’t drop dead from a heart attack first.
He had already checked the rest of the property, including the main boathouse. There were no signs of any trespassers. The old boathouse was the only place left to look.
Thank God. After this, I’m going to need a shower and a nap before I call Missy.
Unlike the larger boathouse at the bottom of the hill, this one was not visible from the house a couple of hundred yards away. The area was thickly wooded and felt isolated, even though the other boathouse was nearby and clearly visible. He had never liked coming here. The place unnerved him for some reason. Although the structure was no longer in use, he and Salem checked it regularly for maintenance needs. It would be used again as the family grew, and Monday and Anderson started their own families.
He reached the end of the path and paused to catch his breath. His heart was racing.
I’m overdoing it. Never mind. Get on with it.
Bo pressed his body against the side of the building as he edged along the narrow, snow-covered walkway to the door. The last thing he needed was to slip and fall into the water. There was no way he would be able to pull himself out.
He inserted the key with some effort and made a mental note to lubricate the lock with WD-40. The boathouse was empty. Bo checked the small supply closet to be sure. He breathed a sigh of relief and shut the door behind him. The only thing he cared about right now was a hot shower and some dry clothes.
The climb up the short path was slow going. Bo bent forward and stared at the ground as he clawed his way up the slope. He almost missed it. An empty candy bar wrapper was nestled against the base of a tree at the top of the path where the wind had blown the snow away.
Bo reached for the wrapper and then stopped. There could be fingerprints or DNA evidence on the paper.
You’ve been watching too much television, old man.
He dropped to his knees for a closer look. The wrapper looked new. Bo stretched out on the ground and stuck his nose next to the paper. He inhaled deeply and caught the delicious scent of chocolate.
It took him a minute to struggle to his feet and pullout his phone. He dialed a number and waited.
“Dodd, this is Bo Carson. I’ve got something for you.”
* * * *
Bo lay down on his bed and closed his eyes. The memory of his morning visit to the boathouse kept running through his head. He felt old and foolish.
Dodd and a member of his team had arrived within twenty minutes of his call. He had shown them the wrapper and explained his suspicion that it belonged to the person who had shot him in the back. Where else could it have come from? The lake was deserted during the winter. Nobody would be out on the water, and only someone with an agenda would be trespassing on private property during a January snowstorm. The wrapper was fresh. He could still smell the chocolate. There were probably traces of saliva inside the wrapper that would yield a DNA match to someone in the FBI’s database. This was big, wasn’t it?
To his credit, Dodd had bagged the wrapper and thanked him for his help. He had then taken the time to explain the limited value of the discovery. The technicians and lab people would test it for prints and DNA. If they got a match, it could suggest a possible new lead or add a piece to the puzzle. It wouldn’t be enough for an arrest or a search warrant because it merely proved someone had recently eaten a candy bar and discarded the wrapper. Any second-year law student could argue it was entirely possible the candy had been consumed somewhere else, and the wind or an animal had carried the wrapper onto the Matthews property. Even if the wrapper belonged to the killer, the DNA and prints could belong to someone completely innocent if he split the candy bar with a friend or acquaintance and wore gloves when he did it. The wrapper was a potential piece of the puzzle, but it wasn’t a smoking gun.
Bo looked at the clock on his bedside table. It was one o’clock, and his date with Missy was at two.
Just stop it. There’s no reason to feel stupid about the damn candy bar wrapper. It’s better than nothing. Let it go.
He went to the bathroom and brushed his teeth. He washed his hands and face without looking at his reflection in the mirror. The bottle of pain pills sat on top of the chest of drawers. Bo ignored them and pocketed a bottle of ibuprofen. The bullet wound was healing, and the pain was manageable without the prescription medication. The pills from the pharmacy knocked him out cold for at least eight hours. He was afraid to take them with a killer on the loose. Each day was a little easier, although he suspected he would be stiff and sore tomorrow.
Missy lived in a trailer on the other side of the lake. Bo checked his directions and slowed as he reached the driveway leading up to one of the few old farmhouses still around. Most of the farmers had sold their properties to developers after the dam was constructed and the lake was filled in the mid-sixties. A few had waited until the lake became a popular attraction and land prices soared. There were only a handful of the original farm properties left.
Bo turned into the long driveway and drove past the farmhouse. An attractive middle-aged woman was out in the side yard, hanging laundry on a clothes line. She waved as he went by.
I can’t remember the last time I saw anyone hanging clothes outside on the line. God, I miss that.
The trailer was about a quarter mile past the house in an unplowed field that backed up to thick woods. A tired Toyota with a spiderweb crack in the rear window was parked in front of the trailer.
Bo pulled up beside it and stepped out of the car. There was snow on the Toyota’s hood, and the front windshield needed to be scraped. Missy hadn’t been out today. He was her first customer.
You don’t know that. She probably sees most of her clients here at the trailer. What difference does it make? You’re just here for information.
He knocked on the door and waited. It opened a crack, and a female eye
peered out at him.
“Bo?”
“Yes, I’m Bo. Are you Missy?”
She held the door open and waved him inside. Missy Hunt was a short, thin girl with long, dark hair, brown eyes, and full lips that were painted deep purple to match the color of her eye shadow and nail polish. The transparent teddy she wore sagged on her spare frame. Her feet were bare. She was at least fifteen years younger than Melissa.
“Sorry, but I have to be careful since I live alone, and I’m kind of out in the middle of nowhere.”
Bo nodded. “I saw the farmhouse. A woman was outside hanging laundry.”
“That’s Helen. She lets me stay here for free in exchange for sex. Her husband left her a couple of years ago, and she’s given up on men.”
The trailer was sparsely furnished but neat. It was clear Missy’s business wasn’t exactly booming, but she was trying to keep up appearances.
Bo followed her back to the bedroom. He watched as she removed the teddy and sat down beside him on the bed. “Listen, Missy, I should tell you the main reason I’m here is to talk about Melissa. She was my girlfriend. You knew her, right?”
Missy nodded. “I miss her. We didn’t see each other that much, but she would text me. Sometimes I would go to her room at the motel if she had a date with a guy who wanted two girls. She wasn’t into other girls, but she could fake it pretty well if that’s what a guy was interested in seeing. She was a good friend.”
“Did Melissa text you while she was at Passages? I need your help, Missy. I want the guy who killed Melissa to pay for what he did.”
Missy studied her hands and glanced at Bo. “She called me…said someone had sneaked into her room and tried to kill her late at night. She didn’t get a look at the person and wasn’t even sure if it was a man or a woman. I could tell she was still scared.”
“It was a man,” Bo said. “The FBI knows the killer is a man, and he’s working alone. Did Melissa say anything else?”
“Bo, I…”
“Just tell me, Missy. I’ve already figured out Melissa was moving on from me. I’ve accepted that.”
Missy nodded. “She said that except for the person trying to kill her, Passages was a great place. She didn’t have to attend therapy sessions, the food was excellent, and one of the patients was giving her all the cocaine she wanted in exchange for sex. I’m sorry, Bo, but you asked.”
Bo closed his eyes. It was even worse than he had suspected. She had lied to him about everything and pushed him away without a second thought. “Thanks for telling me the truth. I guess you know you’re in danger, too. Melissa and Donna Tice were the killer’s last two victims. You don’t have much protection here. Is there some place you can go until we get this guy?”
Missy shook her head and forced a smile. “This is it. I don’t have any family or close friends in the area. The motel would probably be safer, but I can’t afford it. I just use it for my in-call location when I have enough dates lined up.”
Bo nodded and got to his feet. “Thanks for your help, Missy. Stay safe.”
Missy looked at him. “Are you sure that’s all you want?”
Bo laughed and shook his head. “No, it’s not, but I’ve already taken up your time.”
“Come on, Bo. I don’t charge someone who’s trying to find the man who killed my friend and probably wants to kill me, too.”
Bo stared at the woman on the bed. She was younger, fresher, and prettier than Melissa in every way. He felt himself stir as he gazed at Missy’s body. She got up from the bed without a word and pressed herself against him. Bo pushed back and found her lips. Missy opened her mouth to receive his tongue. His entire body felt like it was on fire. He fumbled with his belt while Missy unbuttoned his shirt.
Bo kicked off his pants and pulled Missy down on top of him. He kissed her mouth and heard her moan as he rolled over on top and filled her up. It was over in less than five minutes.
“I’m sorry. It’s been a while since I’ve been with a woman.”
Missy ran a purple fingernail down his chest. “It’s all right. Take a little rest. We’ll do it again when you’re ready.”
He was surprised to find he was ready ten minutes later. Maybe it was the delicious way Missy smelled and tasted, or the way she ran her pretty fingers down his body.
It’s a good thing I’m not taking Viagra. I’d be here the rest of the day.
The second time was just as intense as the first, but lasted longer. Missy was an eager lover and used her entire body to please her partner and herself. Bo settled into a fast rhythm that Missy matched as she wrapped her legs around his back. He licked her neck and bruised her lips with rough kisses. She pulled him against her and jerked as he came to a shuddering finish.
They lay together without speaking. Bo finally rolled over and looked at her.
“I know this sounds corny, but you’re amazing.”
Missy ran her finger across his chest again. “It doesn’t sound corny to me. You’re quite a man, too, Bo Carson. That’s the first orgasm I’ve had since I can’t remember when.”
Bo laughed. “I bet you say that to all the boys.”
Missy smiled. “Maybe I do, but in this case, I’m telling the truth.”
Bo watched as she walked over to her dresser and wrote something on a notepad.
“This is my number. Call me whenever you want to get together.”
“Won’t you get in trouble with Finn?”
Missy shrugged. “If Finn doesn’t like it, that’s too bad. He doesn’t own me. I’m allowed to have friends.”
Bo took the number and started for the door. He stopped and turned around. Missy walked up to him and touched his face. Bo caught her fingers and kissed them.
“I want you to be safe, Missy. Will you let me pay for you to stay at the motel until this is over? I’d feel a lot better.”
Missy kissed him gently on the lips and searched his expression. “Yes,” she said.
Chapter 25
“How do you want to do this?” Anderson asked.
They were sitting in Salem’s office at the store, drinking coffee. It was still dark outside.
“I think we should take separate vehicles, so we can cover his house and the church at the same time.”
Anderson nodded. “Good idea. I’ll take the church. I should be able to get inside without much trouble. Call me when you’re in place. I’m not making a move until I know where Lord is.”
“I assume he’ll be at home this early in the morning, but I’ll confirm it and let you know.”
They refilled their cups and headed out to the parking lot.
“This feels like one of our missions, doesn’t it?” Anderson asked.
“I wouldn’t say that. I’m not even armed. Are you?”
Anderson shook his head. The two men looked at each other.
“It should be fine,” Salem said. “We’re just looking for information, not a firefight. If we can’t handle a tubby little red-faced prick like Davis Lord, it’s time for us to quit doing crap like this.”
Davis Lord lived in a small nineteen-fifties brick rancher at the northern end of the lake. Salem had viewed it on his laptop and studied the layout. The cracker box house was twelve hundred and fifty square feet, with the standard three bedrooms, two baths, kitchen, living room/den, and a laundry closet. There was no garage or utility shed on the property according to the picture and description. The yard was small. There was a tiny patio with a covered grill in the back.
Salem was amazed to see the house valued at two hundred and thirty thousand dollars, even though it wasn’t a lakefront or even lake-view home and had zero aesthetic appeal. Apparently, just being near the water was enough to inflate property values.
Bo had told him what little he knew about Lord. The pastor had taken early retirement from the paper mill just before it shut down for good. He had already been conducting Sunday services at God the Redeemer Pentecostal Church for a number of years and continued to do so after
retiring from the mill. Lord had approached Bo on more than one occasion, looking for financial support for the church. Bo had turned him down each time.
According to Bo, Lord was single and lived alone. Bo wasn’t sure if he had any children. The pastor kept to himself and was seldom seen except when he was out soliciting money for his church. Salem hoped the man had somewhere to go today so he wouldn’t have to sit outside for hours in a cold car, staring at the house. The goal was to get inside both the house and the church. It was the only way to determine if Lord was the man behind the murders. He had no Internet presence, and despite being a native of Shenandoah County, the pastor seemed to have little connection to the community outside of his church. There were no friends or social media posts that could help them learn if Davis Lord was simply an irascible, reclusive country preacher or something far worse.
If Lord decided to stay in today, at least Anderson would be able to search the church. Of course, he would rather get inside both places so they could either find some evidence to give to Dodd or exclude the pastor as a suspect and move on.
He passed Billy’s Bar and the trailer park next door where Donna Tice had lived and died. The pastor’s house was less than a mile away.
Salem slowed and turned down a street into a small neighborhood that had seen better days. The houses were all similar in style, age, and size to the pastor’s home. A realtor would have described the structures as starter homes, although many of them looked more like fixer-uppers. Salem noted the houses with missing roof shingles, broken shutters, damaged siding, and flaking paint. Several of the properties were listed for sale. It was a depressing sight. Nobody was going to buy these homes.
Lord’s house was at the end of the street. Salem noticed the vehicle in the driveway and kept going. He needed to find an inconspicuous place to park. Fortunately, there was only one way back out to the main road. Salem parked near the entrance to the neighborhood and pulled out his phone.
“He’s at home. There aren’t any lights on, so he’s probably still asleep. I can’t see the house from where I’m parked, but anyone leaving the neighborhood will have to drive right by me. I’ll let you know when he’s on the move. His house is probably ten minutes from the church, so you’ll have enough time to get out.”
Pieces of January Page 15
