“But everybody said his wife left him,” Casper added. “We heard that from half the town.”
“Well, it says here that his wife’s sister called in and reported that she suspected foul play. Said she never would have left in a rush like that and had been planning to leave him for a while,” Delaney read from the file. “There’s a number here. Should we give her a call?”
Casper nodded, and they huddled around a phone while Delaney dialed. A woman’s voice answered.
“Hello?” the hesitant voice said.
“Hello, is this Leah Rodgers?”
“Yes, who’s calling?”
“I’m Detective Shepard from the Brewster Police Department. Do you have a minute to talk?”
“Sure, what is this regarding?”
“Just following up on a report you filed a few years back. One about Thomas Renard,” Delaney said.
An angry laugh issued from the speaker. “Y’all a bit behind on your paperwork, I see. Takes years to follow up on a tip? Talk about some bullshit.”
“I’m sorry. It looks like an officer did follow up with Renard shortly after you called in, but found that most of the evidence pointed to Cheryl leaving on her own. Could you tell me a bit about when she went missing?”
“We were best friends. Thick as thieves. Choose your phrase. We had plans for her escape and divorce of Tommy. That abusive prick. Everything was supposed to be set in motion a few days after she went missing, but then she just disappeared. I know it looks like she ran off and I was covering for her by framing her bastard husband, but I know he took her. Or worse.”
Delaney gulped. “Why do you believe she is dead and not just off the grid?”
“Two days after our planned meet-up, I got a text from her cell. I sent a screenshot to the police. It said that she found a better way out and was going to get off the grid for a while.”
“And that was the last you heard from her?”
“No, the last I heard from her was the night she went missing. That text was sent by somebody else. It sounded nothing like her, and she knew I hate texting. She would have called.”
“Makes sense. And why do you believe Tommy was involved?”
“Because after I called in that tip, he called me and told me I’d be next.”
Delaney and Casper were silent, unsure how to respond to the statement. Leah carried on anyway.
“Whatever you think Tommy did, I can assure you he is a bad man. But tread lightly, he’s not afraid of anything.”
A click came over the speaker and rattled both Delaney and Casper. Delaney ran into the chief’s office and told him where they were going. “Send backup whenever Ruiz is free,” she said. Casper grabbed the file on Renard and followed her out to the car.
Traffic was picking up as the people of Brewster crowded the streets, collecting their beer and burgers for the post-Brew Run barbeques. Route 6A was slower than usual, but Delaney didn’t want to turn on her siren and give Renard even the slightest heads up that they were on their way.
Casper shook his head as he re-read the file. “I’m not sure how this is the first we’re hearing about this incident with Renard.”
“I had heard the scuttlebutt but wrote it off as just that. Old folks out here love their gossip more than they love their seafood.”
“Still, if we knew he was a murder suspect, we would have handled his interview a bit differently.”
Delaney laughed. “I don’t know if murder suspect is the right term here. We aren’t exactly the most organized. It’s the Cape lifestyle. It creeps into our day to day. The officer clearly must have thought, or even hoped, that Cheryl Renard was living on a boat somewhere off Nantucket and so confirmation bias creeps in.”
“Confirmation bias, eh?” Casper said.
“You’re not the only one who knows things, Casper Kelly. I’ve been around the block a bit. Just sit back and you might learn a thing or two,” Delaney cackled. The laughter helped to ease the tension, but soon after, it crept back in like an early morning fog.
“Nobody followed up on this? It seems like the text to the sister sparks more questions than answers, no?”
“I would have, but I can’t speak for the old curmudgeon who had my job before me. People out here are lazy, Casper. Plus, I’ve found that sometimes we detectives cling to the most harmless explanation and call it a day. It’s crappy, but it happens. Not excusing the lack of follow-up but I get it to a certain extent.”
“That sucks. I wonder how many missing persons cases are out there lingering because a detective isn’t willing to face some hard truths.”
“I think the real hard truth here is that we’ll never know. But at least we’re going to follow up with Tommy Renard about this mess.”
They both shifted in their seats as the streets narrowed and approached Punkhorn Road. After what felt like an eternity, Delaney slowed to a crawl just down the block from Renard’s house, parking behind a patch of pines. Casper watched as she checked her pistol and looked at him.
“Let’s end this,” she whispered.
THIRTY-SIX
Saturday, August 11th
Delaney rapped her knuckles on the old oak door. With each strike, paint chips flew off, floating in the air like fireflies in the heart of summer. Between each knock, they waited for a sound that they both knew was unlikely to ever arrive. Renard was either long gone or waiting inside his house, ready for an ambush.
Casper stood one foot behind Delaney, on the concrete steps that led to the tiny porch entryway. He felt a raindrop land on his shoulder and looked at the sky. More followed, and soon a light mist of rain drifted through the air. Hoagie sniffed at the boxwoods that lined the side of Renard’s house, useless as a crime fighting force.
“Never rains on the day of the Brew Run, eh?” He said.
“It’ll pass. Just you wait and see.”
Delaney gave it one more knock, but then retreated off the steps. They stood on the sidewalk as Delaney eyed the tiny house that she hoped would hold answers she longed for.
She marched to the side of the house and waved for Casper to follow. Delaney had called for backup, but they were running a skeleton crew because the race was about to take off. Heavy clouds hung in the sky and looked like soaking wet cotton balls floating above them.
The back door to Renard’s house jiggled to the touch and Delaney could tell it was open. She shooed Casper and pointed for him to lean up against the side of the house. The last thing she wanted was to lead Casper into a firefight. She put her ear against the door but didn’t hear a sound. No music, no footsteps, nothing.
She gripped the knob but Casper put an arm on her arm to stop her. “Are you allowed to go in without a warrant?” he asked.
“We’ve got probable cause to assume that Jared and Hector are inside here or were at some point. Where else would Renard hide two men?” she whispered back.
“That’s probable cause? Those detective shows sure make it seem like you need a lot more.”
“Well, Casper, unless you’ve got a better plan, I’m willing to put my name on the line and say that’s probable cause. Deal?”
“Yeah, but what if we’re wrong? What if he’s not our guy?” Casper asked.
“Only one way to find out,” Delaney answered. She turned the knob and pushed it open.
Gun drawn, she kicked the door, and it inched opened. She stayed back from the corner and stepped wide so she could see into the house. Her gun was held tight to her body but aimed out at the opening. Casper hung back as she stepped into the house.
He followed with his hands on the walls, awaiting each turn with caution. The first room was the kitchen, and the counters were bare and stained. A rank smell emanated from the fridge, but neither of them were ready to locate the source.
Delaney pushed into the living room and walked towards the front door. With a crash, darkness swallowed her. She plummeted through the floor, her body slamming into something hard and sturdy as the footing collapsed
beneath her. Pain shot through her right foot. She reached down and could already feel her ankle swelling up, sore to the touch.
A voice shouted from above her, and it took a minute for the dust to settle and reveal Casper. He had a dazed look on his face as he swatted away at the clouds of dirt and dust. He leaned over the hole and looked for Delaney.
“Delaney! Are you okay? I can’t see you! Delaney!” Casper cried.
“I think I’m okay,” she groaned. “What the heck happened?” Delaney slid up against the wall and felt pain jolt through her back and ankle.
“He rigged the front doormat over a hole. You went right through to the basement,” Casper shouted. “Did you hit your head?”
“No, just my ankle, I think. I haven’t tried to stand yet.” Delaney groaned in pain as she tried to stand but could only muster enough strength to get to her knees. “I think this is a crawlspace, Casper. I don’t think there’s an entrance in the house.”
Delaney looked around the room she had fallen into. The ceiling was low and exposed. Pipes and wooden beams ran throughout. Cobwebs decorated the corners of the room like leftover Halloween decorations. The concrete walls were dirty, and the ground was littered with dead bugs and dirt. A small section of the opposite wall looked cleaner than the rest of the room.
Casper bolted out the back door and sprinted towards the side of the house where he had seen a storm-cellar door. He swung it open, and it caught in the breeze, which slammed it against the concrete with a thunderous crash. Rain continued to pelt him.
The narrow staircase was grimy but footprints were clear in the dust that had settled on the steps. As he entered, the rain increased behind him, becoming a torrential downpour. He used the flashlight on his cell phone to guide him towards Delaney.
Delaney shuffled along the wall on her knees and made her way toward the opposite side of the room. She wiped away the remaining dirt from the wall and breathed some in. She coughed so hard she felt it in her sore ribs.
“Bring the light over here. I think there’s something on this wall,” she called to Casper.
Casper shined the light where Delaney had the wall wiped clean and saw the outline of initials etched into the stone.
JS HR
Casper took a photo with his phone and helped Delaney up. He picked up two small stones that had broken off the wall and they were worn down to a smooth edge.
“This must have been their attempt at leaving a clue in case Renard got away. Imagine being trapped in this hell-hole and carving into a wall. This doesn’t bode well, Delaney.”
Tears dotted the dirt floor and made tiny puddles of mud as he carried her out of the dark space. The relentless storm soaked their clothes and forced Hoagie to hide under a low-hanging tree in the yard. He looked annoyed. Casper helped Delaney limp along the exterior wall and then up into the house through the back door. She sat in a wooden kitchen chair with her head between her hands. She stared at Casper with glassy eyes.
“He has them, Casper. I need to call this in.”
“Or had them at some point, yes. Now, let’s look at that ankle, champ,” Casper said and motioned toward her foot.
She pushed him away. “No. We need to find them. Now!”
Delaney reached for her radio and called for units to respond to the house immediately. She slumped in her chair and put her face in her hands. “I really thought they’d be in here. Shit. Let’s go.” She tried to stand.
“Go where? We have no clue where he has them, Delaney!” Casper cried.
“Yes, we do. I’ve got a pretty good guess,” Delaney croaked as she pointed at the wall behind where he stood. He turned. Behind him, on the wall, hung Tommy Renard’s painting of Breakwater Bluffs.
THIRTY-SEVEN
Saturday, August 11th
Casper bolted out of the car and circled around to the passenger side to help Delaney out. She swatted him away. “Go! I’ll catch up!” she barked.
Casper hesitated, but saw the glare in Delaney’s eyes and knew it was a fight he would lose. He sprinted over to the steps that crossed the dune. Hoagie dashed out and was running stride for stride with Casper. Bullets of rain pelted him like pebbles falling from the sky. Thunder roared over the sea, echoing in the distance. Casper cleared the dune, relieved to see there was nobody on the beach. Hoagie barked at Delaney, who was struggling along.
He turned back to see if Delaney was close, but she had only hobbled to the staircase. Every instinct in his body told him to help her, but he fought them and ran across the sandy beach. The smattering of seashells and hermit crabs on the wet sand made it clear to Casper that the tide was making its way in, and soon the last few feet of beach would be covered by the shallow edge of the sea. Waves propelled by the strong winds, crashing like cymbals misplayed by a clumsy middle-school band student. The whitecaps surged up, colliding with the jetty with an earsplitting crash. There was no sign of Renard anywhere.
Delaney had stumbled to the top of the staircase but the wind was pushing her back, off the platform. She held onto the railing and inched forward until she was close enough to shout to Casper. “He’s got to be here somewhere!” her voice strained from its sudden increase in volume.
“I don’t see him anywhere! Should we wait until this passes?” Casper shouted back.
Beads of water fell off her long brown hair as she shook her head furiously. “No, he’s here. Check his painting spot on the bluffs!”
Casper thought back to their peculiar encounter with Renard on the bluffs. He had been perched so perfectly atop those rocks, shielded from the westward wind by stones on each side. He nodded at Delaney and started toward the bluff. He turned back to offer a hand to help her, but she waved for him to go on.
The waves continued to crash over the jetty sticking out from the beach. As soon as Casper was close enough, he could see that Renard was not in the spot where they’d interviewed him. If he had been there before the storm, there’s a good chance he’d been washed away into the sea by now. Casper felt the sea gather at his ankles, soaking his shoes. He turned to see Delaney had stumbled and fallen. He thought he could hear her crying in between the waves.
He wiped the rain from his eyes and squinted to try and see her. From his best guess, it didn’t look like she was crying at all. She was shouting something. Something he couldn’t hear from the sound of the waves and persistent rain all around him. He sprinted towards her.
“The cave! Remember the cave!” she shouted with all of her might. Her one hand held her swollen ankle and the other pointed back towards the jetty. Casper immediately knew she was right. That little cave was so unusual in Renard’s painting, but he didn’t know why. Casper sprinted back towards the bluff and tried to find that opening in the rocks he’d seen during their last visit. It was gone.
He tried to remember where it was while he pulled at stones and boulders that were anchored into the rock formation. He kept searching until he felt one give. He tossed it aside, into the water. Muffled screams came through the tiny opening. Casper pulled at one rock after another until he could almost fit his head inside. His heart raced as he pulled at different stones to try to widen the gap. It was tight, but he thought he could fit himself inside.
Casper stuck his head into the hole and saw a pool of ocean water was creeping inside and filling the cave. He could hear the voices from inside, but they sounded smothered and choked. The words were mixed between garbled sounds of water rushing in. The words were impossible to make out, but he kept reaching in.
Casper knew that he had to go into the cave, but his body wouldn’t let him. The tight, enclosed space cranked Casper’s heart rate up even further, so high that he worried he would have a panic attack. He tried a quick breathing exercise but heard the voices go quiet. He looked back to see Delaney lying on the beach writhing in pain. He crouched down and shouted at Hoagie. “Hoag, go take care of Delaney. I’ll be okay. Go!”
Hoagie broke into a full sprint and raced towards Delaney. With a look a
t her face in the distance, Casper took a deep breath and pushed himself through the tiny opening and into the cave.
THIRTY-EIGHT
Saturday, August 11th
Casper’s head-first push through the hole ended with a drop into a growing pool of saltwater. The inside of the cave was narrow and rocks hung low in each corner of the tiny space that greeted him upon entry. Casper felt his body tighten and his mind began to spiral. He fought it. He fought with every ounce of energy that he had left and pushed out of the entryway and into a larger opening.
The underwater cave’s walls were still tight and suffocating, but he was able to ignore them once he saw the four outstretched hands tied to a rock across the way. He tried to swim over. The water was deep and barely allowed for his entire head to float above water. He swam towards the hands and pulled the rope that bound them together. The sea water had worn the rope, and it looked like the captives had been scraping it against a rock to try to cut themselves loose before the tide had flooded the cave.
As he pulled apart the rope, he reached down and tugged up the first body. Hector Ramos was still breathing. Barely. Hector helped pull Jared’s limp body up, holding his head to the tiny opening where air remained. Jared was clinging to consciousness, but after a minute was able to open his eyes. They flickered and fell shut a split-second later, but Hector held him close.
“We need to get out!” Hector screamed over the sound of rushing water.
Casper pointed, and Hector pulled Jared’s body in that direction. Casper tried to follow, but realized his shoe had become wedged between two of the rocks below. He reached for it as the water rose above his mouth so he could only breathe through his nose. He dove and pulled at the rocks that sandwiched his foot below. He was able to move it just an inch and slide his foot out of the grip of the underwater rocks.
As he kicked up back towards the surface, he saw that the tide had swallowed the cave and less an inch remained between the top of the water and the cave’s ceiling. Casper clawed towards the entrance, but he grew weaker by the moment. His eyes stung from the saltwater, but he fought the irritation and pushed on. He noticed the faint light of the opening just above him when two hands reached down and pulled him up to the surface. Hector’s arms pulled Casper up enough that he could gasp for air. Casper followed Hector through the tiny canal that led to the beach and dove out onto the wet rocks below.
Welcome to the Punkhorns (Shepard & Kelly Book 1) Page 18
