He turned and gave her a casual grin that seemed to suggest he wasn’t surprised to see her. “Where’s my slice? Did you eat the whole pizza?”
She squinted at him. “I don’t know what your condition is, but I bet it’s hard to pronounce.”
He laughed, quick and hard. “I think I know where Gavin Parrish is holed up. Chris Pitts gave me permission to check out his junkyard.”
Holly knew Chris. His family owned The Pitt Stop, an auto salvage place on the outskirts of Caxton that bordered the National Forest. Chris was Lennie Pitts’ younger, more dependable, brother. Parrish and Lennie were drinking buddies. In fact, Skeeter had told her that Lennie had picked up his dad on Friday night. Raines could be onto something, she thought.
She was still smarting from the Mayor’s comment that she’d failed to find Parrish when it hadn’t even been her assignment. Finding him would be the best way to stick it to Gustafson, the Chief and the Mayor. “Wouldn’t they have checked there already? I told the Chief that Skeeter said his dad had been out with Lennie Pitts.”
“They did, but there’s a dilapidated trailer way out back under the trees. My brother used to party there with Chris in high school. It was a dump back then, covered in green mold and pine pitch, so it blends in well with the surroundings. If it’s still there, it’s the perfect place to hide.
He went on, “Chris told me to watch out for Pumpkin. That’s their pit bull. If Parrish is there with Lennie, Pumpkin should be locked up in the office. If the dog is running loose, chances are Parrish isn’t there. Pumpkin doesn’t care for men.”
Raines said nothing about the Mayor’s comments or Boonie, for which she was thankful. She felt a new sense of camaraderie with him. They were going to stick it to Randolph.
“We could take my car. It isn’t boxed in,” she offered, sounding almost jaunty. She knew Raines wasn’t about to go looking for the reporter who’d parked behind him.
Driving south, they crossed a covered bridge leading to a back road that bypassed the main streets of Caxton and North Caxton. In daylight, the drive was bucolic. The Saco River flowed past fields where cows and horses grazed. Off in the distance, the mountains added a touch of drama to the peaceful setting. At night, though, the headlights didn’t pick up much except glimpses of white, clapboard on farmhouses.
“Have you formed any ideas about the case?” she asked.
He gave her a long, speculative glance, one that seemed to question her motives for asking his opinion. She couldn’t blame him for being suspicious. Especially not after she was such a jerk about having to work with him. Just for the hell of it, she gave him an encouraging nod and a toothy smile that was meant to reassure him she wouldn’t bite his head off.
It must have come off as sincere because he said, “Anger has a smell. It smells like gasoline.”
Her smile turned into a frown. “Do you have anything less cryptic?”
“The psychological and physical torture Mimi suffered was extreme. That took a whole lot of hate. I don’t see Parrish getting riled up enough to do that simply because he was fired over a bunch of mowed down flowers,” Raines said.
Holly flipped on her turn signal and made a left onto Passaconaway Road. “Well, Gavin Parrish is in a permanent state of anger, and he looked pretty pissed off in that video footage. Who knows? There could be more to the story. It will be good to get some answers from him, if only to rule him out.”
She made a sharp right off the road and pulled over. The high beams glinted off the junkyard’s ten-foot-high metal gates. A wooden fence surrounded the property, topped with barbed wire. With her leg in the shape it was after thrusting it down a woodchuck hole, she knew that she wouldn’t be able to scale the gate.
She asked Raines to check if the gates were open. He got out and pushed on them, but they were locked. She gestured for him to move out of the way and drove straight at them, turning at the last minute so that the passenger door abutted the gates. He looked at her like she’d lost it. Then she got out, stepped up onto the bumper, onto the hood and scrambled up onto the roof of her car. As she walked across it, it buckled with a loud clunk.
Raines warned. “You know the dents may not pop out.”
She shrugged. “All in the line of duty.” She had the crappiest car in the department. That was one of the drawbacks to being a detective.
“There would have been less damage if you’d driven straight through the gates,” he said.
“Just get up here and let’s go find them.”
Raines followed her route—front bumper, hood and roof. The car dipped under his weight, and the roof buckled even more. He said, “Po may be able to pop this out for you.”
“If I get Parrish, the Chief will cut me some slack—if only to stick it to the mayor,” she said, as she sized up the gate in front of her.
She pointed her flashlight over the gate and picked out the stacks of flattened cars waiting to be recycled, a car crusher, an industrial crane with an electromagnet attached to it, and a salvage backhoe. The office was a job-site construction trailer. As her light shone through the windows, a dog started growling. “The dog is definitely locked up in the office, but I can’t see the trailer you were talking about.”
“It’s way out back. I can find it, but we don’t want to broadcast our presence with the flashlight. If they see us and take off into the forest, we’ll never find them, but…” he hesitated.
“But what?”
“There’s a big drop down on the other side of the gate. What about your leg?”
“My leg is fine.”
He looked dubious but said nothing more. He simply hoisted himself up and over the top of the gate with the ease of a gymnast. She heard him land with a soft thud on the other side. As a former Olympian, Holly couldn’t help but admire his fitness and assumed what she’d read about his rigorous exercise regime in a magazine must have been accurate. Since chasing Jamie Bell through the woods, her leg throbbed worse than a toothache. Landing on her left leg wasn’t an option. Luckily, downhill skiing was a power sport. It required incredible leg strength to withstand the speed and g-forces. Her training had included many single-leg exercises such as one-legged hill hops, deadlifts and box jumps. Although she no longer trained like an Olympian, she still incorporated them into her workouts. All she needed to do was lower her body far enough so she could land on her right leg.
She grabbed the top of the gate and pulled herself up as if she were getting out of a pool and peered over the other side. It was too dark to see the ground ten feet below. She hesitated before sliding over. If she lost her grip, she wouldn’t be able to control the fall.
She had to do it. She wasn’t about to humiliate herself in front of Raines. She rotated her hips so that her legs dangled over the side, gripped the top of the metal and let gravity do the work. Unfortunately, the gate was not only cold, but it was smooth. Her fingers started to slip. She tightened her grip until the length of her body was fully extended before she let go. Dropping the last few feet, she landed in a one-legged squat.
Raines moved as if to steady her, but she hopped up before he reached her.
“This way,” he whispered just as the dog started to bark. They waited in silence for Pumpkin to settle down before moving. Once the dog was quiet, Raines led the way through the salvage yard, careful to avoid the office.
With only the moonlight to guide them through the hazardous junkyard, they took their time creeping up to the trailer. They passed piles of scrap metal, a stack of tires, the hulking forms of a Caterpillar crane and a John Deere backhoe. Behind a wall of rusted cars, Holly spotted a dim light more than a hundred yards away.
Raines whispered, “That’s the trailer.” It sat under the boughs of two huge hemlocks.
“Got it. I should warn you that Parrish can be a tad feisty. He’s not particularly fond of me since he resisted arrest for public intoxication.”
“And you put the screws to him the way you did Scotty?” he joked.
“I would have paid good money to see that.”
In the creamy moonlight, she caught his grin and replied, “I need a new set of tires, so maybe we’ll both get lucky, and Parrish will do something profoundly stupid. I know for a fact he doesn’t appreciate it when women question him.”
The trailer had a small window that was crusted over with dirt so barely any light filtered out. They stood outside and listened. A male voice mumbled something unintelligible, followed by a deeper rasp and a cough.
Holly risked the chance of the occupants spotting her and rubbed at the dirt on the window, which was sticky with hemlock pitch. Raines’ hunch had paid off. Gavin Parrish and Lennie Pitts were inside playing cards. Based on the pile of cans on the table, they’d plowed their way through a case of Budweiser, which would make them slow to react but also unpredictable.
She whispered for Raines to take a look so that he could get the layout of the interior. She wanted to surprise them before they had a chance to do anything stupid—like find a weapon. Because the window was too small for Parrish to fit through, there was no need to guard it. She indicated that they should both enter through the door. Before they did, she tested the handle. It wasn’t locked. They’d be able to burst in and take the men by surprise.
Holly held up her fingers and silently counted. On three, she flung open the door, yelled police and rushed in. Raines followed right behind her.
Both men jumped in surprise as they entered. Lennie knocked over his beer while Gavin Parrish gaped at them.
The trailer was tiny and cluttered with junked car parts. It reeked of motor oil, mold and alcohol. “Hello, boys,” Holly said.
Parrish lurched to his feet and staggered toward her. “What are you doing here? You’re on private property. You ain’t got no right bein’ here.”
She almost cringed at the stench of his rotten breath. His jeans were filthy, and his worn, flannel shirt reeked of sweat. He hadn’t shaved or changed in days.
“Lennie’s brother gave us permission to be here, so take a seat. I have a few questions for you.”
He ignored her request. “Not man enough to come on your own? You needed backup?” He nodded at Raines.
Although Raines stood next to Lennie, he didn’t take his eyes off Parrish. Without moving a muscle, a threat—emanating from some deep, dark place—flashed across Raines’ face. “Shut up and sit down,” he snarled. His tone was glacial.
It silenced Parrish.
Raines had what all good cops had, Holly thought as she watched him. Depending on what was required, he could switch his emotions on and off with the ease of flicking a light switch.
Parrish jutted out his chin and glared at him. Raines wasn’t intimidated. He leaned toward him in a way that just begged Parrish to take a swing at him. Holly could see Parrish weigh the pros and cons of slugging him. Deciding, he sat back down, slumping low in his chair like a sulking teenager. His dirty shirt stuck to the chair and rode up so high he appeared to have no neck. Folding his arms over his beer belly, he made a strange noise that Holly hoped was just a grunt of disapproval. He repulsed her so much her skin crawled.
“What do you want? I’m busy.”
“You landscaped for Mimi Milbourne, didn’t you?” she asked.
He pretended to think it over. “I can’t rightly say. Maybe. Maybe not. I landscape for a lot of people. Got a bigger book of business than that jerk you’re dating,” he told her with a gleam in his eye.
He was baiting her, but he’d have to do a whole lot better than that if he wanted her to bite. “Mr. Milbourne told us you worked for them.”
He squinted at her. “If you already know, why the hell are you wasting my time?”
“What happened?” she asked.
His only response was to pick up his hand of cards.
Raines took a stab at goading him. “I bet I can guess what happened. You couldn’t meet Mimi’s standards, could you? She expected quality work, and you couldn’t deliver.”
“Just because you’re the great Cal Raines, you think I’m going to roll over, spread my legs and tell you my life story? I don’t think so.”
Holly longed to slap Parrish upside the head with her flashlight, but Raines chose to pound him with a few more words. “You’re a drunk who bullies people weaker than you to make you feel powerful. You couldn’t handle it when a smart, successful woman started telling you what to do, could you?”
“Tell me? She didn’t tell me. She just bitched to Beaupré that I didn’t do my job right. One week I’d cut the grass too short. The next, it wasn’t short enough. She’s a real pain in the ass, so I told her where to get off and walked out on her.”
“That’s not what I heard,” Holly said. “I heard you’re so dumb, you mowed down her flowers instead of the weeds. What kind of landscaper can’t tell the difference between ragweed and daisies?” She gave him a sad shake of her head as if he were a lost cause.
Even in the dim light of the Coleman camping lantern, she could see Parrish’s skin mottle with rage. “I did that on purpose to get even with her because she refused to pay me.” His speech was slurred.
“When was the last time you saw her?” Holly asked.
He glared at her. “I haven’t seen her since I quit working for her.”
“When was that?”
“About four months ago. Can’t say for sure, though.”
“Really? Funny thing is, we have a video from Denton’s.”
His eyes slid from Holly to Raines, then back to Holly. “So?”
“So guess who’s the star of the show on Friday afternoon?” Holly taunted.
“I ain’t guessin’ shit!”
Holly pointed her finger at him. “That would be you.”
He shifted in his seat.
“We have some great footage of you pulling out of the parking lot chasing after Mimi.”
“Big deal. I drove up to her at the traffic light and flipped her off. That’s the least she deserved.”
“Why? Because she didn’t care for the way you landscaped?” Raines mocked. “What did you do after you flipped her off?”
“Me and Lennie got together. Played a few hands. Had a few drinks.”
“What time did the party break up?”
“We’re still going strong,” he said gesturing to the beers on the table.
“It’s Sunday night. You’re telling me you’ve been here since Friday?”
His nose twitched. “What’s she accused me of doing?”
“Nothing,” Holly told him. “Someone burned down her house and murdered her.”
The alcohol slowed down the men’s reaction. They sat there stupefied for a moment before Parrish blurted, “I didn’t do it. I saw her in the afternoon at the gas station. That’s it. I did nothin’ to her.”
“Looky here,” Lennie piped in with an almost southern drawl. “We don’t want no trouble, Detectives. I picked Gav up at his house Friday night. We went to Frannie’s until she’d had enough of us. She’ll confirm it. Then we came here, and we’ve been here ever since.”
Parrish added, “And the last time I checked, it ain’t against the law to be drinkin’ with my buddy.”
She asked Lennie, “You’ve been here since Friday?”
“Gav has. The missus called late Friday night and pitched a fit. I was supposed to fix her mom’s washing machine, but I came back Saturday morning with more beers and some burgers.”
“What time did you leave Friday night?”
“I don’t know. It was after eleven. Maybe midnight.”
She looked down at Parrish. “So you were all alone?”
Parrish whined, “I couldn’t have done it. I didn’t have a car. Lennie picked me up in his.”
Lennie bobbed his head up and down like a parrot. “That’s the honest truth. I swear.”
Although Skeeter confirmed Lennie had picked him up, Parrish could have walked home to get his car, she thought
. Assuming Parrish hadn’t been too wasted to walk, was he smart enough to pull it off? Plus, because they were on the other side of the Saco River, he’d have to walk over eight miles to get to his house from here. That didn’t seem likely.
Raines asked, “Did you snowplow for Nancy Taggart?”
Parrish shook his head in confusion. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Just answer the question.”
“Yeah. I plowed for her, but that asshole Angel Natale already questioned me about that way back in March. I even let him check my plow. I did nothing to Nancy or to that Milbourne woman. Nothing. Now either read me my rights or get the hell out of here. We’ve got some more drinking to do.”
Chapter Forty
Abbey Raines lay on her bed staring at the digital clock and willed the numbers to move faster. The guitar strumming that emanated from her sister’s bedroom was driving her crazy. After listening to three encores of Melody’s newly-penned lamentation to their dead mother, Abbey’s nerves were more tightly strung than her sister’s Gibson. Muttering to herself, Abbey rolled over to retrieve her headphones from the bedside table.
She didn’t like waiting. It gave her too much time to think about what she planned to do. Abbey considered herself to be a sensible person, but meeting a stranger in the woods in the middle of the night was far from sensible. It was downright reckless—especially because there was something a little dangerous about Jesse Keegan. But, she thought, it was sadness that lurked behind his easy grin instead of something darker. Hadn’t she seen the same look in the mirror? She trusted few people, but he felt like a kindred spirit. He would understand her pain and suffering. And he would understand what she planned to do.
By ten fifty, all was finally quiet in Melody’s room. Po stopped in over an hour earlier to check they were all set for the night and had returned to his apartment above the garages. Uncle Cal was still out. It was time to meet Jesse.
Abbey hopped off the bed, pulled on the black leggings she’d placed on her chair in preparation for her late-night activities, and covered her white t-shirt with a thick, black hoodie.
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