Chapter 56

FIFTY-SIX

We leave a mesmerized Tommy Tittle behind. "I should get a forensic sketch artist to do a composite drawing of your chest."

Ronnie blushes. "He forgot to give us the fictitious traffic ticket."

"Do you want to go back and talk to him?"

I'm not really jealous she gets all the attention. I've tried to keep a low profile my entire life. Attracting men has been the last thing I needed. Not that I can't charm some guy. I can. But that usually leads to questions about their life, my life, their past, my past. I have to lie. I've only had two, what you would call boyfriends in my entire life. One is Caleb Hunter whom I left behind a long time ago, before I became Megan Carpenter. The other is Dan Anderson whom I met during a couple of homicide investigations. He was one of the neighbors I interviewed and something just clicked. I tried to deny I had an interest in him, although he's big and muscular and handsome and not clingy and polite and a pleaser. None of that crossed my mind when he asked me out the first time.

Dan and I have been through some rough things together. Scary things. Things that either make you grow closer or tear you apart. He learned some of my secrets when we were being tortured by a crazy woman, but luckily she had drugged him so his memories are hazy. He forgave me for getting him into that mess. I don't know why. Yes, I do. He loves me. He's never said it but I can tell. At least I think I can tell. No one has ever been in love with me before. Not even Caleb. Dan has never grilled me about any of my past, or pursued learning about my family. He knows Hayden is my brother and to my knowledge has never asked Hayden about our past. Actually he's been extra kind and understanding and that scares the hell out of me. I'd rather face a maniac with a gun than feel the pain of real love. Love is foreign. Love is demanding. Love is weakness. Love is limiting. Love is beautiful and I feel guilty about holding it at arm's length. Holding Dan at arm's length. But I'm working on it.

I slow down and pull off onto the dirt shoulder. "Let's go get the ticket from your new boyfriend." I need to tease her now and then. It helps me keep my shit together.

"Stop it, Megan."

I drive off again, and she says, "But he was kind of cute. A little weird."

"A lot weird," I say. Gag me with a spoon weird. But then, she thinks Marley Yang is cute. I think Marley's disgusting and desperate. But useful. "You'd better not let Marley hear you say things like that." Marley was married when I introduced him to Ronnie. I knew he was married but I didn't count on those two hitting it off. And I didn't know he was separated from his wife. Or that he has children. But in my defense, I didn't really care. That's the kind of person I was.

But no longer. I care about people. Well, some people, anyway. And I hope Marley gets his shit together and doesn't hurt Ronnie. She's not as strong as I am. She's not as bitchy as I am. But one thing I can say for her. She never gives up.

I continue on Interstate 5, no traffic, no problem. "I'm sorry for teasing you, Ronnie. If I didn't like you, I wouldn't torture you," and that makes her smile. I'm beginning to think I could say "shoehorn" and she'd laugh. Nothing ventured… "Shoehorn."

"What?"

"Never mind. Tittle said he recognized Duke."

Ronnie reminds me, "He said he recognized Thundercloud too. He might still have some intel for us. He said he'd call."

Yeah. He'll be the one breathing hard into the phone.

It's not hard to find the motel Rebecca rented but I drive past it. "Let's see if we can spot anyone around the Mom & Pop store." It's a longshot, but sometimes I get lucky.

I park in front of the store and there are no other cars around. That is, if you don't count the ones up on cinder blocks.

I'm about to get out when my phone buzzes in my pocket. The number is withheld. A chill travels down my spine. For some reason, I'm certain I know who's calling. It's him.

It's Wallace.

I answer, trying to keep the dread out of my voice. "Detective Megan Carpenter, who's calling?"

There's a pause and then a female voice answers. "This is Detective Anderson, Cincinnati PD. I believe you were looking to speak to Detective MacDonald."

"That's right," I say, relieved. I had forgotten all about the message I left earlier. "Thanks for calling back, is MacDonald available?"

"I'm afraid not, he retired last Christmas. I worked with him on the Greenwood murder, though. I believe that was what you wanted to speak to him about."

"Great, yes."

I give her the short version of the last few days. She gives me a "hmmm" that I find impossible to decipher when I mention Lucas's name. When I've finished bringing her up to speed, I ask her a couple of questions about her case.

"Lucas said there was suspicion the husband did it. Do you think so?"

"I don't know," Anderson said. "My partner certainly did."

"But you didn't have enough to nail him."

"That turned out to be the least of our problems. He killed himself not long after his wife was found."

"No kidding," I say, genuinely surprised. Why the hell didn't Lucas tell me that?

"After that, with no firm leads, I guess the momentum went out of the investigation. Most people took the suicide as an admission of guilt."

"Most. But not you?"

She hesitates. "I don't know. Lucas went back to Whatcom County. He seemed to think he was on the right track and then…nothing. I guess he hit a dead end too. Happens to the best of us, right?"

"Right," I say. And I'm thinking that Lucas isn't the best of us. I remember his boast about closing every case. What about this one?

Ronnie and I discuss the call briefly after I hang up. It's interesting, but there's still no solid link to her mom's disappearance. I remember why we're here and look up at the building.

Ronnie opens her door. "I'll go in."

"We'll both go in."

I go around to the side door first and look in the foyer and up the stairs. No one. No sound. I meet Ronnie at the front and we enter. The inside is the opposite of spic and span, with shelves stocked with mostly snack foods and Ramen noodles, all covered with a coating of dust. A cooler is near the counter filled with beer and sodas. A little woman comes from behind a shelf at the back of the store and says, "What you want?"

The lady is olive skinned, wrinkled, almost half my size, and three times my age. Maybe seventy years old, thin as a rail, dark hair worn close to the scalp. She's wearing an apron so large I can barely see her feet.

Ronnie and I take out our badge holders and hold them up. "Police, ma'am," Ronnie says, and the woman makes a shooing motion.

"No call police. You go."

Ronnie seems undecided what to do so I act as interpreter, pull my jacket back showing my gun. "Police business," I say.

She isn't intimidated by the gun but she motions us toward the front counter.

We meet her at the counter, and I show her my credentials again. "I'm Detective Carpenter and this is Detective Marsh."

She reaches for my credentials and I let her examine them. She takes a pair of cheap reading glasses from the counter and looks at the photo, the badge, and, unfortunately, the Jefferson County seal.

She pushes it back across to me and says, "You no police here. You go."

Ronnie leans against the counter. "I told you she wouldn't talk to us without the Health Department and Code Enforcement."

"You all alike. What you want?"

Ronnie pulls up the photos on her iPad and turns the screen where we can all view it. "Do you recognize any of these people?"

The lady glances at the pictures and then asks, "They in trouble. No come here."

"Look again," Ronnie insists.

She looks more carefully and then says, "No. Don't know."

I noticed her eyes when she looked at the photo of Duke. "One more time," I say. "Look closely. It's a crime to lie to a detective."

She points to the picture of Duke. "He come here. Rent apartment. I kick him out. Too loud and make a mess upstairs."

Ronnie zooms in on Vinnie's picture and points at it. "Does he come here? Did he rent with the other one?"

She shakes her head and puts the glasses back on the counter.

I say, "We need to look upstairs. We'll arrest them if they come here so you don't have trouble with them. Okay?"

She comes out from behind the counter and takes us to the door leading to the foyer for the upstairs entrance. She opens the door and walks away.

Ronnie and I check the upstairs rooms. It's a bust. Still dirty and no one home.

"It was worth a try," Ronnie says.

We're about to leave by the side door when I have a thought and go back into the store. The woman sees me and stops moving things on the shelf. I ask, "What did you mean police are all alike?"

"Man detective already here. He leave. Good riddance."