Chapter Seventeen

Tuesday, October 29 th .

Best Western. Memphis. Tennessee.

Mason finished shaving and splashed on a little of the cologne he'd brought with him. He'd never worn cologne on a hunt before and it made him smile a little to do something so out of the norm. He had his routine and stuck to it most of the time.

A room at the Best Western was above what he usually spent per night on a hunt, but having a lady with him, he kicked it up a notch.

He'd achieved success with his proven methods of tracking, and it wasn't time to change anything up. Beside him on the hotel vanity, his cell signaled a text.

"Are you ready for breakfast?"

"Almost. Five minutes."

"Knock on my door when you're ready."

"Okay."

"We have a date for breakfast, Clyde. Good thing I walked you already, boy."

Clyde thumped his tail against the carpet and made no move to get up. Smiling all the while, Mason left Clyde in the room and went next door to collect Annie.

Downstairs in the breakfast room they talked about the day ahead. "Go ahead and tell me where you would start, Mason." Annie spread cream cheese on a toasted bagel.

"Since your boys have already canvassed Music Row, up, down and sideways, I'd start someplace else. Like with known ID specialists in Nashville. I know of a couple and then the two I know might send me on to others if I grease them up good enough. Yep, I think that would be a good place to start."

"Sure. I thought of ID guys and also the used big rig places. We'd check each one of those looking for the Freightliner. Ask in each of the offices if they've bought or sold one in the past few weeks. Maybe get a lead that way."

Mason smiled. "Let's do both of those things, and while we're doing the legwork, something else might turn up. Quite often does for me."

Annie laughed. "Turns up…like magic?"

"Yep. Out of the blue, just like magic."

"You have a near-perfect retrieval record, Mason. Do you turn down any cons you feel are impossible to find?"

He laughed. "You mean to maintain my high success rate?"

"Just a question."

"You're asking me if my rep is loaded, and I'm hurt that question would even enter your beautiful head."

"I'm only teasing you because I like you so much." Annie winked at him, and he felt something course through his veins that he hadn't felt in a long time. Warm and gooey like liquid honey. Not an unpleasant feeling at all and he wished for more of it.

"You tease me all you want, Annie. I might tease you back a little."

"This is going to be a fun day in Nashville," said Annie. "I'm feeling it already."

"I can hardly wait to get started," said Mason with a chuckle. "Don't think I've ever been this anxious to get to work."

Wild Stallion Ranch. Montana.

Dad cooked breakfast and put it on the table—ham and eggs and a big stack of toast. "I want to bring Darkers in for questioning today, now that I have a legitimate reason to go onto his property. While we're there going about our business we might get a chance to look around."

"We need to look in the building back in the trees," said Virge. "Once we find out what he's hiding in there, we might be able to charge him with more than murder."

"Yep, that's what I was thinking," said Travis. He turned to look at Harlan. "You're not saying much, Harlan. Are you worried about Penny and how this might affect her?"

"Yeah, Dad. I can't help it. Dan is her father and she's bound to be affected in some way."

"Yeah, that's true."

"I'm not sure if she moved out on good terms or not," I said. "She never mentioned her father to me, and I didn't ask her."

"We'll take it one step at a time," said Travis. "We'll give Darkers a chance to provide an alibi for both of the murders like we would anybody else."

"Yeah, sure," I said. "I'm trying to be objective, Dad. Honestly, I am."

"I know you are, son. See how it plays out."

Sheriff's Office. Coyote Creek.

Billy hunkered down in his office as soon as we got to the station, and Dad left him alone to do paperwork. Taking over for Billy, Dad assigned us all our work for the day, and we got on with it.

"Harlan, you and Virge go talk to both of Sandra Ellington's friends again. Petra Reading in Cut Bank and Barbara Joliceur in Shelby."

"Copy that, Sheriff," I said. "We'll interview them and see what they knew about Dan Darkers and Sandra Ellington."

Darkers Residence. Sweetgrass.

Thinking of Harlan's feelings, Travis sent the boys elsewhere and took Ted with him to question Dan Darkers.

He knocked on the door of the double-wide and it was opened not by Dan, but by a short woman with dark shaggy hair. Could have been Penny's mother, but Travis didn't see the resemblance. She might have been pretty in high school, but this woman's high school days were far behind her.

"What do you want, Sheriff?"

"I'd like to speak to Dan for a minute, please."

"Why?"

"I'll discuss the reason with Dan if you'll get him for me, please." Travis closed the door behind him to keep the cold out and he and Ted stood on the mat with snow melting off their boots.

Dan appeared in front of them a few minutes later looking sleepy-eyed, his long black hair tangled. "You better have a damned good reason for getting me out of bed, Frost."

"Pretty good reason," said Travis. "I'm here to arrest your ass for murdering two women."

Dan laughed. "That ain't gonna happen. I got alibis for both of those murders. Alibis I can prove."

"I saw you at Sandra Ellington's funeral," said Travis.

"So what? Anybody can go to a fuckin funeral. You don't even have to know the corpse."

"Did you?"

"Did I what?"

"Did you know Sandra Ellington?"

"Course, I did. You think I'd waste time putting a suit on if I didn't fuckin know her?" Dan lowered his voice. "We were special friends. The kind with benefits. Why would I kill somebody who only wanted to have sex with no strings?" Darkers snarled. "Don't make sense to me, Sheriff. You'd better look elsewhere for your fuckin killer. It ain't me."

"I need your alibis in writing for Mrs. Ellington and for Mrs. Hoover."

"Don't even know the Hoover woman, Sheriff. I don't have time to drive around the fuckin county killing women I've never met."

"Give me your alibi for the morning Sandra Ellington was murdered, Mister Darkers."

Dan glanced over his shoulder to make sure the short woman was out of earshot, then he whispered, "That morning I was with Barb Joliceur in Shelby. It was a sleepover, and it was worth it. Get my meaning?"

"Will Barb corroborate your story?" Travis asked.

"She'd better if she knows what's good for her." Darkers laughed. "Just kidding. She'll do it. We're pretty close."

Travis and Ted left Darkers' place without getting a look in his workshop, but Travis figured he'd be coming back to this property soon enough.

While Ted drove, Travis called Harlan and told him about Darkers' alibi for the morning Sandra Ellington was killed.

"Huh. That's interesting. How many women has he got on the go?"

"Can't say, son. See what Barb says."

"Yep. We're just pulling into her place now."

Joliceur Residence. Shelby.

We knocked on the door and before going inside, I told Virge about the alibi.

"Huh. This will be more fun than I thought. Let's see what Barb says about Dan Darkers."

She opened the door and wasn't happy to see us. That was for sure.

"Morning, ma'am. We won't hold you up too long. Just a couple of questions."

"Step inside, Deputies. You're letting the cold in."

Barb was ready for work. Her hair all pretty and she smelled like perfume. We called ahead and told her we wouldn't make her too late.

"What do you want to ask me that you didn't ask me about Sandra the last time we talked?"

"Dan Darkers' black Wrangler was seen several times at the Ellington residence," I said. "He claims he was with you the morning of the murder. In fact, he says he spent the night here in Shelby."

"Who?" Barb's eyes widened and she looked surprised to hear Darkers' name.

Fake or real?

"Dan Darkers. He told the sheriff you'd alibi him for the morning of Sandra's murder."

"Sorry. I don't know who that is."

"You're sure you don't know him, ma'am?" asked Virge. "He said you were his alibi."

"I said I don't know him, Deputy. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go to work. You boys already made me late."

We went back to our Jeep and watched Barb lock up her house and drive away.

"She's a goddamned liar," said Virge. "And do you know what, Harlan?"

"Tell me."

"I bet ten bucks Dan Darkers won't be happy she didn't back up his story."

"Huh. Never thought about that."

New & Gently Used Big Boys. Nashville. Tennessee.

Mason drove past the long row of brightly painted cabs for sale. There was a row of used trailers farther back. As they passed the selection, Annie looked for the black Freightliner she was familiar with and didn't see it on the lot.

"Do you see it?' asked Mason.

"No."

"Don't matter. We'll ask in the office anyway. We don't want to miss anything."

They went inside and Annie let Mason do the talking to the owner of the business. He asked all the right questions and the man behind the desk said, "I haven't had a Freightliner on my lot for several months. I'd remember if one came in used."

Mason dropped a card on the guy's desk. "Thanks for your help, sir. Appreciate it."

Reading Residence. Cut Bank.

I drove from Shelby to Cut Bank to our second interview. We'd talked to Petra Reading before when we questioned all of Sandra Ellington's friends and I remembered her being the unfriendly one.

Virge rang her bell, and she wasn't smiling as she let us in.

"I'm not a fan of being interviewed by the police."

"This won't take long," I said. "What do you know about Sandra Ellington and Dan Darkers?"

"I don't know him, but I know Sandra was fooling around with him on a regular basis. He wasn't her type. Not a suit and tie guy. Darkers was rough and tough, and I think that's what Sandra liked so much about him. He was married and they were strictly sex for fun—at least that's what she told me."

"Why didn't you tell us about Dan Darkers the first time we talked to you?" asked Virge.

"You didn't ask me."

"Do you know of anybody else she was fooling around with?" I asked.

"No," said Petra, "but there could have been more. Once Sandra got into the fooling around mode, there was no stopping her. She loved it. Waiting until Bob was at work and then inviting one of the guys over. It was a game to her."

"A game that she lost in the end," said Virge.

J.T. Paint & Body. Nashville. Tennessee.

Next Mason tried one of the fake ID places he had on his list. An extensive list he'd compiled over time, giving him sources of information in cities from coast to coast.

"Let's talk to this guy and see if he fixed Bobby up with a new identity."

"Have you been here before?" asked Annie.

"Nope. Haven't done many searches in Nashville, but J.T. Turnbull is on my list of verified ID guys. We'll give him a shot."

"Sure."

Mason led the way into the body shop and spoke to one of the mechanics. "J.T. in his office?"

"Yeah, he's back there. Not in a good mood."

Mason laughed. "Is he ever?"

"Hardly ever," said the guy as he wiped his greasy hands on a rag.

The office door was closed, and Mason knocked.

J.T. hollered, "Who are you and what do you want?"

Mason put a big smile on his face and walked in. "Hey, J.T. How's the weather in Winnipeg, Manitoba?"

"How the hell should I know?"

Mason laughed and slapped a hundred on the desk. "Looking for a guy."

"I ain't a snitch."

"Never thought you were." Mason pulled a blade out of nowhere and pushed the money closer to J.T. with the tip of the blade.

"Is that supposed to scare me?"

Annie pulled her Beretta out of her purse and shot the smoke out of J.T.'s hand.

J.T. shook his stinging hand and snapped at her, "Jesus, lady, that was fuckin loud and now I have to light another smoke. You're a bit annoying."

"I can be."

Mason wasn't expecting Annie to do what she did, and he had a smirk on his face. "Let's talk about Bobby Prescott. The Interstate Rage Killer."

J.T. raised a dark eyebrow. "That who he is?"

"Tire iron is his weapon of choice," said Annie. "I've got pictures of the heads he's bashed in and left on the sides of the interstates from Chicago to Vegas."

"Huh. What do you want me to do about it?" asked J.T. "I don't know where he is, and if I did know I wouldn't tell y'all. I've got a reputation to protect."

"All we want to know is the new name you gave Bobby," said Mason. "Simple as that. You give us the name and my client here doesn't call in the feds and bust your ass for practicing your artistic skills."

"Somebody else gave him a new ID. Wasn't me."

"You sure about that, sugar?" asked Annie. "You seem familiar with Bobby's name. And I know he can be a nice guy—a real sweetheart, in fact—but if he ever gets angry at you, your head will look like a plate of spaghetti."

J.T. chuckled. "He's got no beef with me. He don't even know me, ma'am. You're in the wrong shop."

"Don't think so." Annie pulled out her phone and made a call. "Hey, sugar. This is Annie Coulter. I've got a business I need searched here in Nashville. How long will it take a crew to get here?"

"Okay, okay," said J.T. "Don't give them the address, lady. I'll tell you what his new name is. I might even have an address for him."

"Thank you for being helpful," said Annie.

J.T walked over to the other side of the room and opened a huge old-fashioned safe. He stood and sorted out several file folders and brought one with him.

"This is Bobby's file. You can write down what you need, and I'll put it back in the safe."

Mason nodded, took out a leather notebook and jotted down the new ID and the address.

"You call and tip Bobby off," said Mason, "and your payback will be the feds crawling all over your ass, J.T."

"Yeah, I know all about it."

They left J.T. Turnbull to his own devices and in the truck, Annie asked, "Do you think J.T. will call and tell Bobby we're coming?"

"Oh yeah. I do. You'd better sic your feds on him."

"Yeah, I will." Annie read Bobby's new name and address. "We're looking for Anthony Moldo with an address in Brentwood Estates. That's probably not far outside of the city."

"Huh, this might not take long at all, Annie." Mason frowned. "I was hoping it would take a lot longer to track him down."

Annie laughed. "No, you weren't."

"Yes, I was, girl."

"Let's go get him and then we'll celebrate with a beer on Music Row," said Annie.

Hoover Residence. Shelby.

Travis and Ted dropped by the Hoover property on the outskirts of Shelby to see how the forensic team was doing. At the door they put on gloves and booties, so they didn't disturb anything.

"How are y'all making out so far?" asked Travis.

"The scene wasn't untouched when we arrived, Sheriff, so we haven't picked up much so far, but we have picked up a few trace elements that didn't belong." A tall girl in a white suit with Great Falls Labs emblazoned on the pocket did the talking.

"Can you give me a hint?" asked Travis. "I've got virtually nothing on this killer."

"I might have something solid by the end of the day, but not yet. Sorry."

Travis left a card for the girl to call him directly, and he and Ted headed back to the station.

Brentwood Estates. Nashville. Tennessee.

Mason followed the GPS west out of Nashville to the high-end trailer park where Bobby Prescott lived. While they cruised along, Annie caught glimpses of the beautiful Tennessee countryside.

"It's lovely out here. All green and fertile. Bobby picked a pretty place to live."

Mason smiled at her. He started having unfamiliar feelings for her the first time they'd met and thought they would fade away, but they hadn't. Seeing her again and being with her for hours at a time made him come alive in a way that had never happened before.

"This looks like the place."

"Fancy sign," said Annie. "Expensive for a trailer park."

Mason stopped at the estate office just inside the front gate. "Coming in?"

"Wouldn't miss it."

"Good day," said the older man behind the counter. "Something I can help you folks with?"

"Yes, there is." Mason placed a picture of Bobby Prescott on the shiny granite counter and let the manager take a look.

"Rob Traynor. Excellent tenant. He lives at site number forty-two. Pleasant young man. His roommate, Ray, is also a very nice person. I believe they are both songwriters." He laughed. "They came to live near Nashville hoping to sell their songs to the big country stars."

Mason nodded. "I know how it is. Thank you."

Back in the truck, Mason drove around the neatly kept park grounds while Annie watched for site number forty-two. A little wrought iron marker sat at the end of each driveway.

"Bobby must have had some funds," said Mason. "This isn't a cheap run-down trailer park."

"He has money. A beautiful home in the Canadian Rockies and he owns another property in Midway, Texas. A successful trucker."

"I wonder if there has been activity on either one of his properties," said Mason. "There might be a paper trail to follow if he's listed either of them for sale."

"You're right," said Annie as she pointed. "There's number forty-two."

"No vehicle," said Mason. "Turnbull would've called. Bobby probably paid him to do so."

"He may have," said Annie, "but Bobby is a rage killer. I wouldn't give a rat's ass for Turnbull's chances after ratting Bobby out."

"Should we go back to Turnbull's garage and check on him?" asked Mason.

"Let's go with a wellness check from Nashville PD," said Annie. "That should do it."

"Yep," said Mason. He waited for Annie to finish her call to the PD. "Ready to go inside?"

"I can tell from here we won't find anything," said Annie. "We should've cuffed J.T., tossed him in the load bed of your truck and brought him with us to prevent this from happening."

Mason chuckled. "I've done that more than once."

The interior of the trailer was stripped clean. Nothing left lying around that would give Bobby Prescott or Rob Traynor, or Anthony Moldo away.

"Bobby may have obtained a new ID from J.T. before killing him," said Annie. "I'm waiting for the cops to call back and confirm."

Even though there was nothing left, Annie and Mason went through every room in the trailer. Not even a bag of garbage to be found.

"They were thorough," said Mason.

"Yep. Took every last thing with them."

"I'm wondering if they had an alternate hideout ready just in case," said Mason. "That would've been smart."

"Bobby Prescott is very smart," said Annie. "You could be right. He might've had his ass covered in case Turnbull let him down."

"We'll check the properties he owns," said Mason, "and pick him up that way. If he sells or has sold either one of them, there will be a trail of some sort."

"Absolutely," said Annie.

Sheriff's Office. Coyote Creek.

Me and Virge went back to the station to give our reports to Molly on the two interviews. Dad met us as we came in through the sally port.

"Did Barb Joliceur back up Darkers' alibi?"

"Nope. She said she didn't know him."

"Fuck," said Travis. "I was pretty sure Darkers was telling the truth."

"Yep," said Virge. "Me and Harlan are pretty sure the bitch was lying, but we don't know her reason. Maybe she's pissed at him."

"What did the other girl say about Darkers?" asked Travis.

"Said she didn't know him, but Sandra was probably fooling around with Darkers and even more guys we don't know about."

"Aw, shit. Don't give me any more fuckin suspects."

"Should we give our reports to Molly?" I asked.

"Later. There's nothing else for it. We've got to bring Darkers in. Get my fuckin coat for me. I don't know where in hell I left it."

"Copy that."

Darkers' Residence. Sweetgrass. Montana.

Darkers snarled when he saw us on his doorstep. "What the fuck do you want now, Sheriff? You're starting to get on my fuckin nerves."

"Not as bad as you are on mine, you shitsack." Travis gave Darkers a healthy shove backwards and me and Virge moved farther into the trailer, kind of cornering Darkers against the wall.

"Barb Joliceur didn't give you an alibi, Darkers. She told the boys she didn't know who you were."

"That ain't true," hollered Darkers. "Can't be true. You are a fuckin liar. I'll kill that bitch."

"Like you killed the other two women?"

Quick as a viper, Virge grabbed Darkers' right hand and snapped the cuff on.

"I didn't kill anybody, you goddamned assholes."

"What's going on here, Dan?" the short woman came into the front hall to see what all the yelling was about.

"Nothing, Toby. Go mind your own business."

"You are my business, Dan Darkers. You're my husband, although sometimes I'd like to forget it."

"Fetch me my coat," snarked Dan.

"Get it yourself. I ain't helping you run off to jail and leave me with all the work."

"Get my fucking coat, you bitch."

J.T. Paint and Body. Nashville.

After coming up empty at the trailer park, Mason drove back to Nashville, and cruised by the body shop to see what was going on.

Large police presence. The parking lot jammed with squads, unmarked vehicles, and the Lieutenant's SUV.

Mason parked on the road, and they threaded through the uniforms cluttering the parking lot and went inside to speak to the man in charge of the scene.

As they walked through the door one of the detectives held up his hand. "No admittance. You'll have to leave."

Annie dug in her purse and showed her creds to the homicide lieutenant. "The man who committed this murder is the Interstate Rage Killer, Bobby Prescott. Texas Violent Crime has been after him for months and we were close to nabbing him."

Annie shared all the details she had with the lieutenant. "This guy—she pointed at the corpse—J.T. Turnbull—betrayed Prescott and gave him up to us."

"Okay, and this is a revenge killing?"

"Yes, it is. Nothing left at the most recent address for Prescott at Brentwood Estates. The trailer is spotlessly clean."

"Huh. So we know who the murderer is, but he's in the wind."

"Pretty good at it too. I've had a team in Nashville for the past two weeks and it was a waste of time."

"Thank you, Mrs. Powell. You saved us a lot of time. Appreciate you stopping in."

Annie gave the lieutenant one of her cards.

They walked back to the truck and Mason said, "Any suggestions where we should go next?"

"That's your department, Mason. I say we hit Music Row and listen to a couple of bands. I need a beer."

Coyote Ugly. Nashville. Tennessee.

Annie picked an empty booth with a clear view of the bar where all the action took place. She ordered a pitcher of Coors after asking Mason if Coors was something he'd be happy drinking.

"Good as anything else." He laughed and picked up one of the menus.

They drank beer together, then ordered food, and by the time they finished eating, the place had filled up. The music and the crowd were loud. Fun times in Nashville.

"A couple more beers and I might get up there on the bar and sing," said Annie.

Mason laughed. "No way."

"Way. I'm going to do it just to make you laugh."

"You could make me do just about anything, girl." Mason shook his head. "I don't think I've ever said that before."