Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

S hane sat in his truck in front of the diner. He had ten more minutes before his meeting. He should probably call Mira. He’d gone to her house last night but fallen asleep before she even got out of the bathroom and into the bed. She probably wanted an explanation.

Instead he opened his laptop and then his inbox to find two new emails since he’d last checked. He wondered if Sam knew that Taylor was helping on the case. She couldn’t be there in person, and Shane had told her he could handle it without her, but she wouldn’t take no for an answer.

He read through it quickly.

Shane, here’s what I found on Erin (Hurst) Colburn. Age 32, she graduated high school fifteen years ago in Jasper. She was an A student and a member of their drill team. After graduation, she attended the Spruill Institute of Arts in Dunwoody, Georgia, and did a few years in community college in Jasper. She and Seth got married a year after she graduated college. She worked as an assistant bakery manager at Pastry Perfection. Seth, also 32, graduated high school the same year, but from Hart’s High. He lettered in football, track and wrestling. He got a business degree from Mercer and went into construction. He’s had his own company for about fifteen years and was a member of the Carpenters Union. I’ll follow up with some details on Raya and Ronnie probably in a few hours. It’s time for Lennon’s lunch. -Taylor

Her background search pretty much matched up to what he’d learned from Seth’s sisters. He replied to her and asked her to find out what she could on Willis’s brother, Uncle Clyde, then he opened the second email that had come two hours later.

Raya. She’s 29. Graduated from Hart High School. I pulled her yearbook records and saw she was on the cross-country team and part of the art club. I also reached out to one of her former teachers. They described her as a sweet and artistic girl, though not exactly a social butterfly. She wasn’t part of the “in-crowd,” but she had her own group of friends. Didn’t attend college. Currently, Raya works at a video game store. Raya and her brother were listed in public business records as co-owners of an auto painting company about four years ago, but I couldn’t find a website for it, so it might’ve closed. Raya sometimes helps out as a postal carrier for her mom. She met her boyfriend, Ronnie, about a year ago on an online dating site. He works at a Target in a mall in Jasper. Before moving to the mobile home on her parents’ property, Raya and Ronnie lived in an apartment complex. I spoke with the apartment office manager, who remembered them, but nothing out of the ordinary.

As for Ronnie, I haven’t uncovered a ton yet, but I did manage to get in touch with his brother, George. He described Ronnie as a “spiritual kind of guy,” whatever that means. There are three siblings total, and his brother had some nice things to say about him. Apparently, Ronnie used to stick up for George in school because he had a speech impediment and was bullied for it. I probed a bit more and found out that Ronnie has a blood disorder and suffers from chronic nosebleeds, which kept him out of sports in school. Instead, he’s more into books and video games. George said the last time he heard from Ronnie, his brother was really excited about marrying Raya and talked about wanting to have kids soon. Let me know if you need me to follow up on anything specific. -Taylor

Shane had already searched the trailer where Raya and Ronnie lived, after they’d given permission. Other than being a total rat hole, he’d found nothing. Their truck had been searched by Deputy Gonzalez while Shane was taking photos of the two, and—wait … there was one thing. He shot another email off to Taylor.

Raya and Ronnie had trouble with the engine running hot in their truck, as well as a flat tire the day the Colburns were found. They decided to cancel the trip to Vegas they were on the road for and turned back after they used Frank’s Flat Tire Fixit, outside of Asheville. Confirm, please.

He looked at his watch. Eleven sharp. He got out and adjusted his collar as he entered, unsure what kind of man to expect.

Ed Sorenson was a retired Boeing engineer. A friend of a friend had made the connection, and Shane knew he was lucky to get even this lead. No one in Boeing’s higher ranks had agreed to talk. But Ed Sorenson had agreed to meet, and that was as close as he could get .

The smell of fresh coffee and bacon drifted through the air as he scanned the booths. A gray-haired man sat near the window, his worn navy jacket draped over the back of his chair. He looked up as Shane approached, and his eyes crinkled with recognition.

"Detective Weaver?" he asked, standing to shake Shane’s hand.

"That’s me. Thanks for coming out, Mr. Sorenson. I appreciate you taking the time."

"Just call me Ed. And no problem. Anything to help Willis’s family." Ed’s voice grew gruff, and he cleared his throat. "Still can’t believe they’re just gone, like that." He snapped his fingers in the air and then let his hand drop to his lap.

They sat, and a waitress came over to take their orders. Shane opted for black coffee and a banana bran muffin, while Ed asked for his "usual," which earned him a wink from the waitress. He looked like a regular here, comfortable in the small-town diner ambiance. They made small talk until their coffee arrived, but Shane could see Ed’s expression was weighted with grief.

When the waitress walked away, Shane decided to ease into the questioning. "You knew Willis well, then?"

Ed nodded, swirling his cup with a spoon, creating slender milky clouds on the surface of his coffee. "Willis and I were in the same department for twenty-five years. We weren’t just colleagues; we were friends. Hell, he was like the brother I never had. Jane—his wife—she used to pack extra food for me sometimes. She knew I didn’t have anyone to cook at home. Willis would show up with a lunch big enough to feed a family, and he’d just grin and say, ‘Jane thought you could use a hot meal, Ed.’ She made the best meatloaf I ever had in my life. Lord, I’m gonna miss that woman." His voice cracked slightly, and he took a sip of coffee, looking away for a moment .

Shane smiled sadly. "Sounds like they were special people."

"They were." Ed shook his head slowly. "Never met anyone with a work ethic like Willis’s. He was old-school. Didn’t put up with any nonsense and always had everyone’s back. People like him don’t come around often."

There was a pause, and Shane let it sit before moving forward. "I wanted to ask you about Greg Chung. I know it’s been years since that happened, but, from what I’ve heard, he didn’t exactly make a lot of friends at Boeing."

Ed let out a bitter chuckle. "That’s putting it mildly. Chung was … a strange guy. Creepy, if I’m being honest. Kept to himself, never joined the group for lunch or a beer after work. We all tried to include him, figured maybe he just felt like an outsider, you know? There weren’t a lot of Asian guys in our department back then, and we wanted to make him feel welcome." Ed paused, shaking his head. "But he was always standoffish, didn’t want anything to do with us. We’d catch him staring at people in this … weird way, like he was studying them. Gave us all the creeps."

"How did he manage to get classified documents out of Boeing? I mean, the place has some of the tightest security out there," Shane pressed.

Ed scratched his head, his brows knitting together as he thought. "Look, Boeing had its protocols, but no system’s perfect. Chung was smart, knew the ins and outs. He must have used a combination of memory, concealed storage, and just plain brazen moves. There were times he’d stay late, saying he was catching up on work. We thought he was dedicated, but now … now I know he was just using that time to sneak around."

The waitress came and brought Shane’s coffee and muffin. A plate of bacon, fried eggs, and a plump biscuit for Ed. A side of apple butter.

Shane leaned forward, his voice low. "Ed, I need you to be completely straight with me here. This could be the difference between finding who killed Willis’s family and this case going cold. Was Willis the whistleblower? Did he report Chung?"

Ed’s face darkened, his gaze hardening as he met Shane’s eyes. "No. Willis wasn’t the whistleblower." His voice held a fierce pride. "But if he or I had known what Chung was up to, we would’ve dragged him straight to corporate ourselves. That bastard betrayed all of us, not just the company, but his team. Our country, too. Right under our noses. You think that sits well with any of us? Hell, it tore Willis up that we hadn’t figured it out. Made him feel … responsible, like we’d all failed somehow. But we had nothing to do with that investigation."

Shane watched Ed closely, catching the subtle tremor in the older man’s hands as he took another sip of coffee. The betrayal clearly still stung, even years later.

"Did Willis ever talk about his family to you? His brother, specifically," Shane asked, shifting gears.

"Clyde?" Ed snorted, a look of distaste crossing his face. He picked up his biscuit and sopped up some of the runny yolk of his eggs. "Yeah, I know Clyde. Even went fishing with him and Willis once. Big mistake."

"Why’s that?" He was liking old Ed. It was always great to get to interview a talker in the middle of an investigation. Someone you didn’t have to pull information out of, and you could sit back and let it flow.

Ed swallowed his bite of eggs and leaned back, crossing his arms as a look of irritation flickered in his eyes. "Clyde’s a leech. A piss-poor loser, too. He spent half the day sulking because I reeled in the biggest fish. Claimed it was ‘his spot’ and that I’d stolen it from him." Ed rolled his eyes. "Man acted like a big baby. Couldn’t handle anyone else’s success, especially not Willis’s. Always felt his brother should bail him out of whatever mess he’d gotten himself into. "

Shane filed this away, sensing the family tension simmering beneath Ed’s words. "Willis ever mention why he didn’t want Clyde around?"

"Sure. Willis said if he let one wayward family member settle on his property, the rest would start showing up with their hands out. And knowing Clyde, he’d find a way to drag everyone down with him. He didn’t want that for Jane, or for the kids and grandkids when they visited. His place was meant to be a sanctuary, not a charity." Ed’s jaw clenched, and he looked out the window, a faraway look in his eyes. "Willis did his best to help Clyde over the years, but there comes a time when you gotta cut people loose, you know? He told Clyde he’d help him find a place, even tried setting him up with work, but Clyde always managed to screw it up."

“When’s the last time you remember Willis having Clyde out at the property?”

Ed shrugged. “Since I retired, I don’t get to talk to Willis that often, so I couldn’t tell you. But if you’re thinking ol’ Clyde has something to do with this, I really doubt it. He’s not only a leech, but also a coward. He was bigger than Willis in stature, but he’ll never be the man his brother is. I mean, was.”

Shane took a deep breath, weighing the pieces of information he’d gathered. "I appreciate your honesty, Ed. I know this can’t be easy."

Ed nodded, his expression softening. He finished off his biscuit and eggs with one last bite and chewed on a piece of bacon. "I just hope you catch the bastard who did this. Willis didn’t deserve it. Neither did Jane. Or Seth and Erin. It’s a damn shame, is what it is." He pushed his coffee cup aside, getting to his feet. "Thanks for hearing me out, Detective. I’m glad someone’s taking this seriously."

“Do you know where Clyde lives?”

“Sure do. He’s renting out the back of an old dive bar out past Poole’s Mill Park in Ball Ground. It can’t be more than one or two rooms, and the building is about falling down. They closed the bar at least ten years ago, and they should’ve bulldozed the whole rotten place. It’s not in any shape to be living inside and I guess that’s why he was so eager to move to Willis’s place. Thank God Willis didn’t let him in.”

Shane rose as well, reaching out to shake Ed’s hand. "Thanks, Ed. You’ve helped more than you know."

Ed held Shane’s gaze for a long moment, then nodded. "You find out who did this, you give them hell for me. For Willis. My brother from another mother, as we liked to say."

With that, Ed turned and walked out of the diner, his shoulders a little slumped, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. Shane took out his wallet, paid for their meals, and headed for the door, his mind buzzing with questions.

Shane’s stomach let out an annoyed growl as he eased the car onto an old county road, surrounded by dense, darkening woods on either side. The afternoon was slipping away, and he hadn’t eaten since the quick cup of coffee and a muffin that morning. Meeting with Ed had run longer than expected, and now he was paying for it. He’d just have to tough it out until he got back to Hart’s Ridge; he had no idea where to find a good meal in Ball Ground.

The small town was eighty miles of winding, weathered asphalt from the diner. The narrow roads snaked through small clusters of houses, meadows, and thick woods. He used the time to catch up on calls, including his mom and Mira. His signal went in and out a few times, making conversation difficult, but at least he’d checked in. Sadly, the more time he and Mira spent apart, the less he missed her .

They might not last as long as he and Lucy had, and he’d thought that was a short one. He should’ve known not to try to date any of Taylor’s sisters. It was just weird.

He passed a herd of deer grazing on the edge of a field, their heads lifting in unison as his car approached. A possum darted across the road, narrowly escaping his front tire, and Shane muttered a low curse, steadying his grip on the wheel.

Up ahead, Deputy Kuno’s cruiser was parked on the shoulder of the road, the glow of his hazard lights visible through the trees.

Shane pulled up behind it and climbed out of his car.

“Cutting it close, Weaver,” Kuno called, stepping out of his car and stretching. His German Shepherd, Valor, leapt out after him, moving with practiced precision to heel at his side. Lately the dog was with him all the time, and the sheriff hadn’t said a word about it. “I’ve been here for fifteen minutes, and, you know, there’s a highway that would’ve got us here faster.”

“Figured I’d let you get the scenic view,” Shane replied dryly. Once again, he wished it was Taylor being his back up. She never complained.

Kuno smirked, gesturing toward the long driveway that snaked into the woods. “Not much out here but trees and critters. You sure about this lead?”

Shane nodded. “Ed’s intel might be sketchy, but it’s all we’ve got. Clyde Colburn’s a wild card. If there’s dirt there, we need to dig it up.”

“Fair enough. Valor’s ready to go if we need him,” Kuno added, giving the dog an affectionate scratch behind the ears.

From what Shane had seen of the dog, he wouldn’t harm a fly.

Somewhere close, a dog started howling, then broke into a frantic bark. Valor’s hair stood up but, with a few soft words from Kuno, he settled .

They only walked five or so minutes before the dive bar Ed had described came into view, its rusted metal sign hanging crookedly from a chain above the door. The building looked like it hadn’t been maintained in decades—weathered siding, cracked windows, and a sagging roof. Around the side, a battered van sat on flat tires, its back window patched with duct tape and a garbage bag. A scrappy dog was chained to a dilapidated wooden doghouse, a stainless-steel bowl overturned just out of his reach. No water to be seen. He’d worn the ground down to dirt five or so feet all around the doghouse. Inside wasn’t even a stick of straw to keep him warm.

“Classy,” Kuno muttered.

“Fits the profile,” Shane said as they approached the door.

“Someone needs to come rescue that fellow. Might have to sneak out and cut the chain myself.”

The dog continued barking, leveling into a more frantic tone.

Valor sniffed the air but remained alert and steady at Kuno’s side as Shane knocked on the warped wood of the back door.

No answer.

Shane knocked again, louder this time. Kuno circled to the front entrance, Valor padding silently beside him. “Place is dead quiet,” Kuno said when they regrouped.

“Maybe he’s not home,” Shane started, but the sound of muffled cursing cut him off.

“Who’s making all that racket?” a gruff voice called from inside.

Shane knocked again, his patience thinning. “Detective Weaver with Hart’s Ridge Sheriff’s Department. Open up, Clyde.”

After another shuffle of footsteps, the door creaked open to reveal Clyde Colburn. His greasy hair stuck out at odd angles, and his rumpled clothes looked like they hadn’t seen a wash in weeks. He reeked of stale beer and something sour.

He bellowed at the dog to shut up, then turned back to them. “What do you want?” he grumbled, squinting against the fading daylight.

“I’m here about your brother, Willis,” Shane said, flashing his badge.

Clyde’s expression darkened. “Yeah, yeah, come on in. And in my opinion, dogs shouldn’t be allowed indoors, but I’ll make an exception for a police dog. Don’t let it piss all over my floor.”

Shane almost laughed. You could barely see the floor from all the junk piled around it, and what could be seen was far from clean.

“Don’t worry,” Kuno said as he stepped inside with Valor. “He’s better behaved than most people.”

The inside of the place wasn’t any better than the outside. A grimy mattress leaned against one wall, surrounded by crushed beer cans and crumpled takeout containers. A sagging armchair faced an ancient TV, and the air was thick with the smell of mildew and stale smoke. What was once possibly a nice mahogany cocktail bar ran along one side of the room, scratched, beaten, and piled high with items and boxes.

One battered bar stool graced the front.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Clyde said sarcastically, flopping into the armchair. Other than the precarious-looking barstool, there weren’t any other seating options. “What’s this about, then? You gonna solve Willis’s murder?”

“That’s the plan,” Shane said, crossing his arms as he assessed the man in front of him. “I understand you and your brother didn’t get along.”

Clyde snorted. “That’s no secret. Willis thought he was better than me. Always rubbing his nice house and land in my face while I have to scrape by. ”

“You think that justifies what happened to him?” Kuno asked, his tone sharp. Valor let out a low, rumbling growl, as if echoing the sentiment.

Clyde shifted uncomfortably. “I didn’t say that. And before you ask, I wouldn’t hurt my own brother, no matter how much of a pain in the ass he was.”

“Where were you the day of the murders?” Shane asked, his gaze steady.

“Workin’,” Clyde snapped. “Morning shift at the scrap yard. The boss had me inspecting a truckload of scrap metal some rednecks from Calhoun brought in. Talk to him if you don’t believe me.”

“We will,” Kuno said, jotting the information down.

“What about Jane?” Shane pressed. “I’ve heard you were fond of her.”

Clyde’s face softened. “Jane was good people. Always kind to me, even when Willis wasn’t. Sends me a plate every Thanksgiving. He couldn’t stand it that she treated me right. She didn’t deserve what happened.”

“And Seth and Erin?”

“They were good kids,” Clyde said, his voice quieter now. “Seth was just like his mama—kind, hardworking. I didn’t know Erin but I’m pretty sure she didn’t deserve it either.”

Shane studied Clyde for a moment, noting the shift in his demeanor. “When’s the last time you were at Willis’s house?”

“Years ago,” Clyde said quickly.

“What about when you asked to park your camper there?”

“I stayed outside the gate,” Clyde replied, his tone defensive. “Asshole wouldn’t let me come in. Blood don’t mean nothing these days. I sold the damn thing after that.”

Shane exchanged a glance with Kuno, who nodded slightly.

“We’re going to need a DNA sample,” Shane said.

“You already got it,” Clyde shot back. “From that fraud charge Willis pinned on me years ago. The one where he accused me of stealing his social security number and racking up credit card debt in his name? It was a setup, and I caught a felony for it.”

“Did you serve time?” Kuno asked.

“Just probation,” Clyde muttered. “Willis told the judge he didn’t want me locked up. Made me do community service at the animal shelter. He thought it was punishment, but the joke was on him. That’s where I got my dog, and I got lucky—he’s a hell of a security guard.”

Shane felt sorry for the dog. Living his life on a chain wasn’t lucky.

“Well, Clyde, if you think of anything else—anything at all—you call us,” he said, turning to leave.

As they walked back to the cars, Shane glanced over at Kuno. “What’s your read?”

“He’s holding something back,” Kuno said, giving Valor a pat. “Valor picked up on it, too. Clyde’s nervous, but not enough to scream guilty. Could just be the guilt of a crappy brother. Sensing some infatuation with Jane, too. What’s that commandment, don’t covet your brother’s wife?”

“Something like that,” Shane said, glancing back at the dilapidated house. “But I’ve got a feeling there’s more to his story. I’ll be anxious to see what forensics find in the DNA.”