Deadly Dozen: 12 Mysteries/Thrillers (115 page)

Kris had a look of bewilderment on her face when I arrived on her doorstep for the second time in one hour.

“I have a few more questions about Terrence,” I said.

Her left eye twitched, and she crossed one arm over the other in front of her. She’d been through so much already. I thought about phrasing my questions so they didn’t sound so direct and invasive, but tact didn’t make the top-ten list of my most admirable qualities. Hell, it didn’t even make the top twenty.

“You said Terrence was fine with Olivia as long as the two of you didn’t have any more children,” I said. “At any time did he try to get you to get rid of her?”

The look on Kris’s face answered the question for me. “What do you mean?”

“Did Terrence ever suggest that Olivia go to your parents’ house to be raised by them instead of you?” I said.

“Who told you that?”

“You said he was tolerant of her,” I said, “but from what I understand, it sounds like he wanted to pawn her off so the two of you could be together with no distractions.”

“It’s hard enough to grieve, but to be put through the same questions over and over again until you have the answers memorized. It’s too much.”

Kris stepped back, slowly closing the door on my question and me. I allowed it. The pain in her eyes kept me from probing any further.

“I can’t do this anymore,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. I just can’t.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Thanks to Sylvia and Company, I learned Terrence worked as a night manager at a fancy restaurant inside a resort-type place by the lake. A row of a dozen or so cabins lined the left side of the street, with the lodge sitting majestically on the right. The accommodations were far superior to the hotel I was currently in, making me glad Maddie wasn’t with me.

I stood at the lake’s edge, taking in the glassy stillness of the water’s surface. It didn’t take long for my mind to wander to a place where others’ didn’t. A quiet, unsuspecting lake, the perfect place for a murder. I imagined two young girls hogtied and weighted down, maybe with a piece of hardened concrete, or maybe to a cluster of rocks that had been secured inside a netted bag. After the restaurant closed and the resident visitors were asleep in their beds, a man would paddle the girls to the center of the lake. He wouldn’t worry about them making noise, because he knew they were too terrified to cry. Once he reached the deepest part of the lake, he’d tell the girls to stand, and after they did, he’d shove them both from behind, watching their bodies sink into the cold darkness below.

I blinked back to reality, wondering why I couldn’t see what everyone else did—it was a lake, just a simple, innocent body of water. What was wrong with me?

Outside the restaurant, a couple sat across from each other at a table on the veranda, holding hands and staring into one another’s eyes like they were the only two people in existence. They reeked of young love, and for a moment I felt a smidgen of jealousy. Just a bit. Nothing more. After a moment the feeling was gone. I pushed open the door to the restaurant and walked inside.

It didn’t take long to locate Terrence. He was the only one not dressed in a white long-sleeved shirt with pea-sized black buttons. He was older than I thought he’d be, possibly in his late thirties, or early forties, and he had a silly-looking mustache that curled slightly upward at the ends. It was very Doc Holliday-esque, but this wasn’t Tombstone, and Terrence was no Val Kilmer. Not even close.

Terrence glanced in my direction, just before the scene unfolding behind me demanded his attention. I turned, expecting to see a young woman in an ill-fitted dress, but noticed an overturned glass of beer instead, and two men too liquored up to notice. The men laughed while the contents of the beer continued to gush onto the floor, narrowly missing an older woman’s nylon stocking at the next table over. The woman threw down her napkin, expressing her disdain to the man sitting next to her. Just as her companion was about to stand, Terrence brushed past me, his shoulder pushing me aside in the process.

“Buck, it’s time for you and Hal to go,” Terrence said. “I’ll call you a cab.”

Terrence snapped his fingers, and a woman appeared, towel in hand.

One of the men attempted to stand. He rested his hand on Terrence’s shoulder, pausing for a moment to look at the now empty glass of beer like he wasn’t sure how it got that way. “Aww, hell, Terrence—it was an accident. Give me the cloth; I’ll clean it for ya.”

Terrence looked at the girl holding the towel. “Call a cab for these two gentlemen, then clean this table off.”

She acknowledged him with a nod, turned, and went.

Some time passed before the men relented, finally realizing they couldn’t talk their way out of this one. Once they were secured inside a cab, Terrence turned his attention to me. “I’m sorry. Show’s over.”

“Good thing it wasn’t what I was here for then,” I said.

“Did you need something?”

“When do you get off?” I said.

“Ma’am, I’m married.”

“And I’m not interested.”

He raised a brow.

“Oh, I thought—”

“Wrong.”

He leaned against the counter as if he was trying to discover what I was after.

“Now I feel like a horse’s ass. Can I get you anything?”

I nodded.

“Your time,” I said. “Ten minutes if you can spare it.”

His confusion amplified, but keeping him in suspense was getting me somewhere, so I stuck with it.

“I don’t get off for another forty-five minutes.”

“No problem,” I said. “I’ll wait.”

Terrence met me in the parking lot an hour later.

“What’s this all about?”

“Olivia,” I said.

He rolled his eyes so far back into his head I wasn’t sure whether they’d make it back out. “Figures.”

“Is that why you didn’t press me earlier?” I said.

“It was obvious—plus, you fit the part.”

“What part?”

“You’re an FBI agent, aren’t you?”

I laughed.

“Private investigator,” I said.

“Private as in hired by someone?”

I nodded.

“And no, it wasn’t by your wife,” I said.

He turned his head away from me and spit. “I’m tired. Ask your questions. You got five minutes.”

“Aren’t you interested in who hired me?” I said.

“The only thing I care about right now is getting some sleep. Understand?”

A drop of water splashed on my eyelid and then another one hit my cheek. I looked up at the thick, grey clouds above me.

At some point, Terrence must have noticed the grumbling sky too. He frowned. “Better get on with it.”

“Why didn’t you like your stepdaughter?” I said.

He shrugged.

“It wasn’t her I had a problem with. I don’t like kids. Never have. That all?”

“At least you’re honest,” I said.

“I’ve got nothing to hide. If I did, I wouldn’t be standing here talking to you. Three minutes.”

I wondered what he’d do if our conversation went into overtime. Part of me thought it would be fun to find out.

“Why marry Kris if you didn’t like kids?” I said.

He turned one of his hands up as if to say I don’t know.

“As soon as we met, I knew Kris was the right woman for me. The kid was part of the package. Not much I could do about it. I figured we’d get married, work it all out later.”

“Did you ever consider trying to have a relationship with her?”

“The kid?—why? She made it harder for us to, well, do things together. Having her around wasn’t very convenient, but what else was I gonna do?”

Jealousy, thy name be Terrence.

“To be honest,” he continued, “when the kid went missing, it was kind of a—”

“A what?”

“Doesn’t matter. Your time’s up.”

He hopped in his coupe and shut the door without saying another word. I grabbed the door handle and yanked the door open again.

“What the hell, lady? We’re finished.”

“I don’t understand how Kris could be married to someone like you. I mean, sure, you seem all professional and in charge at work, but your lack of sympathy for what happened to Olivia amazes me. It almost sounds like you wanted to get rid of her.”

Terrence shook his head and smirked. “Those two old crows have been chirping in your ear, haven’t they? I was questioned before you came, and I’m sure I’ll be questioned again. Difference is—it won’t be by you.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

I wanted to believe there was a special place in hell for men like Terrence. It baffled me how any woman with a child allowed herself to be with a man like him. Kris’s self-worth must have plummeted to an all-time low the moment she considered him a decent catch. It saddened and sickened me at the same time, because she knew Terrence never cared about Olivia. Even a woman blinded by love couldn’t have missed it. Terrence was a straight-shooter. Kris was desperate. And little Olivia suffered for it. I imagined she spent many nights alone in her room, desperate for attention.

Against my better judgment, I let Maddie choose the restaurant when we reached Jackson Hole, Wyoming. It was late, and I was tired and in desperate need of sleep, but since Maddie was all hopped up on Red Bull, a quiet evening wasn’t likely.

After passing two bar and grills and using my behind-the-wheel power of veto, I finally caved when we passed the third dining establishment. My stomach was uneasy, and in need of some form of nourishment. I hoped the place offered some decent sustenance, or we’d be back in the car trying again.

When we walked in and I looked around, I wondered why they hadn’t just called the place a bar; I didn’t see any evidence of a grill anywhere. There were no double doors suggesting a cooking area in the back, and the closest thing to food on a table was a plastic basket of fries accompanied by a green-colored dipping sauce. It wasn’t what I had in mind, but it was too late—Maddie was already on the dance floor whooping it up with a swarm of men who approved of her trashy Wyoming style.

I took a seat at the corner of the bar, trying to fade into the shadows around me. It worked for a few minutes.

A frizzy-haired brunette approached me from behind the bar. “What’ll you have to drink?”

“Do you have a menu?”

“I mean to drink, hun?”

“Water.”

She snickered, reached under the bar, and slid a laminated, one-sided menu in my direction. I scanned the front side for a viable option, but it didn’t matter what I chose. All the items on the menu were dipped in grease and served with a heaping side of grease. Double greasy. I could hardly wait.

Maddie plopped down on the seat next to me, pulled an elastic band off her wrist, and wrapped it around her hair. “C’mon, don’t just sit there. Wake up! Let’s dance.”

“Not tonight,” I said. “I’m too tired.”

I expected a witty comeback, but she said nothing, and when I followed her line of sight, I knew why. A tall, well-built man had entered the bar and sat down on the opposite end. He looked like he’d just stepped off Brad Paisley’s tour bus in his fringed button-up shirt, tight Wranglers, black boots and matching cowboy hat. But it was his shiny, oversized steer belt buckle that held my attention the most. The horns stuck out so far they could have caused a passerby permanent damage.