The More They Disappear (33 page)

*   *   *

Harlan got word from the proprietor of the McDonald's on Highway 68 that the security tape he needed had been recorded over. The guy, who lived an hour away in Covington, blamed the manager and said it was his policy to keep the tapes for a month before reusing them, but he had a hard time making employees follow rules, and if there was anything else he could do to help, just let him know. Harlan slammed the phone back on its cradle and asked Holly to bug the crime lab to hurry the fuck up.

Then he drove out to Leland Abbot's to see what he could dig up on Mark Gaines. Leland denied drugs were sold at the track, but that was an act performed for the benefit of the authorities. He just needed motivation to talk, a carrot or stick.

Something bad had happened between Mary Jane and Mark, that much was certain. There was the bruise along her cheek, the panic in her eyes when Harlan said his name. There were the drugs pumped from her stomach and the pill dust from Deerhorn. And then there was Trip Gaines, looming above it all. The doctor.

Harlan found Leland outside his trailer holding a drill and building a mess of a deck with untreated two-by-fours. “That looks like shit,” Harlan said, crouching to examine the shoddy craftsmanship. “Bob Vila you're not.”

“Fuck that guy. He's a know-it-all.”

Harlan jostled a loose board. “You think about our chat the other day?”

“Not particularly.”

“Why not?”

“I don't remember you giving me much to think on. The way I remember it you made some threats and then took off.”

“After you tried to bribe me.”

“That was a misunderstanding.”

Harlan put out his hand for the drill and secured a loose board. “I've reconsidered,” he said. “You can buy me off. But not with cash.”

“What do you want? Stock options?”

“Information on drug dealers.”

“I don't know any.”

Harlan drove another screw home and put the drill down. “Then expect to see a deputy camped outside your place tonight.”

“How long can you keep that up?”

“I'll do it myself if I have to. I love getting overtime.”

Leland scratched at the back of his neck. “Why do you have a hard-on for me?”

“Why don't you listen to me the same way you listened to Lew?”

“Lew's price was cheaper.” Harlan shrugged and Leland cursed under his breath as he took a seat atop the toolbox. “Okay,” he said. “I'll hear you out, but be quick.”

Harlan rolled a cigarette and handed it over to Leland, took his time and rolled one for himself as well. “Some of what you said the other day is true. It's not necessarily in my best interest to break up your pleasure park. It keeps the riffraff localized and all, but I need to do some police work out here every now and again—bust drunk drivers, pocket some drugs. Just enough to keep people honest. That's in your long-term interest, too. You're one fuckup away from another jail stint.”

“What other people do isn't my business.”

“They do it on your property, it becomes your business. Now, I don't care to get you in trouble, Leland. I figure we can work together. I give you a heads-up before I do any policing out here and you make yourself scarce.”

“And what do you get in return?”

“Information about a kid up to no good.”

“Who's that?”

“You ever hear of Mark Gaines?”

Leland laughed. “The doctor's boy.”

“I know it seems far-fetched—”

“It's not.”

“What do you mean?”

“You're asking a lot, Harlan.”

“I'm offering a get-out-of-jail-free card.”

Leland stood up and paced a circle, stretched his limbs. “That little motherfucker deals out here from time to time. He and the other druggies hide out in my woods—they call it the enchanted forest or some shit. My pops called it tick heaven. I'm not saying I have a part in this. It's just that running them off my land is more hassle than turning a blind eye.”

Harlan nodded but he didn't buy the bullshit. If there were drugs being sold, Leland would make sure he got a piece. “How often does Mark deal?”

“Shit, I don't know. There's not a schedule. But Halloween's coming up. You don't need me to tell you that's a big-time holiday for druggies.”

“So he might be out here soon?”

“Might be.”

“Quit playing coy, Leland. Help me catch this kid and you and I can live in relative peace.”

Leland threw his smoke to the ground and picked up the drill. “I'll see what I can do, but I need a favor first.”

“What's that?”

“That ratty girl who claims to be your friend got all fucked up last night and damned if she isn't sleeping it off in my place as we speak.”

“Mattie?”

“Is that her name?” Leland grinned. “All I know is she puked in my bathroom.”

“You didn't?”

Leland drilled another screw. “Didn't what?”

“Take advantage?”

“Jesus, Harlan. She's just a kid. What kind of guy do you take me for?” Leland spat on the ground. “Kids come out here uninvited and when they get messed up, I end up taking care of them like some goddamn babysitter, so you finish the nanny job and take her the fuck home.”

Harlan stepped past Leland into the trailer. Mattie was curled up beneath a blanket on the couch. He shook her awake. “Let's go,” he said. She didn't make a fuss or seem surprised to see him, and when she pushed back the blanket, he was glad to see that her clothes—even her shoes—were on. She folded the blanket and put it back on the couch before following him outside.

“Goodbye, sweetheart,” Leland said as she passed by. “Next time try not to vomit in my house.”

Mattie mumbled an apology.

Harlan opened the door for her and looked to Leland. “I'll hold you to your end of the deal.”

“Expect a call, Sheriff.”

The silence inside the cruiser turned awkward as they drove away. “He didn't touch you, did he?” Harlan finally asked.

“Who?”

“Don't play dumb, Mattie. Leland.”

“I'm not playing dumb, Harlan. Leland isn't like that.”

“You know him well then?”

She picked at a fraying spot on her jeans. “Well enough.”

“I don't like the life you lead,” Harlan said.

Mattie ignored the insult and asked him to take her to his place, but he refused, and when he pulled into the Spanish Manor, she jumped out while the car was still moving. Harlan hit the gas, caught up, and told her to stop. He had to end whatever kinship was growing between him and the girl. It could only bring trouble, and he couldn't go saving every hopped-up kid with an ounce of potential.

“You're sixteen years old,” he said. Mattie nodded, her bone-white skin translucent and fragile. “Whatever you feel for me has to stop.”

She lowered her eyes.

“It's not right.”

“You think too much about right and wrong,” she said.

“We're not friends, Matilda.” There was a sting to the words because they weren't true. In some strange way, Harlan felt he and this girl needed each other, but he couldn't admit that to Mattie and least of all to himself. “Clean yourself up and leave me alone.”

She pawed the ground with one foot as if she'd dropped something and was hoping to catch glint of it. “I knew we wasn't ever gonna fall in love, Harlan,” she said, her voice trembling. “I just liked imagining that if things were different … if I were older and not such a fuckup or you weren't the law, we might be friends. You could have let me hold on to that. You don't know how hard it is to find a friend.” She peered down the gravel road that led her home. “I gotta go,” she said.

*   *   *

Mark turned on the television and ate pizza cross-legged atop the scratchy comforter of his Day's Inn bed. In the parking lot the neighbors, a couple of guys who were in town on a construction job, sat on the tailgate of their truck and drank. They were getting rowdy on malt liquor and cheap cigars, and at some point, they turned on the truck's stereo. Mark considered telling them to knock it off, but he knew that no matter what he said, they wouldn't stop. He called the front desk but no one answered.

The motel was on the outskirts of Lexington, the sort of place you pulled off the interstate to find, but the parking lot was full. Mark wondered what had brought so many people there, wondered where they were headed. He didn't even know where he was headed. He'd run from the party and escaped but something in his gut told him to circle back. That's when he saw Mary Jane being loaded into an ambulance with two cops nearby. He'd gone straight to the apartment, packed a bag, and left. Now, he kept watching the local news, as if something would show up and tell him whether or not the coast was clear, but nothing ever did.

If he were a betting man, Mark would double-down on Mary Jane's ability to keep a secret, but he couldn't gamble his life on it. He didn't know where she was or who she was with or what questions they were asking. Besides, if Mark were a betting man, he never would have guessed Mary Jane would cheat on him. After he'd caught her, something changed in him. He'd wanted to hurt her. And when he couldn't find any other way, he'd hit her. The violence surprised him—probably him more than her. It seemed ridiculous that the day before he'd felt beholden to Mary Jane, that he'd planned on running away with her to Montreal. At least now he was on his own. Free.

Ever since Lew died, he'd been making mistakes. He hadn't handled the situation with Mary Jane. Or with his father. Or Chance. He thought about going back to his dad and asking for help, but he couldn't trust him, and he couldn't exactly come clean about Mary Jane. His dad was a powder keg ready to blow.

The drunken assholes outside his motel room decided they liked a particular song and cranked it up. The gravelly warble of a country singer filled the air. “Shut the fuck up,” Mark muttered before trying to drown their noise with the volume of his television.

He counted the money he had left. He couldn't afford to keep staying at the Day's Inn, couldn't afford to stall out. It was always the same problem—not enough foresight, not enough means. He needed to make a run for it without Mary Jane. Maybe he would head south instead of north. Mexico was a place to start over. Or maybe he'd head west and change his name. In his Intro to American History class, he'd learned that the pioneers were men with checkered pasts, men who'd sought new beginnings.

A beer bottle broke in the parking lot and Mark stood up from the bed. He turned the doorknob and almost stepped out but reconsidered, pulled back the curtain to sneak a look. The men were tossing their empties toward an open Dumpster, arcing the bottles over his Mustang. He wanted so badly to confront them but he returned to the bed and picked up his planner instead. It was a small token of the life he'd left behind. The planner made his life seem so innocent—class, homework, a note to go to French club. He tried to pretend that he'd been the person depicted in those pages, but the beeping of his pager interrupted his reverie. It came from a number he recognized and he called back. Leland Abbot needed pills for Halloween. And Mark Gaines needed gas money.

 

twelve

As soon as she walked in, Harlan called Holly into his office. He'd been up all night organizing the case, had compiled a folder with the autopsy report, Pedersen's bounced check, the Deerhorn evidence, and notes from his conversations with Little Joe, the Finleys, and Tara Koehler. “I want everyone on duty tonight,” he said. “I'm going to arrest Mark Gaines and it's all hands on deck.”

“What's Mark Gaines have to do with anything?” Holly asked.

Harlan explained how the evidence pointed back to Mary Jane and Mark. He couldn't arrest the girl without the crime lab's confirmation, but he'd worked out a deal with Leland to set up Mark.

“And you think this links back to Lew's murder?”

“I do. Trip was paying Lew's debts for a reason. And then I find out Mark is dealing drugs.”

“But where's Lew fit into it?”

“Maybe Trip paid him to turn a blind eye to Mark's drug dealing. Lord knows Lew needed the money. Or maybe all three of them got caught up in something that spun out of control. If I bring Mark in on a drug charge, he might just fill in the gaps.”

“What about bringing in the girl, too? Don't forget about her mom's affair. That's a strong motive.”

“Once the crime lab confirms we have the murder weapon, I'll bring in Mary Jane. In the meantime, I don't want to tip everyone off.” Harlan handed over the folder of evidence. “I don't know who pulled the trigger, Holly, but I'm pretty damn sure both those kids know something.”

Holly spun the gold band on her ring finger. “It sounds far-fetched.”

“Don't I know it.”

“And you trust Leland?”

Harlan sighed. Ever since Lew died, he'd been looking for someone he could trust, and what he ended up with was Leland Abbot. Somehow it made sense. “I guess I have to.”

Holly held the folder as if it were live-wired. “If this falls apart, you're gonna be wading in deep shit.”

Looking at the battered case file, Harlan couldn't help feeling proud. “And if it solves this murder, I just might win an election.”

“What else do you need from me?” Holly asked.

“Run the dispatch tonight. I'll take Paige with me to the dirt track, but I don't want the other deputies to know what's going on until I have Mark in custody. After that the dominoes will fall and we'll need help.”

Holly paused at the door on her way out. “Sometimes this job,” she said. “It makes me think the worst about people.”

Harlan didn't disagree.

*   *   *

Mary Jane woke up next to her mother, who was fast asleep and snoring. She didn't remember how she'd ended up back in her room but one touch to her forehead confirmed that she hadn't dreamt the events leading up to it. There was a knot where she parted her hair.