Tin God (23 page)

“You got it all, right?” Nick asked Kees, who’d just had an officer escort Debra to a squad car.

“Every word.”

Dressed in her usual khaki slacks and white shirt, Kees adjusted the badge hanging around her neck, then brushed her short, dark hair off her forehead. Despite her ebony complexion, Kees had a new smattering of freckles across her cheeks. She’d been out in the sun too long.

“Talked to your Detective Charles. They found Holden Wilcher. He’s not in any shape to talk.”

“What happened?” Elaine asked.

“Seems he got his ass kicked by the town pastor.”

Nick stared in sickened surprise as the detective sergeant repeated the story Charles had shared: Penn Gereau had kidnapped Holden Wilcher and tried to beat the truth out of him. For Jaymee.

“He said Jayme was his daughter?” Nick couldn’t process the information.

“Yep. Sonia Ballard confirmed it, too. Confessed everything when Detective Charles showed up with news of Wilcher.”

“What did Paul do?”

“Didn’t ask.”

“What does all this mean?” Elaine asked.

“Means Holden Wilcher didn’t run off with Royce Newton,” Kees said. “Royce’s in the wind, and I’d still say he’s a prime suspect in the murders. Charles thinks he’s here in Jackson with his mistress. Sent a unit over there to check.”

Elaine reached into her purse and pulled out a wrinkled envelope. “These are the original documents proving Holden’s paternity of my son, including his signature. If you can get Debra to give up Sarah’s location, will that be enough to help find Jaymee’s daughter in time?”

“Maybe. But we’ve got to find out where Sarah is first.” Kees took the envelope. “You realize the D.A. could decide to bring charges against you. Most likely, you’ll be a state’s witness, but you did participate in the sale of your child.”

“I still have the money.”

“Good. They might go easier on you.”

“You going to arrest me?”

“Not unless I have to,” Kees said. “I’m assuming you’re not a flight risk.”

Elaine shook her head. “I accepted the responsibility when I decided to tell the truth. My husband isn’t happy with me, but he’s willing to stick it out. I’m not going anywhere.”

Kees held up the envelope. “Between this and Debra’s story, I’m hoping it will be enough to get a paternity test. Problem is, Holden’s unconscious and unable to defend himself. I’m going to have to fax this to Detective Charles–it’s his jurisdiction, and he’ll have to get a judge to issue a warrant. In the meantime, I’ll see if I can get any more out of Debra.”

“Keep me in the loop,” Nick said. He looked at Elaine, who finally stood up from the table. “Thank you. This wouldn’t have been possible if you hadn’t helped.”

She brushed her fingertips over her cheekbones, breathing deeply. “I’m just glad the truth is coming out.”

“Do you need a ride home?” Kees asked.

“I’ve got my car.” Elaine took Nick’s hand. “Please, let me know about Jaymee’s little girl. And when Holden wakes up. I want to hear all about the look on his face when he realizes he’s been shoved off his gold pedestal.”

“I will. You know you may have a case for getting your son back.”

“No. He’s happy with a good family. I’m not going to interrupt his life.” Elaine weaved between tables, ignoring the stares of still-shocked customers.

“I need to call Detective Charles,” Nick said. “Find out how Jaymee’s doing. I can’t imagine finding out what she did today, especially after the way Ballard’s treated her.”

“Seems you’ve made a new friend. Good for you.” Kees dug into the bag she carried. “Listen, before I go, I’ve got the information back on the typewriter used to write the letter about killing your wife. We tracked down a forensic document specialist with thirty years’ experience. Testified in hundreds of forgery cases, altered medical records–that sort of thing.”

“So he knows what he’s talking about.”

Kees nodded. “Semi-retired, but still consults. He says a typewriter’s print can be identified through several methods. A slight variation of alignment of the letters and uneven wear on the keys means each typewriter has a fingerprint. All looks the same to me, but apparently he can see it beneath a microscope.”

“So what kind of typewriter was used for the letter?”

“An IBM Wheelwriter 3–one of the earlier electronic typewriters. Problem is, it was really popular, and you can still buy it online.”

“Great.”

“He said if you had the typewriter, he could use the ID system to match the paper, but without the machine, that’s damned near impossible. But the ‘k’ on this particular typewriter sticks. Forensic guy said it looks like a smudge to the naked eye, but to a trained expert, the darker imprint is obvious.”

“Fantastic. All I need to do is find a shitty K in a haystack. Perfect.”

“Better than nothing,” Kees said. “I’ll let you know what the queen in the car says.” She left, leaving Nick to deal with the staring customers. He dropped a fifty on the table and stalked out of Char’s.

Kees’s unmarked car drove away, Debra’s devil-red hair glowing in the back window. She’d no doubt roll for the best deal. Nick only hoped the district attorney didn’t give her too much leniency.

Detective Charles answered on the second ring. “Good job, reporter.”

“Thanks. Debra gave us enough to implicate both Holden and Royce in the adoption scheme.”

“But not in the murders.”

“Not yet.”

“I still think Paul Ballard’s the muscle. He’s bullied Penn Gereau all these years.”

“So he knew the truth about Jaymee?”

“Oh yeah. Sonia felt so guilty she told him. And Paul made her pay. Jaymee, too.”

“Why didn’t Penn step in and do the right thing?”

“Coward. Ballard threatened his career, told him he and Wilcher–who was Roselea’s pastor at the time and every bit as powerful ‘round these parts as he is in Jackson–would make sure he was ruined and never set foot in a church again. He was afraid he wouldn’t be able to provide for her and the kids. And when Sonia refused to leave, wasn’t much he could do.”

Nick swallowed his disgust. “How’s Jaymee?”

“Okay. Stunned, I think. Sent her back to the Foster’s with a uniform. She wanted to clean up before she went to work.”

It was past five already, and Jaymee was probably getting ready for the evening rush. Hopefully the chaos of the diner would help ease her mind, but news about Holden was no doubt spreading. “You keeping a lid on Penn’s confession?”

“Long as I can.”

“I’ll be on the road soon. I’ll stop by the diner to get her. You hear anything more between now and then, call me.” Nick relayed the information about the typewriter. “You see anything like that in Evaline?”

“Not that I can recall, but I can probably get search warrants for Newton and Wilcher. I’ll have Kees fax the information. Hoping to get a warrant for Ballard, too. But we don’t have much concrete evidence.”

“Other than his threats.”

“Not enough. If Wilcher wakes up and realizes the heat he’s in, he might break down and give us everything, including who he hired to kill the women.”

Nick didn’t plan on holding his breath. Wilcher was cocky enough to believe he’d be able to weasel out of anything.

“I’ll let you know when I’m back in town.”

###

Afraid to move, to breathe, to speak. Jaymee hunched down in the passenger seat of Darren’s minivan.

He’d stuck the knife in the cubbyhole on the driver’s door. She had no hope of reaching it, especially since he’d ziptied her hands as soon as they got in the car. Her fingernails dug into her palms. Sweat heated her armpits and dotted her upper lip. The cold air blasting from the vents stung. Child locks employed. Trapped.

They drove by the cemetery. A dagger of pain sliced through Jaymee. Is this how Lana had died? Did he toy with her, let her believe she had a chance, or had he simply snuffed her out?

Her throat swelled to bursting. She squeezed her eyes, refusing to bawl. Feeling sick, she searched for focus. Direction. They were heading southwest. Dusk approached, overrun by storm clouds filled with bright lightening. Past the cemetery, around the sharp bend, and away from Roselea.

Away from salvation, away from help, away from Nick.

He’d be on his way back. Maybe he was already in town. Did he know about Gereau and Holden? Surely he’d seek her out at the diner. Nick would search for her. He’d know something had happened.

“Soon you’ll join her.” Darren’s gravelly tenor cultivated a brand new wave of terror.

Jaymee said nothing. Couldn’t have spoken even if she wanted to. The lump in her throat was stickier than super glue.

“Your meddling friend. The one rotting in the graveyard.”

With his left hand, he reached for the knife. Jaymee stopped breathing. He waved the blade in the air. “Holden gave me this knife on my thirteenth birthday. Took me hunting. Taught me how to skin my first deer. Paul was there, too. On my ass about not doing it right. Holden hadn’t been there, I might have stabbed Dad.”

Jaymee pried her lips apart. “You should have.”

He jabbed the blade against her cheek. The pointed tip dug into her skin enough to draw blood. It trickled down her cheek, past her collarbone, and dribbled onto her shirt. She ground her teeth against the pain. Darren withdrew the knife, staring at the crimson staining the tip. He wiped it on his jeans before the blood dripped onto the leather seats.

“He’s my father.”

“You hate him same as me.” Her skin stung. Jaymee refused to scream.

“Hate’s a strong word.”

“That’s why I used it.”

“I hate
you
.” He spat the last word. Knife still clutched in his hand, he slammed his fist against the steering wheel. “You and your pathetic bullshit that had to screw up everything. Why didn’t you just keep your mouth shut? Better yet, your damned legs.”

“You think that’s how it was? I seduced him?”

“Of course you did.”

“No. He played on my youth, my stupidity, my desperation to be loved, to feel cared for. And I wasn’t the first girl. If you had Lana’s evidence, you know that.”

“Another whore.”

“Another naïve girl taken advantage of by a predator.”

The van swerved with the jerk of Darren’s hands and nearly skidded off the road. Jaymee threw her tied arms against the window before her head smacked the glass. In the confusion, she managed to skim the blood trailing down her chest and mark the door with a good smear. Supposedly, blood remained even after a good cleaning. She’d be damned if Darren was going to kill her without a battle.

He steadied the vehicle. Both hands on the wheel, knife still clutched. Tendons in his arms bulged. His eyes popped wide open, nostrils flared, breathing so heavily he might have been having a heart attack. His gasps seemed to suck the air out of the vehicle, his simmering anger leaving Jaymee tense and ready for a fight.

“Damn you.” Rage flushed his face in angry streaks. “Damn you. Damn you, bitch.”

She balled up her fists, pressed her feet against the floorboards. If he came at her, she’d be ready.

“Should’ve killed her after Lana.” Darren rocked in the seat, lips moving so quickly Jaymee barely understood. “No one would have missed her. But that’s all right. Take care of her now. Holden’ll be okay. He can go back to Jackson a free man. All that matters. All that matters.”

Jaymee sagged against the window. She stuck her bound hands between her legs and dug her fingernails into the seat. Darren was oblivious, muttering about the Lord’s vengeance and protecting the hearts of the righteous.

“So when you killed Lana, you didn’t know about the adoption ring. You just knew he was about to be exposed. And you chose him over me.”

“I don’t like hurting people.” He ignored her question.

Her fingers drifted over her collarbone. Sticky blood had begun to pool. “Hard to believe.”

“I just don’t know what else to do.” He’d reverted back to his normal, dulcet tone.

“I thought it would end with Lana. And then Rebecca discovered Royce’s bank records.”

“He was the attorney, then?”

“No.”

Darren’s head moved from side to side, bobbing to a tune only he could hear. “After Lana showed up when you were visiting Jackson and asked about illegal adoptions, Royce started snooping and figured it out. He blackmailed Holden.”

“What exactly did he figure out?”

“Debra used to be the office secretary at Royce’s firm. She helped Holden on his mission. Lana snooped, Royce discovered. Used it to his advantage.”

Jaymee’s mind stalled. “His mission?”

“Yes.”

“And what would that be?”

“Providing loving couples with abandoned children.”

“Abandoned?” Jaymee’s voice went shrill. Her fear molded into rage. “He said we abandoned our children?”

“When a mother is incapable of taking care of her child, she’s abandoned her. And you made the choice to give up your rights.”

“Holden gave me no choice. I wanted to keep her, but he said…” Jaymee caught herself. Did she tell Darren now? No. Not yet. Too soon to play her only wild card.

“That you weren’t fit? Of course you weren’t.”

“So it’s fine he’s made hundreds of thousands of dollars off illegal adoptions?”

“Fees and expenses. He never profited.” Darren nodded hard enough to bump his chin on his chest. “He assured me of that.”

“When did you two have this talk?”

“The morning after you accosted him at our parents’ place.”

“And you believe him?”

“He wouldn’t lie to me.”

She couldn’t help herself. Tired, hollow laughter erupted from Jaymee’s chest. She clamped her hand over her mouth. Too late. Darren hissed, jerked the van sharply to the right, smacking her head against the window. Her laughter moved to harsh sobs. She clutched her throbbing head.

“Laugh at me again, and I’ll do more than that.”

She bit the inside of her cheek to keep silent. Let him try. First chance she got, she’d sink her nails into his pretty face. He might put her in the grave, but not before she got a good chunk of his DNA.

Nick turned onto Roselea’s downtown strip just as a massive thundercloud blocked the setting sun. Fingers drumming the steering wheel, Nick rode the bumper of an old pickup truck until it turned down a side street. He slammed the gas and headed for Sallie’s Diner.

Jaymee wasn’t at the Foster’s. Lorelai hadn’t seen her all day. Cage wasn’t answering his phone.

Damn stubborn woman. She must have gone to work. He knew she needed money, but she should take better care of herself. She’d probably gone straight back to the diner and started her shift as though nothing happened.

Still, if Lorelai hadn’t seen Jaymee all day, then where had the uniform taken her after Penn’s revelation?

A heavy unease ballooned in his stomach. His mouth was too dry to produce any saliva. The bottle of water he downed only made his stomach hurt worse, and the cottony layer of gunk in his mouth continued to thrive.

Downtown on a Friday night was busy. Nick parked two blocks down from the diner, locked the doors, and jogged the rest of the way. The thud of his feet on the pavement timed with his heartbeat, and despite a relatively cool breeze, his body heat sent the sweat pouring out of him. Passersby glared and darted out of the way. Nick didn’t bother to excuse himself.

Thud, thud, thud
.

He ducked around a young couple and yanked the diner’s door open. He immediately registered two things: the place was noisier than usual, and Jaymee was nowhere in sight.

But maybe she was in the back. On a break. Maybe she was holed up in the alley, thinking, crying, hating.

Or maybe she wasn’t here.

The table to his right complained about the wait for their food. A man at the table in front of them perched on the edge of his booth, two fingers in the air, looking famished and furious. Two empty booths still had tables full of dirty dishes, and in the middle of it all ran a harried-looking Sallie. Strands of her gray hair had escaped her bun. Her glasses had slid down her nose, precariously perched on the tip of cartilage.

“Sallie.”

She stopped at Nick’s voice, plates in one hand and a pen and notepad in the other. A raised eyebrow signaled her attention.

“Where’s Jaymee?”

“She didn’t come back for her shift.” Sallie sounded more worried than angry.

Unease spread over Nick. “She got some bad news this afternoon.”

“I heard.”

“How?”

Sallie jerked her chin in acknowledgement of the man waving his fingers. “One second, sir.” Smelling of fruity perfume and bacon, she stepped close to Nick. She pitched her voice to a low hum. “Cage stopped by an hour ago looking for her. He’d heard the news over the scanner, called Detective Charles.”

“Everything?”

“Everything.” Sallie pursed her mouth, the pink lipstick worn off and the darker lip-liner still faintly outlining her lips. “I don’t know if Penn Gereau is a noble steed or a cowardly ass.”

“I’ll go with cowardly ass. Did Cage see Jaymee?”

“No. But he figured she must have gone back to her trailer. Somewhere she could have peace. Can’t blame her for not coming in. Still, it’s not like her not to call.” Sallie worried her lower lip, smudging the liner.

“Was he going over to check on her?”

“Said he was. Hasn’t come back yet.” Sallie looked around at the irritated customers. “I’ve got to get back to work. Let me know when you find her.”

Her words chilled his sweaty skin. Nick called Cage again, and this time, his brother-in-law answered.

“You go out to Jaymee’s yet?”

“No. Got called in on a domestic dispute out in the sticks.”

“Something’s wrong.” Nick left the diner just as a group of four entered. “Jaymee didn’t even call her boss.”

“She’s got other shit on her mind.”

“You know as well as I do just bailing on Sallie isn’t like her.”

“You heard about Gereau, right? That he’s Jaymee’s real father?”

“Yeah,” Nick said. “Sallie told me.”

“Jaymee’s probably holed up in misery. Can’t say I blame her.”

“She still would have called Sallie. I’m going out to check on her.”

Cage was silent for a beat. “All right. She shouldn’t be alone right now, anyway. Call me when you get there.”

Moving over the southwest end of town, the purple and green storm clouds bulged with rain. The storm ushered in the dark, and the antique streetlights flickered to life. Spotty breaths of cool had been replaced by thick humidity. The change in pressure left Nick with sore sinuses and a fine layer of sweat. A rapid flash brightened the dancing cloud. Then, a weak rumble of thunder.

Nick swatted the buzzing gnats and ran for the car.

By the time he reached Ravenna Court, the lightning had powered up. Heavy, blue-white streaks jabbed at the earth, spreading out like an electric pitchfork. Hard claps of thunder followed, closer with every rumble. Far behind the approaching storm, the sun descended, surrounding the light show with a dusky orange. Nick might have called the scene beautiful if the storm didn’t seem like such a terrifying omen.

Intuition, panic, pessimism–all warred for dominance. As he pulled up to her trailer, its windows dark and the door shut, intuition won. Intuition clubbed him in the back of the head, punched him in the heart, and threw him out of the car.

He knew she wasn’t there, wasn’t inside, wasn’t going to answer. Or couldn’t.

Nick’s hand hovered over the rusted handle, blood rushing to his face. Pain rippled through his clenched teeth. Slowly, he grasped the handle. The door was unlocked.

He pulled it open, expecting it to creak like something out of a shitty horror movie. The door was as silent as the inside of the trailer. A streak of lightning lit up the inside. Nick climbed the cement steps and lingered in the doorway. Jaymee had been here. The scent of sweet flowers still hung in the air–her shampoo. Thunder slammed once more, shaking the trailer. A glance out the window at the green sky reminded Nick he was in the worst place possible if a tornado hit.

No time to dick around.

Nick grabbed the string hanging above the table and switched on the light. Emptiness greeted his effort. Empty table, empty sink, empty rooms. Nothing was out of place. The normalcy terrified Nick.

Walking on lead-filled feet, Nick checked the small bedroom and bathroom. A few clothes, clean towels, twin bed made with a faded set of navy sheets, a folded blanket at the foot. He looked back and forth, scanning the room for something–anything–that could tell him where Jaymee had gone. Back in the living area, still nothing. He only knew she’d been here. Recently.

Where was she?

Another crack of thunder. Blast of wind. Jaymee’s home trembled. So did Nick. Pressing his palm to his forehead, he breathed hard, the air raw in his chest. Maybe he was overreacting. Jaymee’s life had turned upside down yet again today. She could have reached her breaking point. Gone somewhere to hide. Gotten snagged by the murderer desperate to cover Holden’s bad acts.

Royce Newton. Paul Ballard. One of the men had to be Holden’s accomplice. If he’d heard about Holden’s beating and Debra’s arrest, he could have panicked. Nick left a message for Cage and then called Charles hoping he wasn’t too busy to answer.

“What now?” Charles growled over the receiver. “I’m processing Gereau and dealing with Kees over Debra’s confession and the paperwork the Andrews woman gave you. Got the attorney general on hold while we figure out how exactly to charge Holden.”

“Murder one.”

“No proof.”

“Kidnapping.”

“Hard to kidnap someone when you’re tied up bleeding in a basement.”

“Jaymee’s not at the Foster’s or her trailer. Someone took her.”

Charles grumbled something Nick couldn’t understand. “Signs of a struggle?”

“No.”

“Then how you know she’s missing?”

“She didn’t show up for work. Didn’t call. That’s not like her. Cage hasn’t heard from her. She went home and someone took her. You track down Royce Newton yet?”

“No.”

“What about Ballard?”

“He’s at the hospital with Holden, running his mouth about Gereau being a sinner and shit. Already talking about his wife as though she’s a world-class criminal.”

“Trying to save his reputation.” Nick left the trailer unlocked and got into his car. “Newton’s got to have taken Jaymee. He’s heard about Debra’s arrest somehow, or Holden’s, and lost it. Maybe Jaymee’s his bargaining chip. You need to get a warrant for Evaline.”

“It’s in the works based on Debra’s testimony. But she’s in Jackson, and I’ve got to deal with red tape. It’s late here. Judges home for the evening.”

“Then call one at home.”

“I will as soon as I get everything I need from Jackson and Sergeant Kees. Ain’t bothering no judge until I’m sure he’ll sign the warrant.”

“Jaymee’s missing.” Nick slammed his hand against the steering wheel. “We need to find her.”

“All right. You start looking, and I’ll call the county sheriff, get him to send Cage over there. I’ll send a uniform back to Gereau’s and her parents. We’ll find her. Soon as I get the warrant for Evaline, I’ll let you guys know.”

Dead air. Nick tossed the phone into the passenger’s seat. Lightning spiderwebbed across the sky. Four seconds later, thunder crashed. A few residents of the trailer court came out to watch. Kids playing in the nearby field ran for cover as the rain pelted.

Leaning back in the seat, Nick pinched his lower lip. Lights came on in a couple of trailers. People were home. Maybe someone had seen Jaymee leave, saw her captor.

He stashed his phone in his pocket and dashed out into the deluge.