For You (The 'Burg Series) (37 page)

Colt lowered his voice. “I need you to mobilize the Lorraine gossip tree but I need you to do it without Feb, Jessie Rourke, Mimi VanderWal, Delilah or Jackie Owens gettin’ wind of it.”

Sully leaned forward. “What’s this about?”

“Gut,” Colt told him, “Amy Harris walked into J&J’s a couple nights ago. She’d lived in this town all her life and never been there. She eyed Feb in a way I didn’t like. She acted funny, we had a conversation that didn’t sit well and walked right back out. Then she disappeared.”

“Disappeared?”

“Never took a day off work that her boss remembers and now she’s had three, today, no call-no show. No one’s seen or heard from her and she isn’t answering her door.”

“What the fuck?”

“Found out she had a baby, ‘while ago. Don’t know whose as she’s not a girl who gets around. At all,” Colt told him.

“This somethin’ to do with Feb or is it somethin’ to do with Lowe?”

“Gut says, both.”

“How’s that?”

“Don’t know that either but I was surprised to hear she had a kid. We weren’t close but that was still news. Colleague reports she had a breakdown, took off from her station, early break so she could have a cryin’ jag, thinkin’ about her boy which was way out of her standard practice. But she had it after Lowe came in to make a withdrawal.”

Sully shivered and it was visible.

“You think he raped her?”

Colt shook his head, “No clue. I think she came in to tell me something or, way she was eyein’ Feb, her. I think it’s no coincidence she did it after Angie got murdered. I think it scared the shit out of her. And I think she lost her courage and didn’t do it. I want to know what that something was because what I do know is, after she did that, she disappeared.”

“What you want Raine to do about it?”

“I wanna know anything there is to know about Amy Harris.”

“Without any of Feb and her gang findin’ out Raine and her gang are askin’?”

“Without Feb or any of her gang findin’ out
I’m
askin’.”

Sully grinned. “Colt, man, you know, you’re gonna have to buy her girls with somethin’.”

Colt grinned back, “Sully, you’re so full of shit. Raine isn’t half as curious about the state of affairs as you are.”

“What?” Sully threw out a hand. “You’re my partner.”

Colt shook his head but said, “Tell Raine Feb made a frittata for breakfast this morning.”

Sully slammed his palm down on the table and gave a shout.

“Damn, man, you must be the
master
. Morrie tells me only thing better than Feb’s frittatas is being touched by the hand of God.”

Colt took another drink of coffee.

“They that good?” Sully pushed.

Colt thought of the best breakfast he’d ever had in his life. Jackie was no slouch in the kitchen, Melanie loved to cook gourmet crap and was always trying out a new recipe, and Frank’s specialty was breakfast and his restaurant was known throughout Indiana as a place you needed to have breakfast before you died.

Feb’s frittata beat all of them.

Colt’s voice was low again when he replied, “Best I ever had.”

Sully read his meaning and Colt realized it was a good idea to share. He’d helped his partner shake off the shadow of grief and remember life could be good.
 

Sully shoved the rest of his cookie in his mouth and took a slug of coffee right through it.

“I got a serial murderer to find,” he told Colt, still chewing and then turned his head to call to Mimi. “Meems, sweetheart, you got a to go cup?”

* * * * *

Colt got a seven o’clock reservation at Costa’s and called Feb to tell her he’d pick her up at the bar at six thirty.

He also called Doc to ask him if Amy came around to see him the day before. Or, more to the point, he called Doc’s receptionist Leslie, who was old as dirt but had been sweet on Colt from the minute Colt’s mother swayed in, drunk off her ass, yanking Colt, who was six and who’d burned his hand on the stove trying to make soup, behind her. Colt owed a lot of people in that town for their kindness when he was living his hell; it was part of why he earned his badge.

Leslie told him no Amy even though she shouldn’t have done it, she would have done anything he asked. Not because she was sweet on him, because she trusted whatever he was doing, it was the right thing.

An hour later, Colt got a surprise when Doc called him direct.

“What’s this I hear you callin’ ‘bout Amy, son?” Doc asked.

Colt stifled his surprise and replied, “Concern, Doc. She’s been missin’ a few days and she’s no call-no show at work. Not her style.”

“Since when the po-lice investigate no call-no show?” Doc asked an excellent question.

Doc was a good old boy and sounded like a hick. He did this because he wanted his patients to talk to him about what ailed them, body and mind, so he could do something to help. They wouldn’t do that if they held him up on the pedestal where most put doctors just because of their schooling. Doc broke down those barriers by affecting a personality that said
I’m one of you
. He was smarter than hell and should have retired years ago but the town wouldn’t stand for it. He’d be shoving thermometers under sick kids’ tongues until the day he keeled over and died.

“Since it’s Amy Harris. She doesn’t have kin close, no friends to speak of and this is well out of character,” Colt answered.

Doc was silent.

Then he said quietly, “Let this be, son.”

That cold hit his chest and it went into deep freeze.

“Let what be, Doc?”

“Just let it be. I hear you and Feb’re finally patchin’ things up. No sense diggin’ up the dead dog. It’s dead. That’s all you need to know.”

“Doc, this could be tied to a murder investigation. You know something, you aren’t doin’ right not sharin’.”

Now Doc was surprised. “What murder investigation?”

“We’re guessin’, and it’s a good guess, that Denny Lowe killed his wife, Feb’s ex, Pete Hollister, Angie Maroni and a man named Butch Miller.”

“
Hoo,
” Doc’s shock was audible; it came out of him like someone punched him in the gut.

Colt ignored the noise and thought about Amy.

Amy would go to Doc. Doc would have done her pregnancy test. He likely arranged for her care and even the adoption. Doc was a pillar of that community and he was for a reason. He wasn’t just a doctor, he was much more.

“You know somethin’ about Amy and Denny, we gotta know,” Colt told him.

“Knew Marie, heard ‘bout her this mornin’. Cryin’ shame, she was a nice woman,” Doc noted then asked, “Denny?”

“Evidence is pointing to him.”

“Hard to believe, son.”

“You don’t know what I know,” Colt told him. “You got somethin’ for me?”

“No, Colt, I don’t. Not on Denny and I would tell you, you know I would. Amy, I’m just sayin’, you best leave that alone. She’s a good girl.”

“She connected to Denny?”

“Not that I know of, would shock me deep I heard she was.”

“Then why would you need to tell me she’s a good girl?”

“Because, no matter what, it’s plain old true.”

The old man was hiding something.

“Doc.”

“All I’m gonna say.”

“Doc –”

“Colt,” Doc said firmly, quietly and in a way that made the cold inch tighter, “let it alone. Hear me, son?”

“I can’t. I’ll take it as read you’ll keep this between you and me but this shit with Denny is tied to me, it’s tied to Feb and we’re not talkin’ in good ways. You seen a lot of sick in your life but I’ll bet you your pension you haven’t seen sick like this,” he heard Doc take in a sharp hiss of breath but talked through it, “Feb’s in danger and I am too. If Amy’s in danger, she needs protection and she needs it now. Hell, Doc, she needed it last week and it’s my job to see that she has it.”

“I’ll tell you, Colt, far’s I know, Denny Lowe ain’t tied to Amy. God’s honest truth.”

That meant whatever he was hiding, and he was hiding something, might be tied to Colt or Feb and he wasn’t saying. Which meant it was.

“Doc, no matter how deep you bury that skeleton in your closet, somethin’ always happens to make it rattle.”

“You hear those bones rattlin’, son, take my advice. You close the closet door.”

Then Doc hung up. Another dead end.

“Fucking
shit,” Colt cursed as he put down his phone.

“Looks like your day’s turnin’ out good as mine,” Sully noted as he walked up.
 

Colt knew what Sully was talking about. Colleagues, neighbors and friends of Lowe were being interviewed everywhere. All they got was a few “We always thought he was a bit quiet,” but nothing else. It was a shock even to his Mom and Dad, who still lived in town. Denny’s mother was so cut up she’d had to be sedated by paramedics. No one had heard from him or seen him since the day Puck died, which the coroner told them was also the day he reckoned Marie died. They were coming up zero which meant the only thing they had left was waiting for him to kill again.

He had no chance to reply to Sully, the phone on his desk rang again. He pulled it out of the receiver and put it to his ear.

“Lieutenant Colton,” he answered.

“She’s dead.”

Colt knew the voice, even if it was a whisper. Julie McCall.

Fuck.

“What?”

“She’s dead, Lieutenant. I’m standin’ in her house and she’s dead.”

“Who?” Colt asked but he knew.

“Amy,” she whispered and it surprised him, coming from that woman, but he heard tears in that one word.

“Exit the house immediately, Ms. McCall. Don’t touch anything. Officers will be there shortly and I’ll meet you out front.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t touch anything,” he repeated.

“I won’t.”

He hit a button on the phone and then hit the extension for dispatch. “Connie, get a unit out to Amy Harris’s house, one six eight Rosemary Street. We got a four one nine.”

“Four one nine,” Connie repeated. “Sure thing, Colt,” she finished and disconnected.

Sully was close when Colt put the phone down and grabbed his blazer off the back of his chair.

“Why you sendin’ a unit to Amy Harris’s house on a four one nine?”

Colt didn’t look at him when he answered. He was on the move.

“Because she’s dead.”

* * * * *

Colt stood in Amy Harris’s bedroom watching the boys cut her dead body down from the ceiling fan.

Hanged. Apparent suicide. No bruising. No marks. Hair tidy. Clothing tidy. House tidy, like she was preparing for company.

She had no shoes on. Chair on its side under her. No sign of struggle. No forced entry.

The coroner, Andy, told Colt his best guess, she died the day before, Monday.

Colt walked out of the room into Amy’s living room and pulled the phone out of his back pocket. The display said it was ten passed six. No Costa’s tonight.

He opened it, scrolled down to Feb and hit go.

“Hello?”

“Baby, hate to tell you this but we can’t do Costa’s. I got work.”

She was quiet a minute then she asked, “What kind of work?”

“Suicide.”

He heard her gasp before she said, “Who?”

Colt had no intention of telling her that when they were on the phone. He hadn’t had a lot of success controlling her temper or her emotions when he was in the same room with her. He was not going to make that attempt over the fucking phone.

“We’ll talk about it when I get home from work.”

“When’s that gonna be?”