Forever Man (18 page)

Fuck him. Kevin’s the only one that matters.

J.J. wiped away his tears as he headed for his car.

Two can play at that game, Dad.

Izzy Morris pulled her cruiser into the space reserved for the Chief of Police. In the rear-view mirror she could see Katie Bethel sitting in the back seat, a blanket from the trunk wrapped around her shoulders. Her eyes were red from crying. For now, though, her tears had given way to a depressed silence. She’d taken the news of her mother’s death hard; despite the woman’s many problems, Jennie Bethel had been the only person left in Katie’s life.

“Ready?” Izzy asked the passenger seated next to her.

“You sure this is a good idea?” replied Gene Vincent.

“Well, Katie doesn’t have anywhere else to go. Besides, both of you have spoken to Owens. It may help to have different opinions. This guy….”

“He’s a little different, isn’t he?”

“More than a little. He’s the key to all of this. I can feel it. I just need him to explain how.” She paused. “Are you sure
you
want to do this?”

“Natalie’s my goddaughter,” Gene said. “I know it’s only a ceremonial thing, but it still means something to me. And Nat does, too. So, yes, I’m very sure.”

“Thank you,” said Izzy, touched by his words. She turned to face Katie. “Come on, honey. We’re going inside.”

Katie nodded without answering, joining the other two as they entered the police station.

Izzy led them down a long hallway with two doors on the right and one on the left. She stopped at the second right-hand door and poked her head in. Sten Billick sat at his desk. He was going over some notes.

“Bring Owens to the interview room.” She turned to leave but stopped. “Wait, make it my office. And no cuffs.”

“Not a good idea, Chief,” Sten said as he closed the file.

“I’ve gotten nowhere with him. If I’m going to find Natalie, I need to try something different.”

Izzy saw Sten’s eyes shift to Gene and Katie standing behind her.

“You’re bringing
them
?”

“Do you have a better idea?”

“Not bringing in civilians, for starters.”

“It’s not your daughter’s life on the line, Sten,” she said quietly.

“Yeah,” he said, checking and holstering his gun. “It’s not. Be there in a few.”

While Sten went to retrieve Owens, Izzy and Gene brought in two chairs from her office and set them along the wall with the window overlooking Asher Street. Gene and Katie sat while Izzy slid into the chair behind her desk. Together they waited for Bart Owens to arrive.

Less than a minute later he walked in, followed by Detective Billick.

“Have a seat,” Izzy said, indicating the chair opposite hers.

The old man’s eyes traveled from her, to Gene, then to Katie, where his gaze lingered for a few moments, and then back to Izzy. “Thank you.” He sat down across from her.

Sten moved to stand behind Owens.

Izzy said, “I’ve brought in a couple of people you know. They’re going to sit here and listen for now. Is that okay with you?”

Owens shrugged. “It’s a little odd, but I have no objections.”

“We’re going to do this differently,” Izzy said. “Maybe something a little less confrontational will help the cause. You up for it?”

“As much as I can be.”

“Is that a yes or no?”

“I’ll do my best,” Owens replied.

“It’d help if you stopped being so damn cryptic.”

“A lot will depend on your questions,” Owens said. He crossed his leg, folding his hands on his knee. His long, brown fingers were unadorned with rings.

“Let’s start with an easy one,” Izzy said. “Are you married?”

Owens shook his head. “No, not currently.”

“So, you were married at one time?”

“Yes,” he said. “It was a long time ago. She’s passed on.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thank you.”

“See how easy that was. Next question: how old are you?”

Owens hesitated for a fraction of a second: “Fifty-four.”

“And we were doing so well,” Izzy said, sighing. “Now you’re lying.”

“Check my driver’s license. I’m telling the truth.”

“I thought we were going to cut through the bullshit?”

Owens moved his hands from his knee to fold them across his chest, a classic defensive posture for a person with something to hide. He must have realized this, because he unfolded his arms and placed them on the arms of the chair.

“Age is a sensitive topic for me,” he said. “I will tell you this much: I’m a little older than fifty-four.”

“How much older?”

“Next question,” Owens said with a shake of his head.

“Goddammit, how hard can it be to tell me your age?”

Owens expression hardened. “Please don’t do that.”

“What?” Izzy asked.

“Blaspheme.”

“You’re a musician
and
a priest?”

“I had a very religious upbringing.”

“And where was that?”

“Sorry,” Owens said with another shake of his head.

“So your past is off limits?”

“I’d like it to be, yes.”

Frustrated at getting nowhere again, Izzy paused to collect her thoughts. She did a quick mental run-through of this morning’s questioning.

“Earlier you said you were here to protect Kevin Sallinen. Protect him from what?”

“There’s a man who’s also come to your town, like me. He’s after the boy.”

Izzy shook her head. “I’ll need more than that.”

“His name is Darryl Webber,” said Owens. “Mid-thirties. Light-colored hair. Has a scar running right about here.” Owens used a finger to trace a line along his left jaw.

“That sounds like the stranger who showed up at Maddie Cain’s house.” Izzy described her visit to Jimmy’s wake.

“So you know him?” This question came from Sten.

“I should.” Owens said. “I’m the one who gave him the scar.”

Izzy asked, “How did you know this Webber was here in the first place?”

“A friend of mine, a colleague of sorts, had been keeping an eye on him. When Webber left New Jersey, my friend tracked him here.”

“Why isn’t this friend here helping you?”

“Different people, different specialties. He observes.”

“And your specialty?” she asked.

“I protect.”

“All by yourself?” Sten said, his mouth twisted in disbelief. “You must be tougher than you look. I searched you when you were arrested. You had no weapons. No body armor. No cell phone to call for backup. What are you, Special Forces? SEAL? Or do you beat the bad guys off with your guitar?”

“Trust me,” Owens said. “I’m capable enough—”

“What’s the matter with you people?” said Katie Bethel. She wiped at fresh tears with the edge of the blanket. “Don’t you understand that my mother is dead. Somebody
killed
her. Now, why don’t you cut the crap before somebody else dies?” She wrapped the blanket tighter, then addressed Bart Owens. “It’s obvious you know more than
we
do, sir. So rather than play guessing games, why not just tell us? Okay?”

Gene Vincent gave a low whistle of admiration. Sten Billick actually cracked a smile, however briefly. Izzy didn’t know if she wanted to jump up and hug Katie or have her leave to spare her any further pain.

Bart Owens turned slightly in his chair so he faced Katie. In a voice heavy with regret, he said, “I don’t understand why your mother was killed. As far as I can tell, she didn’t have anything to do with this. And if I’d been there, I might have been able to save her. But I’ve made mistakes. Now you’re paying the price. I hope you can forgive me.”

“Help us,” Katie said flatly. “Then I’ll forgive you.”

“Jenny wasn’t alone in that park,” said Izzy. “Chet Boardman was with her. He’s missing.”

“My mom and Mr. Boardman had a history together,” added Katie, blushing. “Dating and…things.”

Owens shifts his attention to Gene. “Wasn’t he one of the men thrown out of the Lula that night?”

Gene nodded. “That’s him. The other guy was Denny Cain, the dead boy’s father.”

“Okay, let’s try and put some pieces together.” Izzy picked up her pencil, started making notes. “We know for sure that Webber’s here. He’s been seen with Denny and Chet, so it’d be a good guess that they’re involved somehow. If those two are involved, then….” Her voice trailed off as a realization hit her.

“Izzy,” Gene said, inching forward on his chair. “What is it?”

“That son of a bitch.” Izzy threw her pencil on the desk. “I bet he knew what was going on all along.”

“
Who
?” said Sten, Gene, and Katie in unison.

“Jack Sallinen.”

Izzy called a break at that point. She had someone bring coffee and sodas into her office. The tension in the room had slowly built as they had discovered some of what had been going on underneath their noses.

“Okay,” Izzy said after everyone had settled down. “I need to get this straight in my head. Simply put, Webber’s here to get Kevin, and you’re here to stop him.” The last part was directed at Bart Owens.

“Yes.”

“Does he plan on killing the boy?”

“No, I don’t believe so,” Owens said. “Not unless….”

“No more secrets. We’re talking about a boy’s life here.”

Owens sipped at his coffee. “Not unless Webber believes I’ll get to him first. Then he may kill the boy rather than let me have him.”

“What do you mean ‘have him’?” Izzy protested. “Neither of you is taking him. And what’s so special about him, anyway?”

The old man’s eyes dropped to his coffee. “I’m not exactly sure.”

“Stop it,” Izzy said, irritated. “Stop jerking us around. What is so special about an eight-year-old, autistic boy?”

“Do you have that drawing the boy made?” asked Owens.

Izzy pulled her notebook out of a desk drawer. She slid the drawing out and laid it in front of Owens.

“See the lightning bolts? Webber had a nickname, a while ago. Lightning. And the raindrops aren’t raindrops, they’re tears.” Owens touched the mark under his left eye. “I’m in the picture, too.”

“Okay,” Gene said, joining the discussion. “Kevin Sallinen drew a picture of you and Webber. But since he’s never met you—and we can assume he’s never met Webber or he’d be gone, right?—he drew representations of both of you. How could he possibly know anything about you or Webber? None of this makes sense.”

“Yes, I know,” said Owens. “I’m afraid I don’t have all the answers.”

Sten Billick leaned over Owens’ shoulder and pointed to the animal. “What’s that thing?”

“I’m not sure, Detective,” said Owens. “But I have a suspicion.”

Sten looked on expectantly.

“I think,” Owens said, “that’s what’s been doing the killing.”

There was a moment of quiet, then Izzy said, “What is it?”

“I honestly don’t know,” said Owens. “But you’ve seen what it can do. You’re going to need help, Chief Morris.”

“And you’re the one to help us.”

“I’d like to, but can’t while I’m locked up.”

Sten snorted. “We should just release you? Let you walk free?”

“It’ll happen anyway,” replied Owens. “At my arraignment. By that time, though, it may be too late.”

Sten shifted his attention to Izzy. “I’m sorry, Chief. But this is so much bull. He’s telling stories, and then wants us to trust him and let him go? This stinks from every angle.”

Izzy glanced at Sten. The decision was hers. People were dying. Her daughter was missing. And this mystery man, her only suspect, was asking to be set free so he could “help.” It went against every tenet of police work she’d ever learned. Plus the public would be howling for her badge. The risks were too great.

Nevertheless, she had to do something to save her daughter.

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll release you.”

Sten gave a resigned shake of his head. Owens looked relieved.

“He’s right,” she said to Sten. “The judge is going to order his release anyway. And I’ve gotten nowhere. Every hour that passes means less of a chance of finding Natalie.”

Sten spread his hands wide. “Innocent is as innocent does.”

“Okay, Owens,” she said. “You’re a free man. What do you recommend we do first?”

“I’m here to help,” Owens said. “You’re still in charge. It’s your call.”

Izzy thought for a moment. “Looks like we go get Kevin.”

“What about your authority to
take
Kevin,” Sten interjected. “How are you going to explain that?”

“I’ll worry about it later,” answered Izzy. “If this helps me find Natalie, I’ll gladly turn in my badge.” She turned her attention to Gene and Katie. “You two stay here until we get back.”

“In for a penny, in for a pound,” said Gene, then smiled at Sten. “You think you’re the only one who can be witty.”

“Me, too,” Katie added quickly.

“No,” Izzy said to the girl. “Absolutely not. I’m not putting you in danger.”

“My mom
died
because of this,” Katie countered. “I have a right to be part of it. I am coming along, even if I have to steal a police car to do it.”

“You’re staying here,” Izzy said. “End of discussion.”

“He’ll be with us, right?” Katie pointed at Bart Owens. “He’s a protector. So let him protect.”

“I’ll keep an eye on her,” Bart said.

“Oh, no.” Izzy shook her head. “No way. I don’t even know you. I’m not putting her life into your hands.”

“You may not have a choice.” Owens nodded at Katie. “I believe she would actually try to follow us.”

“Damn right I would,” said Katie, her eyes bright with determination.

Izzy wanted to argue the point, but she was running out of time. If Webber and Jack beat her to Kevin, then all this was pointless.

“Fine.” Izzy sighed. “But stay near Owens.” To him, she said, “Any sign of trouble, you get her out.”

Owens nodded.

Izzy turned to Sten. “You’re good with this?”

“No,” he said. “Not at all. But I’ve been outvoted.”

From her desk drawer, Izzy removed her Glock P24. Then she pulled another clip from her desk drawer and stuffed it into her pocket.

“All right, let’s go get that little boy.”

*   *   *