Resolution: Evan Warner Book 1 (7 page)

She shrugged. “Apparently.”

It was the wrong day for me to hear that. I was in the wrong mood. My mind started to speed up. My surroundings began to feel far away, as they always do when I get intensely focused on a matter. In a few seconds I’d gone well beyond feeling sympathetic towards this girl and her situation. I was seriously pissed off, for her sake and the dog’s. I was envisioning that special sort of lowlife that steals a pet and gets his jollies from watching it fight to the death. The sort that show up on the news from far-away places with much higher populations than little New Hampshire. Nasty, vicious people with no regard for others. No regard for anything other than quick and easy gain. Deviants experiencing pleasure from the pain of others. Complete assholes.

Evidently the intensity of my thoughts showed through in my expression, because Kendra said, “You okay?”

I looked at her and my thoughts scattered and I was just standing there by her car, completely present again. She was looking up at me curiously.

“Just thinking,” I said.

She nodded slowly. A vague response.

“About dogs,” I clarified. “I hate the way people abuse them.”

“You and me too.”

“I’d like to get my hands on them. Give them a taste of their own medicine.”

She smiled meekly.

“Wouldn’t you?” I asked.

“What could I do?”

“You might surprise yourself. Anger can be a powerful tool.”

She didn’t respond to that. Instead she said, “I’ve got a little time to kill before work. Want to go over to Dunkins, sit at the picnic tables? I’ll buy your coffee.”

I said, “Sure.”

“You’re not too busy or anything?”

“Never too busy for coffee.”

11

Half a mile up the road I turned right into Dunkin’ Donuts. Found a spot near the back by the picnic tables and parked. Climbed out and opened the slider for Frank. He was always glad to sniff some fresh turf and mark some new territory. I sat at a table. Lit a smoke and watched Frank sniffing around. The light posts lining the lot were coming on for the night, like old lanterns hanging from faux wooden posts. Overhead the sky was pink and purple and slowly darkening.

Kendra pulled in a few minutes after me. She got out and said she’d stopped to hang a new flyer at the post office. The last one she had to hang was inside Dunkins.

“No rush,” I said.

She had a brief introduction to Frank. He was friendly but didn’t take her too seriously. He didn’t know the situation. He assumed she was just some random person saying hello. In a minute she’d be gone.

“How do you like your coffee?” she asked.

“Large iced regular. Cream and sugar.”

“Can I get Frank a plain donut?”

“He’ll be you’re friend forever if you do.”

She crossed the small lot and went into the coffee shop. She was walking even faster than she had at Walmart. There was a noticeable spring in her step. She reminded me of a dancer the way she stayed up on her toes. Maybe she felt energized knowing that a complete stranger was interested in her dilemma.

Or maybe she just really loved coffee. I could relate to that.

I could see her inside. She hung the flyer and was talking with several people. She was a chatty girl for sure. Well suited for her line of work. There wasn’t much of a line and she got the coffees and was back outside within a few minutes. She walked slower with the coffees, sipping from her hot cup.

Frank accosted her as soon as she sat down at the table. She smelled like donuts, and he now understood that she wasn’t some random person passing by. She gave him some scratches and spoke baby talk to him. Which he loves. Especially from females. His big tail was going like crazy. Next she gave him the plain donut, which cemented their budding friendship.

“Are you a dancer or something?” I asked.

She made a face. “How’d you know?”

“You walk on your toes. You move easy.”

“It’s second nature by now. I’ve done ballet since I was little. I help teach the beginner class every Wednesday night up in Laconia. One of these days I’d love to run my own class.”

“Cool,” I said, to be polite. I didn’t give a hoot about dancing.

“What about you?” she asked.

“Not me. I look awful in a tutu.”

Through a smile she said, “What do you do? It seems like you’re good at cutting to the chase with people.”

To confirm her point, I said, “Who took your dog, Kendra?”

“Okay,” she said. She took a long breath and got completely serious. “Obviously I can’t be certain, but I think these guys on Bow Street might have him. They’re the most obvious suspects, according to my friend Tim. It’s well known that they’re into all sorts of bad crap around here. The Bensons. Jared and Seth.”

“If they’re so well known, why hasn’t anyone stopped them?”

“Everyone knows that Bow Street is a mess. No one does anything about anything down there.”

She was right. Bow Street is nearly a mile-long stretch of drugs and poverty and prostitution. Kids having kids. Despair and crime. Because it’s somewhat set apart from the rest of the city, behind the old mill buildings, where many of the workers used to live, it gets forgotten. One of those cases where it’s easier for the rest of a community to just look the other way as much as possible. Avert their eyes until they reach the nicer side of town.

“I guess the Bensons are tight with one of the Franklin cops,” she said next. “Franklin only has three. That’s all they can afford. From everything I’ve heard, two are straight, the chief and one of the deputy’s. The other one is crooked. He lets a lot slide.”

I said, “So these Benson guys have a free pass to do whatever.”

“Basically.”

“Guess I’ll need to go down there and snoop around.”

“It’s sketchy down there.”

“I wouldn’t go if I were you.”

“I’ve driven by about twenty times. They’ve got beware of dog signs in the crappy yard.”

“That’s another thing,” I said.

“What is?”

“Your car. It stands out. If things get ugly, you don’t want these people knowing who you are.”

She deflated a little. “I never thought of that. This is a small place.”

I nodded.

“I see a lot of the same cars all the time.”

“Exactly.”

“Wait,” she said. “Are you saying that you’d seriously go down there and look around for me? For Simon?”

I shrugged. “Someone has to.”

She was quiet. Looking at me. Like she didn’t understand me.

“What?”

She said, “I’d go. I just ...”

“It’s no big deal for me,” I said. “I deal with idiots all the time.”

“Question.”

“I might have an answer.”

“Are you military or something?”

I could have had a lot of fun telling her how I couldn’t say too much. My missions were classified. My unit did not officially exist. That sort of thing. But I didn’t. She seemed to have a sense of humor. But she was also going through a rough stretch. No need to bury her in sarcasm.

I said, “My parents own a big campground. I’m basically a watchdog with thumbs. I deal with the drunks and morons that need to be thrown out. Been doing it since I was sixteen, so I’m used to conflicts and I’ve gotten pretty good at handling them.”

Kendra looked over at Frank. Then back to me. She exhaled.

“This is so weird.”

“What is?”

“This whole thing. It’s like you came along to answer my prayers. You’ve got to understand, I’m not used to getting much help.”

I said nothing. I was thinking of Clint in
Pale Rider.
Just showing up to fix problems, clean up a town. Beat some bullies with an axe handle and then ride off into the sunset.

“But what else can I do?” Kendra finally said.

“Keep raising the reward,” I said. “Wait. Be miserable without your dog.”

“It’s not just me,” she said. “My dad misses him terribly. He’s sort of sick, so he’s home most of the time with Simon. He’s miserable about this. Even more miserable that he can’t do much to help me.”

“What’s wrong with him?” I spoke the words automatically, before considering if I should ask.

“Gulf War Syndrome. That’s our best guess. The doctors aren’t even certain because the symptoms are all over the place. Mostly it’s like his immune system has been compromised. The body can’t recover or maintain itself.”

I said nothing. I’d heard a little about it on the news here and there. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

“It’s weird,” she said. “He went off to war this tough guy, and within a few years he just wasn’t the same guy anymore. When I look at his old pictures, it’s unbelievable. Supposedly it’s something to do with all the burning oil wells and chemicals and crap they were exposed to. Who knows? All I know is that something real is wrong with him. The older I’ve gotten, the weaker and sicker he’s gotten. He’s got arthritis like an old person. He barely outweighs me now. He used to be over two hundred pounds.”

I lit another cigarette. Didn’t know what to say. I offered one to Kendra. She thanked me and declined.

“My mom got tired of it all,” she resumed. “Finally left him when I was fifteen. Selfish you-know-what.”

I said nothing. Watched the smoke trailing off my cigarette. It was better for me not to speak.

“Since then it’s just been us,” she continued. “He gets some benefits and stuff, but I’ve been working since I was fifteen to help float our little house. That’s why I said I wasn’t used to getting help.”

I nodded.

She said, “Not that any of this is your problem. Sorry, I was just thinking out loud.”

She was right. None of it was my doing or my problem. But I didn’t like it. Not at all. She was a nice girl going through a minefield of problems. Her dog was probably being tortured as we spoke. I couldn’t just shrug it off.

I said, “You’re not paying a dime of that reward money.”

“I’d pay it,” she said.

“But you’re not.”

“I can keep adding at least a thousand a week for as long as it takes. I make decent money. And I’ve got a little in savings. And I can get more hours.”

“No way,” I said. “You shouldn’t have to. I’ll track these losers down and find out if they have him. If they do, you get your dog back. And they’re in a world of shit.”

Kendra hesitated. She was trying to read me. Trying like hell to figure me out. Possibly thinking it had been a mistake to engage me. I was an odd guy, for sure. Big and potentially dangerous, intimidated by microorganisms but not criminals. Riding around in a soccer wagon with a dog. Instead of a happy stick figure family decal, or a declaration of my child being an honor student, I had a Smith & Wesson sticker on my back window.

“You sound so certain,” she finally said.

“I am.”

“I guess I believe you. I just …”

“You’re overthinking it. Just don’t worry.”

“Easier said than done.”

“Not really.”

“You can’t just go after someone. Can you? I mean, what if something happens to you? What if—”

“Hey, look at it this way,” I said. “You can dance, right?”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

“Okay. Some people can dance. Some can sing. Some can play sports or fix a car. Whatever. Me, I’m just one of those guys that can handle people. It’s easy. No sweat. Confrontation is my thing. So don’t worry about it.”

She took a deep breath. Exhaled. Said, “This is getting serious. Fast.”

“You invited me for coffee.”

“Yeah, I did. Coffee.”

“It’s all up to you.”

“It doesn’t feel right.”

“What do you want most, sympathy or your dog?”

“It’s not that,” she said. “Pretend you’re me. Some big guy walking around with a truckload of swagger, wearing gloves, suddenly offers to do something like this for you. What would you do?”

“I wouldn’t bat an eye.”

She started to speak but then fell silent. Her gaze went off. She was having serious second thoughts. It must have been encouraging at first to have a sympathetic ear. Must have sparked hope in her. But she hadn’t anticipated a response quite like mine.

12

“What’s your issue?” I asked.

“Everything,” she said. “If you confront those guys …”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“You could get hurt.”

“More likely they will.”

“Would you seriously hurt them?”

“Probably.”

She just looked at me. Like I was some sort of a caveman.

“You okay with that?” I asked.

No answer.

“They took your dog,” I said. “God knows what they’re doing to him.”

“Thanks for reminding me.”

“I’m offering to help, if you want me to. Or I can go home and forget it.”

She kept quiet.

“Think about it,” I said. “You don’t have to make up your mind right now. I’ll give you my number and you can call me.”

She sat still. I moved to stand up. Then she spoke.

“I want him back,” she said, and her voice cracked. “He’s just a dog, I know. But I love him to death. He’s family, you know?”

“I know.”

“Yeah, I guess you do. Obviously you’re crazy about this big lug.”

Frank was relaxing at Kendra’s feet. His eyes were open but heavy. If he’d heard a key word he would have perked up. For the moment he was perfectly content to chill.

“I want my Simon back,” Kendra said. “I’m sick of feeling this way. It feels like there was a death in the family. And Simon’s a good dog. He doesn’t deserve this.”

“So let’s fix it,” I said. “Let’s do what we can.”

“I just don’t want trouble.”

“There shouldn’t be any for you.”

“Well, I don’t want you getting yourself into some mess. These people could be dangerous.”

“I can handle it,” I said. “My only concern is your car. Someone took Simon from it, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So if I stir up a hornet’s nest, you don’t want them to spot you out and about. Even if they’re complete numbskulls, they’ll remember stealing a dog from a red sports car.”

She nodded agreeably, though she didn’t look thrilled. I started to ask her where she was when Simon was taken, but she spoke up before me.

“What were you doing at Walmart?”

“Does it matter?”

“A little.”

“Why?”

“I need to know.”

“I was looking at the flyers. You saw me.”

“Which one? Why?”

“Think I’m after the reward?”

“Maybe. Probably not. I don’t know. I have to ask, don’t I?”

After a pause I said, “The little girl from Franklin, Lucy Kurtz. She went missing from my campground. I guess I’m a little obsessed. I was looking at her flyer.”

Kendra’s mouth opened. She looked like she had something big to say.

“What?” I said.

“I’ve heard about that,” she said. “That’s why you’re not surprised to hear about Bow Street.”

I nodded.

“You know, I talk to a lot of people at work. I hear a lot of rumors.”

“Spill it.”

“That happened at your family’s place. I’m sorry.”

“What do you know?”

She squirmed a little. Like she didn’t want to discuss it. But I kept staring at her, willing her to go on.

“Mary Kurtz doesn’t have the greatest reputation,” she said.

“What else?”

“Her sister is even worse. Plenty of people have suggested that Lucy was taken as a sort of punishment, because Melinda, the aunt, owes a lot of money. She really likes heroin.”

“The FBI looked into the family,” I said. “Wouldn’t you think they’d chase down those sort of leads?”

“Sure, if they could get all the people they interviewed to tell the truth. If they could get local police to tell everything they knew. But I’ll bet you fifty bucks they only got half the truth at the very most.”

I nodded. It was a good point. Plenty of people might be hesitant or nervous about telling all they knew. Some might take sides. Some might have grudges against law enforcement. And some might simply wish to avoid the mess altogether. They lived in that neighborhood. Probably didn’t want to rock the boat. It was already a shitty boat. No need to make it worse.

“I haven’t heard much of anything lately,” Kendra resumed. “It was last summer and fall when everyone was chattering about that.”

“Nothing has changed,” I said. “Lucy’s story is old news now, but she is still missing. No one’s been held accountable.”

“Sad,” Kendra sighed.

“Do me a favor,” I said. “Try to remember as much as you can. Jot it down as it comes to you. Any little thing might be helpful.”

“I guess finding a dog isn’t such a big deal compared to figuring out what happened to that little girl.”

I said, “Kids and animals I have sympathy for. They’re not the ones friggin’ up the world.”

“I’m with you on that.”

I nodded. It feels good to agree with people.

“Do you feel guilty or something?” she asked.

“Why would I?”

“I mean, because of Lucy going missing. You know, at your place.”

“I didn’t take her. So, no, I don’t feel any guilt.”

“I wasn’t trying to suggest anything. Just trying to understand your angle.”

“I just hate the whole thing because it’s wrong,” I said. “I hate the sort of people who do that shit. They’re worm food at best. End of story.”

We were quiet a moment. Kendra was obviously doing some thinking.

“Do you know where Mary Kurtz lives?” she asked.

“White place. Circle Drive, off of Bow Street. Right near the corner of the old cemetery.”

“Yeah. From what I hear, both of those girls are a mess. Up and down. Usually broke. But somehow Mary drives a BMW. I’ve seen her around.”

“Think she’s selling?”

“What? Drugs or her nasty self?”

I shrugged.

“I don’t know for sure,” she said. “Some of it might just be gossip. I’ve never met either of them personally. But I can ask a few people. They’re well known. I’ve heard their names plenty of times.”

“Do that,” I said. “But only ask people you really trust.”

Kendra looked at her coffee cup for a long moment. Then at me.

“So we’re really going through with this?”

“Why wouldn’t we?”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t seem real.”

“We have to do something.”

“Yeah …”

“If decent people go passive, the assholes of the world win.”

“I guess,” she said. Now she was playing with her hair nervously.

“You want them to win?”

“No.”

“Then stop worrying. We’re talking about a couple of idiots here.”

She nodded and quietly said, “Okay.”

“Just go to work as usual and I’ll keep you posted. And tomorrow I think you should trade your car. Just to be safe.”

She said, “If I can get Simon back, to hell with my car.”

That was exactly the attitude I was looking for.