The Secrets on Forest Bend Read online

  Tired, droopy eyes opened in surprise when he produced his badge.

  “I’m Detective Adam Campbell, ma’am. May I speak to you for a moment?”

  “Why? Is something wrong? Has something happened? It’s not Danny is it? The kids’ father?”

  “No, ma’am. I just need to verify some facts on a case. It won’t take but a few minutes. May I come in?”

  “Sure, sure, if you can stand the noise.” She turned and pushed through a cluttered room where three young boys were running around a sofa hitting each other with long Nerf swim noodles while a TV played cartoons.

  He and his brother had fought, sure, but never in the house and never in front of their parents. If they had, his father’s belt would have set them straight.

  Adam wasn’t sure he could concentrate with all the commotion, but she led him out to the patio and closed the glass doors. Three well-used plastic chairs sat around a stained, glass-topped table. He sat in one and Lydia sat in another and propped her feet in the third. She swirled amber liquid in her glass, the ice cubes making a tinkling noise. Assorted swim toys floated in the pool. Others had sunk to the bottom and lay abandoned.

  “It’s getting warm out here.” She pulled off her jacket. Her blouse was frillier and more revealing than he’d realized. “Why don’t you take off your coat and get comfortable. I’ll mix you a drink.”

  “Thank you, ma’am, but I’ll have to pass on the drink. I’m on duty. And I probably shouldn’t take off my coat. I’m wearing my service weapon and wouldn’t want to frighten your boys.”

  “The Spawn-From-Hell? It might do them good to see a real policeman with a gun. Lord knows, I can’t control them.”

  Why didn’t that surprise him? “I was wondering if you could tell me where you were Monday evening, a week ago?”

  “It’s my one evening to myself. Danny takes the kids, and I go to a class. I’m trying to get my concealed weapon permit. Since Danny left, I’m here alone. Having a gun makes me feel safer.”

  “Could you tell me what time you left the class?”

  She leaned forward, her breasts pressing against the thin fabric of her blouse. Adam struggled to keep his eyes on her face. His mind told him he wasn’t interested in such an obvious phony, but other parts of his body hadn’t gotten the message.

  “Class is over at eight, but it’s all women alone, so we tend to stand around and talk about our problems. J. R. had fussed at me in class because I didn’t have a safe place to store my weapon. She’s a real stickler for safety. She said three boys and a gun was a tragedy waiting to happen.”

  Good for Jillian. “She’s right about that. I’ve seen it too many times. No matter how well you think you’ve hidden it or how many times you’ve told them not to touch it, one day they’ll find it and then something bad will happen, as sure as night follows day.”

  She twisted uncomfortably on her chair. “I know, but with my schedule I never could get there when the store was open. Anyway, that Monday night she unlocked the store for me and I bought a small gun safe. She and one of the other women helped me load it in the car. That was probably eight-thirty.”

  “Did you leave immediately?” So far everything jived with Jillian’s story.

  “The other woman did. I talked to J. R. for just a minute about where I should put the safe, and then she went back inside. She watched until I started the car and pulled out. As soon as she thought I was gone, she turned off some of the outside lights, leaving only the security lights on.”

  “You said she thought you were gone. You didn’t leave?” He held his breath. The right answer could clear Jillian, but the wrong one would cause a shit-load of trouble.

  “I stopped at the edge of the parking lot. It’s very dark on that road, and I don’t like to talk on the phone and drive. I wanted to call Danny and let him know I bought the safe. It was expensive, and I decided he should help me pay for it. I also needed him to unload it for me. We had a good old argument about that.”

  He had his notebook out, jotting notes as she spoke. “Did you see her leave during this time?”

  “No. She couldn’t have left. The only way out would have been past me, and I would have seen it.”

  “About what time was that?”

  “I can probably tell you exactly what time it was.” She went into the house and brought out her cell phone. The noise level rose immediately as she opened the door, then dropped again as it closed.

  She flipped the phone open and began to scroll down until she reached Monday night. “Here, you can see where I called D. Cox at eight-thirty-seven. It says we talked for six minutes. Even then, she couldn’t have left for several minutes. As I said, the road is totally dark, and I would have seen headlights if she’d pulled out of the parking lot before I turned on the feeder road. And that has to be two miles, at least.” A gloating tone crept into her voice. “What’s J. R. supposed to have done?”

  God bless cell phones and their call logs. “Oh, she hasn’t done anything. I just needed to confirm how late the store was occupied. Thanks so much for your help.”

  “It’s getting late. Surely you’re about ready to quit for the night. Why don’t you stick around and we’ll order a pizza and you can tell the boys what happens to kids that don’t mind their mother.”

  He had no desire to play scared straight. “Thanks, but I have several more calls to make.” He saw a gate at the side of the house and made a break for it. He couldn’t face going through the den with that gang of boisterous children and the stench of unwashed feet.

  Relief flooded him as he hurried to the car. Verifiable times, exactly what he’d been hoping for. He started the engine, but didn’t move.

  Shit, the timing was still close. How long would it take to drive to Manny’s home-under-the-bridge?

  The spring days were getting longer and enough light remained that Adam felt comfortable heading for Snake-Eye’s place. He followed Jillian’s instructions and found the dirt road leading back into the woods. Shadows made the area much darker. Should he heed Jillian’s warning and wait till morning?

  Hell no. Time to get this case wrapped up. He couldn’t delay any longer.

  The path twisted around and was full of potholes, but they were all the same size and alternated from the right side of the road to the left. Anyone familiar with the system and on a motorcycle could easily avoid them.

  He was too busy fighting craters to look for cameras or alarms, but it was obvious some warning had been issued. When he reached the cabin, a man he recognized instantly as Snake-Eye stood in the clearing with his arms crossed, an old-fashioned western style quick-draw holster complete with six-shooter at his side.

  Adam tried to park the car at an angle so the dash-cam would have a view of the area, but that wasn’t likely to protect him. If Snake-Eye decided to shoot him, no film would never see the light of day.

  He pushed out of the car slowly and looked around. The shack was so decrepit and full of bullet holes Adam considered it amazing the entire structure hadn’t fallen under the weight of an enormous satellite dish. Shadows told him men were hiding on either side of the cabin. Twelve years’ experience warned of another, concealed in the woods behind him.

  “This is private property. You’re trespassing.” Snake-Eye stood with his arms loosely at his sides, his gun in easy reach.

  Adam opened his coat with two fingers of his left hand and reached slowly for his badge, although with the camera, radio equipment, and tax-exempt license on the city-owned Taurus, there was no doubt who he was.

  “No need to reach for anything, copper. Unless it’s a warrant.”

  Copper? How much TV did this guy watch? At least the satellite dish was earning its keep. The silence set his teeth on edge. Not a bird or even a cricket could be heard. It was evening. At least the frogs should be starting up in the woods. Was nothing left alive in this corner of the universe? Was he next? He tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry.

  “Cat got your tongue,
copper?”

  If he stayed cool, he just might live to regret this mistake. He spoke calmly and tried to ignore the knots in his stomach.

  “I can go back and get a warrant if you insist. If I do, it won’t be just me. There’ll be at least a dozen men searching this place. It’ll take several days, and you won’t be allowed back until they’re finished. I only need to ask you a few questions about your birthday, and then I’ll be on my way. I understand you were born on December twenty-third. Is that correct?”

  Snake-Eye let out a sound like a small animal being strangled. “You can bring a multitude of hosts and search this place with the finest hairbrush and you won’t find a crumb, but yeah, I was a fucking Christmas miracle. What’s it to you?”

  “I was hoping you could tell me how you celebrated this year.”

  Snake-Eye laughed again, and the sound sent a chill down Adam’s spine. It was the type of sound that came from someone who kicked puppies or stole a kid’s ice cream.

  When Snake-Eye made a motion as if he were pushing the air down, the men hiding in the shadows lowered their guns and a wave of relief eased the knots in Adam’s gut. “You’re shit out of luck, copper. I’m alibied up to my gonads.”

  Did Snake-Eye know what gonads were? That was only halfway up and not the best alibi in the world. “Great. So what were you doing?”

  “The guys throwed me a party at J. R.’s Guns and Firing Range. We was there till midnight. You can ask J. R. She never left and saw me the whole time. If J. R. says something, you can take it to the AMT. It’s solid gold dust.”

  “That sounds kind of fun. What’d y’all do?”

  “Oh, she had contests set up with prizes. She gave us all one of these shirts first thing so we looked like a club. She served a cake out in her back yard. It was fun, but J. R., she has all these rules, and she writes them with a rock. No alcohol while you’re shooting, ya have to wear ear covers. That kind of thing. Anyway, she’s a concrete citizen, she’ll vouchify I was there.”

  Snake-Eye folded his arms across his chest and glared at Adam. Not easy with only one good eye, but he managed.

  “What about Billy or Gordon? Did they help with the party?”

  The dying animal sound returned and seemed to come from Snake-Eye. “Naw. Gordon thinks he has some kind of a high-forehead. His nose is always in the clouds with all them books and stuff. When quitting time comes, he’s off like a rocket. Too good for the rest of us.”

  “What about Billy?”

  “That little turd-for-brains? He didn’t have nothing to do with the firing range, or with us. He was such a coward he was afraid of my shadow. The only thing he was good for was packing and carrying. In fact, I couldn’t conceive it when he shot hisself. I figure he was looking at the gun and his hand started shaking so bad it went off.”

  Snake-Eye shifted on his feet, seeming lost in thought. “I don’t need nobody but J. R. She’s stand-up people.”

  Even in the shade, Adam could feel the sweat trickling down his back. Trying to stand still with his hands in view while keeping an eye on three hidden figures was taking its toll. “It’s always best if there’s more than one. That way no one can say they were coerced or paid off.”

  This time the strangled animal noise echoed through the clearing. “J. R.’s tough as an old boot. Nobody’s gonna co-whatever her. As for a pay-off, sure as shit follows day, she’d have the cops called before you got the money out of yer pocket. I’m not sure she even has a heart. The only exception’s when she sees somebody trying to do better for themselves. She’ll give ’em a hand up. Even then, they have to prove themselves or out they go.”

  “Excellent, that’s all I needed.” He’d have to disagree with Snake-Eye on that one. It sounded like Jillian had enough heart to fill a ballroom.

  “Good. Then get back up on your horse and drive on out of here.”

  Adam turned the car around slowly and eased his way down the pot-holed road. His glasses fogged up as soon as the air-conditioning hit them, but he didn’t bother to clean them. When he reached the turnoff, he stopped and leaned against the steering wheel. His head was swimming and he wasn’t sure why. Was it the odor? Even from ten feet away, he was sure Jillian hadn’t given Snake-Eye and his friends those shirts so they could look like a club. Was it the sight of the bullet-ridden house and those poor assassinated trees, their bullet holes weeping sap like blood?

  It might have been Snake-Eye’s mixed metaphors, malapropos, or spoonerisms, but whatever you called them, his speech disabilities were more than Adam could handle. He’d figured out that the finest hairbrush was a fine-tooth comb, and that the ATM was take it to the bank. If she wrote it with a rock, it was probably written in stone. The multitude of hosts might have been some type of Christmas reference, but some of the others were beyond him. He would likely wake up in the middle of the night saying: Oh, that’s what he meant.

  As he’d driven away, he had seen Snake-Eye in the rear view mirror, making the one finger salute. He didn’t need to think about it to know what he meant by that.

  No, he admitted, none of those things were what was bothering him. It was his own foolishness at not calling for back-up and putting himself in such a dangerous situation just to prove to Jillian how macho he was. Even if he had been wearing his vest, it wouldn’t have been enough protection with all those guns aimed at him.

  He could picture the defense attorney using two hands to hold up a bag full of bullets. “This bag was taken from trees on the north side of the house. This bag was taken from trees on the south side of the house, and this bag is from the house itself. Now, can you tell me which, out of all these bullets, were the seven that passed through Detective Campbell’s body?”

  A trial wouldn’t be necessary because they’d never find his body. Metal detectors would be useless over bullet saturated ground, and a cadaver-sniffing dog would run straight to Snake-Eye, refusing any command to leave.

  He’d been beat-up, shot at, and run off the road, but he knew in his heart, this was the closest he’d ever come to death. He needed to tell Ruben about Snake-Eye and his friends, but he hated to admit what a fool he’d been.

  With a Starbucks coffee in one hand and a brownie cookie in the other, Adam felt better. He reached the entrance to Jillian’s parking lot at 8:20; what his mother would have called “good dark.” He stared longingly at Jillian’s apartment. Could she see him? If she knew what he was doing, it would be the final nail in their relationship.

  Sitting in the car with the windows open, he was beginning to get warm. Summer was coming. Should he switch to iced coffee? Hell no, that was a sissy drink.

  He took off his suit coat and tie, but left his shoulder holster on. He was on duty, after all. By this time of night, the holster felt like a corset. It would be almost unbearable by August. He ought to give some consideration to buying that expensive holster Jillian recommended. That or lose five pounds. He looked at the half empty box of cookies.

  Not tonight.

  After finishing the brownie cookie and taking a few more sips of coffee, he fished out his notebook and began making a list. The fact that Jillian had the party written on her calendar didn’t prove it actually took place. The DMV and Snake-Eye both agreed that he was born on the twenty-third. The helium deliveryman and the bakery lady confirmed the arrangements for that date. That was enough to prove the party took place when Jillian said it did, but not enough to prove she didn’t slip out before it started.

  Now, to make a time-line for December 23, the day of the teenage hooker shooting.

  6:03. The deliveryman had a time-stamped receipt for the tank and balloons. Figure ten minutes minimum to set it up and show Jillian how to use it. Then load the dolly back on the truck and take off.

  6:45. Pick up the cake. It was a good twenty minutes from Jillian’s to the bakery. Even if the bakery lady was ten minutes off, that still left Jillian enough time to reach the run-down apartment complex where the teenager was shot. Tension knotted in
his shoulders. He knew Jillian didn’t have anything to do with it, but proving that was harder than he’d hoped.

  7:45. The time of the shooting was confirmed by several calls to 911. No one saw Jillian or her car, but they did see an aging behemoth complete with distinctive rust spots that matched the one driven by Eddie Coleman. That didn’t mean they couldn’t both have been there.

  8:00. The party starts. Jillian is there and the range is decorated with balloons and streamers. A table is set up with prizes and the cake is ready to serve. Not even A. J. Foyt or Danica Patrick could’ve made it back to the store and been inside waiting in fifteen minutes. Certainly not Jillian in a used Volvo with a birthday cake sliding around on the back seat.

  If only someone had seen or talked to Jillian between 6:45 and 8:00, but it was obvious she was getting ready for the party. She couldn’t have prepared earlier because the helium and balloons didn’t arrive until 6:00 and she left immediately for the bakery. An aggressive DA might claim that Billy had come back to do the decorating, but with no way to question him now, Adam couldn’t prove it one way or the other.

  Snake-Eye wouldn’t make much of a witness on the stand, but he verified everything Jillian said. He might have been at the bottom of his class in grammar and personal hygiene, but the entrance road and warning system leading to his cabin, along with his ability to read people, showed he had a unique intelligence and a specific set of skills. Anyone who took him for a fool did so at their own peril.

  Adam’s stomach knotted and his chest clutched tighter. Concrete proof was just out of reach.

  He’d leave the hooker case for now and work on the shooting of Manny Dewitt. If he could prove Jillian’s innocence on that case, the missing hour became less important. Eddy had hinted that he was responsible, but he hadn’t been willing to sign a confession. Even if he had, confessions got thrown out. He wouldn’t be satisfied until he’d nailed this case down from every direction.