Читать книгу Lost - Helen Myers R. - Страница 19

5:25 a.m.

Checks and balances on a small-town level resulted in a longer wait than Michaele expected before she could actually leave with the Firebird, and it wasn’t all that much earlier than usual that morning when she finally unlocked the gated back lot at the garage and unloaded Faith’s car. Once that was done, she parked the roll-back up front beside the other tow truck. By then, Jared, who had been observing her from across the street, yielded his post to Jim Sutter, the other day-shift officer, and went inside. As she crossed the street to go to the café behind the station, she waved Jim inside, too.

“I’m just going to get myself a cup of coffee,” she told the youngest of Jared’s officers. “Everything’s taken care of.”

“Chief said to watch you until Buck’s up and behaving himself, Ms. Mike.”

“You let me worry about Buck—and Chief Morgan.”

“You bet. Then I’ll just enjoy the quiet out here a bit longer. Don’t pay me any mind.”

Resigned that the recent academy graduate feared Jared’s ire more than hers, she went to the café. On her way back, she thrust a bag with coffee and a breakfast burrito at the always-hungry cop, before crossing the street and unlocking the front door of the family business.

Not surprisingly, her father barely stirred as she entered. He’d always been a deep sleeper, and the drinking only made that worse. It was the fluorescent lights that finally did it. Once he spotted her, he launched himself straight into the bathroom.

When he reappeared, she had two coffees and his favorite breakfast—biscuits and sausage—on the counter ready for him.

“Come eat,” she said.

Instead, he reached for his hat where it had fallen behind the chair sometime during the night. Slapping it onto his head, he shot her a look steeped in animosity. Even from that distance, Michaele could tell he hadn’t bothered with mouthwash or the toothpaste she kept in there. The lack of air-conditioning intensified the odor.

“My back is killing me,” he snarled. “I should whip your ass for leaving me here all night.”

“You just need to put something in your stomach.”

“What is it?” Circling the counter, he lowered himself onto a stool with the caution of someone respectful of hemorrhoids. “My gut feels like it’s been scrubbed with steel wool. Can’t eat nothing spicy.”

Considering what he regularly primed his insides with, she didn’t doubt it. The only nonliquid she’d seen him ingest in the past twenty-four hours was a package of salty peanuts from the vending machine by the front door. “It’s mild sausage with just a little sage.”

“I hate sage.”

“I hate sage. You love it.”

He leaned closer and peered down at the biscuit and well-done pork patty, a perfect replica of what he liked to eat—when he did eat breakfast. “Looks like shit. I’ll go find something myself. Better yet, I’m going over to Eugene’s. A little hair of the dog’ll fix me right up.”

“No way.” Eugene Folsom ran the body shop directly behind them on Pine Street. He was also Buck’s source for liquor when he couldn’t get it anywhere else, but Eugene’s brew was homemade and lethal. “Forget it.”

Michaele grabbed a handful of Buck’s overalls as he started for the door. The force of his wrenching free sent her flying back into the soda vending machine.

Stifling a moan for the pain in her shoulder, she righted herself and tried again. “We need to talk, Buck.”

“Not in the mood. Jeez, the lights’re still on out there. Why’d you wake me so early?”

“It’s only fifteen minutes earlier than we usually get here—and there’s a reason. Will you please listen?”

Something in her expression must have gotten through to what was left of his functioning brain. With a groan he rubbed at his whiskered jowls. “Got a helluva headache.”

“Aspirin are in the bathroom. Take three, and then if you won’t brush, at least rinse your mouth with mouthwash. Please. Whether it’s a good idea or not, I’m afraid you’re going to be doing a lot of talking today, and that breath of yours could crack steel.”

“You shut your trap or I’ll—”

“Buck!”

Michaele hadn’t heard Jared approach, but there he was in the open doorway glaring at her father.

Buck dropped the arm raised to backhand her. “Hey, Chief. Whatcha know?”

“Michaele’s only trying to sober you up so you don’t make a bigger ass out of yourself than need be.”

“What did I—? Why’re y’all picking on me?”

Stepping closer, only to grimace as he got within reach of Buck’s breath, Jared replied, “I take it she hasn’t had a chance to tell you yet?”

“Tell me what?”

“Go pull yourself together. Rinse out your mouth, too. It’s time to start acting like the head of your family.”

More confused than offended, Buck shuffled toward the bathroom again. “Ain’t one of you making any sense. Wish y’all would just leave me be.”

As he shut the door, Michaele rubbed her sore shoulder, then started rewrapping the food. She knew better than to expect Buck to eat once he was told the news.

“It wouldn’t hurt if you took a bite of something,” Jared told her.

She didn’t want to argue about food. “Did you learn anything new at the station?”

“No. I was in the midst of debriefing everyone and setting up a new game plan for the day, when Buddy yelled that Buck was getting temperamental.”

“That wasn’t temperamental, that was plain old sour. What’s the new game plan?”

“Among other things, I’m putting a call in to the college as soon as they’re open, to notify them about Faith. I’ve also got a call in for the sheriff up in Camp County. Before I talk to him, I need names from you.”

“Whose?”

“Faith’s friends.”

“You know them almost as well as I do.”

“Not only the people around here—those up there. Also teachers she was close to.”

That was rich. “Ever since Faith graduated from high school, I’ve barely been able to keep track of where she’s going, let alone who she’s going with. I did well to pin down her class schedule and get a glimpse of her grades at the end of each semester, and I only managed that because I was writing her tuition checks.”

“I understand. All I’m saying is that the more you can give us, the more thorough we can be. If the Department of Public Safety has to be called in, they’ll want that and more.”

At midnight, she’d wanted the state law enforcement people—shoot, she’d wanted the National Guard; but now the thought of bringing them in meant accepting that Faith might be lost to them. Not quite ready to take that psychological step, she was almost relieved when Buck reappeared.

“Ain’t you got somebody else to harass?” he muttered to Jared.

“Stop it,” Michaele replied. “There’s been bad news. It’s about Faith.”

Immediately her father’s sullen attitude vanished. He looked from her to Jared. “What about her? What’s wrong?”

“She’s missing,” Michaele said. “She never came home yesterday.”

A myriad of emotions played over her father’s face—incomprehension, denial, anger—but the sudden slump of his shoulders told her that he understood. “There’s gotta be…”

When he didn’t finish the statement, Michaele shook her head. “We don’t know the reason. And to complicate things, her car’s been found. It was in Pete’s driveway.”

Buck frowned, though his bloodshot eyes focused on nothing. “Pete Fite? Why would she be staying with him?”

“She’s not. That’s the point. She had no reason to be there.”

“Why, that dirty slug. I’ll tear him in two if he—”

“Pete is incidental in this, Buck.”

“As far as anything or anyone can be ruled out so far,” Jared added.

Michaele shot him a thanks-for-nothing look. “Pete was as upset as I was,” she told her father. “The car was just abandoned there.”

Heaven knew what was going on in her father’s mind. His facial muscles twitched and spasmed.

“Must be with a friend.”

“I don’t think so. I had a call. He made it clear that she wouldn’t be coming back.”

Dazed, Buck stared at her. “Where’s she going?”

“Nowhere that I know of. At least, not willingly. We think someone’s kidnapped her.”

At that troubling pronouncement, he began fidgeting. He dug deep into the pocket of his overalls and came up with a single crumpled bill and several coins. Michaele understood he was checking to see if he had enough to buy a pint of whatever rotgut he could find.

“Don’t even think it,” she intoned. “I need you here. We haven’t managed it in years, and maybe we’ll never do it well, but for once we have to stand together like a real family.”

“Sure. You’re right. But I have to…I’ll be back in a few minutes. Just need a sip of something to wash away the cobwebs.”

“For crying out loud, are you planning on staying comatose so you can’t be asked to identify a body?”

He brushed past her and lurched into the garage. Michaele followed, but it was a waste of time. When he escaped out the back door, she swore. “Don’t you dare touch that Firebird! It’s evidence!”

The car might as well have been coated with Anthrax, the way he kept his distance. But he proved amazingly adept at unlocking the back gate connecting their property to Eugene’s.

“Buck!” she yelled, as he threw open the gate and ran off. “Buck!”

Seething, she followed and locked up after him. Jared was waiting for her in the doorway when she returned. Even as she accepted that her father wasn’t Jared’s problem, she was ticked that he hadn’t helped to stop him.

“You okay?”

“Considering that it’s been this way since I was ten?” She shrugged. “Even before my mother died, it was no picnic. Why am I ever surprised that he’s inept at being a parent? All he cares about is that his clothes get washed, there’s money to swipe to buy booze, and he has a bed to fall into—provided he’s sober enough to find it.”

None of this was news to Jared, but then, she didn’t see why he was asking if she was okay, either. That was the most useless question to ask a person at a hospital, in the company of the police, or dealing with a funeral.

“I need to open,” she muttered, leaving him by the Firebird to return up front.

As she raised the garage’s overhead doors, she saw the sky was beginning to resemble the lavender shade of Faith’s favorite nail polish. The unwelcome analogy made her grateful to see a customer immediately pull in, although the late-model Cadillac wouldn’t have been her choice.

He sure is early, Michaele thought, as Garth Powers shut off his vehicle. Although she liked him well enough, he wasn’t one of her favorite customers and she’d never felt the impulse to drool over him the way some females in town did. But all in all, who could say anything really negative about Mr. Clean?

The ex-sports star offered a warm, if tired, smile as she rounded the car, and once again she was reminded of how men almost always aged more gracefully than women.

“Morning, Michaele. Would you fill her up for me, please?”

A tight-lipped nod was the best she could do, and she quickly had the hose set, the pump running. “Need any checking under the hood?”

“No need. Just had her serviced at the dealer in Tyler. Is that Jared in there? He’s up and at ’em early.”

“So are you.” Because that sounded too curt, she added, “He’s been up all night working a case.” What the heck, she thought. He was going to hear the news within the next hour or so, anyway.

Garth did a double take. “Trouble?”

“Faith’s missing.”

“What?”

She repeated the spare few bits of information she’d shared with her father only minutes before.

“Has Fite been arrested?”

The question reminded her that even after all these years, he didn’t know the community—aside from the students—the way Jessica did. “If there’s one thing I do know, it’s that Pete Fite can barely bring himself to put down one of his dogs when they get old or sick. He’d never hurt anyone.”

That only made Garth more upset. “My God,” he uttered. “It is happening again.”