Caching Out (4 page)

Daniel
stood to leave and Tate extended his hand. “I appreciate your help. If you
think of anything else just give me a call and keep an eye out for any Ketamine
cases over at County when you’re pulling shifts, if you would.”

“No
problem. In fact, I can do you one better and check the hospital systems for
any reported Ketamine cases. I’m on duty over there this weekend and I’ll let
you know if I come up with anything. Once Royce has results on the hair
follicle findings, I’ll give you a call.”

Tate
grabbed his cap and slid his Glock G22 service revolver into the black leather
holster at his waist, Tate walked with Daniel as far as the parking lot.
Climbing into his SUV, he decided it was time to drive out and visit with Reva
Corley whether she’d gotten herself together or not. He needed the truth about
Saralyn Parker’s drug use and starting with her best friend seemed as a good a
place as any.

CHAPTER 5

Turning
onto County Road 42, Tate followed the winding two lane road out to Miller’s
Haven trailer park where Reva Corley lived. Once into the mobile home community,
Tate immediately noticed signs of neglect. The entrance was marked by
rough-hewed timbers on either side of the road leading into the park. Hanging
on one side of the timbers, a dangling piece of rusty chain held a faded wooden
sign proclaiming the place as a ‘Haven’ while on the other side, an equally
rusty mate sporting the name ‘Miller’s’ swung in the afternoon breeze.

“Not
much of a haven,” he muttered.

Faded
trailers sat on gray cinder blocks or on the wheels that they were sold with
and were separated by thirty feet of overgrown grass, dirt and rock. Tate smiled
as he saw that several dogs had taken a break from the spring sun and snoozed
in the shade of the homes that weren’t underpinned. Pulling into the driveway on
lot thirty eight, Tate noticed that Reva's home wasn’t in much better shape
than the others but that she did keep it neat. The area around her trailer had
been mowed and on both sides of the steps leading up to her door she’d placed
planters that bloomed with red and yellow spring flowers. Flowers that reminded
him of the window boxes at Saralyn Parker’s neat little one story house in town.

Stepping
up to the door, Tate heard a radio blasting rock music and caught the greasy
scent of something being fried. He knocked and stepped back a few feet to wait.
No answer. After a few moments he knocked again, and heard the scrap of a metal
chain sliding from its lock. The door opened a crack, just wide enough for Reva
to see outside.

“Oh,
it’s you. Come on in.” Reva pulled the door open and stepped back, motioning
him inside.

Tate
stepped into a small rectangular living room and glanced at Reva; her green eyes
were dark-rimmed and red against the ash-white color of her bare face. Her
strawberry blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail, making her appear much
younger than her twenty-four years. In one hand she held a pot holder and in
the other a metal spatula dripping with oil.

“Come
on in the kitchen and have a seat. I’m almost done here.” Stepping around a
worn dining room table that had probably belonged to her mother before her,
Reva moved to the stove and the black cast iron skillet that sat bubbling on
one burner. She reached into the cabinet and pulled down a glass bowl to scoop
the frying potatoes out of the grease-coated skillet. Once the task was
complete, Reva turned the stove’s gas burner off and set the bowl on the
counter. She looked at Tate, a sad smile on her face. “Have you found out who
killed Saralyn?  Is that what you came to tell me?”

Tate
laid his cap on the yellow Formica table and sat in one of the chairs at the
table. “No, we haven’t caught the killer yet, but I do have a couple questions
for you about Saralyn.”  A deep sigh pushed from his lungs, “Were you aware
that she smoked marijuana, Reva?” Tate didn’t mention the Ketamine.

Lunch
forgotten, Reva stood behind a chair at the table across from Tate. Gripping
the back of the chair until her knuckles turned white she leaned forward, her
green eyes sparking with anger. “Saralyn was
not
a dope user. She may
have taken a toke every now and then, but that’s it.”

Not
breaking eye contact with her, Tate’s voice was soft and firm. “What do you
mean,
every now and then
Reva?  Did she smoke every day, once a week,
how often
is
every now and then?” Tate watched as Reva sucked in a deep breath
and let it out slowly but still he pressed her for answers. “Where’d she get it? 
She have connections out at the Res, or was it brought in from somewhere else?”

Reva
pulled the chair out and dropped into the seat. She cupped her chin with both
hands and raised her watery eyes, meeting Tate’s gaze with her own. “Get this,
Tate Echo. Saralyn was not a drug user. As far as I know she only smoked once
since she graduated college and moved back to Pine Ridge to teach. She told me
that she went to a party at her cousin’s house over in White River a couple
weeks ago where she met a guy and they really seemed to click. They stepped out
on the porch to talk and he pulled out a joint. She took a few tokes. Nothing
more.”

Tate
leaned forward and met Reva’s gaze, “She mention any other drugs to you?”

“Other
drugs?  No, why would she, there weren’t any?”

Ignoring
her question, Tate continued to pepper Reva with questions of his own. “Who’s
the guy, did she tell you that?  I need to talk to him. Maybe he had something
to do with her death.” 

Tears
pooled in Reva’s eyes and spilled down her cheeks to the corner of her mouth. Hesitant,
she said, “His name was Troy. Saralyn didn’t tell me a last name. Tate, she
didn’t see him again after that. Saralyn wanted to fall in love and have kids
and she knew she couldn’t do that with a drug user, not even a casual user.” 
Pulling a paper napkin from a ceramic U-shaped holder on the table, Reva dabbed
at her eyes then folded the napkin and blew her nose before wadding it in one
hand.

“Me
and Saralyn was friends since grade school, and I know that she was telling me
the truth. If there’d been more to tell, then I’d know about it. We loved each
other like sisters and we did
not
keep secrets. For God’s sake Tate, her
daddy is a deacon at the Baptist church and her mama teaches Sunday school. It
would kill them to find out that Saralyn smoked weed, even if it was only once.
Please, you can’t let this get out.” 

Tate
leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms. “I have no intention of letting
anything get out, but I do need to track down this guy. Do you know her cousin’s
name?  Maybe he can fill me in about Troy.”

Reva
nodded. “We both know him. It’s Danny Parker. He was two grades ahead of me and
Saralyn. He works over at the feed store in White River now. He does deliveries
for them.”

With
a nod signaling that their conversation was over, Tate stood, grabbed his cap
from the table and turned to leave.

Standing
when Tate did, Reva whispered, “Is it true that Saralyn was cut up?”  

Spinning
to face her, Tate swore under his breath. “Reva, where did you hear that?” 

Unable
to meet Tate’s cold grey eyes, Reva ducked her head. “I only asked about it
because if it’s true…well I thought you should know that there’s only one man
in the county mean enough and good enough with a knife to do something like
that.”

Relaxing
his posture slightly, Tate waited for her to continue. “Go on.”

Glancing
up, Reva knew she had Tate’s attention. “Marshall Olen is always flashing that
knife of his and bragging about cutting somebody if they don’t do what he says.
I just thought you should know that. He eats over at the diner real regular and
I . . well, overhear things sometimes.”

 “Reva
I appreciate you sharing what you know about Marshall and I will follow up on
where he was the night Saralyn died. For now, I don’t want you to repeat any of
what you just told me to anyone. I mean it, no one. Talking that way could put
you in danger and I know that neither of us wants that. I’ll need your word.”

Reva’s
eyes widened, realizing what Tate meant. “Oh God Tate, you think that if he
killed Saralyn that he might come after me too?” Her voice was little more than
a whisper. “I never even thought of that. I won’t say a word. Not one word. I
swear to you, I swear it.”

 “That’s
good. Now if you think of anything else or happen to overhear anything else
suspicious in the diner, you keep quiet about it and then you give me a call. For
Christ’s sake, and especially for your own safety, do not talk to anyone about
the details of Saralyn’s murder. You can’t trust what you might overhear at the
diner and repeating it just fuels the fire for speculation. You understand?”

Nervously
rubbing her hands together, Reva nodded. “I do understand and I just want you
to catch the person who killed Saralyn. She deserves that.”

Tate
slammed his cap down on his head. “I intend to catch the killer, but this is an
open investigation and my office hasn’t released any of the particulars about
Saralyn’s murder. Obviously someone on the scene has a big mouth. We need to
keep this as quiet as possible so that it doesn’t interfere with the
investigation or with finding the bastard who did this.”

Reva
nodded a frightened ‘yes,’ and stood silent as Tate took the steps two at a
time and jogged to his SUV.

Five
minutes later, Tate passed under the rusted and dangling sign as he left Miller’s
Haven. At least now he had a lead. Make that two leads and a possible suspect. That
was more than he’d had since Saralyn’s body had been found. At this point, Tate
agreed with Reva that there was no need to disclose the drugs found during the
autopsy to Saralyn’s parents. Not until he knew more about how they got into
her system. The Parker family had been through enough losing their youngest
child without finding out that she was a pot smoker and possibly more.  

Instead
of turning his SUV west toward town and his office, Tate turned east toward
White River.
Might as well go on over and find out if Danny Parker can give
me more details on this Troy guy, then do a little digging to see what Marshall
Olen was up to the night that Saralyn was murdered.
Tate called dispatch
with instructions to forward all his calls to his cell.

On
the drive to White River, he thought about Reva’s comments on Marshall Olen. Punching
Martin’s number in his cell he waited for him to answer.

            “Crawley
here. That you Tate?” 

“Yeah,
Martin, it’s me. Wondering if you can do me a favor and see if you can find out
what Marshall Olen was up to the night Parker was murdered.” 

“I
got that. You thinking Marshall had something to do with this mess?” 

Clearing
his throat Tate replied, “Don’t know, but when I talked to Reva she seemed to
think that he brags a lot about what he’s going to do with that knife of his. I’ve
only seen Marshall once since I returned to Pine Ridge and that was when I ran
back up for you out at the I-31 Tavern and by the time I got there the fight
was all but over. You remember that night?”

“Sure
do. Never could prove who started the fight or that Marshall was the one who cut
Jack Long’s arm up, even though I suspect he was.” 

Flipping
his blinker on, Tate grimaced. “Yeah that’s what I thought, too. He’s a big SOB,
and on top of that he’s a mean drunk and a bully. When you were questioning
folks, I watched him sitting at the bar. He followed you in the mirror the
whole time. I remember thinking that he acted suspicious, but when no one in
the tavern wanted to tell you what happened I figured it would have been a
waste of time to pull him in with no witnesses to support a case.”

“You’re
right about that. No need to waste the taxpayer’s money on a bar room fight if
you don’t have a credible witness. I’ll check up on Marshall’s whereabouts the
night of the murder and let you know what I find out.”

“Sounds
good, stop by my place on your way home tonight and I’ll have you a cold beer
ready. I’m headed over to White River to follow up on a lead there and expect
to be home about six.”

Twenty
minutes later, Tate pulled into the parking lot of the White River Feed and
Supply. Tate stepped out of the SUV just as Danny Parker walked out on the
loading dock with a sack of feed resting on one shoulder. Leaning against the
front of the vehicle, Tate waited while Danny dropped the bag into the bed of
an old truck and waved at the man driving it. As the truck pulled away from the
dock, Tate walked to where Danny stood.

“You
got a minute Danny?”

Jumping
from the dock Danny extended a hand to Tate. “Haven’t seen you in a while, Tate.
I heard you was the new police chief in Pine Ridge, but I don’t get over there
much. What can I do for you?”

“I’ve
got a couple questions for you about Saralyn. I know that she was at a party at
your place a few weeks ago and that she hung out with a guy named Troy. I need
his last name and where I can find him.”

Whistling
through his teeth Danny didn’t hesitate, “Donaldson, Troy Donaldson. You
thinking he had something to do with Saralyn’s murder?”