Hot Water (18 page)

Chapter 35

Wyatt studied Laurie Ann, noticing the tremble of her hands, the defeat in her shoulders. “You finally agree your cousin is a suspect?”

She placed the fax on the conference table and drew in a deep breath. “I agree he’s done things which appear suspicious. That’s a far cry from labeling Lester as an arsonist or a murderer or even a thief.”

“Loose connections are all we have on the other suspects. Jacob Whitman, for instance. You consider him a strong suspect because we can’t find him, and his absence coincides with a death and a fire.”

“I don’t personally know Whitman, but Lester is family. I’ve known him for twenty-eight years. The man I know isn’t a killer.”

Her blind obedience to her cousin’s character concerned him. He needed her to think like a cop. “People are capable of doing the wrong thing, especially when they’re in the grip of a strong emotion.”

Her chin came up. “Why do you keep focusing on Lester? I agree his actions seem suspicious, but we have other suspects. No need to railroad my cousin.”

Between the anguish in her voice and the burning in his gut, Wyatt couldn’t sit still. He rose and paced around the oval table. “This arsonist has murdered three people now, one of them a close friend of mine. The longer he operates undetected, the more victims he’ll claim. I don’t want anyone else to die. It’s past time to catch this guy. We’re close this time. I feel it.”

Her chair scraped the floor. “Get a grip. You’re personally involved in this case. Your zeal for catching the arsonist is admirable but painting someone with suspicion in a murder case has serious consequences. Lester will call and he’ll have an alibi.”

Her phone chimed. She glanced at the display and damned if she didn’t cackle with glee. “The text message is from the convenience store clerk. Jacob Whitman has surfaced.”

After hearing Laurie Ann’s news, Wyatt wanted to hear what Whitman had to say. “Let’s go get him.”

On the drive out there, Laurie Ann listened to the police radio, and Wyatt had his thoughts for company. He hadn’t helped his case with her by pushing Lester as a viable suspect, but he needed her to be onboard with his entire suspect list and to trust his investigational skills. And on top of that, he wanted to sleep with her again.

What chance did he have of that?

She was strong. A tough cookie, his sister Allie would say. She could have any guy she wanted and for a while it had looked like she wanted him. Until he’d crossed a line by putting her cousin in the suspect pool. She’d taken off her rose-colored glasses and seen him as the shrinks saw him—alone, bitter, obsessed. Not the romantic prince of anyone’s fairy tale.

He might as well be the fat, ugly toad in a fable.

Out of long habit, he kept a close watch on the sky and treelines, searching for smoke. But none met his relentless scrutiny. This case had become his reason for living for two years now. He needed to solve it so that he could move on. Why didn’t people understand that simple fact?

“His car’s in the driveway,” Laurie Ann said as she parked. She called in their position on the radio before she turned to him. “Hang back while I determine if he’s armed or dangerous.”

Wyatt opened his door. “I didn’t come all this way to sit on the sidelines. This is my case. I’ll find out if he’s dangerous.”

She blocked his way. “Confronting a murder suspect is a police matter.”

“How about we do it together?”

Her eyes blazed beneath the brim of her cop hat. “Fine.”

As they mounted the porch steps, he stepped aside for her to go first, which put her first at the doorway. She didn’t wait for him. She pounded on the door.

Jacob Whitman appeared, pupils dilated and unsteady on his feet. He had long scraggly hair, a short stooped frame, and a Santa-round belly. “What can I do for you?”

Laurie Ann identified the two of them as a cop and an arson investigator. “We want to talk to you about a police matter.”

“A cop and a fire cop? Isn’t this my lucky day?” Whitman said, hanging onto the paneled door for balance. “I’m not up for police matters.”

Laurie Ann pulled out her notepad. “Mr. Whitman, you can talk to us here or down at the station.”

He swore. “What you wanna know?”

“Tell me where you were today.”

He wobbled and recovered. “My doctor’s office in Savannah. I had me one of them procedures where they put a periscope up your butt.”

“Can anyone verify that?” Wyatt asked.

“Yeah. About a kazillion folks. All of them looking up my butt. I hope they got a great look ʼcause I’m not going back. Some things in life are meant to be sacred. My butt is one of them.”

“I’ll need names and addresses.”

“Lemme get you my discharge paperwork. They sent me home with a pile of instructions.”

Once Whitman shuffled off, Wyatt glanced over at a solemn Laurie Ann. “If his alibi checks out, this doesn’t help your cousin.”

“I’m aware of that, but I need to see proof before I rule Whitman out.”

Whitman returned with medical paperwork, which seemed to be in order. Laurie Ann hurried back to the car to make her investigative calls.

Wyatt glanced over at Whitman. “You ever been to Pirate’s Cove?”

“That old dive? Heck, no. I have plenty of roaches out here, no need to ride across the county to see more. Besides, why would I drive all the way to the Cove to get a seafood dinner when there are three places out here that fix great seafood?”

Wyatt’s palms shot out defensively. “Just asking. No harm done.”

Laurie Ann strolled back and handed Whitman his paperwork. “Checks out. He’s not our guy.”

Wyatt thought out loud on the drive back to the station. “Whitman’s ruled out due to a colonoscopy. Prince is dead. Miller’s in jail. Deandre Jackson’s across the country. That leaves Vernon Carter and Lester. Any luck running down Vernon?”

“Not yet. I found a James V. Carter, but he’s working out of state.”

“I’ll run what you found through my database, but if James V. turns out to be Vernon, that leaves us with only one suspect.”

She shook her head until her short hair shimmered around her chin. “That fax from Lester’s boss suggests he may be involved in scrap metal theft. That’s a far cry from arson and murder.”

“For your sake, I hope so,” he allowed.

She sighed as if the weight of the world rested on her shoulders. “I need to find James Brown’s friends. It’s unusual for homeless men to drop off the radar.”

Clever of her to deflect his thoughts away from her cousin, but he’d play along. For now. “They could be dead.”

“Or hiding.”

“We haven’t tried offering a reward for their whereabouts.”

She stopped at the crossroads’ four-way stop sign and waited her turn to go. “We don’t have the resources in our department to offer rewards.”

“I do. Put the word out that there’s a five hundred dollar reward if we find Spivey and Miles alive.”

“You’re putting your own money up?”

He shrugged. “I’ll pay for the information. Nothing wrong with that.”

“That much money is a fortune around here. If those men had families, they’d sell them out in a heartbeat.”

“That’s the general idea.”

“Diabolical, but I like it. You’re all right, North.”

The smile she flashed him was easily worth half a grand, but what good was his money? It didn’t buy peace of mind. It didn’t bring his best friend back to life. And it didn’t put Laurie Ann in his bed.

Chapter 36

Laurie Ann called Carlene Thatcher at the Mossy Bog Telephone Company. Minutes later, the reward aired on local access TV.

Calls about the missing men’s whereabouts were all over the map. Spivey and Miles were stranded on an offshore island. Spivey and Miles had hitched a ride to Miami to do a music gig. Spivey and Miles were holed up in a fishing shack on the Mossy Bog River. Spivey and Miles were drinking behind Bully Boys Bar.

Laurie Ann glanced over her desk at Wyatt. “You wanted leads. We’re getting them.”

“Any of those sound feasible to you?”

“No way did they land a music gig. I’ve heard Miles sing, and it isn’t pretty. No way they’d be behind Bully Boys. They’d be sitting inside to do their drinking.”

“But they could be on an island or in a fishing camp?”

“Only if someone took them there. Spivey and Miles aren’t self-starters. They follow that scientific principle of items at rest tend to stay at rest.”

“Unless they’re scared for their lives. People act out of character then.”

He had a point. “We’ll contact the Miami police and ask them to be on the lookout for this pair, just in case, but my guess is they’re in Tidewater County, somewhere.”

“What about the other locations?”

“To search the islands, we could requisition the sheriff’s rescue boat, or we could borrow my dad’s Carolina Skiff. Dad’s 18-footer is faster and more maneuverable.”

“Do it. I’m ready to go.”

She glanced at her watch. It was already after five. This time of year the sun set early. “Not enough daylight hours left. We’ll search the islands tomorrow.”

Chief Tyler ambled out of his office, his craggy features frozen in a scowl. “What in the Sam Hill is going on? Why are the phones ringing off the hook?”

“We offered a reward for the whereabouts of Ray Spivey and Frankie Miles,” Laurie Ann said.

“I didn’t authorize a reward.” Tyler’s neck reddened.

Before he chewed her out, Laurie Ann hastened to explain. “North offered the reward. To move the investigation along. I realize now that I should have cleared it with you, but we need to find these two men right away.”

The chief sized them up with slitted eyes. “The money isn’t coming out of my budget?”

“No, sir.”

“I don’t have the manpower to chase all over creation for those two bums.”

His bark was worse than his bite. Laurie Ann repeated that to herself. This wasn’t personal. She’d messed up by not keeping him in the loop. She met the chief’s steely gaze. “We’ll follow the leads. We’re looking at the island possibilities tomorrow morning.”

“Keep me informed.” He turned and disappeared into his office.

Laurie Ann went back to answering the phones.

“What about the fax with Lester’s employment with the moving company?” Wyatt asked when the phones quieted.

“I have it.” She withdrew a page from her arson folder and handed it to him. Wyatt studied the fax so intently, she squirmed in her seat, sure he was thinking the worst of Lester. “His trips are listed there with dates,” she offered. “We were talking about the potential connection to my scrap yard task force when we got the call about Jacob Whitman resurfacing.”

Wyatt ran his finger down the list of city names. “You have contacts in all these places?”

“I’ve personally talked to most of those dealers while trying to make my scrap metal cases.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t want my cousin to be messed up in this, but his travel log corresponds to areas where there have been extensive vandalism and scrap metal theft. It’s after hours, but I can post Lester’s picture on the task force private e-mail list. Maybe someone will recognize him and respond.”

“Sounds good. You’re coming around to my point of view?”

“I don’t know how Lester is involved with any of this. But his destinations jive with places I’ve had active scrap metal cases. These scrap dealers are buying all the scrap metal they can get their hands on and shipping it overseas. Then they use our steel to make cars to sell to us. Great system, eh?”

“Many towns have scrap yards.”

“They do, but gas is expensive. Scrap metal thieves tend to stay within a fifty or so mile radius of home. But Lester’s job pays for his gas and gives him a wide base of operations.”

“Two of his trips were to my towns.”

The icy fire in Wyatt’s eyes rattled her. “Your towns?”

“The towns where the arsonist murdered people.”

“Oh.” Her heart raced. She moved her hand to her chest to hold it in. “Do the dates match up?”

“They do. I want an immediate all points bulletin and a warrant for Lester’s arrest issued immediately. He’s my primary suspect.”

She couldn’t take a breath, couldn’t move. “But we haven’t ruled out Vernon Carter.”

“We’ll still look for him. For Spivey and Miles, too. Some of these people may be accomplices. But Lester Church is my arsonist. The other places he’s been have had smaller accelerant fires, which coincide with his trips. This log is the proof I’ve been seeking.”

Her breath hitched in her throat. Lightheaded, she felt the room shift, and the light thin. She worked harder at inhaling. “How can you be sure?”

“I’ve pored over these files for months. I don’t need to check the dates against my records.” He tapped the side of his head. “They’re right here.”

Despite his certainty, she couldn’t wrap her brain around her cousin as a murderous man. “Let me call my Dad. He’ll straighten this out.”

“No calls to your father or Lester at this point. We’re not tipping your cousin off.”

“You won’t have to. It’ll be all over town in less than an hour.”

“We need results, Dinterman. We’re on the right track.”

She noted his use of her last name. He was all business now. This was why he came here. To catch this guy. They might be on the right track, but it felt like the freight train was out of control and heading right at her. She completed the necessary paperwork for the warrant and APB, making the movements by rote, saying the right words by force of habit.

Because on the inside, she was sobbing like crazy.

Chapter 37

Given his insistence on arresting her cousin, Wyatt expected to stay at the hotel, but Laurie Ann surprised him. Though she couldn’t look him in the eye, she told him her job was to make sure he was safe. She couldn’t do that if he was at the hotel.

So, he followed her home.

Arresting her cousin wasn’t the way to waltz into her affections, but he had to go where the investigation led him. Lester Church’s travel pattern exactly matched the fires he’d flagged. Not wanting to antagonize her further, he left his briefcase and laptop in his truck.

Time enough for them tomorrow.