The Defenseless (5 page)

Chapter 6

He knew he was going to die. The cramping pain that had ratcheted his stomach, faded to the back of his mind. He wasn’t sure if the physical ailment was gone or if he had grown accustomed to its presence.

His vision had darkened, and he wasn
’t sure if it was the deprivation of oxygen, or his body resigning itself to death.

He had hours to think, but the stench of excrement in the water dish kept hitting him in periodic waves. They say the sensory perception of smell shuts off after a couple minutes. It wasn’t working for him. He did know one thing for certain though, he didn
’t deserve to go down like this.

His dead mother had called out to him,
appearing as a vision and telling him it was okay to surrender. There was a spiritual realm he would be a part of.

Lies.

When he died,
if
he dared to believe in heaven and hell, he wasn
’t going where the cherubs plucked on harp cords. He’d be on the fast route to the abyss, with its fiery caverns, and he’d be reporting to the creature with the pitchfork.

Again, if he bought into all that.

Nonetheless, his future was absolute. He would close his eyes, his last breath would exit his body, and in that instant, he hoped he would experience the warmth of forgiveness.

Cathy entered his mind and he wondered where it had gone so wrong. At this moment, he would exchange anything for one more kiss, for the feel of her touch.

He swallowed, his Adam
’s apple heaving against the constraint of the collar. His legs shook beneath him. He was losing strength.

There was a bench, but it would provide no relief. To reach it would equate to asphyxiation by choker.

Still, despite being non
religious, he had called out, seeking divine intervention, for someone to hear his cries for help. He met with silence.

The only one listening in was the man who put him here and he had gone silent.

He was guilty of a lot of things, but killing Buick wasn
’t one of them. If he thought hard enough, he could even remember the dog’s soft fur beneath his fingers. He had been a solid fixture, a source of unconditional love.

He would take the knowledge of who ended his best friend’s life with him, knowing he hadn’t
prevented it or had them held accountable.

His captor was right. He
deserved to die.

With the absolution, he remembered Sunday school and something the Bible said about the wages of sin being death.

For the first time in his life, he would be debt-free.

He closed his eyes and sank to his knees. The choker tightened around his neck and had his eyes bulging open in panic for air, but any attempts to derive breath were futile.

*****

The Advocate sat back, his hands clasped behind his head in pride. He had seen another one through and his mission was accomplished, yet again. One less animal-abusing mongrel in the world. One less Offender.

Yes, the earth would be a better planet for the
Advocate
’s sacrifice.

The unfortunate part about his work in the winter was it was impossible to bury the past beneath the surface, and seal it, along with it its inevitable truth. But he had other means of keeping the body until the spring thaw. He had placed Simpson on display. He had no such intention with this one.

The Defenseless would not go down without a voice. The crimes against them would have atonement.

Chapter 7

The onboard system rang, and while it was designed as a safe means of communicating when driving, I still wished that Jack would pull over. The snow continued to fall and I was starting to wonder if it ever stopped.

“Harper and Fisher here.”

“Jack, Zach and I just finished speaking with Cathy, Gene Lyons’s wife. She remembers getting hate mail, years ago, when all this happened.”

“Get your hands on them.”

“She’s searching now, but we’ll have to come back for them.”

“Why?”

“She lives in a rat’s nest. The entire place is upside down. She asked us to give her a day.”

“Another twenty-four hours?”

“I know, Jack, but if we push her, she won’t look.”

“Fine. You wait on that woman to get her shit together.” Jack balanced his hold on the steering wheel with one hand and went searching in his coat pocket for his cigarettes. He tapped one out on a knee, temporarily driving with the tip of an elbow.

My feet flattened to the floor, wishing for a set of pedals so I could at least slow the vehicle down.

“How did you guys make out?” Paige asked.

“Simpson’s wife was just as beautiful as it was hinted toward.”

I smiled. Jack
was
a man after all.

“But she’s a little young, and as it turns out, not the first Missus in Darren’s life.”

“Did you call Nadia for a full background on her?”

“Why don’t you do that and follow up on the one for Craig Bowen.”

“The garbage man? Sure.”

“Brandon and I are just about to head into a bar.”

Paige laughed. “But it’s not even noon.”

“The kid’s thirsty.” Jack smiled, the right side rising higher than the left. He put
his window down and lit his cigarette.

“Jenna—Simpson’s wife,” I began.

“You’re on a first-name basis with her, Pending? Way to go. Who would have thought of you as a widow hunter?”

“She told us her husband had a new friend in his life. They spent a lot of time shooting pool at a bar named Smitty’s.”

“We’ll catch up on everything later. Get the name and address of Simpson’s first wife from Nadia. You go there, and hopefully by the time we’re all finished, Nadia will have the information we need on the garbage man.”

Jack disconnected the call as the bar’s lit sign
came into view.

*****

Inside Smitty’s, the smell of paint and wood spoke to its being recently renovated.

Two pool tables were set up side by side near a sign that read
Washrooms
.
Dining tables were on the right behind a modest-sized dance floor, with everything else on the left. A long counter ran along the exterior wall as a place for patrons playing pool or dancing to have easy access to their drinks.

The place was empty, except for a man behind the counter who was slicing lemons, or maybe they were limes. I only knew because I detected the aroma of citrus.

He paused chopping.
“Sit wherever you’d like.”

“We’re Special Agents Harper and Fisher of the FBI. We’d like to talk to the manager.”

The man set the knife down and wiped his hands on a towel.
“FBI? What would you want here?” He threw the towel over a shoulder, snapped his fingers, and pulled out two shot glasses. “Probably something stronger than beer.”

“We’re on duty,” I said.

“Come on, I won’t tell your boss.”

Jack prickled beside me.
“I am the boss.”

“Yeah, I figured that, but thought, what the hell? So, no drink then?” He shook his head as if we had offended him by refusing his booze, and returned the shot glasses behind the counter.

He pulled the towel off his shoulder and bunched it in his hands.
“I’m the manager. Name’s Neil Armstrong, and before you make a wisecrack, not the astronaut. What do you want?”

“Do you know this man?” Jack gestured to me and I pulled up a recent picture of Darren Simpson.

Armstrong didn
’t take the phone from my hand, but passed it a cursory glance. “Course I do. The guy’s a regular.”

“He’s dead,” I said.

His face showed no emotion.

“He was murdered and left behind in an alley,” Jack elaborated, taking the serve back.

“I might have heard something about that.”

“Might have?” I asked.

“All right. Something happens to one of mine, I know.”

“One of yours?”

“It’s no
Cheers
, but we
’re tight-knit.”

“That’s great to hear because we think he came here with the man who killed him. Who did he play pool with?”

The bartender laughed. When neither Jack nor I showed amusement, he ran a hand down his face to sober his expression.

“Darren, play pool? He couldn’t to save his life.”

“Who did he come here with?”

“Let’s take a seat over—”

“We’re fine standing,” Jack interjected.

“Don’t let this get out. I’m no snitch and I’m certainly no saint.”

My eyes fell to the tattoos that riddled his bare arms.

He leaned across the counter.
“The man was cheating on his girl.” He slapped both hands on the counter. “There I said it. But don’t let it get out, because if you do, I’ll lose my clientele. What? It’s a bar, not a monastery.”

“So he never came in here with a man?”

“I never said that. I know the guy friends he’d come in with from time to time. None of them would have killed him.”

“How many are we talking?”

The tender curled his lips.
“Three, tops.”

“We’re going to need their names.”

“Oh no. I’m not giving out that information. Like I said, I’d be shutting those doors for good if I did. Not going down as a snitch, especially an unemployed and broke one.”

“We can get a warrant for your tabs and investigate it that way.”

“Do what you have to do. Like I said, I’m not talking.” He faced me. “Am I going to need a lawyer?”

*****

“The guy’s an idiot.” Jack turned the key in the ignition, but the SUV contested. A second try had the engine starting and cold air blowing from the vents. I rushed to close mine.

“The bar’s his livelihood. I’m not surprised he didn’t give us much.”

“Hmm.”

I deduced that guttural response as one not in my favor.

“Call in and get the warrant started for his records.”

“Jack, by the time that comes back and we make sense of it, we’ll have found the guy.”

He pulled out a cigarette and lit up.
“I call the shots, Kid, and I want that warrant. I have suspicions myself, and they are telling me a key to our unsub is in those records.”

“He could’ve paid cash, which will leave us nowhere.” I wasn’t certain why I was being so stubborn and bucking his direction. He gave me a condemning glare that had me wishing I could reverse time a few precious seconds. “I’ll get it started.”

Chapter 8

The results on Darren Simpson
’s first wife were immediate just as Jack had anticipated. Paige had her answer from Nadia in less than two minutes. Her name was Lila Buxton. She reverted to her maiden name when her divorce from Simpson went through.

Buxton’s laneway and path were cleared. The snow kept coming down, but the few inches on the pavement testified to it being shoveled not long ago.

As they headed to the front door, a faceless voice called out. “Hello.”

Zach had this dazed expression that Paige was sure mirrored her own confusion. At least she wasn
’t hearing things.

“I said hello.”
A woman, who was easily three hundred pounds, came around the side of the house. Puffed up further with her winter coat, hat, scarf, and mitts, she was quite round. If her coat had been white, she would have looked like a giant marshmallow. Two dark eyes peered at them through the one-inch opening that wasn
’t covered by fabric. She pulled down her scarf. “What do you want?”

“We’re agents with the FBI.” Paige provided the formal introduction. “We’re looking for Lila Buxton.”

“I wouldn’t care if you were merry fuckin’ Saint Nick himself. I’m busy.” She leaned on the shovel she held, heaving for breath, a cloud of white encircling the air around her head.

“We’re here to talk to you about your late ex-husband.”

“Ha!” She waved a hand in the air. “The world’s a better place without him. I know it might sound cruel to say that, but it’s the truth. And before you get carried away, I didn’t do it. I thought about it many times, I tell ya.”
Her tone of voice, which had started off so defensive, transformed into passive.

Paige had a suspicion.
“Was he a violent man to live with?”

Her eyes pinched shut, as if she were squinting to block out a glare, but Paige saw past it. She was deflecting.

“You must be happy to have him out of your life, if that’s the case. A guy lays his hands on me once, I’d be outta there.”

She studied Paige, and then passed the same inquisitive gaze on Zach.
“You talked to his new bitch, haven’t you? She sent you this way, swore to the asshole’s innocence? Let me guess she fluttered her eyelashes and wore a skimpy little outfit while she did it.” Lila’s breathing remained labored, but Paige believed it had more to do with the topic of conversation at this point, rather than the earlier physical exertion.

“The reason we’re here is because we think you might know who did this to him.”

“You mean who killed him. You don’t have to pussy-foot around me. Why do you think I’d know his killer?”

“We believe he was targeted because he was accused of animal abuse twenty-six years ago.”

Lila laughed, doubling over, the shovel putting in extra duty to hold her up. She stayed in that position for several seconds, holding up a hand and indicating for them to give her a minute.

“Miss Buxton, the person we’re after was aware that he poisoned that dog. He was killed in the same manner,” Zach said.

She straightened out.
“He deserved the way he went out.”

“You believe he was guilty? The charges were dropped.”

“Only because he knew someone who knew someone. And don’t ask me for any names ’cause it would be no good. I don’t know them.”

“What was it like after he was found innocent of the charges?”

She shook her head.
“It was horrible. Partially why we split. The other part, if I haven’t mentioned it, he was an ass.”

“Did you get hate mail?” Paige asked, thinking back to Cathy Lyons. Maybe if they got their hands on more, they could cross compare.

“Hell yeah. We’d come home from work and the mailbox would be overflowing. Animal activists and such. I remember one clearly.”

“And?”

“You’d love to know, wouldn’t you? I don’t want the bastard to get justice. He deserved what he had coming. Hell, I’d throw a parade in the killer’s honor.”
Lila pointed a gloved finger between them.
“Make sure people care before you ask them for help.”

“It’s not just about Darren Simpson,” Paige started, and passed a glance to Zach. “There’s another man’s life on the line.”

Lila laughed.
“If he was as much of a saint as Darren was, he deserves whatever’s coming.”

“Miss Buxton, you have the chance to make a difference.”

“I do, already, every day. The whole world is a brighter place with me in it.” She sniggered.

Neither of them even smiled.

“I’m sorry that some other animal has suffered at the hands of a madman, but as for this guy killing animal abusers? I say all the power to him. Hell, if he was running for office, he’d have my vote. At least he’s doing something about it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just that. Those in power do nothing.”

Paige ruminated on the conversation thus far. Lila had mentioned that Darren had beat his charges because he knew someone who knew someone. Was that person someone in higher power? Where they still around? She made a note to  investigate the background of Denver’s elite.

“You said you received hate mail, do you still have them?”

“From twenty-six years ago? No way. But I do remember where at least one letter came from because I contacted the manager.”

“The manager?”

“It came from Humanity Against Animal Abusers. It’s an animal activist group.”

*****

Paige did up her seatbelt. “Wasn’t she a ray of sunshine? We must have expected too much to think she’d have letters like Lyons, but we did get another lead.”

Zach flipped on the wipers. They cleared the snow but left a coating of ice.

“Seeing as you never offer to scrape…”

She smiled.
“It’s not a woman’s job.”

“You women always want to be seen as equals, so go ahead and take out the garbage, shovel the snow, and warm up cars. Lila Buxton doesn’t seem to have a problem with heavy labor.”

“I’m not even going there, and you’re not as funny as you think you are.”

“Then why are you smiling?” Zach hitched his brows before he jumped out of the SUV with the scraper.

As Paige watched him move around in the frigid air, she was thankful for the shelter inside the vehicle. Cool air still blew from the vents, but at least she was starting to get feeling back in her toes.

The onboard system rang.

“Paige Dawson.”

“It’s time to talk about where we’re at so far.” It was Jack.

“We’ll meet you at the station? Or the local field office?”

“At a
restaurant called The Buckhorn Exchange.”

Before she could ask for directions, Jack disconnected.

Zachery opened the door, brushed the snow off his jacket, and threw the scraper into the back.
“Now where to? I heard the phone.”

“To The Buckhorn Exchange.”

“What’s there?”