Page 39 of Missing Pieces (Brantley Walker: Off the Books #12)

Atticus had checked off every business on his list, and he was no closer to identifying how someone could’ve moved a fifteen-hundred-pound bronze statue, much less who was responsible.

And somehow his search had led him here, to Batter & Bliss for his mid-morning pick-me-up.

“Let me guess?” Ramona said with a smile. “Red Bull and a donut.”

To be fair, he wanted neither, but he needed something to do while his thoughts tumbled around in his head. “Yes, ma’am.”

She lifted a small sack already prepared. “Grab your drink and I’ll ring you up.”

Atticus completed the transaction, said goodbye to Ramona, and headed out into the mid-morning sunshine. Rather than eat in his truck, he headed for one of the benches in Walker Park. Perhaps it would give him a better perspective if he viewed things from there.

How fucking hard could it be to figure this out? Surely finding the person responsible was easier than actually moving the damn statue.

What Atticus didn’t understand was who the fuck wanted to move it?

Sure, he understood a prank. But if taking it was a practical joke, wouldn’t they have simply relocated it somewhere else on school grounds?

Like on the front steps or the football field.

Why take it? And where did they take it to?

Someone would notice if their neighbor suddenly acquired a giant statue in their yard, wouldn’t they?

“Atticus?”

Dragged out of his thoughts, he looked up to see Archer coming his way.

“Hey,” Atticus greeted, watching as Archer approached.

Archer nodded toward the paper sack. “Whatcha got there?”

Atticus lifted the small white sack in one hand and the open can of Red Bull in the other. “Energy.”

“Interesting.” Archer glanced at the bench. “Mind if I sit?”

Atticus scooted to the left, giving Archer room beside him.

“What brings you out here?”

“I’m tryin’ to find a statue.”

“What kind of statue?”

“Bronze. Life-size. School mascot. It’s a horse. Or a mustang, I guess they call it.”

“Ah. Gotcha. I assume someone stole it?”

He was grateful Archer wasn’t laughing his ass off. “Looks like it. Although I think it was more of a prank.”

“That makes sense. Where was it last?”

“Coyote Ridge High School. In the front.”

“High school. I saw signs for the homecoming game and dance,” Archer mused. “I could definitely see someone relocating it as a prank. When did it go missing?”

“Monday night or sometime early Tuesday.”

“Has anyone stolen it before?”

Atticus looked at Archer. “That’s a damn good question. Based on Callie’s reaction—she’s the high school principal—I’d say no. At least not on her watch.”

“Okay, then.”

“Wouldn’t it be difficult to steal?” Atticus asked, still genuinely confused about how someone would’ve rehomed the damn thing.

“Not exactly. If you can figure out what they used, then you could check places that have that equipment. And that should lead to who,” Archer told Atticus.

“Do you think it’s that simple?” For whatever reason, Atticus didn’t want to let the school down. More importantly, he didn’t want to be known as the asshole who let the school down.

“I can tell you that moving it isn’t as hard as you’d think,” Archer said, staring out at the park. “A forklift and a trailer would be all you’d really need.”

Atticus tried to play it out in his head, but couldn’t. “A forklift? I seriously don’t see someone drivin’ away with it on a forklift.”

“That’s what the trailer’s for.”

“How would you get under it to hoist it up?”

Archer leaned back. “If it were me, I’d use heavy-duty straps. Wrap them under and around the statue, loop them over the forks”—he used hand motions to explain—“then use the lift to raise it high enough to get a trailer under. Once it’s there, lower it. Then drive it away.”

Well, shit. That was simple. And would be relatively unobtrusive in the dark. No wonder no one saw them take it.

“Would they need a heavy-duty forklift?”

“Not necessarily. A good one, sure. A lot of ’em will lift up to five thousand pounds easily.”

“And you know so much about forklifts, why?”

“I worked a missing statue case before. Art gallery, though. Not as big, but more delicate. The thief used air sleds to get it to the loading dock, then hoisted it up with a forklift and moved it right into the back of a truck.”

“So we’re lookin’ for someone who owns or has access to a forklift?” Atticus asked.

“Sounds like it.” Archer glanced his way.

“Know anyone who’s got one?”

“There’s a heavy equipment company in town. Walker Demolition, I think. They probably have several.” Archer chuckled. “And probably every warehouse in a one-thousand-mile radius.”

Well, that didn’t narrow it down much.

“Say you’ve got a forklift and those heavy-duty straps. You drive the forklift out there?”

“If you’re close, sure. Otherwise, you’d trailer it, I imagine.”

“They get it out there,” Atticus stated, not sure it mattered how it got there. “Then they do all that shit and hoist it up, put it on a trailer, drive it away. What then? Where do they take it?” He looked at Archer. “More importantly, why?”

“A prank, like you said. You want my opinion?”

“I’ll take anything at this point.”

“All right. You’ve got high school kids, right?”

“Assuming so, sure.”

“They’ve come up with a mischievous plan.”

“If we’re lucky,” Atticus said.

“If they just wanted to be destructive, they could’ve left it where it was. I think they want to make a statement. The home team or the rival. Either way.”

“Callie and Slade think CRHS students took it.”

“I’d say that’s a good bet. If it’s not on the property, then they wouldn’t go far. Someone’s house. Their parents’ business. Maybe they’re gonna paint it. Is there a body shop around here? With a paint booth?”

Atticus grabbed his phone and pulled up the list Becs had given him.

“There’s one,” he noted. “Gary’s Auto Body.”

“I’d look there. You could find out if Gary has kids who attend the high school. If he does, then go by there. Even if it’s just a drive-by. Scope it out. ”

With Red Bull in hand, Atticus shot to his feet. “Man, thanks.”

“Anytime.”

Atticus started toward his truck but stopped, looking back at Archer. “I can get Becs to check out the kid thing, but do you wanna head over there with me? Unless you’ve got somethin’ else to do.”

“No. I’m kinda in wait mode,” he said, standing tall. “I wouldn’t mind checkin’ it out.”

Atticus jerked his head toward his truck. “Come on then. Maybe we can solve this one today so I can get on with my life.”

“Can you read that?” Atticus asked, passing his phone over when it buzzed.

Archer took it, glancing at the screen. “It’s from Becs. She says Gary’s is owned by Dave Costello and his wife, Julie.”

“So not Gary?”

Laughing, Archer said, “Doesn’t look like it, no.”

“Then why call it Gary’s?”

“That’s a question you’ll have to ask Dave and Julie.”

Atticus shook his head, grinning. “Okay. What else?”

“They’ve got two kids. A little girl, six. And a son, sixteen.”

“Sixteen’s old enough for high school,” Atticus said.

“Yeah. Definitely worth a look.” Archer continued reading. “Also says here that Gary’s owns a flatbed tow truck.”

“What are the chances a sixteen-year-old decides to hijack a bronze statue just to take it to his parents’ body shop and paint it?”

“Likely slim to none, but as good a chance as any we’ve got so far, right?”

“True. Maybe the parents are in on it. Or maybe they’re out of town.”

While Atticus continued to think out loud, Archer discreetly checked out his truck as they drove. It was almost compulsively clean. No trash in the cup holders, no old bottles on the floor. Even the dash looked like it had been polished to a shine recently.

“So are you comin’ to work for the task force or not?”

He huffed a laugh, surprised by the question. “I accepted the job yesterday.”

Atticus’s gaze shot over. “Why didn’t you lead with that?”

“It didn’t come up.”

“Fuck, that’s great, man. I am so ready to get to work.”

“Aren’t you working this case?”

“Yeah. Because Brantley and Reese like to fuck with me.”

Archer laughed.

“Seriously. It’s the first case they’ve given me. Not once has the team taken on a case of a missing item, but they don’t hesitate to throw it my way.”

“You mentioned you were a bounty hunter before.”

“Yep.”

“Solo job, right?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“That’s likely why. They don’t want you workin’ alone.”

“I get it, but I swear they’ve turned down a few dozen people just because they know it irritates me to look at resumes all day.”

“Did you look at mine?”

Atticus peered over quickly. “No. I would have, but they didn’t even mention it.”

“Well, if it helps any, I grew up in Franklin, Tennessee, about thirty minutes outside of Nashville. I was raised by my grandmother after my parents died in a car accident. I joined the Marines right out of high school. Spent eight years in. Since then, I’ve been working for Simon as an investigator.

To supplement my income, I’ve done some one-offs for local PDs.

I’m single, never been married. No kids. I’d like to get a dog.”

“You live around here?”

“I’m staying at the B and B for now. Violet and Simon bought a house. I’m moving in with them at the end of next month.”

“Cool.”

“What about you?”

“Where do I live?”

Archer laughed. “Or you could give me key points. Up to you.”

“Grew up in Garland, north of here. My mom overdosed, dad’s MIA.

My grandmother tried to raise me. Died. I went into the foster care system at fourteen, ran away at seventeen.

Met a guy who made bounty hunting look like a glamorous job.

Did that until Reese’s mom Louisville Slugger’d me when I was huntin’ her ex-boyfriend.

Reese and Brantley felt sorry for me, hired me on.

Not married, no kids. In a semi-relationship, but it’s complicated.

And by that, I mean it’s straight up fucked-up and I can’t really explain it. ”

Archer laughed. “You said it with a smile, so I’ll assume fucked-up’s your kinda jam.”

Atticus barked a laugh. “Never thought of it that way, but maybe.”

“You’ll have to tell me the full story about the baseball bat and Reese’s mom sometime,” Archer told him before pointing at a sign. “Gary’s is up here on the right.”

Atticus pulled into the lot, parking in one of the four available spaces near the front door.

“Well, I guess we should see what Dave and Julie have to say. Since we’re here and all,” Atticus said, shutting off the truck.

When Atticus got out of the truck, Archer followed, meeting him at the front door of the small office. No sooner did he pull open the door than Slade walked out, a frown marring his features.

“What’re you doin’ here?” Slade asked Atticus, his tone biting.

“We were followin’ a lead.”

“We?” Slade glared at Archer. “Since when did y’all become a we ?”

Uh-oh. Archer wasn’t sure what was happening, but he got the feeling that Atticus’s complicated relationship involved a very pissed off Slade Elliott.

“Since he accepted the job yesterday,” Atticus told him. “Come out here and shut the door.”

Archer backed up, giving Slade space to join them rather than share their business with everyone in the office.

“You could’ve called,” Slade said when the door closed. “Told me you were working with him.”

“When would I’ve done that, Slade? We saw each other in the park, I picked his brain about the case, and I asked him to come with me to talk to the owners.”

“Why were you in the park?”

Realizing this conversation had a personal undercurrent, Archer walked around to the back of the truck, giving them space.

He kept walking until he could no longer make out what they were saying.

It was, however, impossible to mistake Slade’s tone.

He was clearly unhappy with the fact Archer was along for the ride.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Slade! He’s my goddamn partner.”

Archer tried to recall the drive in, wondering how long it would take him to walk back to the B&B. An hour. Two? Probably less time than it would take Slade to get over being pissed.

“No, Slade. Dammit.” Atticus appeared at the side of the truck. “Archer! Let’s go.”

While he wasn’t used to being ordered around by people he just met, Archer figured now wasn’t a good time to argue. Atticus obviously got enough of that with Slade.

Doing his best to look contrite, Archer headed back over, got in the truck. He didn’t look at Slade or Atticus, didn’t say a word.

It wasn’t until they were nearing the B&B fifteen minutes later that Atticus finally spoke up.

“I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t apologize. And you don’t have to explain.”

“Good. Like I said earlier, it’s fucked-up.” Atticus sighed. “You’ll be at the meeting, right?”

“I was summoned, so yeah.”

“Well, I guess I’ll see you there in a bit.”

Not sure what to say, Archer nodded and got out of the truck.

He wasn’t surprised when Atticus put his foot to the floor and laid a band of rubber on the road.

Complicated didn’t seem to be working all that well for Atticus. Not from what he could tell anyway.