Page 149 of Secrets Along the Shore

“Okay. So why do you think he has something to do with Kamden Avery’s disappearance?”

Reggie inhales a deep breath through his nostrils like he’s storing up for several minutes underwater. “I got a business, right? And sometimes my business and L.A.’s business, they overlap. We don’t see eye-to-eye when that happens. You feel me?”

I nod.

“Last year, a few times he came out on the wrong side of things when I was involved and he still got smoke with me over that. He was lookin’ for a way to get under my skin, and when he realized me and Kam got chemistry, he decided to move in.”

“You and Kamden were together?”

His left cheek twitches. “Not together, together, but…we did business together. I was her…product supplier.”

If he’s hoping to make it sound like he was stocking Kamden with essential oils instead of drugs, he’s not fooling anyone.

“We did have a vibe, you know? Coulda been somethin’ if we had time. But L.A., he saw that and started payin’ her a whole lot of attention. Stepped in and offered her a discount on—” Reggie cuts himself off, pausing before continuing, “—products.”

The kind of supplies you sniff, snort, or swallow.“He was willing to undercut himself just to get in good with her?”

Reggie nods. “We’re at Keepin’ Score—the bar a coupla’ blocks over—and he’s offerin’. Only, Kam knows what he’s about and she ain’t havin’ it ’cause she loyal to me. L.A. must have been outta his mind, ’cause even after that, he decides to shoot his shot with her. She shutshim down hard, right in front of everybody. Slaps him too,” Reggie says, with a smirk on his face. “L.A. lost it. Went for her, and two guys from his crew had to hold him back. He starts spoutin’ how she gonna be sorry, I’m gonna be sorry, everybody gonna be sorry. Now Kam’s dead, so you tell me who did it.”

I fold my hands and lean forward, my elbows on my knees. “Okay. But, here’s the thing, Reggie. How did Kamden end up in Mitchell County, almost two hours north of here? If it happened like you think it did, of all the places L.A. could’ve left her, why up there?”

“Easy,” Reggie says, looking like he’s got the answers to every question ever posed about the universe. “’Cause we all knew about them women killed by that lunatic up there, whoever was doin’ it. We been talkin’ about it before in Keepin’ Score and L.A. was right there with us. So he knew about it. You tell me, would it be better for him to dump her up there where nobody knew her or him, or down here where he’d be reco’nized in a second and be the first one to get a finger pointed at him?”

I know which answer I’m going with.

I spend another fifteen minutes pulling everything I can about L.A. out of Reggie. He won’t let me record him, so I take old school notes as fast as I can. In the end, he even texts me a photo of Leonard “L.A.” Haynes. Between that and the rest of what he’s given me, I’m hopeful we’ll locate L.A. pretty quickly.

If L.A. Haynes did kill Kamden, that means there isn’t another serial killer running around Mitchell County, Kamden and Teresa both being in tarps was merely a coincidence, and we were right all along about Fogerty killing Teresa.

Me rooting for a drug dealer to have killed a woman out of spite was not on my bingo card for this year.

To cover all my bases, I show Reggie a photo of Kurt Fogerty. He doesn’t recognize him, and has never seen him with Kamden or heard Kamden talk about him. He doesn’t recognize the location of Kamden’s last Instagram photo either, and has no clue where it might be.

We’re about forty minutes in when Reggie starts fidgeting, pacing, and cutting his gaze to the windows. I’m getting the distinct impressionI’ve outlasted my welcome. I don’t know what’s made him so jumpy, but I don’t want to find out. Confident I’ve learned everything I’m going to, or at least everything I need at the moment, I make a quick exit, promising Reggie I’ll keep him posted.

Outside, one of the two guys has taken to leaning against my Jeep. I toss him a slight nod, and he eyes me with contempt as he steps off. I climb in and speed away before anyone decides to stop me from doing it.

The brilliant honey-colored sun is setting in the west as I head for home. I touch base with MCSD dispatch and request a BOLO for Leonard “L.A.” Haynes. It’ll be shared with other law enforcement agencies in the state and Georgia, hopefully resulting in a location for him. The charcoal pavement disappears beneath me as I let my thoughts coalesce while listening to the audiobook version ofPride and Prejudice.It’s not the typical book one might think of when imagining soundtracks to solving a murder, but I know it so well it lets my mind wander. Just as Darcy tells Bingley that Elizabeth is “tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt” him, my phone rings.

It’s the Mitchell County Sheriff’s Department. I hit the answer button.

“Sophie Walsh.”

“Hey, Sophie, Deputy Carlisle here.” I know him, though not well. I’ve only talked to him a couple of times.

“Hey, Deputy. What can I do for you?”

“Sheriff wanted me to call. Said to drop whatever you’re doing and head to Huntsville. There’s something you’re gonna want to handle.”

CHAPTER

NINETEEN

Like most emergency rooms,the one at Huntsville General is overwhelmed and understaffed. If you find yourself waiting beneath its glaring fluorescents, chances are you won’t see a room behind the coveted swinging doors for several hours, unless you fall into a crisis category you don’t want to be in. The man I was there to see had been ushered into one of those rooms upon arrival—not a good sign.

John Parry was headed home from work, and had just turned off Highway 174 toward the unincorporated community of Brazelton in southern Mitchell County, when his Hyundai Sonata was forced off the road by an SUV. He plummeted down an embankment and flipped several times, ultimately coming to rest upside down. He couldn’t identify the SUV, or its driver, who sped off leaving Parry to die. At least that’s what Parry managed to tell rescue workers before he fell unconscious on the way to the hospital.

When I arrive at the ER, Mitchell County Deputy Esteban Valesco walks me over to Parry’s family members—his wife, daughter, and father—in the middle of an update from a harried-looking doctor.