Page 22

TWENTY-TWO

GAbrIEL

Friday

After leaving the infuriating Ranger Man behind, Gabriel wasn’t ready to retreat to Elton’s. He was tempted to hunt down Sheriff Rizzi and ask him a few pointed questions though. Maybe more than a few, but he probably wouldn’t get any answers. However, not being on the sheriff’s radar—yet—was a good thing, so he set that idea aside. On top of it all, Gabe was kicking himself for having no way of knowing if the deputies had been to Elton’s and left already or if they’d even shown up at all.

“I need a goddamn phone.”

He put “buy burner phone” back onto his mental to-do list. Again. Although he was kind of getting used to not having one. Not having a phone meant no Unknown Caller popping up on the screen. Tuesday, he’d actually dug a map out of the Honda’s glove compartment and used it to navigate. A real Boy Scout. Why Heidi had stored a map in the Honda, he had no idea.

It was still early, by Gabe’s standards anyway, so he decided to return to the marina and do something more to clean up the Ticket . There was likely some risk in leaving his car parked there, exposed for anyone who drove past, especially the sheriff. But unless he wanted to get rid of the Honda—and he didn’t, a new car would be a pain—or leave Heartstone altogether, he would have to risk it. He wasn’t ready to run again, he’d been on the island less than a week.

Besides, he owed Elton some groceries and more cooking, it seemed like Gordon MacDonald wasn’t going to turn up on his own, and Dwayne Perkins wasn’t about to return to the living. At least, hopefully not. Dwayne had definitely seemed like the type to morph into a zombie.

On the other hand, Gabe reminded himself, he’d been fined a C-note and found Dwayne’s dead body since arriving. But he still didn’t want to think about leaving yet. Besides, where would he go?

Shit.

Another, more disturbing thought made itself known. Was he starting to like it here? After less than a week? No, it couldn’t be. Even as the thought crossed his mind, Gabe knew he was lying to himself.

Well, fuck.

Personal attachment was something Gabriel had generally avoided in personal and business relationships his entire life. When he’d been younger, Heidi had never encouraged friends. And there’d only been a single instance as an adult when he’d remotely considered settling down, and boy howdy, hadn’t that gone up in a huge ball of flames? As for putting down roots that weren’t tied to taking advantage of someone? That wasn’t something he’d thought about doing for years. There’d always been a new opportunity somewhere else.

He must have been eleven or twelve, tired of moving, changing schools, and making new friends, when he’d—to his instant regret—complained to Heidi about it. His mother had not been impressed, and Gabriel had been on the receiving end of a cold, clipped lecture.

“It’s not all about you, Chance, and I’m the only person keeping you from living on the streets like a lot of kids are these days. I could drop you off at the children’s home anytime. Suck it up.”

Heidi had been very good at casual cruelty. Gabe had never understood if self-preservation or selfishness was at the root of it. Probably some of both. Whichever it was, it’d cured Gabe of his desire to stay put pretty quick.

He pulled in as close to the storage shed as possible, tucking the Honda in so it could be seen from only one direction. Unlocking and opening the gate, he strode down the pier to his inheritance.

To Gabe’s disappointment, the cleaning fairy had not visited over the past day and a half, although the interior of the sailboat wasn’t as bad as he remembered it. Still, the half-cleaned-up look was plain depressing. Stripping out of his coat, he pulled on the sweatshirt he’d left from the last time he’d been aboard and got down to work. The damn boat wasn’t going to clean itself.

An hour or so later, and several more passes with the disinfectant spray and work towels, Gabriel stopped and glanced around, pleased with what he saw. He could stay there that night if he wanted, possibly for the foreseeable future—barring fixing the head and shower. The bunk was critter free and he’d even made it up with the bedding Elton had given him. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d had to rough it, and it was better than the cramped Honda. And he didn’t want to take advantage of Elton; Gabe knew Elton would be fine with him staying longer, but he wasn’t.

“Not bad, not bad at all.”

Gabe was bringing the trash bags out to the car so he could drop them off at the closest transfer station at a later date when he heard sirens in the distance. Disoriented by the unpredictable way sound moved across water, he at first couldn’t tell where the sound originated. Spinning in a slow circle, it took a second before he realized the wail came from the direction of the spit and was getting closer.

Turning his back to the road, Gabe hefted the trash bags into his trunk, glad he’d left his bags and boxes in Elton’s spare room, and slammed it shut again. A single sheriff’s vehicle with the siren and lights on sped past and splashed through an inconvenient puddle, blowing muddy water over the side of the road and onto the back of Gabriel’s jeans.

“Fuck me,” he said, brushing the worst of the mud off. But now he either needed to do laundry or buy new clothes. Or both.

The low-level anxiety he’d been harboring all morning dissipated when Gabe turned past the massive Kraken that guarded Elton’s driveway and he didn’t find a police car parked in front of the house, just Elton’s muddy pickup. He pulled in next to it and barely had one foot out of the car when Elton’s door was flung open.

“Howdy, damn glad to see you,” Elton said.

It was the first time Gabe had heard the old man cuss. Something must have happened. It was also the first time in recent memory that someone seemed truly pleased to see him.

“Glad to see me? Surely not,” he joked, glancing around. “What happened?” Gabe bumped a new phone even higher up on his list. Also, groceries for the boat, a space heater, and an all-weather extension cord. Maybe one of those dorm-sized fridges.

Elton turned to step back in the house. “Yes, I am glad to see you, son.” He waved his hand. “Hurry up and get inside. It seems that the last time—at least, this is what Deputy Nolan shared when he stopped by—anyone saw Dwayne Perkins alive was Tuesday around noon. The day you showed up. And Gordon’s truck was found last night but he wasn’t in it.”

Gabriel stopped halfway up the stairs. Sometimes he hated being right.

For purely personal and petty reasons, Gabe was glad for a sign that Ranger Man wasn’t perfect.

“Deputy Nolan said he could have gone over the cliff but there’s no sign that he did. Until I hear otherwise, I’m assuming he’s alive. From what the deputy inferred, they want to question Gordon about Dwayne and, unfortunately, a stranger who had an altercation with the Perkinses Tuesday afternoon,”

Gabe stepped past him into the house, suddenly feeling even older and very tired. “Well, damn. Gordon did call 9-1-1, cops, sheriff, whatever.”

“The sheriff runs the county. Police are city only, and the closest station is in Westfort. Technically, the sheriff also has jurisdiction over their chief of police, but Rizzi tends to let them solve their own problems.”

“Thank you, Schoolhouse Rock, for that lesson in law enforcement authority.” Maybe he was going to have to put Heartstone in the rearview mirror after all. “I wish you were kidding about them looking for me.”

Elton shot Gabe a grumpy what-the-fuck-is-Schoolhouse-Rock frown, but the man was smart and chose not to ask. “Definitely not kidding.”

“Nope, you look as serious as a heart attack.”

“I had one of those once, do not recommend.” Elton plopped down in his recliner and flipped the footrest up. “What needs to happen it this,” he said, “we figure out who really took care of Dwayne Perkins before Rizzi has you or Gordon behind bars. Because the sheriff thinks one of you two is his man.”

Gabe stopped himself from making a joking reference to Rockford Files . Barely. Because there was the off chance that Elton would take him seriously about being Rocky in the amateur detective scenario. And also because, as much as he used humor to deflect, this situation was not funny.

“Agreed. The worst I did was bruise his balls.” And he’d do it again—if the guy weren’t dead.

“I’m sure he deserved it.”

“He did. So did his brother.”

Elton’s eyebrows shot upward. “You got both of them?”

“I did.” Gabe pointed at his forehead. “That’s where I got the knot from. Dwayne had a hard head.”

Elton’s chest rattled with what Gabriel assumed was a chuckle.

“Have a seat, dammit. Your looming is making my neck hurt.”

“The boat is clean enough. I was thinking about sleeping there tonight.” And he wanted to start the search for Gordon without Elton tagging along.

One of Elton’s bushy eyebrows rose. It was as if the man knew Gabriel was not a fan of roughing it.

“Spend the night there if you insist, but we still need to talk about Dwayne and Gordon. Sit down,” he said again.

“I guess I would like to clean up.” He gestured at the mud on his jeans. He should probably just accept Elton’s offer. “One more night.”

“Sure, and the shower’s free. Tell me what you learned from Casey.”

“I confirmed that Ranger Man doesn’t trust me.”

“And I warned you, Casey doesn’t trust many people.”

Gabe decided to let Lundin tell Elton he’d been the one to discover Gordon’s truck. The damage was already done.

“Yeah, well. Let’s take the conversation in another direction, like who really murdered Perkins. One of the many people I am certain he pissed off while he was living? Can you think of a specific person?”

Elton eyed him thoughtfully for a few seconds before responding. “That’s a long list. To be honest, no single person stands out.”

“I don’t know about you, but my big question is, why was Dwayne on Gordon’s property? What was he doing?” Gabriel asked. “Who gains if Gordon MacDonald is dead or skips town? Does he have a relative who would inherit? Could be that Gordon witnessed Dwayne’s murder, I guess,” he mused, “but that doesn’t explain his truck ending up over a cliff. Seemed to me like Dwayne and Calvin were tight. Would Calvin benefit from his brother’s death? And has anyone seen him since Dwayne’s death?”

These were the types of questions grifters knew how to ask. Who. What. Why. Especially the why. What was in it for them? Why does someone want a thing, and can that wanting be used for one’s own gain? People were weak and reckless when they wanted something. How weak and how reckless depended on how badly they wanted it.

“If it’s someone unknown, we’re out of luck,” Gabriel added.

There were too many questions and not a single answer to any of them.

“I doubt either of the Perkinses are rolling in dough, and Gordon’s mom and stepdad are less than supportive of him,” Elton said. He looked frustrated. “But this is the second time something fishy has happened up on Gordon’s property in less than a year. First, the overblown pot thing, and now, Dwayne Perkins. Whatever is going on, Gordon is at the center, and I don’t think it’s someone unknown. Go get yourself cleaned up. And toss a load in the wash afterward. As for Calvin, the deputy didn’t say anything.”

Gabriel wasn’t going to argue with Elton; a shower was what he wanted too, after all.

“Is the store open today?” He hadn’t paid attention earlier. “I need to grab those groceries I promised you and a few other things.” He should have stopped before coming over, but the siren had put it out of his mind.

“Should be,” Elton said, “but they don’t stay open late this time of year, so you better get moving with that shower.”

The Open sign in the front window of the Norskland General Store was still lit when he got there, one long extra hot shower and a load of laundry later. Gabe had kind of thought that Lundin would show up, but he hadn’t by the time Gabe left. And Elton’s lawyer contact hadn’t returned his call either.

“Damn lawyers,” Elton had grumbled as Gabriel was heading out the door.

Braking, Gabe veered into the parking lot. There was only one other car, a mud-splattered SUV that Gabriel didn’t think he’d seen around before. However, there were probably a lot of cars and people on the island that he hadn’t come across in the few days he’d been there.

As he walked past the other car, his attention was snagged by the many bumper stickers plastered across the back of it. The owner had a lot of opinions and as far as Gabe could tell, he didn’t agree with any of them. One that stood out, though, was a black-and-white drawing of a single eye inside a pyramid, and underneath were the words, We’re Watching You .

“Well, that’s not creepy at all, is it?” he muttered. “ 1984 , much?”

Something niggled at him. That symbol was familiar, and he’d seen it somewhere recently. But he knew he hadn’t seen that particular car before—he would have remembered the rest of the opinions. Where had he seen that eye? Fuck, it wasn’t going to come to him if he tried to force it.

Whistling aimlessly, he jogged across the lot and up the steps and pulled the door open. His car needed a name, Gabriel decided, something better than calling it the Honda. Dorothy? No. Toto? Seemed appropriate, but he didn’t want to have the song Africa playing in his head whenever he got behind the wheel. Maybe the Minnow?

He was blasted by Gillian Welch belting out Look at Miss Ohio when he walked inside. A young woman who looked enough like Mercy The Coffee Queen that she had to be related—probably her daughter, Gabe thought—was wiping down the checkout counter. Getting ready for closing time. A guy in his early twenties wearing faded blue jeans and a black long-sleeved t-shirt was restocking the canned food aisle. Gabriel didn’t see another customer who might belong to the car outside.

“Evening,” Gabe called out over the music to the stocker.

“Do you need help finding anything?” The plastic tag pinned to his shirt read Andy .

“No, thanks, just picking up a few things,” Gabe replied.

After circling the produce section and saying no to the mushrooms, Gabe grabbed jarred sauce, bread, and more pasta. Then he stopped in front of the frozen foods.

Decisions, decisions. Did he want to try Who Loves Ya, Baby ice cream, a sesame-coconut-Thai sweet pepper mashup, or Marmalade Dreaming, a mix of vanilla bean and house-made marmalade? The brand was touted as locally made and internationally famous.

Gabe figured Elton would probably prefer the marmalade. He grabbed the bright orange container and carried everything to the counter.

The still loud music changed from Gillian to Jack White singing That’s How I’m Feeling.

“Is that it?” the checker asked over Jack White. Brooklyn was written on the badge pinned to her shirt.

“Yep. I’m sure I’ll be back for coffee in the morning. Is there a place I can buy a phone around here? I lost mine.”

She winced. “Oh, that’s terrible. I lost mine last summer and my mom was so mad at me. There’s nowhere on the island, sorry. Westfort has a couple of phone stores, though.”

Reaching into his back pocket, Gabe pulled his wallet out and handed her a couple of twenties. Brooklyn tapped open the register and counted back his change, a simple and common transaction. Automatically, Gabe started to turn the bills around so they were facing the same direction when it hit him that the back of the US one-dollar bill had the same eye and triangle on it as the bumper sticker he’d seen outside. He should have recognized it immediately, but he used a debit card in normal times.

“Are you okay?” Brooklyn asked.

“Oh, yeah, sorry.” Gabe had been staring at the bill instead of grabbing his groceries and heading for the exit. “It’s… I just saw this same thing on a car outside.” He pointed at the back of the dollar.

Brooklyn rolled her eyes in a way that only a human of a certain age was physically able to manage without injury and leaned a little over the counter.

“That’s the symbol for the Twana County Watch,” she said, quiet enough that only he could hear her. The only other person in the store as far as Gabe knew was the kid stocking shelves, so the car must be his or his family’s. “They have signs all over the place.” She scoffed. “Like a sticker is going to keep people from breaking into vacant houses and stealing stuff.”

“Oh, yeah?” Who were they ? Another question for Elton.

“Yeah, it’s so dumb. My mom calls them neighborhood watch on steroids.”

“Huh. I mean”—he shrugged—“maybe it does work?”

Brooklyn snorted. “No way. My mom says it just gives the guys a sense of self-importance.”

“Your mom sounds like a smart person. I take it that’s your coworker’s car?”

It was possible that she rolled her eyes even harder as she confirmed his guess. He wanted to ask her a few more questions, but the bell jangled, announcing the arrival of another customer, and Brooklyn didn’t seem to want her coworker to know she was talking about him.

“Are you okay, uh, safe?” Gabe nodded his head in Andy’s direction.

“Totally fine, thanks,” she assured him while also giving him a look.

Gabe didn’t speak teenager, but he was fairly sure her expression was meant to convey that he was a weird old man asking questions and he could leave anytime now.

“Thanks for the information.” He headed back out to his car.

He wondered what Elton thought of this county watch group, and there was only one way to find out.

But when Gabe returned, Elton was gone. In the past, Elton had the door open before Gabe could step onto the small porch. His truck was parked in its usual spot, right in front of the house, but Gabe had a funny feeling.

“Elton,” he called out, “I’m back. Open up.”

Gabe couldn’t hear any movement inside, but a dripping rain had started to fall. Maybe the drip-thump was masking a response. He knocked again, louder the second time. Again, there was no answer, no sign that Elton was home. But his truck was right there, and Gabe couldn’t see Elton walking somewhere in his condition or in this weather.

The older man had told Gabriel he’d had a heart attack. Maybe he’d had another? Was he lying on the floor waiting for help? Or worse? No, Gabe brushed away that thought. Elton was old, but he couldn’t be dead. Dropping the bags, he reached for the door handle and twisted. The handle turned with ease and swung open. The fuck.

“Elton,” Gabe called out, but there was no answer. “Elton, are you here?” louder that time.

Still nothing.

“What the fuck.”

Grabbing up the grocery sacks, Gabe pushed his way inside. At first glance, everything seemed to be fine. At least, he couldn’t see anything out of order. However, the recliner was empty.

Where the fuck was Elton?

There was probably a logical and noncriminal explanation for Elton’s absence, Gabe headed into the kitchen. He put the groceries away, including finding space in the freezer for the ice cream, and then stuffed the bags into the recycle container. Elton was an adult and mentally sharp, even if the rest of him was a bit creaky. He’d probably just gone out for a minute.

And what, Chance? Why would he have gone out when you were making dinner? It’s cold, and raining, and he’d be on foot. Do the math. Why is his truck still here?

Unless someone had picked him up. Abducted him.

Triple shit. He slammed the fridge door shut hard enough that it bounced back open. Gabe had been gone half an hour, maybe forty-five minutes, and Elton had said nothing about going anywhere.

But would Elton have told him that, considering they only recently met?

Actually, Gabriel did think Elton would have said something at this point. He thought they trusted each other—within reason.

His stomach churned as he left the kitchen and went into the living room, the empty recliner mocking him. “Fuck, this is not good. Not good at all.”

He wasted another few minutes peeking into the rest of the rooms, including Elton’s bedroom in case he was taking a nap. Nope. Gabe followed that up with pacing back and forth in the tiny living room, looking out the window every few seconds hoping to see Elton slowly making his way to the porch. But his diligence was not rewarded with the reappearance of an old geezer that Gabe was far too attached to.

And there was only one person on Heartstone that Gabriel could ask for help in locating Elton.

Fucking Ranger Man.