Page 20 of Vanish From Sight

Noah tracked down the deputy who had completed the booking and had him bring the suspect over to the sallyport which was a special garage where inmates entered and completed processing. The new inmate had just finished up getting showered and changing into orange jail clothes and flip flops when Noah arrived.

“You think I can talk with him?”

“We weren’t done processing,” the deputy replied.

“A few minutes, that’s all.”

“You want me to take him back to the station?”

“Is he a danger?”

“Only to himself,” the deputy added before chuckling.

The deputy brought him into a holding room where there was a simple desk and two chairs. No one-way mirror. A clock on the wall. Noah didn’t sit, he leaned back against the wall, observing the man.

“Aren’t I supposed to g… get a lawyer?” he said with a stutter. Noah got a sense he was a little slow.

“Do you need one?”

“Is that a trick question?”

Noah glanced down at the open folder. “Thomas Green. Thirty-two. Never finished high school. Got your GED later in life. You now work as a cleaner at the high school in High Peaks. Father, Gerald Green, deceased. Mother, Abby Green. Your brother is Eric Green, who did a year inside for breaking and entering. You are a resident of Saranac Lake. The owner of a blue Chevy van. Mid ’80s. That’s old.”

“Belonged to my father.”

“Custom?”

He shrugged. Noah had noticed how the classic American vehicle that at one time symbolized freedom and adventure stood out from modern vans on the road with its sturdy build. They were often used by families for long road trips. His van had a sleek yet simple design to it, with bulging side windows and a cool zig-zag decal on the side that added a touch of style. Unlike the new ones that were glossy, bold, his was weathered and faded. Noah had peeked inside and nosed around, noticing the plush seats had comfortable cushions. The dashboard was simple yet functional, and it was sporting an old cassette player and radio.

“The rear was stripped,” Noah said.

“I had no use for the seats or carpet. I need it for carrying cargo.”

“Like dogs you don’t own?” He closed the folder and held it by his side.

“I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Look, I’m not here to grill you.” He crossed the room and took a seat, leaning forward. “I actually might be able to help you.”

“And why would you do that?”

“Because I spoke with the shelters in town. Seems your story about dropping off dogs from time-to-time fits.”

“I told him I wasn’t lying. I don’t steal dogs.”

“Then why pick them up?”

“Because someone should.” He paused, staring at Noah. “I told the other guy but he wouldn’t listen.”

“Was that before or after you resisted arrest?”

The man avoided answering that. “Have they contacted my mother?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Can you please find out? She’s bedridden. I look after her.”

“You ever carry anything else in the van?”