Skeletons in the Mist (The McCall Twins) (17 page)

Deciding to let the call go until he and Roxy were on the road, he made quick work of splashing some water on his face and brushing his teeth. When he walked into the kitchen five minutes later, he was surprised to see Trace leaned against the counter, his ankles crossed and a cup of coffee already in his hands. He was fully dressed and ready for work. The coffee was already percolated.

Chas froze for a moment. “How long have you been here?”

“Long enough.”

Chas reached a hand up and squeezed the back of his neck. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I can see why.”

Okay, so Trace wasn’t going to beat around the bush. “I didn’t plan on this, it just happened.”

“I knew it was going to eventually.” Trace swallowed some coffee and met his brother’s gaze. “How far into this are you? I obviously have figured out that you’re sleeping with her. Is it the usual for you, or more than that?”

Chas knew better than to try and bullshit his twin. They were too close and knew each other too well. “I don’t know yet. I like her. A lot.”

“She’s a runner, Chas.”

Chas had figured that out for himself. Roxy had spent the last ten years of her life running. “I’m not jumping in with both feet.”

“Fair enough.” Trace backed off. “So I got some interesting information out of Woody McClean last night, who by the way, was at home the night of Roxy’s attack—and also yesterday morning when it’s likely that Abel Flannigan was placed in that Cadillac. I talked to Nelsa McClean. Everything Woody told us checks out. She says he left the house around eleven-thirty yesterday morning, when she left for work. The timing jives with when Roxy found Abel and ran into him. Not only that, Starks was at the junkyard earlier in the morning
and he says he did a sweep and came up empty. Woody was definitely not there then, and neither was anyone else. Starks didn’t go out to the Cadillac though. He got another call and just did a quick visual from afar. It’s hard to say for absolute sure whether Abel’s body was in there at that point. We’ll have to wait and see what the M.E.’s conclusion is on that, but I’m guessing it probably was.”

“What else did Woody McClean tell you?”

“Apparently Abel Flannigan was a little too hands on with Tabitha.”

Chas winced. “Are you sure he’s telling the truth?” He reached for the coffee pot and poured himself a cup.

“As sure as I can be when I’m dealing with Woody McClean. He doesn’t usually care enough about anything to lie.”

This was true. Chas sipped his coffee. “So where is Tabby?”

“Woody says she was headed for home night before last. Apparently Loretta wasn’t lying when she said that Tabitha knows when she means
business.”

“So where is she then?”

“Woody swears he hasn’t seen her. He says he never saw or talked to Abel either—not until Roxy came screaming across the junkyard yesterday. He did say that it wouldn’t surprise him if Tabby finally got tired of the abuse.”

“He thinks she killed him?” Chas leaned back against the counter. He supposed it wasn’t impossible to picture Tabitha Kennings getting violent with someone—especially someone as vile as Abel Flannigan was if the accusations Woody McClean was throwing around were true.

Trace shrugged. “He didn’t say that word for word. He just told me that Tabitha hated going home because Abel was always there. Loretta’s got various jobs going. She’s rarely at the house apparently. We all know Abel was a mooch. Abel and Tabitha were alone a lot. Apparently Abel took advantage of that situation more than once.”

“Sick fuck,” Chas muttered. “She’s just a kid.”

“She might possibly be a murderer now. It’s something we need to look into.”

Chas was thoughtful. “What about all the other kids that hang out at the yard?”

“None of them have seen Tabby since the afternoon you saw her yourself at the junkyard. They all say the same thing—basically that they went their separate ways after leaving the workshop, and she was supposed to be heading home. So far they all have alibis for yesterday morning. Various parents have corroborated that they were all at home. It figures that the one time we could use a witness, there’s not a soul to be found that saw a thing.”

“Naturally,” Chas agreed. “Someone should go back over and talk to Abbott and Albie today. They were too drunk last night to give any insight on the situation.”

Abbott and Albie Flannigan were Abel’s brothers. Neither of them had done more than mumble at Chas when he’d informed them of their brother’s demise the night before.

“I’ll take care of them. You take Roxy to see Devon and then we’ll meet up later today and fill each other in.” Trace dumped out the remainder of
his coffee. “That is unless you’re planning to spend the day in bed.”

Chas flipped up his middle finger. He disappeared down the hall before his brother could say anything else.

SEVENTEEN

The ride to Spokane was quiet. Chas and Roxy had stopped at a drive-thru for some breakfast and coffee earlier. Neither had spoken, even during their rather speedy meal. She finally couldn’t take the silence anymore. “Do you think that Tabitha and Dylan are together?”

He glanced at her, his blue eyes hidden behind a pair of mirrored sunglasses. “I don’t know. It’s possible.”

“I heard what Trace said this morning—about Abel Flannigan. Do you think it’s true?”

She could tell he didn’t want to answer that question. He kept his eyes on the road and shrugged. “I shouldn’t really talk about this with you. I’m sorry you heard that.”

“Whether you’re sorry or not, I did hear it. Do you think it’s true?”

“Off the record? Maybe. Abel’s always been a loser. He bought that junkyard and let it go to pot and then met up with Loretta and has been sponging off of her ever since. He’s never been one to have any ambition and he’s always been odd.”

“Odd doesn’t make him a child molester.”

“No, it doesn’t. But I’ve talked to Tabitha myself on various occasions over the past couple of years, and she’s always had that look about her. I’ve noticed the anger there—the hurt. I figured it was because of her father and the fact that he split on her before she was born. But now I’m thinking otherwise. Maybe she was being abused by Abel and maybe she did get tired of the abuse and killed him.” He shrugged his shoulders. “We know Loretta Kennings left Abel a message to go look for Tabby the night she didn’t come home. Loretta never heard from him and Tabby’s still missing. The only thing that doesn’t make sense with that scenario is how a little thing like Tabitha would have been strong enough to drag Abel Flannigan’s big body into that Cadillac. He weighed a good three hundred pounds at least.”

“Maybe Dylan was with her. Maybe he helped her.”

He pondered that, then shook his head. “Dylan isn’t a big kid either. I’m not even sure the two of them together could have lifted Abel without help.” He signaled and made a right turn. “I suppose it’s possible that someone else could have helped them. So far, each of the kids we’ve checked out has an alibi for the time period in question.”

She was quiet a moment. “Do you think Abel Flannigan could have been the person who called me yesterday? Do you think he knew where Dylan was hiding?” She’d been considering the possibility all morning.

“While it’s obviously possible, I can only say that Abel wasn’t the type to help anyone else out unless there was something in it for him. Somehow I don’t see him calling you, even if he did know where Dylan was hiding, which I doubt. Unless he had some other motive in mind.”

“What kind of motive?”

He glanced at her cautiously. “Maybe he was the one who attacked you at the motel. Maybe he was
trying to lure you to the Cadillac this morning to finish the job.”

She visibly shivered. “I don’t even know him. Even as a kid, I rarely crossed paths with him.”

“It’s just another theory. I have no evidence to back it up.” He thought things over. “I’m not sure why he would have called you Rose at the motel though. And I’m not sure how he would fit into your mother’s equation. He’s quite a bit younger than she would have been. I don’t see how he would have known about her middle name, or why he would have thought to call you that.” He pulled to a stop once they’d entered the parking lot of the juvenile detention center in Spokane. He turned off the key and gave her a sympathetic look. “It would help if you could tell us more about the person who attacked you. We’re running blind here.”

She appeared to think that over. “I can’t vouch certainly about the caller on the phone, but I don’t think it was Abel at the motel, Chas. The man who attacked me was large, but I don’t think he was that large. Three hundred pounds would have crushed me.”

He didn’t argue with her. “We’ll have to wait and see what the M.E. says about Abel’s time of death and so on. That will help us eliminate him as your attacker. The results will take a day or two. For now, let’s deal with your brother.”

They walked into the detention center and were quickly seated in a conference room. Scott Briggs was already there with Devon.

The past three days had obviously been hard on the kid. His eyes looked exhausted. His scraggly dark hair looked even greasier than it had the last time she’d been here and Roxy wondered if he was allowed to clean up in this place.

When the boy looked up and saw Roxy and Chas, he glowered at them. His blue eyes were filled with that ever-present anger and hostility.

“I thought I told you not to come back. Don’t you hear?”

Roxy knew she had to find a way to be immune to the hatred he was oozing and toughen up for his sake. She had to make the kid see that she was all he had.

Taking a seat across from him, she let out a sigh.
“I understand you’re angry, Devon. I would be angry too if I was in the same position as you. But I’m here to help you. The sooner you realize that, the better off you’ll be.”

“I don’t want your help. I don’t want his either,” he said, pointing a finger toward Scott Briggs, who had the maturity to ignore him and continue scribbling on a legal pad.

“Well you
need
my help. And so does Dylan. Did anyone tell you that he’s been missing for over three days now?”

Devon had no real reaction to the words. He didn’t looked surprised in any way.

“Where is he, Devon? Do you know?”

“If I did, I wouldn’t tell you. He’s better off on his own.”

“You don’t really believe that do you?”

“I sure as hell do. None of you care about Dylan. You don’t care about me either. This whole town is fucked.”

Roxy leaned back in her chair, frustrated. She was still having a hard time coinciding the angry young man in front of her with the tiny four-year-
old she’d walked away from ten years ago.

“Tabitha Kennings is missing too, Devon.” This came from Chas. “Is she with Dylan? Are they hiding somewhere?”

This time Roxy saw surprise flicker in her brother’s eyes. It was a quick flash and then it was gone. He glared up at Chas stubbornly. “Fuck you.”

Chas’s eyes darkened. “Damn it, Devon, Dylan may be in trouble. He may be hurt. You have to tell us where he is if you know.”

Devon glowered down at the metal table and clammed up.

Roxy looked up at Chas regretfully. She’d warned him.

“You’re looking at a murder charge here, Devon. Do you understand the severity of that?” Briggs finally tossed down the pen he’d been writing with and spoke. He stared the boy straight in the eyes, his expression stern.

Devon remained silent defiantly.

“Let me put it this way, I get paid whether you’re found guilty or not. I have nothing to lose here.
You
, on the other hand, have everything to lose.”

“I’ve already lost everything,” Devon said quietly. He looked over at Roxy. “You’re too late. You never should have left ten years ago. This is all your fault. He came back because of you.”

Roxy felt her blood run cold. “What are you talking about? Who came back?”

Devon’s eyes narrowed further and he thumped his fingers against the table. “You don’t get it do you? I’m talking about your father.”

She felt a strange twist in her heart. The boy was really starting to scare her now. “Daddy is dead, Devon. You know that.”

He continued to glare at her. “Yes, my father is dead.
Yours
is not.”

The room grew deathly silent.

Roxy shook her head, then stood up. “Why do you want to hurt me? I’m trying to help you.”

“Sometimes the truth hurts,” was all he said.

She stared at his face—into those stony eyes of his that at one time she’d thought resembled her own. But the truth was, they didn’t. Not really. She looked like her mother and he looked like their father.

Chas broke the silence in the room. “Do you want to explain yourself? You’re making a pretty bold accusation here.”

Devon shrugged his bony shoulders. “Why should I? Nobody will believe me anyway. I want you all to leave. This is stupid.” He started to get up but Chas stopped him.

“I want to hear what you have to say.”

“So do I.” This came from Briggs.

Roxy knew that whatever he had to say, it was going to be bad for her. Somehow she knew he was right—the truth was going to hurt her.

Devon flopped back into the chair, blowing his hair out of his eyes again. Then he looked at Roxy. “Don’t you think it’s odd that Dad never came after you when you left?”

“He didn’t know where I was,” she reminded him. “I didn’t call or write for a long time.”

“But once you did, he didn’t bother answering. He didn’t bother calling. He just wrote you off.”

The words hurt but she knew it was true. She had written to her father and he hadn’t responded to her. She’d finally received a letter from Aunt
Myra, letting her know that her father had passed away.

“We found your letters on his desk after he killed himself,” Devon said, his voice filled with resentment.

Roxy exhaled a painful breath. She hadn’t known about the circumstances of Hank Tavish’s suicide, beyond the fact that he’d shot himself. “I’m sorry,” was all she could think of to say.

“I don’t care how sorry you are. You didn’t have to deal with his depression. A week before he died it got unbearable. The cancer had finally killed my mother by then and it was just the three of us. He sat in his study day and night drinking. And then one night, bam! That was it. He was dead.”