“I’m looking for Sly Lyle.” My voice came out garbled, as though I’d just eaten something. I cleared my throat. “Have you seen him?”
“You police?”
“No. I just need to ask him a question.”
“Police ask questions.”
“Well, I’m not the police.”
The man grunted and went silent. To the right, a scuffle of paper and a heavy object sent my blood pounding. I slid the pepper spray canister out of my sleeve and into my tense hand.
“I just need to ask a few questions.”
“I’ll answer any question you got.” The smoker’s voice came from my left. I twisted around to see a tall, heavyset man emerging from the shadowy corner. He was dressed for warmth, wearing at least two layers and a wool cap. His beard was well maintained and his teeth in decent condition. He either hadn’t been homeless long or was able to take care of himself. Another step closer, and I caught a whiff of bourbon.
I wished I had my flashlight. “Are you Lyle?”
“No. But you have questions. I’ve got answers.”
“You don’t even know what my questions are about.”
“I still got answers.” He came closer, his dark eyes sparkling like coals.
I held up the spray and steadied my voice. “I will burn your eyeballs.”
“You got some pretty red hair. And skin. I bet you’re a really clean lady. Shaved real nice. You shave down there, Red?”
I’ve dealt with enough angry and lewd drunken men to not get rattled. “I’m not here to discuss hygiene, but thanks for the compliment. Have you seen Lyle around?”
“Lyle’s a crazy schizo,” my new suitor said. “And he’s about as big as a junior high schooler. What do you want with him when you’ve got me?”
“Did you witness a man molesting a little girl two weeks ago?”
He stopped short, a look of shocked disgust on his face. “What the hell’s wrong with you, lady?”
“I’m a private investigator, and I have questions for Lyle.”
“Knew she was a cop!” The first man who’d blown me off yelled from the corner.
“He’s not here.” Hank’s voice sent a spasm of relief down my spine. “Jimbo, leave her alone. She was here yesterday with the detective.”
Hank came down the stairs looking wobbly. “What are you doing back here, miss?” Hank said. “And alone too.”
“I’m desperate,” I said. “Remember what you said about Lyle’s story? About the man and the little girl?”
“Yeah, but I told you–”
“A man who lives near here–and near the girl who’s missing–bragged about something similar, around the same time Lyle claims he saw it. Do you remember anything he said or have any idea where I could find him?”
“He could be anywhere.” Hank scratched his beard vigorously, and I callously wondered if he had fleas.
“Tell me exactly what he said.”
“Shit, I don’t know. I tried not to listen. I don’t want to hear about that sort of thing.”
“Please try.”
“All right, all right. Let’s see, it was around suppertime and on a Wednesday. I know because I was heading to the soup kitchen at the church. Lyle came in, looking green and gibbering. Said he saw a guy with his hand down a girl’s pants at the end of the lot, over in the weeds where there’s a bunch of old iron and millwork. Same place where those kids go messing around. Guess they can get in there and hide.” Hank coughed, harder than he had yesterday, and made his way to sit on the bottom stair.
“I said big deal, and he says, no, she weren’t no of age girl. Little girl. No more than twelve, maybe younger. Said she looked scared as hell, like she was frozen. Lyle claimed he ran the man off.”
“What did the man look like, other than tall?” Brian Harrison was tall, but so were countless men. But he had very short, very blond hair, and fair skin that got patchy red when he was excited. Just like his brother. Swedish or Norwegian descent, apparently. “What color hair?”
“He didn’t say.”
“Is there anything–”
Hank waved me off. “He went on about how big the guy was. Looked like a construction worker type, but he was wearing a uniform. Dark, I think Sly said. He couldn’t get the name on it–although it had red lettering, he said. Guy was too busy running from Sly like a bitch, face red as a tomato, for Sly to get the name.”
My breath caught. Red face. His janitor’s uniform was dark with red lettering. And Brian was a big man. “What about the girl? Did she have blonde hair? Brown? What color were her shoes?”
“I don’t know. Sly just said she looked like a little girl.”
That was good enough for me. Brian Harrison could have Kailey, and I needed to find out as soon as possible. If he didn’t have Kailey, he might have attacked Josie, although I had little proof of that. Just instinct. Not to mention he could possibly identify me as his brother’s killer.
I thanked Hank for his information, gave him a ten-dollar bill, the only cash I had, promised to stay away from the bad neighborhood, and hurried toward my car. Conflicting emotions raced through me. I couldn’t put myself entirely first. I’d go straight to Brian Harrison’s and find out for myself if he had Kailey. If I didn’t turn anything up, I’d have to tell Todd we might have another suspect and pray I didn’t pay the price.
But what if he did have Kailey, and I caught him in the act? My brand of justice was black and white, an eye for an eye. I’d have to stop at home and get the cyanide.
I’d almost made it back to my car when I saw Todd Beckett hoofing toward me like a wayward steam engine.
“What are you doing back here?”
I pushed the hair out of my face and dropped the pepper spray back into my pocket. “Thought I might find Sly Lyle. See if there’s any truth to his story.”
“Is your ego really that big? You think I can’t do my job? That we’re all a bunch of flailing idiots?”
“Of course not,” I said. “I just wanted to help. I was at home, I couldn’t settle down. I thought maybe if Lyle were here, I could convince him to talk. That’s all. I know you’re overloaded and doing everything you can.”
He half-extended his arms, looking like he wanted to shake me.
“Look, I’m an overbearing pain in the ass, and I’m sorry.”
He shook his head, gritting his teeth. “You have got to stop interfering. You’re going to get yourself in trouble.”
“You know I just want to help.”
“Because you think I can’t be impartial with Justin.”
Right now, Justin wasn’t my only issue. “We’ve already discussed that. I’m sorry I couldn’t help him.” A gust of wind rushed over both of us, and I shivered. “Because of that, I couldn’t help his victim either. So if Kailey was taken–”
“I don’t care.”
“Excuse me?”
“This isn’t about you, Lucy. Or my brother. It’s about a missing kid, and I don’t get to have tunnel vision. I have to be objective, even if one of the persons of interest is my brother. I don’t think he’d do it, but I can’t risk a child’s life and look the other way. So I’ve got to suck it up and do my job, and I can deal with that.” Todd squared his shoulders and looked down at me with cold eyes. “What I
won’t
deal with is a guilt-stricken, miserable former CPS worker-turned-private investigator trying to make a difference by sticking her nose into things she isn’t qualified for.”
Anger coursed through me, in part because he was right, but mostly because I didn’t dare argue. “I’m not here because of your brother.”
Todd sighed like I was the dimmest light bulb in the box. “No, but you’re bumbling around here, leaving more physical evidence that might have to be sifted through. And what if you’d been attacked? Then I would have to stretch my resources thin and away from the Richardson girl while we dealt with your assault or God knows what else. You see how selfish your help is?”
“I’m sorry,” was all I could muster. He was right. Here I was, risking my own life, not just to find Kailey but to cover my own ass. I didn’t see any other course of action. I couldn’t help anyone from prison.
And I’ll be damned if I’d go to jail over the likes of the Harrisons.
“I just want Kailey to be found.”
“Then let the police do our job.” He closed his eyes. “I still think you’re way too close to this. There sure as hell is something you aren’t telling me.”
I tried not to grimace at the swarm of nerves in my stomach. “What are you getting at?”
He opened his eyes, lips pressed into a line so tight they disappeared beneath his mustache. “The whole neighborhood knows my brother’s got a record. Now he can’t go back to his home.”
Good. “You don’t expect me to feel sorry for him, do you? Where’s he staying? Do you know where he is?”
He flinched, looking over my head at the old factory. “That’s none of your business.”
So he was out roaming the streets, possibly having taken Kailey, and Todd didn’t know where he was?
“I know what you’re thinking, and it’s not like that. I know where he’s at. I’m just not telling you.”
I didn’t believe him, but I didn’t have time to debate. “I hope so.” I stepped to move around him, and he caught my arm.
“How do I know you didn’t plan all this? Steal Kailey, expose Justin, and then she suddenly turns back up?”
No, no, no. He couldn’t go down that rabbit hole. “You’ve got to be a better cop than that.”
“I am a good cop. That’s why I know you’re up to more than just finding Kailey.” He came nose-to-nose with me. “What if I searched your apartment? What would I find?”
Hopefully not my cubbyholes. “You were there last night. You saw my life is pathetically boring. Feel free.”
“Keep this shit up, and I might.”
I wanted to point out how that would detract resources from Kailey, but I didn’t dare. “I’m sorry for interfering.” I pulled free of him and headed for my car.
“I don’t want to see you around the neighborhood again. You get me?”
“Absolutely.” I slid into the car, started the engine, and drove out of the lot.
I’d been lying, of course.
I was headed for Brian Harrison’s, and I decided I needed help.
C
hris wanted to
drive, but I refused. I needed the control. In my economical Prius, his knees were nearly at eye level with his chin, but he didn’t complain. I parked across the street from Harrison’s duplex. I hoped Chris would come in handy during my search, and if Harrison did have Kailey, I had no idea if he worked alone. Cyanide was a fast-acting weapon, but not faster than a bullet. Plus, I figured this was a good test for Chris.
“So you really think Harrison could be the guy instead of Justin?” He peered over my shoulder at the plain duplex.
“I don’t know, but I’ve got to find out.” Truth was, I wasn’t sure Harrison had Kailey. It didn’t feel right. Sly Lyle had described the girl as twelve, maybe younger. There’s a large physical difference between a nine and a twelve-year-old girl, especially if the latter’s hit puberty. And Kailey was small for her age. The neighbor girl Harrison had been accused of bothering was thirteen. If I had to make an armchair guess, he was into pubescent girls like Josie, and Kailey wasn’t his type. But I couldn’t take the risk. And I was too selfish not to check things out for myself. If I could save my own hide in this, so be it.
“And you can find out what kind of information Brian Harrison has on you,” Chris said.
“That too. But Kailey’s first priority.”
“If he does have her, what are you going to say to Todd? You just happened to have a key and stumbled on her?”
“I’ll worry about that if it happens.”
He flopped back into his seat. “So who’s your informant?”
“Can’t tell you that.”
“Does he know you kill people?”
His putting it out there so bluntly made it sound harsh, as though I were of the same ilk as a serial killer. “He’s never mentioned it.”
“Good. Plausible deniability.”
I rolled my eyes. “Spoken like a lawyer’s relative.”
“Comes in handy sometimes.”
“What, does your uncle keep your nose clean? Have the cops looking the other way while you clean up the garbage, as you put it?” I didn’t believe he’d killed anyone in his life, but he was a paramedic with an exorbitant lifestyle, so I had to believe his wealthy family gave him a second income. Guessing his uncle put the pressure on local police to keep his nephew out of trouble wasn’t that much of a stretch.
“Never needed to.” He flashed me a grin. “I don’t get caught.”
He had the kind of cockiness brought on by one of two things: not getting caught, just as he’d said, or never taking any risks and pretending his deep thoughts and plans accounted for something. I was pretty sure it was the latter.
My phone beeped with a text from Kenny. He’d just confirmed Harrison’s car was in the Kipling Elementary parking lot. “Let’s move.”
I led the way across the street, head up, confident but not drawing attention. People in this neighborhood usually didn’t bother with anyone else’s business. None of them wanted additional trouble. A baseball cap he’d retrieved from his car pulled low, Chris followed behind, hands in his pockets. If he was nervous, he didn’t act like it. The duplex was standard with tan siding that needed washing and brown shutters. Nothing on the shared concrete slab of a porch evoked a homey feeling. The neighbor hadn’t picked up his paper.
I knocked, waited a full thirty seconds, and then got down to business. Lock picking is an art, but once you’ve got the hang of it and with the right tools, it’s easy work. I had the cheap, standard lock open in seconds. Behind me, Chris tensed. The only safety precaution I’d brought was pepper spray; I didn’t plan on killing anyone unless it was self-defense. Easing the door open, my heartbeat thrummed in my ears. I’d been told Harrison lived alone and didn’t have a pet, but I never knew. A roommate I could handle. A snarling Doberman, not so much.
Only stale silence greeted us. We slipped into the place and locked the door. I checked my watch. Twelve minutes. The flickering street light seeped in around Harrison’s cheap, plastic blinds revealing a lonely looking living room. Worn, neutral colored carpet, a very tattered and stained blue sofa, and a well-loved faux-leather recliner. A large flat screen television and several gaming consoles dominated the room.
I motioned for Chris to check upstairs. Nerves mottled his skin in pink dots, and a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead gave his virginity away.
He’s never done an illegal thing in his life.
Quietly and systematically, I checked the small downstairs. Closet, nothing. Kitchen, a sink full of dishes, but nothing. Refrigerator full of beer. No milk. No snacks for a child. No sign of a child, no telltale scent of fear, no whimpering. Bathroom, extremely dirty and nothing of consequence.