Page 48 of Cougar Point

He goes across the room and opens a window. “Will one of you prop the door down there open. We need to let this air out a moment and then I think there is something you should see.”

Rebecca stumps down the stairs, and the breeze created is lifegiving. At least for my eyes and nose. I look around and there is another room looking out over the store front and it looks empty except for some boxes. Lucas leads us into that room where a toilet sits against one wall and flies buzz around it. A plastic table with a broken leg leans against another wall. A cracked plastic chair sits in the middle of the room. A couple of sofa pads lie on the floor with varying lengths of rope on them. No sheets. No blankets. No sofa. Empty containers of Chinese food, paper wrappers from Sonic and half-full Styrofoam cups growing mold litter the floor. The only thing alive besides us are the flies.

Lucas moves the pads away from the wall and reveals several items of used drug paraphernalia. A burnt spoon, hypodermic needles, matches, a tiny mirror complete with razor blade. Allin all, the place was cleaner than a homeless camp—but not by much.

There is such a litter of trash it would take hours to go through it all.

“Any mail, paperwork, anything showing Vinnie was here?” I ask.

“Knock yourself out.”

He peels off the gloves, and I have to ask, “Where is the ammonia smell coming from?”

He looks down at his expensive Italian shoes and a liquid has splashed on the toes. “I kicked over a bucket. Vinnie must have been cleaning things up. He’s smarter than I gave him credit for.”

I don’t see anything to make me believe Victoria might have been here. Except the rope. I can’t imagine her being here of her own free will. Of course, I couldn’t imagine her visiting her brother in jail. Or supporting him financially and hiding it from her husband. Ronnie and Rebecca don’t really know their mom. It reminds me of my own mother. Two-faced. Four-faced. She can be whatever she needs to be at any moment in time. The only thing constant about her is she’s always a lying bitch.

Lucas says to Ronnie, “If your mother was here, she’s gone now. The rope makes me wonder but with this mess who can tell what was going on. Maybe some kind of kinky sex. I’ll go check the address in Custer, and I suggest you take Miss Marsh home. She needs to be near the phone.”

Does he know about the threatening call?Maybe he’s just suggesting her mom might call, or the kidnappers. He is right. But I don’t trust him to go to Custer alone. “How about I ride with you and Ronnie can take Rebecca home.”

He raises a thick eyebrow.

“I think we need to talk.”

THIRTY-FOUR

I ride with Lucas. Ronnie will drop Rebecca off and check on her dad and then come to meet me. She doesn’t like Lucas. She doesn’t trust him. She has good instincts. I do too. I don’t want him finding Vinnie without me.

Lucas is driving a Chevy Suburban, black, shiny with whitewall tires. Definitely not a police unit. It smells strongly of pine scent. “So you’re helping Missing Persons outanddriving your personal vehicle. Will it get you a promotion?” I ask Lucas, and he thinks that’s funny even though it isn’t what I intended.

“First of all, it’s not my personal vehicle. I borrowed it from our Narcotics Unit. To come to the part of town where we were, it’s best not to attract too much attention. A county vehicle would attract the roaches. This looks like a drug dealer’s vehicle. Yours might as well have a bull’s-eye painted on it.”

No one likes a smart-ass. Unless it’s me. “Captain Roberts says you’re fishing buddies.”

“You saw the picture.”

“Yes. Quite a catch.”

He laughs again. “He photoshopped the picture. Not that the one we caught wasn’t a prize too. You said you want to talk. Idon’t think you’re into fishing. Unless that’s what you’re doing right now. Fishing.”

“My grandfather has his own trawler in Maine. I went out with him a few times.”

He looks sideways at me trying to judge the truth. Of course I’m lying. I don’t know who my grandfather is. I’ve never been fishing in my life except battered and fried at the Tides restaurant.

“Was your father a fisherman?”

“No. He was a serial killer and a cop. But he’s dead so who cares.” That makes Lucas take his eyes off the road and he turns his head. “Just kidding. My dad was in the Army. Killed in Desert Storm. I barely remember him.” At least it’s what my mom told me. She lied.

“So you broke the family mold and became a cop.”

Not completely. I’ve killed, but not for kicks like my bio-father.“How about you?” I ask.

“My dad died in prison. He was a murderer. He’s the reason I went into law enforcement. He was everything I never wanted to be.”

I relax a little. We do have something in common.

He asks, “Now that we’ve bared our souls to each other, what did you want to talk about?”

---