Page 39 of Bone Echo

Four days ago. Dudley and Jack exchanged glances. The man from Arkansas came earlier.

“Did you talk to him?”

“Just the usual. ‘Hey, how’er you doing,’ that kind of thing.”

Jack leaned forward. “Did he seem worried or upset about anything?”

“No.” JW leaned back in his swivel chair and rocked a time or two, then came upright and steepled his fingers together. “But I can tell you when he was. On Friday of last week.”

Dudley had a gut feeling he was going to finally discover the identity of the killer in his brother’s garage. “What happened?”

“This feller driving an old black 1990 Pontiac Firebird Trans Am with Arkansas license plates was in here paying for gas when Charlie came roaring in here, grabbed him by the collar, and spun him around so fast it left my head spinning. He said, ‘If you ever come near my wife again, I’ll kill you,’ then he walked out and drove off.”

“Was Laura with him?”

“Yes. She was standing at the door, watching.”

“Do you have the man’s name?”

“Naw. He paid cash. Seemed anxious to get his gas and leave.”

“Can you describe him?”

JW’s description could have been that of a thousand men you’d pass on the street without even glancing twice. Medium height and weight, a bit of brown hair showing beneath a Razorbacks football cap, jeans and a green jersey that looked new. No distinguishing features or marks.

Dudley thanked JW and left his card. “If you think of anything else that might help, let me know.”

The staggering discovery felt like a punch in the gut. “You drive, Jack.” He slid into the passenger side. “I can’t believe Laura kept something like this from us.”

“Maybe she was too scared,” Jack offered. “Most people who suffer major trauma don’t think clearly. Especially just hours after it happens.”

“He might be her hitman. She’s been acting like she’s covering up something.”

“Dudley, you can’t trust what you think you saw.”

Jack turned the car in the direction of the police station. Good, bad, or horrible, they would soon find out.

CHAPTER NINE

Only family and a few close friends had Dudley’s cell phone number. When his Blackberry rang about five miles from the station, he didn’t hesitate to answer it.

“Oh, Dudley!” It was his mom, Junie Mae, calling from small-town Mooreville, Mississippi, her voice quivering. “I saw on the news about Charlie. Thenews!”

“Awww, Mawmaw. I’m sorry. I should have called you. I never meant for you to hear it this way.” His voice cracked, but he was unaware of the tears rolling down his cheeks. “I’m justso sorry.”

“That’s okay, hon. I know you’re trying to find him. Wait just a minute.” The television was playing in the background, and he heard her footsteps tapping on the wooden floor. The sagging springs on her old sofa groaned as she sat down. “Let me turn off this TV. My hearing is not what it used to be.”

The volume went up then back down before Junie Mae could figure out how to get the TV off with her remote. She’d never understood gadgets.

“Have you found him? Have you found my Charlie?”

Her question was nails hammered into his heart. “Not yet, Mawmaw, but we will. Jack is leading the team. He’sthe best detective on the homicide squad.” The minute the wordhomicidewas out of his mouth, he could have kicked himself. There had been no official statement yet that Charlie’s disappearance was a homicide.

“My Charlie wasmurdered?”

“It’s possible, but we don’t know exactly what happened yet.”

“Poor Laura. If I could see to drive, I’d come up there and keep her company.”

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