Page 75 of Save Her Life

“Not really, but the parole board keeps me up to date on his status. Honestly, I can’t stomach what he did all those years ago. Ain’t no son of mine. Cuz of him, I’ve never had a part in my granddaughter’s life either. Or great-grandchildren.”

A moment ago, the woman pinned blame on Sandra as if her son did no wrong. The about-face was surprising. Coming here might not have been a wasted trip after all. “A situation has come up involving some childhood friends of Darrell’s. We thought maybe you could help us.”

“Let me guess. Lonnie and Dennis. Lonnie, especially, was always trouble.”

Sandra was surprised by how sharp this woman was factoring in her age and that she’d been an alcoholic for years. If not for the smell of the trailer, she’d think maybe she’d given up drinking. “Well, we’re trying to find them.” For this conversation, she’d run on the assumption Dennis Eaton was still living.

“What have they done?” Regina leaned against the doorframe, suddenly appearing exhausted and chilled.

“Would it be easier for you to speak with us if you sat down? We could go inside,” Sandra said.

Regina batted a hand in the air. “I’m fine right here.”

“All right. Well, do you know where Darrell liked to go? Either by himself or with his friends?” It was possible if he had some special spot where he hung out as a kid, he might have taken the gold from the heist there.

“I wasn’t the best mother when he was young.” The woman’s eyes became weepy, and it highlighted her advancing age. “My husband wasn’t a good man and was hard to live with. He was old-school, expecting food on the table when he came home, a clean house, a submissive wife. That wasn’t me, but I felt stuck. I drank to numb myself to my horrible life. Reggie died ten years ago, and I’ve been sober ever since.”

The smell of stale beer contradicted her claim.

“Ah, I see it on your face. If you pick up on beer, it’s from some gal pals of mine. They’re a bit younger, and we play poker on Friday nights.”

Sandra gave Regina a tight smile. This woman didn’t miss a thing, not even a subtle energetic tell.

Regina continued. “But I do remember a phase when Darrell loved fishing. Don’t ask me where he’d go, though it was clearly around home as he’d walk or ride his bike.”

This was potentially helpful, but not a glowing lead to finding the gold bars. If they were going to set out to recover it, they needed a more pinpointed place to start than the vague summary they’d just received. “Okay, thank you for that.”

“It help?” Regina narrowed her eyes but didn’t come out and say she detected the opposite.

“It might have,” Sandra said. “We were told that Darrell’s possessions are in a storage locker. Would you mind if we had a look at his things?” She could request a search warrant if it came down to it, but one thing at a time. At this point they didn’t even know where the unit was or whose name it was under.

“No skin off my back. I’ll get the key.” Regina retreated into her trailer and returned with a shotgun.

Sandra and Brice stepped back.

“Whoa, there,” Brice said, holding his hands up.

“I’ve been nice, but get goin’. I’m not doing anything to mess up my boy more than I already have. Go. Scoot.”

“Ma’am, you don’t want to do this,” Brice petitioned. “Think about what you’re doing. You’re holding a gun on federal agents.”

“I know exactly what I’m doing, and I ain’t got nothing to lose.” She cocked the gun. “Now, scram!”

Sandra and Brice made the briefest of eye contact and carried on a silent conversation. They needed to act swiftly and in sync before this woman could get a shot off. They’d move in at the same time.Now!

Next thing, Brice gripped the handle of the gun to her right, and Sandra grabbed the barrel to her left. They pried the shotgun from the older woman’s hands, and Regina cussed and stomped her feet.

“Get off my property!”

“That’s it. I’m done playing nice guy, lady. You’re coming with us.” Brice handed off the gun to Sandra, who unloaded it while Brice cuffed Regina.

The visit didn’t exactly go as planned. Worse than that, it meant a delay when time was already running out.

THIRTY-FIVE

Once Sandra and Brice got Regina Patton into the back of their car, she disclosed the location of the storage unit housing Darrell’s things. It was in Dumfries, a town about ten minutes from Woodbridge. Regina was handed off to another agent. She’d be booked and charged for threatening federal agents. Her incarceration would also keep her from talking to Patton. Before parting company, they asked for the key to the unit, and she told them to go to hell. At least there was a way to work around that.

It was one fifty-seven when they were showing a clerk at the storage facility a search warrant for unit 802, as registered to Regina Patton. The thirtysomething was eager to help, as he’d confessed to taking criminology and forensics courses after hours with the intention of working in a lab for law enforcement someday. He held a pair of bolt cutters in hand.

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