Page 49 of Fear of Flames
Fletch reached for his phone and searched for Sarah Holdcraft. He found the record of her birth to Dennis and Tracy Holdcraft at a hospital in Beech Grove, Indiana. The date would indicate that she would be four years older than Michelle. There was no other information, including no declaration of death.
He sent a text message to Leo.
“A favor – off the record?”
Leo responded immediately.
“Other than working to calm Peterson? What?”
Leo had access to the agency’s computers. Fletch would also in another twenty-four hours. He hesitated. Maybe he should wait until he could run the search himself. A question mark appeared on his screen.
“Look into Sarah Holdcraft for me. Don’t mention it to anyone else.”
“Relation to Denny?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
Fletch turned off the ringer on his phone. He’d wake if it vibrated, even from a sound sleep. Years of working for the agency had him constantly alert. It was dangerous to be anything less.
Chapter
Twenty-Three
Ralph Perkins was closed in his office trying to figure out a way out of this mess. Every damn domino was falling in the wrong direction. Take his plan to secure Shelly Holdcraft. Matt Wilcox was back in Iron Falls with a concocted story about securing Shelly and losing her. Matt said he entered the house without issue, picking the lock and carefully blocking the doorbell camera. Inside, he found Shelly asleep on her bed. Matt claimed he had her secured and was about to inject the sedative when she started fighting, kicking, and bucking. The next thing Matt remembered was waking up in his rental car to the sound of sirens. He circled around. The streets were blocked by emergency vehicles. Matt saw the debris from Shelly’s house and fled the scene. Once he was a few miles away, he called Ralph.
Unlike Britney, who had a fancy degree in criminology, Matt’s experience came from the job. While he was usually dependable, he wasn’t exactly the brightest bulb in the box. Nevertheless, it seemed that even Matt could make up a better story about his failure to procure the target. Turned out he wasn’t lying. The urine sample Matt delivered after his flight back to Massachusetts corroborated his story. It came up positive for Propofol, the drug in Matt’s syringe.
The question was how a twenty-eight-year-old woman overpowered and drugged a man dumber than an ox and as strong as one. No one had an answer to that mystery.
The door to his office opened. Britney stepped inside. “Sheriff, you have a call from Indianapolis Metropolitan Police, an Officer Darla McCoy. She’s on line one.”
Well, shit, Ralph thought, wondering if Wilcox screwed up and left some trace evidence around Shelly’s house. He’d deny sending Wilcox to Indianapolis. Then he had another thought. Maybe they found Shelly’s body in her destroyed home. Can’t get much more silent than dead. Ralph was almost giddy when he picked up the telephone receiver. “Officer McCoy. Do you have news for me?”
“Thank you for taking my call, Sheriff. What I’m about to tell you is currently classified. I know you were upset about what happened in your city to Dennis Holdcraft, and I believe our departments can be of assistance to one another.”
She had Ralph’s attention.
She continued, “My captain authorized me to speak with you. You, however, must agree, for the time being, to keep this information confidential.”
He sat forward on his chair, believing this nightmare was almost over. “You have my word, Officer McCoy. I’m assuming this is about Shelly Holdcraft and what happened at her house. Did she go on to meet her papa in heaven?”
“Only if the road to heaven is west on I-74 in a 2017 white Toyota Camry.”
“What?” His volume rose.
“We received a call late yesterday from an Indiana state trooper named Warren Stephenson. Before getting off duty Tuesday morning, he pulled over a 2017 white Toyota Camry with Ohio plates.”
“Shelly was in the car?” he asked in disbelief. He was certain Shelly’s car was in Denny’s garage. Of course, it could have been a rental.
“Possible sighting.” She emphasized the word. “Trooper Stephenson said the woman in the car looked familiar, but he admitted to being tired. His shift was about over. The woman didn’t have an ID. She’d said she’d left her purse at home. Something about leaving early and being on their way to visit a grandfather in the hospital.”
Ralph didn’t care about an old man in the hospital. “Did this Stephenson run the license plate?”
“No, sir. He didn’t pull them over due to any violation. Stephenson informed them of a low tire and sent them on their way.”
Fuck, Ralph growled. “Wait.” His volume rose. “Did you say them? The woman wasn’t alone?”
