Page 31 of A Song for the Dead

“Afternoon.” Jenna urged her horse closer. “I’m looking for Hank Maxwell. Would that be you by any chance?”

“Yeah, and who are you?” Maxwell’s brow creased into a frown. “It’s a ways away from the highway for a woman to be out alone.”

“I’m Sheriff Alton and I’m not alone.” Jenna dismounted. “We’re following up on the report you called in on the hotline. I need a few more details if possible?”

“Okay.” Maxwell folded his arms across his chest. “Although there’s not much more I can tell you.”

Kane handed the rifle to Blackhawk and strolled out of the trees to stand beside Jenna. Maxwell stood six feet, with a strong build and aged around thirty-five to forty, with a weathered complexion. Lived alone in a cabin and fit the profile. He gave him a quick disinterested once-over. “Deputy Kane. We’ve been trying to contact you. Do you live out here on your lonesome?”

“Yeah, I like the quiet.” Maxwell shrugged. “I won a small lottery some years back and decided to live off the grid. I’m self-sufficient with enough saved and yearly payments to live comfortably. I turn on my phone only on Fridays. My friends know that and respect my privacy. What did I say in the call to drag you all the way out here?” He looked from one to the other. “I was reporting what I’d seen, is all. Doing my civic duty.”

“We appreciate the call, but we need more information.” Jenna took out her notebook and pen. “You’d be surprised how many things we miss. Can we come inside?”

“I guess.” Maxwell frowned. “I’ll need to go out back for a spell. I left a fire burning and the wind has just changed. I don’t want flying embers to cause a wildfire. My barn is out there and my horse.” He stepped off the porch and walked around the house.

Kane leaned into Jenna. “The smoke isn’t coming from the chimney.” He pointed upward. “It’s coming from the backyard. He could be burning evidence.” He turned to peer toward Blackhawk and gave him a signal to follow them. He didn’t trust Maxwell or what he might have stashed behind his house.

“You go first. If he’s going to try something, you’re a faster draw than I am.” She chewed on her bottom lip. “I’m so glad you insisted we wear our liquid Kevlar vests when we hunt down suspects.” She followed behind him.

Kane kept his eyes ahead. “Unless he aims for our heads, we’ll be fine.”

As he rounded the corner, Maxwell was poking at a firepit pushing ashes over what was burning and then kicking soil over the embers. From the smell, he’d been burning fabric, and Kane made out what could have been the sole of a sneaker just before it melted into the ashes. With the fire out, Maxwell waved them through the back door. Kane shook his head. “After you.”

He stood back to allow him to pass and then followed. The door led into a small mudroom and then through to the kitchen. It was dark inside and as Maxwell opened another door, the smell of death hit him. Kane blocked the door preventing Jenna from following and drew his weapon.It’s a trap.

THIRTY-SEVEN

Doing grunt work had never been something Carter enjoyed. It was called “grunt work” because boring jobs were usually given to privates in the military, in which he’d evolved. He’d done his fair share, but driving miles and just chasing his tail looking for Duane Warner was frustrating. He climbed back into the cruiser and looked at Jo. She always took everything in her stride. Nothing seemed to get under her skin. “They haven’t seen him. The laundry is collected from a loading bay out back. They only see the other guy when he delivers the clean bags.”

“The next one on the list takes us back to Black Rock Falls.” Jo stared at the list on her phone of Warner’s pickup route. “After he drops the bags back to the laundry he’s done for the day. He’s never at home it seems, so we need to catch him at the hotel laundry.” She glanced at her watch. “We should head out now. We’ll pass him on the highway if you use lights and sirens. Getting there ahead of time, we can’t miss him.”

Grinning, Carter looked at her. “Speeding along the highway sounds like my kind of fun.” He started the engine and spun the cruiser around. “If he’s running to time, and from what I can make out he starts early. Not one of the places we visited say they see him pick up the bags. What does he do after work?”

“Maybe he has more than one occupation.” Jo shrugged. “Many people work two jobs.”

Carter moved swiftly through the town of Blackwater and took the on-ramp to the highway, and once they hit the open road, he hit the lights and sirens and pushed his foot down hard on the gas. The SUV lifted and they took off at high speed. He glanced at Jo. “Seems like Kane has been tinkering with the engine. It wasn’t this good when we drove it last time.”

“I figure that’s his passion along with building Harleys.” Jo laughed. “You’ll have your own biker gang by the time he’s finished.”

They passed a few white delivery vans on the way to Black Rock Falls and any one of them could have been Warner. Carter enjoyed the rush of high speed, the countryside flashing by in a blur of fall tones. It was like flying, but in truth, he preferred to be high above the highways in his chopper. He flicked off lights and sirens as they took the exit for Stanton and headed straight for the Cattleman’s Hotel. The laundry was around back, so they parked in the regular parking lot and walked around to the rear of the hotel. They strolled inside the office and Carter leaned on the front counter. When the same man they’d spoken to earlier came and gave them a weary look, Carter straightened. “We’ve been hightailing it all over three counties searching for Warner. Please tell me he hasn’t finished for the day.”

“Nope, he usually makes his last drop-off around this time.” The man indicated with his thumb over one shoulder. “Soiled laundry is dropped out back. There’s receiving and dispatch sections. Once he’s done, he takes the truck home. It works fine for us as he starts early and needs to buy gas before he leaves in the morning.”

Carter nodded and turned toward the door. He looked at Jo. “This time we’ll catch him.”

As they hurried around to the back of the building, a white van drove past them and turned around to back into the receiving bay. A man jumped out and moved around the back of the truck. He’d started to haul out large canvas bags and toss them to another man in the dock. Carter walked up to him. “Duane Warner?”

“Who’s asking?” Warner wiped sweat from his brow with his sleeve and stood hands on hips staring at him. His gaze flicked over Jo and then back to Carter.

Holding up his badge, Carter took in the man’s size, weight, and age. Maybe thirty-five, six feet, and he threw the heavy bags around as if they weighed nothing. “Agent Carter and Agent Wells. We’d like a word with you if you have time.”

“What about?” Warner’s lips twitched up at the corners and he straightened. “I pay my taxes, don’t cook, grow, or sell drugs, so what would the FBI want with me?”

“We’re not with the IRS or the DEA.” Jo gave him a confident stare. “We’re here as consultants to the Black Rock Falls sheriff’s department. At this time, we’re following leads concerning two missing persons.”

Carter took a step closer. “Both missing women, work in places where this laundry service picks up and delivers. You are one person of many we’ll be speaking to. We’ve already spoken to Christopher Wills, and he mentioned you pick up and he delivers to the Triple Z Roadhouse and the Black Rock Falls beauty parlor.” He watched closely for a reaction and saw nothing. “Freya Richardson worked at the beauty parlor and Daisy Lyon at the roadhouse.”

“I don’t recall speaking to anyone at either venue.” Warner shrugged. “I rarely see anyone. The bags are dumped out the back most times, and I just grab them and toss them into my truck. Most of them don’t smell too good, so they don’t hoard them inside and there’s never been any gone missing. The clean ones are different. Chris has to haul them inside. If anyone gets to speak to the workers, it’s him, not me.”

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