“You popped a tire,” the big one said, and his friend laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world.
Bartlett stepped a foot closer and Taylor had to listen closely to catch his words. “You wouldn’t know how that happened, would you?” He flashed a badge at them.
The smaller of the two spoke now for the first time. “There was broken glass. You drove over it, and the tire was punctured.”
“Punctured. That’s a larger word than I expected you to use. How perplexing,” Tom goaded them.
“What the hell did you just say?” The big man stepped forward until he and the detective were a yard apart.
“I wouldn’t want to hurt your tiny brain explaining. I have somewhere to be, but when I get back, I want all this glass cleaned up,” Bartlett said, not giving an inch to the imposing drunk man. Taylor was awestruck by his composure.
The guy’s buddy grabbed his arm, pulling him away, and said, “No problem, Officer. We’ll get right on it.” He snickered and they left, entering the bar, loud country music carrying out the door.
“Come on, Brent. You look like a capable young man. Give me a hand with this tire.” Tom Bartlett was already walking to the car, where he popped the trunk and pulled out the spare, passing Brent the tire iron. Minutes later, they were set, and Taylor gave a last look toward the bar as the detective started the engine up.
“Are you really coming back to see if those idiots cleaned up the glass?” Taylor asked as they pulled out of the parking lot, shooting gravel behind them.
“Nope.”
Taylor was glad the detour was done with. She wanted to get to her dad, and quickly.
Twenty
Tyler pulled behind Emma Jeanne’s car, boxing it in, and Rich emerged from the passenger seat. The big man nodded at Paul, and they shook hands like old coworkers rather than friends. The situation was too tense for a hug or anything but a businesslike approach.
“What’s the plan?” Paul asked Tyler, letting him take the lead.
“We go upstairs and detain her. Darrel, you stay here with Rich and cover the exits. Paul, you come with me. This could go south quickly, so we have to move fast. If she knows we’re here, we don’t know what she’ll do. Then we question her and find the kids. Or what’s left of them.”
“What about…” Rich started, and Tyler dismissed the question with a wave of his hand.
“We deal with that when we have to. Everyone good?” Tyler asked, and the three men nodded. Paul was glad to be going with the sheriff. He wanted to see the look on Katherine Smith’s mother’s face when she learned she’d finally been had.
Darrel started away, to head to the front of the building, and Rich stayed firm at the main entrance that was off the parking lot. Paul stopped his brother-in-law. “Be careful. I don’t want to bring Beth any bad news tonight.”
Darrel nodded. “You too, buddy. Go get her, and let’s find out where this bastard is buried.” Darrel turned and walked away, leaving Paul standing alone under a streetlight. Shadows cast out from his position, and he thought he saw an arm raised, black mist pouring from it, but when he looked straight on, it was only his own shadow stretched out on the ground.
Paul jogged to the entrance where Tyler was waiting, and they entered the building’s foyer. Paul didn’t know how the sheriff had the keys, but he did, and Paul didn’t press him on it.
“Up a flight,” Tyler said, holding the door with a stairs sign on it open for Paul, who ran the steps two at a time. He returned the favor, holding the next door open and letting the sheriff go first. He was trained for these kinds of situations, whereas Paul was not. Paul was an author, and the one thing he was good at was writing scary stories or running in Central Park. He hoped neither of those skills was going to be called on tonight.
They walked quietly down the hall, and the sheriff stopped at the center suite. He didn’t wait. He banged on the door with a meaty paw and shouted, “Open up, Emma Jeanne. It’s the sheriff.”
There was no answer from within, and Paul had a bad feeling. “Maybe she’s not here,” he suggested.
“Her car’s here. She was spotted using it two hours ago to nab that girl. She’s here.” Tyler banged on the door again, and a bleary-eyed neighbor stepped into the hall. His hair was flat and greasy; a smoke hung from his gray lips.
“Have you seen Emma?” Paul asked the man.
“Nope. Not since earlier. She was real shaken up about Carl. Did she have to testify or something?” the man asked, and Tyler shook his head.
“Sir, when exactly did you see her last?” the sheriff asked. Paul’s heart rate was picking up as if it knew something he didn’t, a fight or flight response in the making.
“Haven’t seen her in a few hours, but I heard her all right. She’s usually so quiet, but she was banging around inside her place maybe two or three hours ago. Sounded frustrated. I even knocked on the door to check on her, but she didn’t answer,” the man said, and Paul was sorry for judging the man by his appearance. He was just another of Red Creek’s sad people, and he was concerned for a neighbor like any good person.
“Is that so? Thank you for your help, sir.” Tyler banged on the door one last time and gave Paul a look. It was like the ones he’d used in high school when he was about to do something stupid. Tyler didn’t have many things he wouldn’t do, and he’d loved to be the center of attention, especially back then. He lifted his leg up and kicked forward, shattering the door frame around the lock and sending the slab swinging into the unit. It
