Close To The Heart (Westen Series Book 5) Page 10

  “We’ll leave that up to the forensic people. Bobby called them and they should be here within the hour.” He slipped on another pair of latex gloves and pulled his mask out of his pocket with a nod to Deke. “In the meantime, let’s take a look at the crime scene.”

  Deke turned to his paramedic. “Aisha, can you wait out here for the coroner to arrive, then you’re free for the evening.”

  “You sure, Chief?” she said, her brows drawn down in confusion.

  “Yeah, you have a twenty-four-hour shift starting tomorrow and there’s nothing for you to do here. Get some rest and thanks for helping with the searches.”

  “We’re not done with those, are we?”

  Gage shook his head. “Unfortunately, no, but we need to process both of the houses we found today before we move on. So, for tonight we’re finished. Your boss is right. Get some rest and thanks.”

  “She seems like a good kid,” Gage said as they entered the house, thankful the mask decreased the smell of death and decay. “What brought her to Westen?”

  “When Fred Winslow retired after your rescue from the Meth lab explosion, we had to scramble to fill his vacancy on the fire department’s list of qualified paramedics. Hoskins is good but can’t be on duty twenty-four-seven, three-sixty-five.” Deke led him through the mess, neither one disturbing anything as they made their way to the bodies.

  “Yeah, even Superman needs a day off.”

  “When Aisha and Carlos applied, they were both equally qualified. Given all the new residents moving into the area, I decided to use part of our increased budget—thank you to you and the city board by the way—to add both to the roster.” He stopped at the door to the bedroom, blocking Gage’s view inside. “She was a medic in the Army, but couldn’t find a job with the big city fire departments. Her cousin is Maggie Landon.”

  “Tyson’s wife who runs the Gift shop and bakery out at their Christmas Tree Farm and is on the town council now, Maggie?”

  “Yep. Got a feeling Aisha was looking for something with less violence and thought her cousin’s small town would fit the bill. Given our recent history, she might not have picked the right small town.”

  Gage gave a half laugh, half scoff. “I can relate. Came home to peaceful Westen to heal and lick my wounds. Nearly got blown up and buried alive. And I grew up here.” He fixed his old friend with a hard stare. “Now you want to tell me why you’re blocking the view of the bodies in that room?”

  Deke’s eyes filled with sympathy. “You remember Jennifer Powers?”

  “Hell no.” Gage took the name like a kick in the gut. He’d dated Jennifer in high school. “She worked as a file clerk at the courthouse. Still ran into her every now and then. Although it’s been a while.”

  “Yeah. Didn’t recognize her at first, but something about the body was familiar, so I pulled out her wallet. It’s Jen. Not sure who the guy is. He had no wallet on him.”

  Gage thought a moment. “Didn’t she end up marrying Hank Turbin?”

  “That’s the last name on her driver’s license. But that’s not Hank in there. The guy looks younger and has more hair. Way more. Hank’s bald as a cue ball, remember? And about three inches taller than this guy.”

  “Damn. Hank’s one of the bartenders over at the Wagon Wheel. I’m going to have to go talk with him when we’re done here.”

  He nodded at the room and Deke moved aside. Standing in the doorway, Gage took in the macabre scene in front of him, fighting back the rage and sorrow that flooded his senses. He chose to focus on the man first. Deke was right, definitely not Hank. Lying on the bed, he looked to be about five-ten or five-eleven at the most. On the thin side, probably due to malnutrition due to drug dependency, he had at least a week-old beard, long stringy hair and dried stuff on his mouth. From his years working narcotics in Columbus, he knew the substance was foam from the overdose of drugs. He wore the requisite long sleeve shirt to cover the track marks evident on the one arm he’d exposed for his latest hit.

  “There aren’t too many flies in the room and no maggots on the body, so less than seventy-two hours probably,” he said and moved over to Jennifer.

  She’d always been on the thin side, now she looked like an anorexia victim and at least twenty years older than she should. Her open eyes stared up at the window, her mouth open in one last gasp.

  “Ah, Jen. What happened to you? How’d you get messed up in this?”

  “I remember when you two dated. She was always smiling and laughing. Full of life.”

  “She was. She’d planned to study acting and music at college. We lost track when we both left Westen.”

  Movement outside the window to the room drew his attention away from the couple sprawled on the bed. Two SUVs and the coroner’s van pulled up.

  “Looks like Frank met the team from the State lab on his way here.”

  With a shake of his head Gage left the room, no longer willing to see the results of what the drugs had done to a friend. On the porch, he stripped off his gloves and mask, as the coroner walked up the broken concrete steps.

  “Frank, sorry to have to call you out so late,” Gage said, shaking hands with him.

  “Death doesn’t work nine-to-five. Chief,” Frank said, shaking hands with Deke. “Is there a fire, too?”

  “No, we’re consolidating our forces to try and root out this crap.” Deke gave a nod at Aisha who was climbing into her car. “My paramedic and I were the first ones on this scene.”

  “She gave me the info. Two dead. One male, one female. Possible overdose?”

  Gage nodded. “That’s what we suspect, but of course…”

  “You’ll wait on the autopsy,” Frank finished for him. “You know, since you came back to Westen, I’ve had a lot more work on my hands as coroner.”

  “Trust me, I’d like nothing more than never having to call you, Doc.”

  “And with the epidemic of opioids, heroin and now fentanyl soaking the countryside, I’m surprised this is the first time we’ve met for overdoses. Sadly, I don’t think it’ll be our last.” He pulled on his gloves and a mask. “Now clear out of the way and let me and the techs do our thing. I’ll have a report for you as soon as I can.”

  Gage’s phone rang as he moved to let the older man into the crime scene. “What’s up, Daniel?”

  “Just wanted you to know two techs from the crime lab got here. Cleetus had to show them the way with half the roads past the new subdivision having little more than a county road number. He’s headed your way.”

  “Good. He can stay here while the techs and the Doc deal with this mess. You gonna be okay out there?”

  “Yeah, Andre’s hanging with me. It’s a mess, but the head lady, Connie, said they’re going to focus on bagging all the drug stuff up, look for anything hidden and look for prints, mostly near the stash we found. She said they may get lucky and get some hits in their system from drug houses they’ve processed from other parts of the state. She said, once that’s done, they’ll head your way, since the dead bodies are more of a priority.”

  “Once they’re done, lock the place up and you’re done for the night.”

  He hung up and slid his phone into his pocket, wondering if he’d have enough people to handle this new and insidious threat to his town.

  “You want some company to go talk to Hank?” Deke asked, as they sauntered back towards their vehicles.

  “Nah. I’m going to shower and change back at the station, before I go there. I’m not taking any chances something didn’t get on my clothes while I’ve been in here or over at the Sutter place.”

  “Might as well come along with you then,” Deke nodded. “I was thinking the same thing about showering before I go home to Libby.”

  “Last thing I want to do is expose Bobby or the baby to these drugs.”

  “Me, either.”

  Gage pause with one hand on the door handle. “Something you planning to share?”

  Deke got that shit-eating-grin of his. “Didn’t
plan on telling anyone too much yet, but Libby’s pregnant.”

  “Congratulations!” Gage grabbed his oldest friend into a bear hug. He was one of the few people that knew Deke and Libby had lost a child in a miscarriage when they’d dated years ago, and since their marriage back at Thanksgiving, they’d been trying to conceive. “Can’t think of any better news to turn this crap day around.”

  Baby, I need some,” Rose Cochran whined from the passenger seat.

  “And I told you, you’re going to have to earn it.”

  Gary “Snubnose” Woodhouse—he’d gotten the name in middle school when some asshole told everyone he looked like a pug dog; these days he carried a snubnosed revolver to make the name fit his badass persona—leaned into the driver’s side door of the beat-up sedan. He had another vehicle he preferred to drive—a new, clean SUV with all the latest tech. It was his baby and the last thing he wanted was some heroin-addict whore puking in it or contaminating it with product. Neither did he want some of his dealers thinking he was so rich he wouldn’t miss if they skimmed some smack or money for their own use. No, he’d keep them honest and afraid with this image of a barely-making-money dealer, mean enough to use this non-descript car and women like Rosie for his deals.

  Most importantly, when he was transporting his “special” cargo, he didn’t want anyone being able to give an accurate description to the police. Shiny and new stood out in these neighborhoods. Old, beat-up? Everyone had one.

  The streetlight shone into the dark interior of the car as he stared at the scrawny woman huddled under the men’s wool army coat. When she’d started buying Vicadin from him three years ago, she’d been quite the looker. He’d seen the potential earner in her, so he’d brought her along slowly. Letting her buy on credit for a while, then eventually telling her she’d pay for it with a blow job. She’d surprised him at how good she gave head. Next, he’d moved her into being his submissive sex partner, which lead to pimping her out on occasion. The more she worked for him, the more smack she craved and the deeper she went in the sex trade.

  Lately, her habit was so bad, she’d let herself go, not caring if she ate or bathed. Hell, she even left her kid alone in a blizzard to get a fix. For a long time, she’d been overprotective of her kid, especially when he’d bring clients out to her place to party. He’d had to walk a fine line to keep her craving his heroin and not see his real interest was in her daughter. When she’d shown up without the little girl, he’d been pissed, but blizzard prevented him from doing anything about it. After the snow melted, he’d driven by the old farm house only to find police tape on the doors and no sign of the kid. The place was now off limits to him and Rose. He’d had to find other accommodations. Couldn’t take a chance getting caught out there, especially if the kid was dead, or worse, with the local cops and spilling her guts.

  Which brought them to tonight. He had a party scheduled. A big-time money man, looking to impress some clients.

  “I’m going to give you a little taste, but then you have to do something for me,” he said, smoothing a greasy lock of hair away from her pale face.

  Her eyes lit up. Could be hope, but he suspected it was more the beast lusting after the high.

  “Yeah, okay. Whatever you say. Just please, hurry, I’m starting to hurt, baby,” she said, leaning in close, her hand wandering over his thigh towards his crotch.

  He caught her hand and held it firm as he drew a small packet from his coat pocket. “Not now. Later. First, you’re going to do a little snort, so you calm down. Then we’re going to a motel and you’re getting a shower. No one wants to fuck you smelling foul. I have your clothes in the back and you’re going to a high-class party at a five-star hotel. When you’re done for the night, we’ll have our own little party.”

  Rosie sniffed the powder up her nose and leaned back in her seat. For the past year, he’d been working the Westen area, had scored some sweet cargo for his boss, made money off the addicts and the addict-whores. But with the cops finding Rosie’s little girl alone in the drug house the last thing the boss would want was publicity about what they were doing. He’d already begun cleaning house.

  He drove out onto the highway headed for Columbus. One of his biggest clients had booked Rosie for the night.

  9

  It was a little after ten when Daniel pulled into the drive out at the Westen House. Lights were still on upstairs and down. Before leaving the Sutter place, he’d called Melissa, just to be sure she was expecting him this late. He had to smile at the welcoming sight. After spending the evening at the Sutter place among the left-over dregs of people who’d sunken low in their addiction and despair, he wanted—no needed, something more wholesome, more positive, more alive. A house full of teenage boys and one little girl ought to do the trick.

  He climbed out of his car and grabbed the bag of sports equipment from his trunk and headed to the door.

  “Hey, Deputy Löwe,” Geoff said, answering Daniel’s knock on the door. “Miss Davis told us you were still coming by.”

  “Sorry, it’s so late, we had some issues come up and the sheriff needed me to work over.” Daniel juggled the bag into his left hand to offer his right to the teenager. He believed in starting how you mean to go, and he meant to treat his young players with respect and expect it in return. “Everyone still awake?”

  Geoff held the door and stepped aside to let him in. “All except Shrimp. She’s always in bed by eight.”

  “Oh, she’s always in bed by then, but is never asleep. And now that you brought her favorite book, the past few nights she’s stayed up reading.” Melissa stood at the sink washing a giant pan, with Colt doing the drying.

  “You’re not going to make me feel guilty for that,” Daniel said with a grin. “Not when she was so happy to have it again. Besides, reading is a good pastime. Wouldn’t want her deprived of reading material.”

  “Oh, she wasn’t deprived,” Bryan said from his spot at the kitchen table. “She was reading my comic book collection last week.”

  “Collection? You have twelve,” Trent said, coming in from the other room, video game controller in hand. He sat and elbowed Bryan. “A collection is like hundreds. My cousin has one.”

  “Hundreds if you’re old. I just started mine,” Bryan muttered and went back to writing on the paper in front of him, a Geometry book open beside it.

  “Well, she’s not just reading your collection, she had my American History book open last weekend, and was reading about the American Revolution. For someone who’s never gone to school one day in her life, Shrimp’s wicked smart.”

  “That she is, and she’s also sleeping down the hall, so let’s keep it down,” Melissa said, bringing over a plate of cherry pie and setting it on the table in front of an empty spot. She handed Daniel a fork. “Sit. You can help me out by finishing off the last of the pie. Otherwise, I’ll have a battle between these four.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said with a nod. He handed the bag of sports equipment to Geoff before taking his seat on the bench behind the table. “This is for you guys. Miss Davis gave me shoe sizes for cleats, the gloves are all regulation mitts and there’s a bat and some balls to practice with tomorrow. I’d hoped to get here early enough to give you some pointers and get in a few at-bats before dark, but couldn’t do it.”

  As the boys dug into the bag, oh-man-ing over the gloves and cleats, Daniel met Melissa’s eyes for a moment, and she gave a little nod, understanding that he wouldn’t and couldn’t talk about what had kept him so late. At least, not in front of the teens. He took a bite of the pie and almost moaned. “Wow, that’s good.”

  “Yeah, Miss Davis and the Shrimp make the best desserts,” Colt said, slipping his hand into a black and tan mitt.

  “Glad you like it,” Melissa said, whether to him or the boys or all of them, Daniel wasn’t sure. She took an empty chair where a laptop sat open. “What time is tryouts tomorrow?”

  Daniel swallowed another bite of pie. “We’re going to get toget
her about an hour after school. Want to be sure everyone who wants to try out has a chance to get there. Talked with all your bosses today and they’re on board to rescheduling your work hours for tomorrow and Saturday.” He looked at all four faces, each of them slapping their hands into the leather of the new mitts. “If you make the team, then I’ll give them schedules of our games, both here and away, and practice times. Being on the team won’t affect your employment.”

  “Even Miss McCoy over at the Yeast & West Bakery?” Bryan asked, concern on his face. “She has a lot of deliveries on the weekends. And I do a lot of the heavy lifting for her. She’s awful little, I’d hate her to get hurt doing that.”

  “Willie Mae’s a lot tougher than she looks,” Daniel said.

  “She looks like a good puff of wind would send her tumbling like one of those western tumbleweeds you see in those Western video games,” Trent said.

  “Everything is a video game to you,” Bryan said. “But she does look like that. Sort of like my grandmother did.”

  “I’m sure Willie Mae can rearrange her deliveries or have people pick them up on the rare days you’re not available, Bryan.” Daniel finished off the pie and set his fork aside. “Out of all your bosses, she was the most enthusiastic about you trying out for the team. She told me she played softball all through high school and hopes you make the team so she can come cheer from the stands.”

  “Joe won’t have to worry about me missing more than tomorrow,” Colt muttered, suddenly looking like someone had stolen his puppy. “I’ve never even thrown a baseball, much played on a team.”

  I thought about that earlier, Colt,” Daniel said, then looked at Melissa. “May I use your laptop?”

  “It’s all yours,” she said, typing in her password, then scooting it to face him.

  He brought up the browser and typed in a search for baseball videos—specifically ones to teach proper techniques, both throwing a baseball and the mechanics of hitting. “These might help you get an idea and you can practice in that hour after school.”