The Promisor: A Suspense Thriller Page 7

  As if the scene earlier hadn’t already done enough of that for them.

  “No known enemies?” Reed asked. “No public altercations? Jealousy or resentment about the new girl in town or the local attorney or anything like that?”

  “Oh, no,” Blumenthal answered, his eyes widening as if the mere notion was inconceivable. “Cara was so kind, you couldn’t help but like her. As for the Salem family, they’ve been a pillar of Gallipolis for decades.”

  For a moment, Reed considered pressing a bit further on the Salem family. If their status – as Blumenthal just put it – as pillars rubbed anybody the wrong way or if the family had existing tensions going back.

  Questions that no longer felt relevant, the man all but answering them already, any further inquiries likely only to get more of the same. Tales ranging from Blumenthal and the elder Salem attending primary school together all the way up to the story of how the doctor was the one that brought Harrison into the world.

  Details that Reed wasn’t entirely against hearing, though with Cara’s body between them and her husband waiting across the hall, he didn’t have time for.

  Maybe in the future, but for now, Reed hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

  Pressing his lips into a tight line, Reed nodded. A silent missive that he was ready whenever the doctor was before lowering his gaze.

  Fixing it on the white sheet, he waited as a single sound slid from Blumenthal. A noise born of pure sorrow, intense enough to cause his body to shudder, the front of his stomach bumping against the table.

  A single quiver of the entire platform before he reached up and grabbed the top corner of the covering, pulling it back to the young woman’s waist.

  Six hours had passed since Reed first received word that there had been a shooting. Four since Meigs sat in his car and shared that her name was Cara Salem.

  In the remaining time since, Reed had been to her house. Peered inside her vehicle. Walked the hillsides overlooking her home.

  Even caught a glimpse of her husband in Blumenthal’s office as Meigs went in to sit with him.

  Not once had he been given a description of her. Already gone from the crime scene by the time he arrived, nobody had mentioned what she looked like. Having not gone into the house, he hadn’t seen a photo.

  A lack of a visual that made the case no less real, but still didn’t quite complete the full picture for him. A face to put with the name. An image to conjure when imagining the sick bastard sitting up in the hills staring at her through a riflescope.

  Meigs had mentioned earlier in the day that Cara was in her early thirties, though even in death she could pass for half a decade younger. Still dressed in matching spandex pants and top from her earlier yoga session, definition was plain in her arms and along her torso. Dark hair framed a heart shaped face with full lips.

  A striking young woman that no doubt turned heads walking the streets of Gallipolis, the only visible defect being the bullet wound peeking out from the top hem of her sports bra and a few stray droplets of blood.

  Visual manifestations of her death that Reed suspected wouldn’t be nearly so muted on her backside.

  “I can do a full autopsy if you’d like,” Blumenthal said, his voice betraying just the slightest hint of a crack. Reaching into the front pocket of his lab coat, he pulled out a pair of gloves. Purple elastic that he snapped into place before raising a finger and motioning for Reed to join him on the far side of the table.

  Doing as requested, Reed circled around the foot of it, arriving as the doctor placed one hand under the girl’s elbow and the other beneath her shoulder. Lifting his face toward the ceiling to avoid seeing it again, he rolled her a few inches to the side.

  “But there didn’t seem to be much point.”

  While the entry wound for the bullet was barely larger than a nickel, the head of it had started to mushroom immediately upon contact. A metal bludgeon working its way through her chest cavity, responsible for an exit that was almost the size of a softball.

  A gaping divot making it clear the girl was killed instantly, the greater part of her most vital organ disintegrated on contact.

  A wide hole through which all of the blood and bodily fluids Reed had spotted on the sidewalk out at the house had exited. An evacuation that would have been quick given the size and location of the wound, a fair bit of it staining what was visible of her back.

  Bent forward at the waist, Reed took just long enough to commit the image to memory. Mental snapshots not only to match up with the crime scene, but to provide any additional fuel that might be needed in the days ahead.

  Motivation to track down the person who would dare bring such a violent end on someone else.

  “I have to agree,” Reed said. Levering himself up to full height, he retreated to his previous position, circling around the table as Blumenthal tugged the sheet back into position.

  A return to their original position, the two men standing across from each other.

  One attempting to keep from crying, the other from lashing out in anger at the senselessness of what was lying between them.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The grief that Doc Blum had displayed in the morgue across the hall was palpable. A man that was trying his best to be professional in the face of something that affected both his humanity and an existing personal relationship, leaving him on the cusp of cracking.

  Even without actually having to go through the process of giving Cara Salem a full autopsy, the pain he felt filled the space, practically oozing from his every pore.

  Still, it paled in comparison to that of Salem’s husband, Harrison.

  Existing in a state that bordered on catatonia, the man had failed to even look up as Reed and Billie entered. Bypassing the leather chair behind the desk that consumed most of the available floor space in the cramped office, he was seated in the only other option available, a standard straight back wooden chair with a thinly padded leather seat and back support.

  Using just the front few inches of it, his body was perched with knees extended out toward the center of the room. Thighs pressed tight together, his elbows rested atop them, a mug with a white tag hanging over the side clasped between his hands.

  Something with mint, the smell tickling Reed’s nose, likely far from the man’s first mug of the day.

  His entire body pulled into a ball as tight as humanly possible, he stared straight ahead. Like Blumenthal before him, his eyes were red and swollen, the puffiness having extended out to engulf his cheeks as well.

  Littering the floor around him was the better part of a box of tissues, all crumpled and discarded in a wide arc.

  “Down,” Reed said upon entry, Billie lowering herself to the thin carpet just inside the door. A rare bit of free floor space within the narrow confines of the office, the desk, a pair of overflowing bookshelves, and a corner ficus tree chewing up the perimeter of the room, the remainder split between file boxes arranged in stacks and Harrison dominating the center.

  An allocation of space that left Reed standing beside his partner, Meigs in the leather chair behind the desk.

  “Mr. Salem,” Reed began. “My name is Detective Reed Mattox, and this is my K-9 partner, Billie. We were sent down by the governor’s office to look into what happened this morning.”

  The first time Reed had willingly stated – or even considered – that he was doing the bidding of Governor Cowan, he did so in the hope that it would have a desired outcome on the man across from him. Impart the fact that what happened to his wife was being taken with the utmost of seriousness, rising all the way to the highest seat in the state.

  “I’m very sorry for what happened, and I’m very sorry to be here like this, but we need to ask you some questions.”

  A couple of feet away, Harrison bobbed his head. His gaze still fixed on the floor before him, a single muscle twitched in his jaw and a fresh sheen of moisture rose to his eyes.

  Nostrils flaring with each breath, he looked for a momen
t as if he might reply before thinking better of it.

  Earlier in the day, Meigs had made a comment about Harrison being a man that went away and did his law thing before returning to town. An offhanded remark that returned to Reed as he stood before the man, understanding exactly what she meant.

  Based on the details that he had been able to put together in the hours since, the picture Reed had was of someone that had grown up in the area and still prescribed to the lifestyle and expectations, but had also managed to put back a little bit of money in his time away.

  A man who was by no means wealthy in the traditional sense, but had done well enough to take over the stately brick home outside of town and even put a couple of luxury SUVs in the front drive. Wore slacks and a sports coat to work every day, though didn’t quite go the extra mile of making it a full suit or even adding a tie.

  Every last bit of which fit with the person before Reed except for the obvious signs of heartrending sorrow and the dark blood stains marring the front of his trousers.

  “Mr. Salem-” Reed said, his initial question making it no further.

  “I’ve seen you on the news, right?” Harrison interjected. For the first time lifting his focus, he turned to take in Billie before looking to Reed. “Mattox. Billie. You guys were with CPD? Took on a couple of pretty high-profile cases?”

  “Yes,” Reed replied. “That’s correct.”

  “So you’ll know exactly what I mean when I offer to save us both a lot of time and tell you my wife’s maiden name is Aquino.”

  For a moment, Reed simply met the man’s gaze. Not expecting the interruption or the information that was shared, he stood processing, letting things fall into order in his mind.

  A length of time that lasted just a couple of seconds before things snapped into place, his eyes widening slightly. “Aquino. As in-”

  “Yes,” Harrison replied. “That Aquino.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Harrison Salem was correct. Regardless what had been found tromping through the woods earlier or what lines of questioning Reed had been entertaining when stepping into the office, it all fell to the wayside compared to the bombshell that was just levied.

  The maiden name that had been kept at arm’s length, a past far removed from her idyllic life in the small town along the Ohio River.

  A potential new framework for the investigation moving forward, Cara’s murder capable of being viewed through multiple possible lenses, each needing to be investigated.

  “Aquino?” Meigs asked as the three of them paused in front of the sheriff’s department after the short walk back. Steps that Reed did not even remember taking, his mind still fixed on the anvil that was dropped at their feet moments before.

  “Aquino,” Reed repeated. “As in, kid sister to Alex Aquino. One of the largest gun runners in the state for the better part of the last decade, among other things.”

  The instant Harrison first mentioned the name, Reed had seen Meigs’s expression shift. A look of pure confusion as she glanced to him, Reed shaking it off for the time being.

  A combination of not wanting to derail whatever else Harrison might add and his own mind attempting to make sense of it.

  Having the social grace not to interrupt the brief interview, Reed had known the questions were coming, even as he didn’t yet have all the answers the sheriff was undoubtedly looking for.

  “Oh, shit,” Meigs muttered.

  “Worse than oh, shit,” Reed replied. “This guy was so prolific at his craft and so fierce in protecting it that the CPD Gun Crimes Division set up an entire task force to take him down.”

  As Harrison had surmised, Reed might not have worked on the case directly, but he was quite familiar with it. A matter that every detective and officer in the greater Columbus area followed with at least some level of interest, becoming quite the source of locker room and water cooler discussion for almost a year.

  Something that he and Riley would talk about at length while out on patrol.

  Folding her arms across her torso, Meigs shifted to glance back at the building they just exited.

  “Shit,” she whispered a second time. “You think that’s what this is about? We’re on the verge of having some kind of turf war play out down here?”

  Of the various eventualities of what took place this morning, a turf war was pretty well on down the list of things Reed was considering. More likely was the murder being some sort of message. Somebody getting back at Aquino for past frictions or trying to make a statement, asserting themselves as the new dominant force in the industry.

  A one-and-done that Reed couldn’t imagine escalating, the location well beyond the traditional pathways for guns and drugs moving throughout the state. Same for the fact that neither Cara nor her husband seemed like the type, everything from the home they lived in to the law practice Harrison still went to everyday hinting more at a bucolic upper middle class existence than aspiring weapons dealers.

  “I don’t know,” Reed replied. “I want to say I doubt it, but I also don’t want to give you false information and have you let your guard down.”

  “Believe me,” Meigs said, “that damned sure won’t be happening.”

  Extending his hand to the side, Reed placed it atop Billie’s neck. Running his hand along the thick fur, he brought his palm up between her ears, using his fingers to massage her skull.

  Pure muscle memory as he matched Meigs’s pose, thinking about all that just transpired.

  The myriad steps needing to take place in the near future.

  “Might not be a terrible idea to have you and Brinkley take a quick run through that house while he’s still here with his wife,” Reed said, dropping his voice slightly to ensure it didn’t carry to the neighboring building. “I don’t think you’ll find anything, but...”

  “Doesn’t hurt to clear the possibility,” Meigs finished. Moving her focus back to Reed and Billie, she asked, “What about you guys? This mean you’re done here?”

  “Just for the night,” Reed said. “You can imagine how this changes things. I’m going to need to make some calls, meet with a few people.”

  Considering that last part a moment, he added, “Then probably at least one more in the morning.”

  Grasping what was meant by the addendum, Meigs grunted. “Where is Aquino now?”

  “Prison,” Reed said, “for the foreseeable future. Not sure exactly where, but I’m guessing either Columbus or Ross County.”

  “That’ll be fun.”

  “Being the one to tell him his baby sister was shot down with enough firepower to kill an elk?” Reed muttered. “Yeah, that’s going to go over real well.”

  Extending a hand before him, Reed’s focus already began to shift toward the matters being discussed. Things that were going to take quite a bit of time to get moving, to say nothing of the hours that were still needed for them to make it back to Columbus.

  A drive he would rather not make after dark, the circuitous route tough enough under the light of day.

  Meeting his grasp, Meigs said, “Thanks for making the trip. When I called in, I never imagined...”

  “Just proves you were right to do so,” Reed said, releasing her grip and taking a step back. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Slapping at the leg of his jeans, Reed called Billie along, the two of them piling back into the sedan. Turning over the ignition, barely were they out of the parking lot before Reed pulled his cellphone over onto his lap.

  Alternating glances between the screen and the road, he found what he was looking for and hit send.

  A moment later, Captain Grimes answered.

  “Calling with your first debrief?” he asked.

  “I wish it was that simple.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  It didn’t matter that the clock on the dash stated it was ten minutes after eight as Reed slid into one of the visitor stalls lined diagonally across the front of the 8th Precinct. Rare was the night when the man he was here to see was
n’t still working, tonight guaranteed to be no exception after Captain Grimes phoned just an hour earlier and asked Reed to stop by on his way home.

  A request that arrived just as Reed was coming into Chillicothe, the sound of his ringer especially pronounced in the quiet of the sedan. A state of silence that had existed since Gallipolis, Reed taking advantage of the solitude to try and wrap his head around the enormity of all that the day had produced.

  A Herculean task that he would still not consider complete.

  Pressing the thumb and forefinger of his left hand over his eyes, Reed held them in place for several seconds. Long enough for pops of color to begin forming behind his eyelids. Amoebas of bright red and green flashing in uneven intervals, proceeded just a moment later by a bit of moisture rising to the surface.

  Needed lubrication after a day that had been far longer than he ever intended. A headlong sprint that began with him cutting the grass and included everything from tracking a killer through the forest to being broadsided by the admission from Harrison.

  A list that alone would be enough, even before considering the three-plus hours spent in the car getting down to Gallipolis and back.

  A day that Billie seemed to be feeling the effects of as well, the entire drive from the moment Reed got off the phone for the second time with Grimes to the spot they now found themselves spent pacing the backseat. A black silhouette moving from one side of the vehicle to the other in anticipation of the impending meeting.

  Movement predicated on the host of emotions permeating her partner, Reed almost cringing at whatever Grimes might have unearthed to necessitate them stopping by.

  “I know, girl,” Reed said, the sound of his voice drawing her head up between the bucket seats of the sedan. “Last stop.”

  Wrenching open the driver’s side door, Reed slid out of the vehicle, relishing the significant drop in both heat and humidity compared to Gallipolis earlier. Stepping to the side, he allowed Billie to pass by the steering wheel and exit the same way before swinging the door shut in her wake.