Disarming Detective (15 page)

But he’d promised her they would interview any man who fit the basic criteria of her profile who also had access to a blue van. And Joe Evans was on that list.

When the door opened, Lyla’s mom looked surprised, then pleased, to see him. Then she noticed Ella and confusion flitted across her face.

Finally, she recovered and gave him a hug that made him feel like a jerk for being here at all.

“Logan. It’s nice to see you again. How’s your family?”

“They’re doing okay, Mrs. Evans.” He gestured to Ella. “This is Ella Cortez. She’s working with me on a case.”

Lyla’s mom nodded at her. “Ella, nice to meet you.” Then, her attention returned to Logan, her features hardening. “You’re here about a case?”

“I’m sorry, but we’d like to talk to Joe.”

Mrs. Evans instantly stiffened. “Why?”

“I can’t get into details, but we need to ask him a couple of questions.”

Her jaw was tight, and he could see all her motherly instincts to protect coming to life. Lyla and her mother looked nothing alike—Lyla was fair like her father while her mom and brother had olive-toned skin and dark hair. But Lyla had gotten her fierce drive as well as her softer side from her mother.

“He’s not in any trouble,” Logan said quietly. He knew Joe, and he would’ve bet his badge that Lyla’s brother wasn’t involved. But he couldn’t taint his investigation by ignoring leads simply because he knew the people.

Mrs. Evans narrowed her eyes, obviously trying to read his real intentions, but finally agreed, “Okay. I’m staying while you talk to him, though. And if I don’t like the questions, you’re leaving, Logan.”

“I understand, Mrs. Evans.”

She frowned, then stood back and let him and Ella inside. They followed her through the familiar house where he’d come with Lyla countless times during their three-year relationship and into the den, where Joe was sitting.

Joe didn’t look up when they entered the room, but Logan hadn’t expected him to. He sat down next to Lyla’s brother and said, “Hi, Joe.”

Joe looked at him, blinked a few times. “Hi, Logan.”

He didn’t seem either happy or upset to see him, but Logan didn’t allow that lack of response to bother him despite the three years he’d tried to befriend Lyla’s brother. He knew Joe’s autism meant he didn’t process the world in the same way as others, didn’t feel or show emotions in the same way. But that didn’t mean he didn’t have them. And it definitely didn’t mean he could have killed Theresa or anyone else. Joe might have been different, but once you got to know him, got past his social awkwardness, he was a sweet guy.

Ella sat quietly on the chair across from them, letting him take the lead, while Lyla’s mom stood in the doorway, watching carefully.

“Joe, I know we haven’t seen each other in a while, but I just wanted to ask you a few questions, okay?”

“Two years, four months, one day,” Joe said. “Two years, four months and one day since Lyla moved away.”

Logan nodded, knowing without calculating the time himself that Joe was right. “That is a long time.”

Joe shrugged, staring ahead of him at some spot on the carpet. “What are your questions?”

“I wanted to ask about your mom’s van. You drive it sometimes, don’t you?”

“Yes. I drive it to work some days. Some days, Mom drives me and sometimes I take myself to work.”

“Have you driven the van anywhere else in the past few weeks?” Logan glanced at Lyla’s mom as he asked the question, but she didn’t react to it. She just crossed her arms over her chest.

“I took it for ice cream Thursday of last week at eight p.m. And I drove to the movies on Saturday, two weeks ago, for a six o’ clock movie.
Indiana Jones
was playing at the Retro.”

Logan smiled. The Retro was the theater in town that played old movies, usually classics. It was decked out to look like a theater from decades ago, with red velvet curtains across the screen and everything. He and Lyla had gone with Joe a handful of times when they were dating.

“Did you take the van anywhere else in the last few weeks?”

Joe shook his head, still not looking at Logan.

“Okay, Joe.” Logan stood. “That’s all I needed to ask you about. It was nice to see you.”

“Wait,” Ella interrupted, leaning forward in her seat. “Joe, have you been watching the news?”

Lyla’s mom took a step closer, and Logan watched her, telling her with his eyes that it was okay.

Joe looked at Ella, then back at the floor. “Sometimes I watch the news. If Mom or Dad has it on.”

“Have you heard about the woman in the marsh?”

Joe’s mouth turned downward, making him look sad and childlike. “Somebody hurt her.”

“Yes,” Ella said, “Somebody did.”

Lyla’s mom opened her mouth, probably to stop the questioning, but Ella stood and said, “That’s all we needed.”

“Okay,” Joe said. “Bye.”

“Bye, Joe.” Logan briefly felt nostalgic. He and Lyla hadn’t been able to make it work, but underneath the career-minded reporter had been a good person, with a great family. He wouldn’t have gone back and made a different decision, but he wished things had ended better.

Across from him, Ella—the woman who had recently taken hold of his heart and refused to let go—said, “Thanks for helping us out, Joe.”

Joe nodded at Ella, then picked up the remote and turned on the TV.

As Lyla’s mom led them back to the door, she said, “Good luck with your case, Logan.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Evans.”

She glanced over at Ella, who was making her way to his Chevy Caprice, then back to him. “I guess I’d hoped, when you showed up...” She shrugged. “Lyla is happy up north, with her new job. She’s dating someone nice.” She paused and finally added, “Your girl seems nice, too.”

Logan felt himself flush. “She’s not—”

“You can’t fool an old lady,” Mrs. Evans interrupted. “Goodbye, Logan.” She closed the door before he could reply.

When he got into the car, Ella said softly, “They’re nice people.”

Logan nodded. “Yeah, they are.” He started the car. “Let’s go talk to Sean Fink and Adam Pawlter’s nephew.”

Ella was silent as they drove toward the Pawlter house, but Logan could practically hear her thinking.

“What’s on your mind?”

She turned to face him, but didn’t hold his gaze. “Nothing. Just that Joe doesn’t fit the profile, I guess.”

He could tell there was more, but since he suspected it had to do with Lyla, he didn’t ask.

Instead, he maneuvered up to a small weathered house nestled among brand-new condos. The city of Newton was being developed fast, so fast sometimes it barely looked familiar to Logan, even though he’d spent his entire life nearby. “This is Adam Pawlter’s place,” he said as he parked.

Ella looked surprised. “I thought we were talking to his nephew.”

“We can, but Adam’s the one with the van. And I don’t know Marshall’s last name—he’s Adam’s sister’s kid—so we’d have to get his address from Adam anyway.” Logan hopped out and headed to the door, hoping this interview would go better than the last one. If nothing else, at least it would be easier.

Ella followed more slowly, gazing around curiously.

“Hank told me developers tried to buy up this whole area. I guess Adam was the only one who wouldn’t sell.”

He knocked sharply on the door, and had almost given up when it finally opened. Logan had a vague recollection of Adam Pawlter, but the man standing in front of him didn’t match his memory.

Once, he’d been tall and sturdy, as if he belonged on a ship, out shrimping. Now, he was frail and hunched over, and he looked years older than he actually was.

“Sir, I’m Detective Logan Greer, Oakville PD. I wanted to ask you a few questions.”

Adam turned to Ella and she held out her hand. “Ella Cortez. I’m consulting with the Oakville Police Department.”

Adam leaned against the door frame. “And you want to talk to me?” he rasped. “About what?”

“We just need to ask you a few questions about your van,” Logan replied.

Adam’s eyes narrowed and his mouth twisted in a scowl. “Way to sidestep the real question, son.” He produced a hacking cough, then stepped back. “And I remember you, Logan. You kids used to come out to our beaches.”

Logan smiled. “A long time ago.”

“Come on in. I need to sit down anyway.” He turned, leading them into his house, which was dimly lit and cluttered with boxes.

“I figured I’d do some of the work myself,” Adam said, gesturing to the boxes as he sat down on his couch, by an oxygen tank. “I’ve got lung cancer. Aggressive. Figured there was no need to leave Marshall to deal with all my stuff when I was gone.” He heaved a sigh. “That boy’s already been through all of this once, losing his parents when he was just twelve. Happened on vacation, too, poor kid. He had to wait there while I drove up to North Carolina to get him. Took years to get him out of his shell afterward. And now, he’s watching me go, too.”

“I’m so sorry—” Logan started.

Adam waved his hand in the air. “I smoked for too many years. Let’s not dwell on it. What do you need to know about my van?”

Beside him, Ella spoke up. “Where’s the van now?”

“Marshall took it to the docks.”

“Marshall...?” Ella prompted.

Adam’s eyes narrowed, but he replied, “My nephew. Marshall Jennings. He’s always worked for me, but now he’ll take over the company. He picked up the van early this morning, left his car here. The pink shrimp season just started.”

Logan nodded. Being local, he knew about the fishing industries. “Does he borrow it often?”

Something flashed in Adam’s eyes. “Well, now he’ll have to, won’t he? Since I can’t work anymore.”

There was an uncomfortable pause, then Ella asked, “Does anyone else drive it?”

“Sure. Everyone on my crew has driven that thing at one point or another.”

“Your crew?” Ella asked.

“For my shrimping company. I’ve got a crew of seven. I bought the van for work, so that’s what we use it for.”

“Does anyone drive it outside work hours?”

Adam’s jaw jutted out and he stared down at Ella’s shoes. “Nope. It’s for transporting our haul. Doesn’t even have seats in the back, and it smells like shrimp, so I don’t think anyone would want to.”

“Are you sure?”

He looked up at her, anger flashing in his eyes. “Of course I’m sure.”

“And what time do your men go out in the morning? Do they all stick together?” Ella asked.

Logan knew exactly what she was wondering—whether one of them could have snuck off before work started and used the shrimping boat to dump a body. But Logan knew Adam’s boat was too big to go into the marsh. If one of his crew was responsible, he hadn’t used the shrimping boat.

“What do you mean,
stick together
?” Adam scowled at Logan, raising his eyebrows as if the question was stupid. “They go out on the ocean together, of course.”

“Can we get a list of people who work for you, sir?” Logan asked.

Adam let out another long, hacking cough. “I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

“Because you still haven’t told me what this is about, and I don’t like the implication that one of my guys is doing something wrong. They’re all solid workers. Every one of them has worked for me forever.” Adam coughed again, violently, then reached for his oxygen tank. “Please show yourself out.”

“Sir—” Logan started.

“I want you out! Go!” Adam fumbled with his oxygen, pressing the mask over his nose and mouth.

Logan waited until Adam was breathing without it before he said, “Okay. Sorry to bother you, sir.”

He followed Ella out the door and as soon as they were back in his car, Ella said, “Well,
someone
is using that van.”

Logan frowned back at her. “Maybe. I don’t remember Adam all that well, but I do know he was always ornery. Plus, everyone in three counties probably knows what case I’m investigating by now, so I’m sure he’s not happy with what my questions implied.” He started the car. “Ready to talk to Sean Fink?”

“Well, we’re on such a roll. Why not?”

Logan grinned as he pulled back onto the street for the short drive to Oakville and Sean’s house. “You’re a good partner, Ella.” Logan winked at her. “And a lot prettier than Hank O’Connor.”

He’d expected a laugh—or at least an eye roll—but when he glanced over at her, she looked pensive. “What did I say?”

“Nothing. You’re a good partner, too.”

Her tone was serious, and just when he realized she might be talking about something other than the case, she added, “But I’m not sure you ever want to let Hulking Hank hear you say his name in the same sentence as the word
pretty
.”

Logan snorted. “I bet he’d like that nickname, though. Hulking Hank.”

“Probably.”

Logan glanced over at her, trying to read her, but for once, he genuinely couldn’t tell what she was thinking. Before he could ask, he spotted someone leaving a house up ahead, and he hit the brakes, jerked the gearshift into park and hopped out. “Sean!”

The thirty-six-year-old spun toward them, surprise flashing across his features. He strolled over and well before Ella stepped out of the car and Sean reached them, Logan could tell he was drunk. He checked his watch. It was barely noon.

“Logan,” Sean said. “How’s it hanging?”

Sean had been a year ahead of him, but they’d gone to school together, played high school football together. They’d never really been friends, though, and Logan’s dislike of the man ratcheted up a notch as Sean grinned at Ella and actually licked his lips.

“Hi, there,” Sean said, sticking out his hand in Ella’s direction. “I’m Sean Fink.”

Ella shook his hand briskly. “Ella Cortez.”

Sean nodded, holding on to Ella’s hand too long. “You’re the FBI girl, aren’t you?” He grinned at her again, the kind of smile that had probably worked for him in his twenties, picking up women in bars, but Logan couldn’t believe he still used it. “I like a woman who knows her way around a gun.”

Ella’s eyebrows jumped, and her mouth flattened, as though she was barely holding in her disgust.

“Sean,” Logan said sharply, and the man dropped Ella’s hand. Finally. “We have a few questions for you.”