Out For Justice (11 page)

Chapter Twenty-Two

Sam parked his unmarked police car in front of a house two doors down from the Thomas house. It was the best he could do, considering he was trying to be discreet.

The same car as before was parked in the Thomas driveway. It didn’t look like it had moved. Sam wondered if it even ran. He sat behind the steering wheel of his car watching the house. From his viewpoint he could see the front door and driveway. He leaned back and got comfortable. Something told him that this was only the beginning.

A couple hours had passed with no activity outside the house. Getting stiff, Sam stepped out of the car to stretch. He pulled his arms above his head and twisted his waist. Several cracks could be heard coming from his spine. He lowered his arms slowly, all the while watching the silent house.

Not knowing if anyone was at the Thomas home at the moment, Sam decided to walk over to the house and knock on the front door. He could come up with a quick excuse if he needed. Especially if Maggie became suspicious about why he was there.

Walking the short distance from the car to the house, Sam patted his right front pants pocket to make sure he had his cell phone. He wanted to ensure he was accessible in case Karen called with information about the arrest warrant.

Looking at the front yard, Sam had the insane feeling that the little concrete garden gnomes were watching him as he walked up the front sidewalk. He shook off the sensation as nonsense and gave a short laugh out loud. His voice sounded strange in the stillness of the day. The neighborhood was quiet; no children played in the yards or raced their bikes along the sidewalks. No neighbors chatted in their yards as they watered dry patches of grass and weeds. It was a strange sensation to feel so alone as he made his way to the front door.

Sam knocked briskly and firmly on the warmed and water stained front door then waited for a response. Within a few seconds the door was opened and Maggie stood before him, her short blonde hair in spiky points around her head and her chest heaving rapidly. Sam wondered what could have put her in such a disheveled mood.

“Detective Anderson, what are you doing here?”

“Hello, Ms. Morris. I came by to see if Raymond was at home or if you’d seen him recently.” Sam stood waiting on the steps.

“Raymond? Uh, you just missed him. He was here this morning, but took off again. He said if I called the police he’d come after me or have one of his friends take care of me.” Maggie looked down as if to hide tears in her eyes.

“We’d protect you, Ms. Morris, he wouldn’t be able to hurt you.”

“Protect me? No offense, detective, but I doubt you could protect me from Ray or his friends.”

Feeling the sweat gathering between his shoulder blades, Sam shrugged his shoulders inside his jacket. He needed to gain Maggie’s trust. Her contact with Thomas was their only link right now. “Ms. Morris?”

“Yes?”

“May I come in and talk to you? I’m sure we could work out some sort of agreement that could be mutually beneficial to both of us.”

“Come in? Where are my manners? Yeah, come in.” Maggie moved aside from the front door so that Sam was able to walk through into the living room. It hadn’t changed much since the last time he was there. The air was still stale and dry. The dust layers seemed to have grown thicker, and the pile of empty beer bottles and soda cans was still on the floor.

Sam stepped carefully into the room, watching where he placed his feet. “I appreciate you giving me a chance to talk to you about this.”

“Won’t you sit down?” Maggie motioned to the couch against the wall.

Sam considered his options and came to the conclusion that if he wanted to gain her trust, he should get her relaxed, and sitting was more comfortable. “Thank you.” Sam eyed the stained couch with distrust. He figured his pants could be cleaned and the stains did look old.

Maggie took the chair opposite the couch after she threw the pile of clothes that were on it to the floor.

Sam took out his notebook and noted the date and time. “So you said Raymond was already here this morning. Did he say why he was avoiding the police?”

“Ray?” Maggie’s eyes darted off to her left then came back to look at Sam. She lifted a hand and attempted to smooth down the curls on her head. “He said he’s not stupid. He’s seen the news. He knows you want to ask him questions about that little boy’s murder. He says you’re not pinning it on him.”

“If he came in to the station to talk to us, we could sort it all out. If he’s innocent, it’ll all work out to his benefit.”

“If? What does that mean? Do you think Ray did it?”

“We’re not sure yet, Ms. Morris.” Sam shifted slightly in his seat on the couch cushion. It felt like the springs would pop through at the slightest pressure.

“Ms. Morris? Call me Maggie.”

“Maggie. We have evidence that puts Raymond at the scene. We need to talk to him about why he was there.”

“You just want to talk to him? I don’t know, detective. Ray, he probably won’t go for something like that. He’ll think it’s a trap.”

Sam watched Maggie’s leg bounce up and down as she tapped her foot. Was she nervous because she was supposed to meet Ray somewhere and he was keeping her? Or was she nervous because Ray was coming back to the house. Whatever it was, Sam was going to figure it out. “Does Ray have another place he stays at when he’s not here?”

“Another place? I dunno, he doesn’t tell me where he’s going when he leaves here.” Maggie twisted the hem of her t-shirt into a wad around her finger.

Sam leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. “Maggie, is there something you’re not telling me?”

“Me? No, not really. I mean, no. I don’t have anything to tell.” The twisted cloth around her finger got tighter.

In a softer voice, Sam said, “Come on now. You can tell me. If you think Ray’s going to hurt you, we have places where you can go. Where he can’t find you.” Sam leaned forward a bit more. “We can protect you. But you have to talk to me. Tell me what you know.”

Maggie looked around the room. Her eyes grew wide. She stopped twisting the t-shirt around her finger. “I don’t know, detective. Ray said he’d kill me if I told you about…about…what he did.” The last few words came out in a whisper.

“What do you mean, ‘what he did’?” Sam tried not to act too eager and kept his hands loose. “What aren’t you telling me, Maggie?”

“Me? I’m not sure. I don’t remember a whole lot, you see.” Maggie stopped and looked around as if she were afraid Raymond would appear around the corner. “I don’t think I should be telling you this. What if Ray comes back and sees me talking to you? What do I do then?”

Sam sat up a little straighter, grimacing when the couch springs moved in rusty protest. “Is Ray coming back?”

“Ray? He might.”

“Did he say he was coming back? Did he give you a time?”

“A time? Right. Yeah, Ray is always saying he’ll be back by such and such a time, but he never shows up. He just comes and goes whenever he wants.” Maggie tossed her head and the bright blonde curls bounced.

“Would you feel more comfortable if we went down to the station and you told me what you know there?” Sam wanted to make sure he covered all his options.

“To the police station? No, I don’t think so. No, definitely not. I ain’t going down to no police station.” Curls flew as Maggie vehemently shook her head.

“Stay calm, stay calm.” Sam held out his hands in a gesture of peace. “We don’t have to go down to the police station. It was just a suggestion because you seemed uncomfortable talking here. We’ll talk wherever you want, okay?”

“Are you sure?” Maggie cast a doubtful glance toward Sam. “I can talk here, I guess.” She started twisting the hem of her t-shirt around her finger again.

“Let’s start with this, shall we?” Sam held up his notebook and said, “You tell what you know about Raymond and what connection he might have with the Hunt boy murder.”

“You want me to tell you what I know? I don’t know much, that’s for sure.” Maggie let the hem of her t-shirt unwind then twisted it around a finger on her other hand. “Ray, he came home one night, all high and shit, I mean stuff. All high and stuff. He’s talking real fast and I can hardly understand what he’s saying. I tell him, ‘Ray, slow down, slow down’ but he just keeps on talking.”

Sam kept quiet and let Maggie continue on with her story. He made notes in his notebook as she spoke.

“I never seen him like this before, you know? I mean, he’s all wild and crazy talking. He says he ain’t never done anything like that before, but he did a kid. That’s what he kept saying over and over, ‘I did a kid’, real fast like.” Maggie used her hands to hold down her knee. It bounced uncontrollably next to the leg of the chair. She pushed a few curls out of her face and went on, “I didn’t know what he was talking about, and he was scaring me, you know? He passed out on me and then the next morning, he’s all, ‘my head, my head’ like he’s got this massive hangover. He tells me that if I ever tell anyone what he told me last night he’ll kill me too. Just like he did the kid.”

“He said that? He said, ‘just like I did the kid’?”

“Huh? Yeah, he did. And he made choking motions toward my neck when he said it.” Maggie held a hand to her throat and swallowed hard.

“Did he say if anyone was with him? Do you know if he went out that night with other people? Maybe some friends of his?”

“Anyone else? No, I don’t really remember. He did say when he left that he was going out. That could mean he went out with those assholes he hangs out with on the corner or who knows.”

“You don’t get along with Ray’s friends?”

“Me? They’re nobodies. They don’t have any ambition. They just want to hang out all day and do nothing but drink beer and smoke pot. They didn’t have any sense to see that I was trying to help Ray make something of himself and this place.” Maggie grew animated and swung her hands about as she talked. “I tried to fix up this place, you know, I thought the statues made a nice touch in the front yard, but those assholes, all they did was laugh and make fun of them. Ray, he laughed too.” Maggie’s hands curled into small fists. “They didn’t laugh for long. No, they didn’t.” She took a deep breath, then refocused. “I thought Ray was different.”

Sam's pen lifted from the paper.

He paused.

He finished writing then asked if he could use his cell phone to contact his partner. He was eager to find out if Sykes was having any problems with getting the warrant and when she’d be able to drive out to the house.

“Cell phone? Sure thing. I’ll give you some privacy. I, uh, have some things to do in the other room. You just stay here and make your call.” Maggie quickly stood up and walked out of the room. She didn’t look back.

Sam carefully stood up as well, and sighed in relief when the couch cushion springs managed to stay on their own side of the stained and dirty upholstery. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed Karen’s cell phone number.

“Sykes.”

“Sykes? Sam here. Do you have the warrant?”

“Yeah, Sam. Got it. I’m making my way out of the courthouse now. I can be there in twenty minutes, thirty tops, depending on traffic.”

“Great. Maggie Morris admitted that Thomas killed the little boy.”

“That’s great, right? Now we got him. Does she know where he is?”

“No, or else she’s not saying. I have my doubts about her and her story. Something just doesn’t sit right with me. We should run a background check on her too. Remind me about it when we get back to the office.”

“Sure thing. You getting some bad vibes about this?”

“Yeah. Maybe I’m just getting old and don’t trust anyone anymore.”

“Maybe. And maybe your instincts are kicking in. I’ll be there soon.”

“See you when you get here.”

“Bye.”

Sam ended his cell phone call with Karen then dialed his office to see if there were any messages. He had his back to the room. A sudden sound made him turn around and when he did a foot caught him in the face and sent him hard against the wall. His cell phone went flying. Bright clusters of sharp light broke out all around him. His nose gushed blood as his eyes filled with tears and brimmed over. He knew his nose was broken, but he tried not to focus on the pain. He had to locate his attacker.

Sam’s eyes darted left and right as he looked quickly around the room, trying to focus through the blood and tears. Not seeing anything to his left, he held his hands out and turned to his right. From out of nowhere another foot caught him unaware in the throat. He tried to cry out. His breath left his body. He sucked in, but no air would return. It was as if a large vise was tightening around his throat. The last thing Sam heard before his mind went blissfully blank was a loud snap coming from his neck as that foot connected once again.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Kelly stood in the doorway of her home watching the road. The big yellow school bus slowed to a stop in front of their driveway, lights blinking. The red stop sign swung out from the side of the bus, the brakes screeched, and with a loud swish the door opened. Traffic stopped behind the bus.

Amber jumped down the steps of the bus first, followed by her sister Ashley. Kelly watched them as they saw her waiting for them and waved. Kelly could hear Ashley yelling at the top of her lungs even over the bus’ noisy engine.

The girls ran from the end of the driveway to the door, each competing with the other until they reached their mother.

“I win!”

“No, I beat you. Momma, didn’t I beat her?” Ashley pleaded.

“You both won,” Kelly said to soothe her daughters. She let them inside and watched as they dropped book bags and headed for the kitchen. She sighed. Looking down at their bags, she knew she’d have to pick them up before Mark got home. It wouldn’t do for him to see the girls’ stuff on the floor.

“I want a juice,” Amber said as she opened the refrigerator door.

“No, I want a juice first.” Ashley struck out at her sister and kicked her in the knee.

Amber cried out from the pain then turned and slapped her sister. The sound reverberated in the suddenly quiet room.

“Ashley!” Kelly cried out. “What are you doing hitting your sister?” She placed a hand on Amber’s head and smoothed down her hair. “Come here and let me see.”

Brushing back the hair from Amber’s face, she checked her for any sign of bruising. The only sign was a reddening high on her cheek.

“Mommy, it hurts.”

“I know, darling. Let me get you some ice.” Kelly opened the freezer and took out a small handful of ice cubes and placed them in a few paper towels. She held the ice pack to her daughter’s face. Turning to Ashley, she said, “Come here and apologize to your sister. We don’t hit each other in this house.”

“Daddy hits you,” Ashley said matter-of-factly as she stood watching her mother attend to her sister.

“Oh my God.”

The color drained from Kelly’s face. She gripped the countertop until the knuckles in her fingers turned white. She dropped the ice pack and held her hand to her bruised face. What had she done to her children? Was she turning them into smaller images of their father where they solved all problems with the smack of a hand? She felt like screaming and running from the house as far and as fast as she could. This couldn’t be happening. Her chest heaved with emotion.

“Mommy, what’s wrong?” Amber said as she picked up the fallen ice pack.

Kelly looked down at the innocent face of her child. Catching her breath, she closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them. She was over reacting. This wasn’t that serious. Her daughter was a child and reacted in a childish way the way that kids usually did. She fought with her sister when she was younger. Didn’t all kids do it? Replacing the ice pack on Amber’s cheek, she smiled and said, “There’s nothing wrong, pumpkin. Mommy just forgot something.”

“What did you forget?”

“Never you mind. Let’s get you some juice, okay?” Taking a deep breath, Kelly helped the girls get the juice out of the refrigerator and pour it into two cups. Her children were normal, she told herself. With shaking fingers, she opened the cookie jar and let the girls help themselves. Pouring herself a cup of coffee, she sat at the table with the chattering girls and listened to them describe their day and what they did in class.

It was only when she heard the familiar sound of Mark’s truck pulling into the driveway that she remembered to hurry and pick up the girls’ book bags before Mark walked in the door. Kelly tossed the bags onto the girls’ beds then rushed back into the kitchen to welcome her husband home from work.

Checking to make sure there was enough beer in the refrigerator, she pulled out a can and handed it to Mark while she said, “You’re home early.”

“Damn rain started.”

“It’s not raining yet here,” Kelly murmured quietly, motioning to the girls to go to their rooms.

Mark stomped through the living room and threw himself into his chair. “Of course it’s not raining here yet. What are you, stupid? It always rains over on the other side of town first. We’ll probably get it after supper.” He pulled the tie that kept his hair back away from his sweat-stained face, and let his hair fall onto his shoulders. Smoothing out the strands, he yelled, “Tell them girls to shut up or I’ll come in there and shut them up.”

“I’ll take care of them, here’s the remote for the TV.” Kelly handed her husband the television remote control then hurried out of the room to tell the girls to be quiet.

Kelly heard Mark call out from the living room, “Get me something to eat.”

Reminding the girls to play quietly, she rushed out of their room and into the kitchen to find her husband something to eat. She handed him a bag of pretzel twists and said softly, “Supper’ll be ready in a couple of hours.”

“I don’t give a damn if it’ll be ready in a couple of minutes. Give me the fuckin’ pretzels and leave me alone.”

“All right, Mark.”

Kelly kept her gaze averted and didn’t make eye contact with her husband. He didn’t even mention anything about this morning. To him, it’s probably all forgotten by now. But it wasn’t forgotten by her.

Not this time.