Dead Storm Page 5

  “Yeah, this damn weather.”

  “You’ve already done that, now put a sock in it and keep your eyes on the road. You’re swerving all over the place.”

  He held a hand up. “It’s the wind.”

  Palm trees were bending under the strain of wind and rain. Loose shrubs, and debris from overturned garbage cans rolled across the ground like tumbleweed. Most of the streets were empty because people were inside. Those that weren’t were seen packing their vehicles to the brim with luggage, bottled water and food to get out before landfall.

  “You’d think they’d have more sense and cancel the meeting,” Harvey said as he pulled the truck into the parking lot. Strangely there were a number of vehicles outside. That was the thing about Florida. There would always be some diehards who would try and ride out a hurricane even if evacuation was mandatory.

  Skylar pushed out of the vehicle feeling the full pressure of wind against the door before darting over to the building. It wasn’t much to look at on the outside, a one-story brown brick and mortar building, with drab cream-colored siding and a weathered sign outside advertising weekly events and sending out a caring word to the community to be safe. Some of the windows already had steel shutters on them. Harvey was first inside the lobby, shaking off his raincoat before Skylar followed. They’d arrived a little before seven and could see the members of the group mingling and having coffee in a small room just a few doors down from the main entrance. As soon as they stepped inside, eyes were on them. An older man, early fifties with salt-and-pepper hair and beard, approached. He wore a thin blue V-neck sweater, and black pants with sensible shoes.

  “Welcome,” he said introducing himself with a smile and a handshake. “Do you have your paperwork?”

  “Oh, we’re not here for the meeting,” Harvey said pulling his badge.

  “Ah, Lieutenant Baker?”

  “That’s right. And this is Detective Reid.”

  He glanced over his shoulder. “David, would you mind taking over?” Austin called to a well-built gentleman, early thirties with blond buzzed hair. “I shouldn’t be too long.” He gave a thumbs-up and Austin led them out. Before heading out, Skylar scanned the faces in the room. There were ten in attendance, women and men, none of them looked like they had anger issues, they were just your run-of-the-mill townsfolk.

  “You have quite a mixed bag here,” Skylar said as he led them out into the hallway and closed the doors behind him.

  “Yes. We get all types. How can I help you?” He glanced at his watch as if eager to get this wrapped up. Right then, Harvey’s phone started buzzing. He put up a finger and told them he would just be a second. He stepped away while Skylar casually walked down the hall looking at some of the notices on the walls.

  “You been at this long?” she asked.

  “Twelve years.”

  “Interesting profession. Three nights a week. That’s a whole lot of angry people.”

  “We cater to those outside of the county as well.”

  “I guess you would have to if this is your full-time job.”

  “I do this on the side actually. More as a service for the community.”

  Skylar raised an eyebrow. “As a way of giving back? That’s very admirable.”

  He followed her and came up alongside as she stopped to read a notice board. “Yeah, my profession is as a therapist.”

  “Really? Wouldn’t you know it that I’m on the hunt for a good therapist?”

  “The local ones in Carrabelle not cutting it?”

  “Oh, no, they’re good but I like to mix it up. And not everyone is a good listener.”

  “I have a friend of mine who I could refer you to. Ben Walker.”

  She snorted. “Let’s just say Mr. Walker and I have history.”

  “Ah, then perhaps I can help.”

  “You can. But not for me. Look, I’ll get straight to it, Mr. Harrison. We need to know if Keith Norris was in attendance yesterday for the entire session.”

  “Keith. Yes. He was here,” he said taking a few steps across from her and re-pinning a flyer to the notice board. He also took down a couple and tossed them into a trash can nearby. “He joined the group, explained what he had gone through, how things were progressing and left at the end of the meeting just as he had for the past two weeks.”

  “Did he say what his issues were?”

  Austin snorted as he adjusted another flyer. “That’s confidential. I’m sure you wouldn’t want anyone talking about what you’ve been going through after a session, am I right?”

  Skylar smiled as she followed him down to the next notice board. “C’mon, we know everyone is here for anger issues. No mystery there. I just want some details about his anger towards Jason Matthews.” He stopped and looked at her. “That’s right. We know he had issues with his brother-in-law, and I can quite easily bring up his record. What I’m interested to know is how he was working through those issues. Was it getting any better? Did he sound like he might have murderous inclinations? You know, the general run-of-the-mill psychopathic warning flags like…I want to strangle him to death?”

  “Detective, every session vulnerable people show up here. It takes a lot of courage.”

  Skylar frowned. “Courage, my ass. Most of them are mandated by the court or the probation department. They have to be here.”

  “Of course. A large number of our attendees are that way but there are those that choose to be here.”

  “Keith Norris wasn’t one. So, let’s skip the whole circle of trust BS, shall we? And let’s face it, does anyone really get any better by coming here and talking about it?”

  “Has talking helped you?”

  She smiled then thought back to the previous night. “Not exactly but I’m not here to discuss myself. Let’s stay on topic, shall we? Did Keith show any troubling signs the last time you saw him? And did he arrive late or leave early?”

  Austin turned and looked at her. “Why? Is he of interest to you?”

  “We found Jason Matthews murdered on the same night he said he was here.”

  Austin’s brow furrowed and he shifted his weight from one foot to the next. “That’s terrible.” He nodded slowly a few times. “What I can tell you is that Keith acknowledged that things had got out of hand between him and Jason. His anger issues didn’t just stem from his interaction with him but from stuff that went back to his childhood. He was trying to better himself for his sister, for his wife. And to be honest, detective, he didn’t strike me as a man that would kill anyone.”

  “He didn’t strike me as a man that would run but he did. But don’t worry, he’s in custody at the moment.”

  “You can ask anyone here what they think. He came across as a gentleman who just had a problem with his drink. When he drank he became someone else. And that’s not exactly uncommon. There are many that are like that.”

  Again, she thought of herself, and how she could barely remember what had occurred the night before. Was it possible that in a drunken state, Keith could have blacked out and committed a murder and when he came to have no idea he’d done it? She certainly knew there were many things she’d done with that guy the night before that she couldn’t remember. Admitting to that would have been to give Keith some slack and with Hurricane Norman bearing down on them, they didn’t have time to give people the benefit of the doubt.

  “Mr. Harrison, I’m not denying he might have come across as the gentle, all-American, I’ve got a few undealt with childhood issues but I wouldn’t hurt a fly kind of guy, but I think you would agree that even those who knew Ted Bundy thought he wasn’t capable of murder. Humans are complicated and we are very good at hiding who we really are.”

  “Well then as I have said before, if your question is, was he here? Yes. You can see the video online. We record and post every session we have to a private server.”

  “But I thought you said it was all confidential?”

  “Detective, because of the nature of what we do, we record ever
y session. It’s for our protection as well as theirs. It’s confidential but I also use each one so I can improve as a counselor.”

  She nodded. “Well I would be interested in getting a copy of that or if you can provide us with access that would be good. In the meantime, you wouldn’t mind if I spoke with a few of those in attendance?”

  Austin glanced at his watch. “You’ll have to make it quick, we start our session soon. But by all means. Go ahead.”

  Skylar wandered back down the carpeted hallway to the main room. Harvey was still on the phone when she slipped inside and looked around. She ambled over to a table and poured herself a coffee, picked up a chocolate chip cookie from a plate and took a bite. “Not bad, huh?” a girl with purple hair asked.

  “The coffee or cookies?” Skylar replied.

  “Both.”

  She shrugged. “The taste is familiar.”

  “He sells bags over there.”

  Skylar turned and looked at a wicker basket that was full of packets of coffee. She smiled, realizing it was Donnie’s. He’d recently started selling his own brew that was roasted locally, and it was already a big hit with the locals to the despair of Barb. She was just about to talk to the girl when Harvey called to her. “We gotta move. Looks like Reznik got a lead on that van that was seen the night Matthews died.”

  “But they’ve got cookies, Harv.”

  “Reid!”

  “Can’t Reznik deal with it? I was hoping to—”

  “Davenport has him helping with emergency management. C’mon.”

  “Hanson then.”

  “Reid!”

  Skylar threw up a hand. “Okay, okay,” she said scanning the faces one last time before dashing out with a cookie in hand.

  7

  Marine Street had turned into a mini river. Besides a few brave people the streets were all but empty when they arrived in Carrabelle. The sighting of the white van placed it in a parking space just south of Harry’s Bar. The wind and rain were out of control as they pulled up a few vehicles down from it. Branches, leaves and garbage blew across the street making it hard to see. There were two Carrabelle cruisers on scene with their red and blue lights flashing wildly. While the van was parked just a few feet from the marina it wasn’t the vehicle that was getting all the attention. The cops had cordoned off a section of the woodland that was at the corner of South East Avenue and Marine Street.

  “I’m telling you Austin is holding back something,” Skylar said.

  “And you surmised this from what, the way he squinted at you?” Harvey laughed.

  “It’s a gut feeling.”

  “Reid, if I gave any weight to my feelings I would have sought out another partner,” Harvey said as he stopped the vehicle.

  Skylar was the first out, pulling at her jacket and pressing into the rain and wind. Harvey wasn’t that far behind her. She’d never experienced weather that bad. The city of New York had shielded her from the worst of it. Winters were harsh but nothing compared to this. Officer Miles was on scene with two more officers. Cloaked in rain gear, they had taken up shelter beneath a large oak and were huddled together talking when Skylar approached. Rain was dripping off his hat and he was shivering.

  “Ah, glad you’re finally here.”

  “Miles.”

  “Skylar.”

  “What’s the deal with the van?” Skylar asked.

  “No one was in it. But we have established that the owner is Lamar Erickson, 44 years of age…” Miles trailed off, pointing to the victim who was hanging from a thick tree branch. “Not to jump the gun but it looks like suicide to me. Wallet, keys, personal belongings were in the van. No forced entry. All the doors were closed when we arrived.”

  As Harvey came up the rear, he slowed then took a few steps back, placing a hand on his waist and the other across the back of his neck

  “Whoa. What the hell? I know this guy.”

  “What?” Skylar asked.

  “He worked at Harry’s Bar. Was one of the bar staff.” Harvey looked at her. “Surely you would know that, you’re a regular there.”

  She shrugged.

  “Right. You don’t remember.”

  “I drop in at night. It’s dark. Loud. And…” she trailed off trying to think of the last time she got wasted. Skylar walked around the tree scanning the ground for prints. The soil was wet. “Hopeless,” Skylar said.

  “You’re telling me,” Harvey said.

  “No, look,” she said pointing.

  It wasn’t just the sight of a dead black man hanging from the tree that was disturbing, it was the word Hopeless graffitied in red down the back side of the tree trunk. Miles walked closer to them. “How did you know he was here?” Skylar asked.

  “The owner of the home, just through there,” he said pointing to a house through the trees. The house was so close that someone could have witnessed it.

  “You got a name and statement?”

  He pulled out his notepad. “Of course. They were attaching shutters to their home when they saw the guy through the trees.”

  “In this weather?” Harvey said in a disbelieving tone.

  “It’s a pretty clear shot from their home actually,” Miles said. “I had them show me where they were. It’s a regular family with three kids. They’ve been cleared for now.”

  “For now,” Harvey said walking around and shaking his head. “He was a good guy. I knew his mother. He never struck me as the suicidal type. Was always jovial when I talked to him. He had a good outlook on life, a good relationship with the owner of the bar. Said he was hoping to run it someday.”

  “Ah you know bar types,” Miles said. “They get too close to their work.”

  “Have you taken photos yet?” Harvey asked. “We’ll need to get that rope checked too and see if it’s similar to the one used on Matthews.”

  “Looks like regular rope to me,” Miles said.

  Skylar looked up. “That it does.”

  “Anyway. Photos?” Harvey asked again.

  Miles shook his head. His cheeks were flushed. “No. We were waiting for your guys to show up.”

  Harvey pulled out his phone and tried to get in touch with Hanson to find out where he was. While he was doing that Skylar put on some blue latex gloves and returned to the van to check it. Just like Miles said, nothing seemed out of place. It was unlocked but that was it. She looked off down the road to Harry’s Bar. Why park here? There was plenty of parking across from Harry’s. She returned and Harvey was still on the phone, having an argument with Hanson. Some things never changed. She walked about ten yards around the area looking in the bushes for anything of significance. That was when she spotted a spray can of paint. Crouching down, she stretched out and retrieved the can. Sure enough it was red. “Got something,” she yelled. Harvey finished his call and walked over. He took it from her and bagged it, requesting a check for prints.

  “I just don’t see the connection. Jason was married, Erickson wasn’t. Jason was from Port St. Joe. Erickson was from Carrabelle.”

  “He could have met him in the bar,” Skylar said. “Or he could have had a connection to the blonde that Matthews was seeing. Maybe you can go speak to the bar owner. See what they have to say about it,” she said as she walked back to Miles.

  “I can do that,” Harvey said.

  “Hanson on his way?”

  “Don’t even get me started on him.”

  Skylar shook her head. “Harv, when are you going to bury the hatchet with him?”

  “Never.”

  “You’ve got to work with him. It’s time to let it go.”

  “If it was your sister, would you?” Harvey said brushing past her.

  The discord between the two of them was palpable. Harvey still blamed Hanson and Reznik for an incident that had occurred years ago, before Skylar had arrived. He blamed them for the death of his sister even though Hanson said there were many other lives at risk that night and holding off the raid would have placed even more women in danger
. Harvey didn’t see it that way.

  Skylar turned to Miles. “You said his phone was still on him. You have that?”

  “Yeah,” he cast a glance over his shoulder. “Saunders. You got the phone?”

  Another officer ambled over and handed it to her. She powered it on and noticed it wasn’t locked. If he was hiding a secret, she’d expected he’d at least lock the phone. Nope. Within seconds she was inside and bringing up who he’d messaged or phoned last. They needed to pin down the time of his death, or at least whoever spoke to him last. She turned the phone around. “You familiar with this guy?” Skylar asked Harvey.

  “Mike Randall? Never heard of him.”

  She glanced at her wristwatch briefly. It was just after eight at night. “Well it looks like Erickson was. He must have had him on speed dial as he spoke with him only an hour ago and going by his call history, they chatted frequently. Strangely enough though there are no text messages.”

  Harvey leaned in as she showed him.

  “No pun intended but we need to get a report on whether or not that rope is tied to the Matthews case.”

  Harvey groaned. “Reid. Sometimes I shake my head.”

  “Sometimes?”

  “Look, that’s going to take some time.”

  “We don’t have time.”

  “Well I can’t do that and speak to the bar owner. This damn storm is a pain the ass.”

  Resources were thin with most of them being thrown at ensuring people got out of town safely.

  “Leave that with me. I’ll swing back around and collect you in five,” Skylar said. She hurried away while Harvey got back on the phone and barked a few orders at the other officers. Trying to piece together an investigation under normal circumstances was hard, but when it felt like they were in a wind tunnel and rain was battering them from all sides, and the worst was still to come, it made every interaction a living nightmare. After parking outside Harry’s, she hurried in. Inside the bar, light rock music played and staff were overturning chairs and battening down the hatches.

  “Sorry, we are closing soon.” A busty gal with short blond hair in her early twenties was cleaning up behind the bar.