Chapter Seven
Far down in the center of his churning gut, Sam had a feeling this case was about to get seriously screwed up. Despite what the sexy PI said, there were probably people who wanted at the least to see her ass kicked, and worse were sitting on their couch, drinking a beer, and plotting how to get away with murder.
“When you mess with relationships, bank accounts, or child custody, emotions run hot,” he said. “A soccer dad could end up a killer with the right motivation.”
“Do you really believe a soccer dad would want me dead?”
“Picture your last divorce case where kids were involved and ask yourself that question.”
Her pretty face fell. “Oh, damn.”
“Yeah. Can you get me access to your cases?” he said. The odds were good that her job was the key. From what he’d learned when researching her, there wasn’t a lot going on in her personal life. Why that pleased him made no sense. “I want anything that might have involved threats, verbal or otherwise. We’ll start there.”
Jess rubbed her forehead. “I wish Summer was here. She’s better at computers that I am. But I’m sure I can get you what you need. We have a decent backup IT guy.”
Once that was concluded, he took her back to Brash. She had other cases to check on. Irving had taken care of the flat tire. With all the dents and flats and worn out engines Taryn went through, Irving had bought a storage building behind Brash and changed it into an auto shop. Several mechanics took care of all the employee cars.
“Does Brash have tire elves?” he said as he parked beside her SUV and looked out the window.
“Yep. They wear little green hats and pointed shoes.” She pushed open her door. “I’ll get those files and text you.”
He gave her his number and left.
Watching him pull out of the lot, she had to work very hard not to sigh like a lust-struck school girl. First, she was never one to swoon. Second, just because he was handsome did not make him her next romance disaster. Although she wanted a relationship like her friends had, the surly detective did not live up to any of the requirements on her list. Well, except for sexy. He had that in spades.
However, sexy alone could not carry a relationship into the happily-ever-after she wanted. The regrets would pile up before she got her bra off.
Nope. She had to keep her naughty thoughts about him in check and her mind on watching out for a crazy nut-job sniper.
* * *
Jess turned off the gravel road and headed for a double-wide trailer tucked back on overgrown acreage in the eastern end of Washtenaw County. The trailer sat at an angle to the road and up on crumbling cement blocks. The white metal shell of the home listed to the left and was rusted and peeling in spots.
A pair of old cars of indistinguishable vintage sat off to the right side, their headlights staring blankly at her as she wondered how anyone could call this disaster a home.
The trailer was the kind of place awaiting a hard wind to knock it over. Hopefully no one would be inside when it did.
Weeds hid what might have once been a driveway and she was grateful for all-wheel-drive as she bumped over potholes that could have eaten a Smart Car. She stopped and frowned, thinking she should have brought back-up, in case a rabid chipmunk decided to eat off her face.
She’d been hired to find Montrose Blevens by his ex-wife in hopes of squeezing child support from the deadbeat. He’d been hiding from her for ten years, while, according to Dani, he’d drank and gambled away any money he made from odd jobs around the local paper mill.
“Unless he’s buried a treasure chest under the trailer, she isn’t getting blood from this turnip,” Jess said as she tucked her gun into her holster and exited the SUV. There was a fair chance she’d need to shoot something. Might as well be prepared.
The home didn’t look any better up close. In fact, she was more disturbed. Gingerly climbing the rickety wooden steps of the small and rotting porch, and grateful she hadn’t encountered an angry skunk as she’d made her way through the brush, she rounded an empty dog bowl filled with dead leaves and knocked on the metal door. “Mr. Blevens?”
No answer. No dog barking. Good.
“Mr. Blevens!”
Still nothing. She turned the door handle. It was unlocked.
The door screamed like the damned as she pushed it open and peered into the darkness. “Mr. Blevens? You’ve won a trillion dollars from Publishers Clearing House. Come get your check.”
The stench of rotting food and unwashed everything else made her gag. She was convinced there was something dead in there, too. A hole in the floor led under the trailer and was an invite for critters to enter and expire. The trailer was so filthy that not even one of those hoarder shows could make it right. The place was only good for scrap metal. If that.
“Mr. Blevens?” The chance that anyone lived here was remote, but she’d seen worse. Desperate people would take any shelter from the elements, even this.
Before she could consider this lead dead, she had to look for clues to his next destination. So she carefully stepped over a pile of refuse and picked her way through the kitchen and living room. Careful not to touch anything gross, Jess wondered when she’d had her last tetanus shot.
No mail or maps or notes led her in the direction of her missing deadbeat. She moved on.
The stench worsened as she moved toward the back of the trailer and everything inside her told her to flee. And yet, she moved forward, determined to solve the mystery of the missing Mr. Blevens. There were four children out there who deserved more than they got from their father.
She pulled the neckline of her shirt up over her mouth and nose and braced herself for the discovery of the carcass of a dead critter when she opened the back bedroom door.
The smell almost knocked her flat. But that wasn’t what caused her heart to stop and fear to tear through her. Sitting on the bed with a beer can in one hand and a mummified hotdog in the other was a blurred shape of what had once been a living human being.
She screamed.