Chapter 2
Logan
This tight deadline on the most important project I’ve ever had is all that’s keeping me from getting on a plane to New York to track Banner down and get answers from the source. I can’t stop fucking thinking about the box of pregnancy tests I found in the bathroom.
As much as I want to call or text her to demand answers, this isn’t the kind of conversation that’s happening over the phone.
Before I can get lost in wrenching on the car, Jock yells over the beat of Boone Thrasher’s latest album playing in the garage.
“Cop wants to talk to you, boss.”
I jerk my head up and look in his direction. Sure enough, Cody Reeves is standing in the doorway between the waiting room and the shop.
Fuck. I toss the wrench into the top of my toolbox and yank the rag from the back pocket of my coveralls to wipe my hands. After turning down the stereo, I head in his direction.
“What can I do for you, Cody?” I ask as he backs up into the waiting room. Having a cop show up is never a good sign in my book. “You here about Jeff? Because I haven’t seen him or talked to him.”
“No. I got a few questions about a former employee of yours.”
“Who?”
“Roy Planter. I understand you fired him a few months back.”
My suspicions rise. Roy? What the fuck is going on with Roy? “Yeah, I fired him.”
He pulls out his cop notepad. “Do you remember when that was?”
“I’d have to check my records. I don’t recall the exact date.”
“Can you tell me why you fired him?”
“He showed up drunk one too many times, and I couldn’t have that kind of liability in my shop.”
Cody makes a note and looks up. “When’s the last time you saw him?”
“Why all the questions about Roy? What the hell is going on?”
“I need to know the last time you saw him, Logan.”
“At Piggly Wiggly. He was checking out ahead of me a couple weeks ago. Haven’t seen him since.”
“His daughter says you never liked him.”
I look up at the ceiling, trying for patience before I answer. “I fired the guy. It wasn’t personal; it was business. Rachel’s feelings on the matter don’t count. She and everyone else in this town know Roy needs to have his ass in a seat at AA if he wants to get some help.”
“That’s not gonna happen. His body was identified this morning by his dental records.”
Shock squeezes my chest like a vise. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
Cody closes his notepad and shoves it in his front pocket before he answers. “Roy Planter is dead. Seems he blew up himself and the old Nigel place early this morning.”
I start putting the pieces together. “I heard about it on the radio on my way to work. He was cookin’ meth?”
Cody gives me the cop shrug. “Allegedly. The crew is still going through the structure, but it was definitely a lab. Chief Timmons finally decided to take this shit seriously now that the national news is reporting on Gold Haven, so we’ve been told to investigate all possible avenues. We’re getting famous again, but this time for all the wrong reasons.”
I jam my hand into my hair. “Shit. What a fucking mess.”
“Damn right it is. Thanks for answering my questions.” Cody turns to walk toward the door, but pauses with his hand on the metal bar that stretches across the glass. “Is it just me, or does it seem like you’ve got connections to a lot of the people I’m investigating lately?”
I give him a hard look. “What are you trying to say, man? This is a small town. You could connect just about anyone to everyone else.”
“I’m not trying to say anything, just making an observation. Have a good one, Logan.”
He pushes open the door, leaving me standing in the waiting room with a punch of guilt. My hands clench into fists.
This isn’t my fault.
Fuck.
* * *
Six hours later, my stomach is gnawing on my spine, and I straighten from under the hood of Boone Thrasher’s Olds 442. This restoration is testing my limits, including this stubborn carburetor. I back away from the car and wipe my hands. My back and shoulders are aching, and the only thing I want right now is a shower, a burger, a beer, and Banner. Not necessarily in that order.
I still haven’t called her. I got a text from her to let me know she made it to New York, and I replied with a simple Good to hear. Be safe.
Maybe I’m naive for expecting her to bring up the subject of the pregnancy tests now that she’s hundreds of miles away, considering she didn’t bother to mention it when we were in the same bed last night. Either way, her lack of response is grating on me.
My phone rings as I finish scrubbing up with Fast Orange, and I dry my hands and reach for it.
Not Banner.
“What up, man?”
Granger Ryan, my best friend and Gold Haven’s fire chief, says, “It’s been a shit day. You wanna meet for a beer at Pints and Pins?”
“I heard about the fire and the body. Definitely a shit day. You get it handled all right?”
“Yeah, but I don’t want to sit home and drink by myself. You up for it?”
“Sure. Give me forty-five minutes and I’ll be there.” Maybe this way I’ll be able to keep myself from calling Banner to demand answers.
“Cool. See you then.”
I hang up and look around my shop.
Someday, this place will be on the map, and I won’t have to hustle so fucking hard to make sure it stays solidly in the black.
I cross the room to hit the lights and lock up.
Today just isn’t that day.