Memory of Murder. Ramona Richards
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second attacker’s voice resonated in his head. A stranger’s voice, one he’d never heard. Yet the man had addressed Jeff, talked about Lindsey, as if they were intimate friends. How do you know us? How do you...
...how did you know how to turn off the alarm?
Jeff stiffened. Lindsey had set off the alarm, yet it had been silent during the second attack. Turned off. Jeff looked down at Charley. “He knew the code. Wonder how many people have that code?”
Charley licked the excess drool off his lips and returned to panting, his eyes bright.
He made a mental note to ask Lindsey, grimacing again as he thought about her swollen jaw and twisted ankle. “She has no idea how lucky she was.” Her account of the accident horrified him. She’d taken a desperate, risky chance, one that could easily have killed her. She took it, knowing that if the guy got to his destination, she’d be dead anyway.
The second attacker must have been on his way to that destination when he left Jeff. That’s why he came on the wreck first, checking to see what happened. According to Lindsey’s statement, he stole the paper from the boy, then groped for the glove compartment before the first responders chased him off.
The glove compartment...
Jeff looked down at Charley. “Wanna go for a ride?”
Charley heard the word “ride” and jumped from the steps with a soft woof. Jeff pushed up, ignoring his aches, and headed to the first door of the three-car garage. He punched a code into the keypad next to the door, and the middle door slid open with a low rumble. He opened the door of his pickup, and Charley hopped in as if it were the middle of the day. He settled into the passenger seat and let out another low bark.
“Yeah, I know it’s late.” Jeff reached for a jacket from behind the seat, knowing that Charley would want the window down. Plus, Troy’s garage would be as cold, if not colder, than the air outside. He zipped it up, then got in and fastened his seat belt. “But I thought you might want to visit with Niki and Nora.”
Charley wagged his tail, then pushed his nose against the window.
“Okay.” Jeff started the truck’s engine, then lowered the passenger window, grinning as it made Charley one happy, windblown dog.
The ride to the garage didn’t take nearly as long as Charley would have liked. Although Alan and Elizabeth Gage lived on the far outskirts of town, everything in Bell’s Springs was still pretty close together, unlike the two other, more spread out, small towns in the county. Fifteen minutes after he pulled out of the drive, he pulled up at the former gas station that was the front of Troy’s garage. Troy had knocked out a wall and attached a Quonset hut to the back of the building, giving the place the oddest architecture in the county. It also meant the building was a mini–echo chamber, making sneaking up on Troy’s two guard dogs impossible.
Jeff knew where Troy kept the building’s spare key hidden, but a light from the office at the front of the building told him he might not need it. “Can’t believe he’s still at work,” Jeff mumbled to Charley.
They got out of the truck, and Jeff rapped sharply on the front door. The resulting canine explosion from within told him that at least Niki and Nora were awake. So, apparently, was Troy, whose bass voice shortly joined those of the twin Rottweilers. “This had better be good, if you know what’s good for you!”
Jeff watched through the grease-coated front window as the big man emerged from the office and crossed the small waiting area. The wooden front door flew open, and Troy stared at Jeff through the screen door with a resigned expression. “Yeah, I had a feeling I’d be seeing you tonight.” He glanced down at Charley. “You’re going to turn these two into pets yet.”
Jeff grinned. On either side of Troy, Niki and Nora wagged their tails and whined with pleasure.
“Well, come on in.” Troy pushed open the screen and the three dogs rushed together in a tumble of playfulness, then dashed deeper into the building. An ominous crash sounded somewhere in the depths, but Troy shrugged it off. “I fix things for a living.” He motioned with his head, and Jeff followed him into the office.
“I’m guessing Ray told you to stay away from here tonight, which is why it’s so late.” Troy settled into an ancient office chair, which groaned and creaked from the three hundred pounds on his six-foot-five frame. “Took you a while to argue yourself into it.”
“What are you doing up anyway?” Jeff sat on a straight chair on the other side of Troy’s desk. He inhaled deeply, taking in the familiar smell of the garage—a combination of oil, grease, rubber and something indefinable that might have been sweat.
Troy winced. “Jen’s sister and mother are in town. Thought I’d sleep here tonight.”
“I thought you liked your mother-in-law.”
“One on one, she’s okay. But the three of them together are like something out of Shakespeare. ‘Double, double, toil and trouble. Fire, burn, and cauldron’...whatever.”
Jeff grinned. Troy liked to keep the facade of the redneck mechanic for his customers, but Jeff couldn’t talk to him for long without being reminded that Troy had been an English teacher when he inherited the garage from his dad.
Troy went on. “Besides, with all the ruckus tonight, I figured either you or Ray would show up late to check out that GTO. Neither one of you can let something lie once you get your teeth into it.” He shrugged again. “Gave me a chance to get caught up on some of my parts ordering.”
“How’s the GTO look?”
Troy hesitated, watching Jeff closely. “You know they had to use the Jaws of Life to get her out, right?”
Jeff paused. He hadn’t. In fact, he hadn’t wanted to think too much about the wreck itself. Just seeing Lindsey’s injuries had been hard enough.
Troy apparently saw the conflict in Jeff’s face. He nodded. “Got it. Just wanted you to know that not all the damage to the car was from the accident. I know you’ve seen a lot of wrecked cars, but it’s always different when it’s someone you care about.”
Jeff took a deep breath. “Where is it?”
Troy stood. “In the back bay. That’s the most secure. Farthest from the door and the closest to the dogs’ bed.”
Troy led the way back through the waiting area and through what had been the original garage for the gas station. The smells of grease and oil grew stronger as they passed under two SUVs up on lifts and through double swinging doors into the Quonset hut. This was where most of the bodywork took place, and five of the six bays held vehicles in for insurance repairs. On the far side of a van that looked as if it had gotten up close and personal with a tree sat the orange GTO, its roof half peeled back and the passenger door missing. The shattered and crushed front end had compressed the big engine back toward the firewall, and blood spatters were all over the spiderwebbed windshield and twisted steering wheel.
Jeff’s stomach lurched. He had seen hundreds of accident scenes, but Troy had been right. It was different when someone you care about had been inside that much destruction. To think of Lindsey shoved into that tiny space beneath the dash...
“From what the guys said at the site, the blood’s mostly the boy’s, not Lindsey’s.”
Jeff didn’t respond at first, then turned to look over his shoulder as another flurry of barking came from the front of the shop.
“Now what?” Troy turned and headed back to the front of the shop, leaving Jeff to stare at the ruined GTO. He knew he shouldn’t touch it without gloves, but the urge to reach out to the ripped metal was irresistible. He hesitated, feeling one more time the ache of failure. If he’d done his job, she wouldn’t have gone through this.
“Man,” he mumbled to himself, “you’ve messed up with women before, but this time you fouled up with her and everyone else. She won’t look at you twice now. She shouldn’t.”
“Is