Wild Secret
of the vehicle. Now!"I recognized him. He was Nick Hartsell’s kid, Cameron.
I yanked open the driver’s door, and grabbed hold of his shirt collar, and pulled him out of the vehicle. He staggered and stumbled to the ground, clearly intoxicated.
JD pounced on him and slapped the cuffs around his wrists.
His girlfriend sobbed, blood trickling from her nose. Her face was scuffed and raw.
An airbag deploys like a cannon. They may save your life, but they can create injuries of their own—abrasions, broken bones, ocular damage.
I dialed 911 and attended to the girl.
The EMTs arrived a few minutes later. It wasn’t long before several patrol cars were on the scene. Flashing lights bathed the area.
We took pictures of the scene, and EMTs treated Cameron and his girlfriend. A crowd had gathered around. Traffic ground to a halt, and deputies managed the chaos.
In an abundance of caution, Cameron and his girlfriend were transferred to the ER where they’d receive x-rays and CT scans to make sure there was no brain trauma or internal bleeding. Afterward, Cameron would be booked on DUI, reckless driving, and a host of other charges.
It was a damn shame the sleek sports car was mangled. But it didn’t mean anything to Cameron. He didn’t pay for it. It was a car from his father’s dealership. It had dealer plates. I'm sure Nick wouldn’t be too happy about the situation.
A wrecker towed the vehicle away, and a cleanup crew swept up bits of fiberglass and plastic from the roadway. It took about an hour to sort out. I called the guys to tell them there would be no after-party on the boat tonight. It was probably for the best, anyway. I'm sure Crash wouldn’t have been too thrilled about Faye partying with us on the boat, even if they were broken up.
We wrapped up at the scene and headed to the station to fill out after-action reports. Not exactly how I wanted to spend the latter part of the evening. It was almost 2 AM by the time JD dropped me off at the marina. I told him I'd catch up with him in the morning and ambled down the dock toward the Avventura.
The rumble of the Porsche’s engine filled the air as he peeled out of the parking lot and raced home.
I took Buddy for a walk, then settled in for bed.
In the morning, I called Denise and asked her to find out as much information as she could about Aaron Pennington. "He's a yoga instructor at Mind, Body & Spirit.”
"Do you really think Ellie’s having an affair with him?"
"Sure looked like it last night,” I said. “I'll reserve judgment until I know more."
"Ballistics came back. Chuck was shot with a 9mm. Probably some type of submachine gun, judging by the amount of bullets and the statements given by Justin and his girlfriend, Kennedy."
"Thanks. Keep me posted."
"I will."
I hung up and called JD. He swung by the marina 15 minutes later and picked me up. We headed over to Paul Locke's house at 2113 Atlantic Avenue. He lived in a pastel yellow home with a cobblestone drive and walkway. There were a few palm trees out front, and the flower beds were set off with stone trim. A silver compact SUV was parked out front. The one-story home had vaulted ceilings and transom windows. It looked like it had been recently renovated. It was small but nice. Extremely well maintained.
We parked out front and strolled to the front door. Paul was retired, so I hoped we'd catch him at home. I banged on the door and waited.
21
Through the frosted glass, I saw somebody approach the front door. Paul pulled it open, and I flashed our credentials and made introductions.
Paul was in his mid-70s. He was bald on top and had stark white hair on the sides that was close-cropped. He had a round face and a rounder torso. His plump cheeks sagged, giving him deep laugh lines. His chin gave way to a saggy neck. He had bushy eyebrows and deep-set eyes that were probably vibrant blue at one point but were more of a hazel-grayish color now.
Paul had a little bit of stubble, having skipped the morning shave. The man had a nice complexion but was a little red in the cheeks. There was a bulbous growth in the corner of his nose that was hard not to notice. “I spoke with Deborah. I figured you'd be stopping by at some point.”
I expressed our condolences, and Paul invited us in.
There was a study to the left of the foyer with a desk and bookshelves that were full of leather-bound tomes.
Paul escorted us into the living room, hobbling behind us. “I’m a little slow these days. This hip threw craps on me.”
He offered us a seat.
"Nice place you’ve got here."
“Thank you."
"Is this the home you were living in at the time of Skyler’s disappearance?" I asked.
Paul nodded. "Can I get you boys anything to drink? Water? Soda? Beer?"
I smiled. "Thank you, but no."
He took a seat and winced as he gently lowered himself into the recliner. “Deborah gave me all the gory details." Paul shook his head. “It’s just horrible. I sure hope Skyler didn't suffer.” He sighed and his eyes misted. “I guess it's just random chance you found her. Funny how that works out. I always hoped we’d learn the truth, but I thought I’d probably go to my grave without knowing. It's been eating away at me all these years."
"Can you walk me through the day she disappeared?"
"Well, I was off work that day. Skyler never came home from school, which wasn't entirely unusual. You know how kids are. They get sidetracked with their friends sometimes.”
"Where were you working?"
“In those days, I owned my own truck and was driving drop and hooks at night, mostly.”
He told us the same story Deborah did.
“When Skyler hadn’t shown up by 9 o'clock, Deborah was in a panic. She called all of Skyler’s friends, and nobody had seen