Wild Secret

one time when Skyler was spending the night at my house… I could have sworn I saw somebody peeping in through the window while we were getting changed. I'm pretty sure it was Tommy Halford." She laughed. "I'm sure he enjoyed the show."
She looked at her watch. "Listen, I gotta run to my next appointment. But I'm happy to talk to you guys anytime. And if I remember anything else, I'll give you a call.” A solemn frown tugged her face. “I really hope you find out who did this. And if it's that Marshall Noonan creep, you nail his ass to the wall, you got me?"
"I gotcha."
She showed us out, locked up, and clicked her key fob. The lights flashed on her SUV. She called to us as we walked toward the Porsche. “The next time you need to sell your home, give me a call."
I smiled and waved as I climbed into the Porsche. Jack pulled away from the curb, and I called Denise. “Tell me everything you know about Marshall Noonan.”

23
Nothing Denise told me was surprising. Marshall Noonan had a list of felonies and misdemeanors a mile long. He'd been in and out of jail multiple times, and the odds were good he'd be heading back there soon. Assault, battery, domestic abuse, DUI, possession of a controlled substance, and a host of other petty charges. He lived with his girlfriend, Heather Wallace, in Sunset Park.
We pulled into the parking lot and cruised through the rows of mobile homes. JD was a little leery about driving the Porsche into the community. The car always left with an extra dent or scratch.
Some of the trailers were well maintained and trimmed with latticework around the base and colorful gardens of flowers. Others were rusted out and overgrown with weeds.
A couple of kids were tossing a baseball around the lot, and Jack went out of his way to avoid them. He’d already had a few run-ins with an errant football the last time we were here.
We parked on the opposite end of the parking lot from the potential window breakers and walked toward Noonan's trailer. It was actually his girlfriend's trailer. JD clicked the alarm, and the lights on the Porsche flashed.
We climbed the wooden steps to the porch and banged on the door. The windows rattled, and JD shouted, "Coconut County!"
There was some commotion inside, and muffled voices seeped out.
Footsteps rumbled toward the door.
Marshall shouted. “What do you want?”
“We just have a few questions?”
“You got a warrant?”
“This is just a friendly conversation.”
“The hell it is. Come back with a warrant.”
“I get suspicious when I have to get warrants. It would be a lot easier if you just talked to us.”
“What the hell did you do now?” Heather growled.
“I ain’t done nothing,” Noonan replied.
“If you ain’t done nothing, open the door.” Heather’s footsteps pattered across the trailer, the handle rattled, and much to Marshall’s dismay, she swung open the door. A rush of air, stale with cigarette smoke, smacked us in the face.
Heather smiled at us. “You’ll have to excuse his manners.”
Marshall glared at her, anger swelling on his face.
Heather had long blonde hair curled on the ends. Short bangs fell into her eyes that were rimmed with blue eyeliner. She wore a yellow skirt and had a two-tier muffin top that drooped over her waistline.
She spun around, marched back to the couch, and plopped down to resume watching her show.
Noonan’s angry gaze followed her. Then he stared at us with concerned eyes. He looked us up and down as I flashed my badge.
“I didn't do nothing," Marshall said again.
“I haven’t even mentioned why we’re here,” I said.
"Anytime a cop shows up at my door, it can't be good.”
“I take it you don’t watch the news or read the paper?"
Marshall scowled. "Hell no. It's all noise."
Marshall Noonan was in his early 50s, and he hadn’t held up too well. He was a thin, wiry guy. His once strong features had turned into drawn cheeks, hard lines, a crinkled brow, and a receding hairline. His brown hair was short and messy. It looked like it hadn’t been washed in a day or two. He had a goatee that was graying, and there was a sadness about his eyes. He looked older than he should have, and the years of bad luck and poor decisions had taken a toll on his face, constantly tensed with anger. He was mad at the system and lived in a state of perpetual discontent.
I told him that we had discovered Skyler Locke's body submerged in a barrel of chemicals.
His brow lifted with surprise. "No shit? No wonder we never found her.” He hung his head and frowned. "That's just a damn shame. A tragedy, really. She was such a beautiful girl. I was so in love with her back then."
Noonan's girlfriend scoffed at that one. "Sounds like she got off easy then."
"Shut up," Noonan barked.
It was clear Heather was over his shit.
"Did you love her enough to beat her?" I asked.
Noonan's face crinkled with anger. "What are you talking about?"
"You were never verbally and physically abusive with Skyler?"
His scowl persisted. “Where’d you hear that nonsense? Tiffany? Bitch!" He huffed. "She always did think she was above everyone else. I see her every now and then on those goddamn commercials. I ran into her one time at a convenience store, and she was as rude as could be. All that money she’s got doesn't make her better than me." He paused for a moment. "She can say whatever she wants, but I loved Skyler with all my heart."
Heather scoffed again.
"I searched for her night and day when she first went missing,” Noonan continued.
"Where did you look?"
"All the usual places. At that time, we had hangouts on the island, and sometimes we’d go out to Angelfish or Barracuda or Crystal Key. But that was usually weekend stuff."
"You searched with Paul, right?"
"As I recall," Marshall said, nodding. "There were a couple weeks where we were going out every day.