Wrecked (Josie Gray Mysteries #3)(51)
“This isn’t your fault.” His voice was low, measured. “You’re a cop. You know the drill. The bad guys commit the crimes. And somehow the victims feel the guilt. They blame themselves for not doing something to stop the crime, for things going wrong. You only have so much energy. Do not waste it on worthless guilt.”
*
Officer Marta Cruz logged on for third shift at eight o’clock, several hours later than her usual shift. Otto and Josie had asked her to stake out Wally’s Folly for several nights to check for any action after dark. Josie had hoped Wally was visiting his son at night, sneaking in to take care of business.
Marta parked her car outside the main office of the Rio Camp and Kayak, a mile down the road from the salvage yard. At that time of year the business didn’t have much traffic. The owners’ home sat just east of the office. It was a modest cedar plank with two additions onto the back that gave it a slapdash feel. The extra rooms were bedrooms to accommodate the kids, five girls under the age of eighteen. Marta made the sign of the cross on her chest at the thought of raising five girls. One was quite enough for her.
She knocked on the front door and heard two girls, one screaming, the other laughing. The youngest girl yanked the front door open, still laughing. She saw Marta and the girl’s face fell in disappointment. The older girl, the same age and friends with Marta’s own daughter, sighed and shoved her younger sister out of the way.
Marta smiled. “She’s not trying to harass you, is she?”
Ella sighed dramatically. “Every time my boyfriend comes over she spends the entire time trying to tell him lies about me. I don’t care what she says, but it’s so incredibly annoying. Teresa’s lucky she’s an only child.”
Marta tipped her head. “That means all the attention is on her. She would tell you that’s not so good either.”
The girl pushed the door open to allow Marta inside. “You want Mom or Dad?”
“Either one. I just have a question for one of them.”
Ella left Marta standing in a large living room cluttered with enough toys and books to make her feel claustrophobic. Three of the girls lay on their bellies in pajamas, their heads turned up to the TV in front of them. Watching a Disney movie, they were oblivious to everything else around them. Marta heard glass clanking in the kitchen and assumed dishes were being washed.
Lisa Rankin stepped through the doorway and flung a dish towel back over her shoulder, smiling at Marta.
“Hello! What are you doing out so late?” Her expression quickly turned to one of concern. “I hope something’s not wrong.”
“It’s fine. I just have a favor to ask.”
“Sure. Let’s step out onto the front porch where I can hear myself think.” She turned to the girls. “Turn that TV down! Everyone in the house doesn’t need to hear that.”
They walked outside, both certain that the volume would remain exactly where it was.
Marta said, “Are you aware that Wally Follet has taken off?”
Her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “What do you mean taken off?”
“He’s left home.”
“No! Is Hec down there by himself?”
Marta nodded. “Wally’s got into some trouble with the feds. Evidently he found out he was facing an indictment and he took off.”
Lisa crossed her arms over her chest and drew them in against the cold night air. “That poor kid. His dad’s such a sleazebag. David and I have said for years we’d like to bring Hec home with us and raise him with our own. He’s such a good kid.”
“His dad sure didn’t do him any favors,” Marta said. “I’d like to observe the junkyard for the next couple nights, just to make sure Wally isn’t sneaking back home. Would you mind if I parked my car here and walked down to the salvage yard? I don’t want to draw attention to my car down there.”
“Sure. Leave your car where it is. We can get around it if we need to.”
*
Marta carried a black duffle bag packed with a thermos of coffee to keep her warm and awake, a small foldable stool, and snacks for the long night ahead, down the empty road to Wally’s Folly. The front gate had been closed and padlocked shut. The fence shielded the front of the business from the street, but the east side of the yard was bordered with nothing more than a line of thick mesquite bushes and trees. Marta pushed herself through the narrow break between the eight-foot-tall corrugated metal fence and the bushes to her left, wincing at the loud scratch of the branches against her nylon coat. She was wearing her navy blue Artemis PD coat with a flap that covered the POLICE identification on the back. If need be, she could quickly pull apart the Velcro patches fastening the flap to her shoulders, and the neon yellow reflective ID would announce her presence.
Once in the yard she stood motionless for several minutes, scanning between the rows of cars and piles of vehicle parts. Josie had warned her about the chained Rottweiler beside the house, but she saw nothing and assumed the dog had been taken into the trailer with Hec for the night. Marta walked silently along the edge of the trees, thankful for light cloud cover.
Halfway down the fence line she stopped and pulled her foldable stool out of the duffle bag. She’d intentionally kept the bag unzipped to keep from causing excess noise. She’d settled on her stool alongside the bushes to listen and take in the area again before deciding on a place from which to observe for the night. She was wearing long underwear under her blue jeans and insulated boots to keep her feet warm, but she was still cold. The stool was about twelve inches tall with a seat barely wide enough to hold her rear end. She huddled down low over her lap, already dreading the long night.