Wrecked (Josie Gray Mysteries #3)(61)

Josie pointed to a picnic table under the tree that also provided shade for the dog. The table was located on the other side of the doghouse, just a few feet out of the dog’s reach. He was lying down and quiet now, but his eyes still tracked Josie’s movements.

“Mind if we sit down?”

Hec glanced toward the river before walking to the table and taking a seat. He was probably worried someone would see the police car in his driveway. The rows of cars and parts and the sloping riverbank kept Josie from seeing the water. She wondered if the Mexican men Marta had watched were watching them now. The thought made her uneasy.

Josie noted that he hadn’t offered her a drink this time. Something had changed. She laid out everything she knew, starting with Christina’s death, Dillon’s kidnapping, the indictment from the federal court. Hec’s attention became more focused the longer she talked. His expression became animated as she described in detail what she found when she walked into Dillon’s office, including the missing business files for Wally Follet. When she went on to describe the summons to federal court, Hec asked her what that meant. She finally had his attention.

“The court sent Dillon a letter stating that he was required to attend your dad’s trial. He was required to bring the files for your business to the trial as evidence.”

“But my dad’s gone. They can’t have a trial without him.”

“They can. It’s called ‘in absentia.’ That means, even though your dad isn’t here, the district attorney will still prosecute him, still go ahead with the trial.”

“So, if they find him guilty, then when they find him, he’ll automatically go to jail?”

She nodded.

“Is that why Dillon was kidnapped? To keep the files away from the prosecutor?”

His question caught her off guard. She had dropped that theory after talking with Assistant DA Gary Hardner. He had assured her the files were a minor component of the case; Wally Follet would be convicted with or without them. Could Dillon have been kidnapped to keep him from testifying? Could the ransom be a foil, something to sidetrack the investigation?

And then she remembered Hardner’s description of Hec, as someone who wasn’t smart enough to steal a pack of bubble gum. Hardner had misjudged this kid by a long shot. What if Hardner was wrong about the importance of the files as well?

“Do you think there are files that the kidnapper wouldn’t have wanted the prosecutor to see?” she asked.

Hec became very still, like a rabbit caught in a trap. “I don’t think so. No.”

He was lying; she could feel it in his slow reaction time.

“Hec, we know that there are men camping out, just over the river, watching you.”

He sat hunched over the table motionless and looking down, his arms crossed in front of him, his jaw rigid.

“Those men are after something. Is it your dad they want?”

Nothing. He looked at the table, but behind the stare Josie could sense his mind was racing.

She slapped her hand down on the wooden table and the noise startled him. “I’m trying to help you!” Josie dropped her voice, but her tone was angry. “The men across the river? They won’t let this go until they get what they want.”

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. Hec remained hunched over the table, running a fingernail through the grooves in the wood as Josie flipped the phone open and walked away from the table, frustrated at the interruption.

“Chief Gray.”

“Just checking in.” Otto’s voice came through the phone.

Josie huffed in response. “I’m with Hec at the salvage yard. The kid’s driving me crazy. He’s so sure we’re out to screw him or his dad over that he won’t budge. He’s terrified, but he won’t give me anything.”

“We need to get him out of there. Maybe he’d open up.”

Josie looked back over her shoulder and saw Hec sitting on the ground, his dog’s two front paws on his lap, licking the side of his face.

“Your place?” she asked.

“I was thinking the exact same thing. I’ll call Delores. See what you can do.”

*

Delores waited for the second ring of the phone. It was an old habit she’d learned from her mother; a person never wanted to appear too eager.

“Delores?”

It was Otto. He always first asked her name when he called, as if there was some question as to who might be on the other end of the line. They had been married forty years. Their only child, Mina, had left home almost twenty years ago. She always wondered who else he expected to answer their phone.

“Hello, Otto. How’s your day so far?”

“I have a favor. The Follet boy I mentioned, Hector Follet?”

“Yes, I remember.”

“He’s got big trouble. I’d like to bring him to the house for dinner. Along with Josie. We need to get him away from that salvage yard. There are men sitting across the river in Mexico watching him, breathing down the kid’s back like vultures.”

“You tell me when, and I’ll have supper waiting.”

“I’ll call you.”

Delores hung up the phone and stood in the kitchen, running through a mental inventory of the cuts of meat in the freezer and the vegetables she could pair with them. If Otto said two people were coming to dinner it often meant six. She always fixed extra as a precaution.