Return to Red Creek Nathan Hystad (e books free to read .txt) 📖

table, the old brew steaming. He caught Carl looking at the cup, and he took the opportunity. “Carl, you can tell us where they are, and I’ll bring you a fresh cup from Chuck’s. Everyone around here raves about it, right?”

“It is the best. Have you tried his burgers?” Carl asked, and Addy cleared her throat from the seat beside her client.

“My client claims he’s done nothing wrong. He found that hair elastic, and was working the night Brittany Tremblay went missing. He can have his employer send a timecard in,” Addy said.

Tom leaned back and crossed his arms. “You said you work security in Gilden, right? Where at?”

“The car dealership. You’d be amazed how many people try stealing cars right under the four-hundred-watt LED lamps they have set up in the parking lot,” Carl said.

It was the second time someone had mentioned the dealership since Tom had been in Red Creek. The girl, Abigail, said her parents owned the dealership. Was there a connection?

“I can imagine,” Tom said, taking the lead. Tyler sat there, an imposing rock of a man, staring hard toward Carl as if trying to get a read on him or intimidate him. It looked like it was working, because Carl was avoiding eye contact with the sheriff and giving his undivided attention to Tom, which was exactly what they wanted. “Do you work with anyone there?”

He shook his head. “Shift starts at nine. Ends at six in the morning when the cleaning crew shows up.”

“Good. Not bad hours for a loner, hey?” Tom asked, and before Carl could reply, he kept talking. “So you could have clocked in, left the site, and abducted Brittany. As long as you were back in time for the cleaning crew, right?”

Carl shifted in his seat. “I suppose so. But I didn’t do nothing to that girl, I swear.”

Ms. Sinclair spoke up. “You’re leading him into these answers. Enough, Detective. Carl, you don’t have to answer them.”

“It’s okay, Addy. I want to. I didn’t do nothing wrong,” the man said, his eyes weepy. Either he was a good actor or he was innocent. Tom was starting to question himself; then he thought of the evidence. “We found her hair scrunchie on your nightstand. We found Fredrik Karlsson’s pajama top in your storage unit!” Tom slammed a palm against the table, his coffee spilling over the edge as the cup bounced.

Carl started to openly cry now. “I don’t know what you’re talking about! I didn’t do anything! I haven’t been to my storage unit for over a month!”

“Then why is there fresh mud caked on the bike? Why was Fredrik’s top sitting there folded like something from a Gap store display window?” Tom asked.

“I don’t know! I was working, I swear!”

Tom watched the man and decided to go for it. He’d learn a lot from Carl after this. “Let me paint you a picture. The Prescotts own the dealership, correct?” he asked, and waited for Carl to nod before going on. “Good. They have a daughter, name’s Abigail. You know her?”

“Sure. She’s around every now and then. What about her?” Carl asked.

“She’s friends with Brittany. Or at least, she claimed to be. You and she set this up, didn’t you? She the unwitting participant, you the older man who threatened her to keep her silent. Or did the guilt of her part in it keep her from ratting you out?” Tom was standing now, his palms pressed against the table.

Carl was leaning away, eyes wide. “I don’t understand!” he shouted.

“You got her to lure Brittany into the forest that night, didn’t you? You went to work, clocked in, drove the twenty minutes to the orchard, where you ran through the rainy forest, finding Brittany all alone out there. You followed her, even after she lost her shoe. She went home, and you took her. Didn’t you? You watched her as she peeled her muddy clothing off, and you took her!”

“No. No. No. I didn’t do anything. I found the hair thing, picked it up for some reason. I forgot I even had it. It was in my pocket when I went to bed, and I threw it on the nightstand. I swear,” Carl said through sobs.

Tom didn’t stop. “Then you what? You’ve been walking by the Karlssons’ house, watching little Fredrik read his comic books? You already did it once, why not do it again? You’re in so deep, why not go a little deeper?”

“Oh God, no. I don’t know how that shirt got in my storage unit. It wasn’t me.”

Addy sat a protective hand on Carl’s shoulder. “That’s enough. My client has nothing else to say to you tonight.”

“Where are they?” Tom shouted. “What did you do to them?” His heart was pounding and he was feeling light-headed, the half-eaten burger threatening to come up all of a sudden.

Tyler grabbed his arm and pulled Tom from the room. He didn’t fight it, and when they were in the hall, the larger man shoved him against the wall. “You need to chill out, son,” the man said. He was only a few years Tom’s senior, and his use of the word slammed some reality into Tom’s mind. He’d been in berserker mode in there.

“I was so sure we had him,” Tom said, his shoulders slumping, and the vein on his forehead stopped pulsing.

“Me too. But what if it isn’t him? What if he’s telling the truth about the scrunchie?” Tyler asked.

“What about the shirt? The connection with the Gilden car dealership?” Tom asked as they moved farther down the hall, away from the interrogation room.

Tyler was shaking his head, clucking his tongue. “I don’t know.”

Then it hit Tom like a semi truck. “Son of a bitch!”

“What is it?” the sheriff asked.

“The shirt. Did you see Carl’s room? The clothing was all messy. He had week-old shirts lying on the floor in heaps. Not one thing in that suite was organized. I’ll bet my 401K that he doesn’t even know how to