Too Sweet to Die T. Doyle (tharntype novel english .TXT) 📖

I nodded. “Sure, a successful lawyer paying you attention. I bet your mom was thrilled.”

She rolled her eyes. “Was she ever. She and Tyler kept pushing me to get pregnant. Thank God that never happened.” She looked heavenward. “I mean it. Thanks.”

“Did you tell the police about Peter?” I asked.

“They haven’t talked to me. I keep waiting for them to come by, but…” She shrugged.

“You said he had gang tattoos. What made you think that?” I asked.

“When I asked him who ‘Eme’ was, he laughed and told me it was a club he belonged to. I looked it up later. It’s the letter ‘M’ for ‘Mexican mafia’. He has a huge Mexican eagle on his back with the word ‘Mexikanemi’ under it, too. I thought it was the Spanish word for Mexican.” She frowned. “The thing is, Tyler was so sweet when we dated. I mean he had his quirks but he was good to me. I don’t think he’d ever have done anything like this on his own.”

“I understand. Thank you so much for your honesty. Would you care if I told the FBI about Peter?” I asked.

“You should. And you should be careful.”

Her warning sent a chill through me. “I’m trying. Someone broke into my house yesterday. Thankfully, I wasn’t home, but I’m rattled.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said.

“Do you know where Peter lives now?” I asked.

She shook her head. “He was living in Ohio when we divorced, near Cincinnati.”

The TapOut SUV stuck in my mind. “Do you remember what kind of car he drove?”

“It was years ago, but back then he drove a big truck, dark blue. His family supposedly had a farm, livestock of some kind. I thought it was weird, because he seemed more thug than rancher.”

“Oh?” I squeaked. My insides shuddered. “You need to be careful, too. Because the kidnapped babies could have come from a…” I whispered into her ear, “Baby farm.” I leaned back. “If he killed Tyler, you could be in danger, too. You knew he was Tyler’s only friend.”

She paled. “Oh, my. I hadn’t… I mean… Oh, my.” She patted her front pocket and pulled out her keys. “I need to go.”

“Grace, talk to the FBI. Ask for Agent Simms. Tom Garner at the Sheriff’s Department can get you in contact with them directly.”

“I will.” She squeezed my arm. “Good luck, Charlie.”

“You too.”

She grabbed her purse from under Margie’s table, murmured an excuse, and walk-jogged out the door.

I waved to Margie and Ida and followed Grace outside. She sprinted across the parking lot and got into a white minivan. I had a feeling she wouldn’t slow down until she had her kids in her arms.

I typed a text to all three of my kids. I love you all bunches. Please be extra careful. I think Tyler’s killer might be in a gang.

The kids answered back with thumbs up emojis. I worried they weren’t taking their mother seriously. Harping would only annoy them, and they’d only be safe when this was over. And this middle-aged momma was going to see it end. My cautious drive to the Sheriff’s Department didn’t improve my mood. The yellow and orange leaves scattered on the roadway flittered like confetti behind my car, an obtrusive announcement I drove alone and unarmed.

Tom’s desk was covered in folders. He stood. “Come on in, Charlie.”

I handed him the envelope with photos. “Tom, I’ve got some information for you.” I told him about Oscar’s pictures of rental cars and Peter Adkins.

Tom flipped through the photos. “Why’d you bring these to me?”

I waggled my eyebrows. “Because Agent Krakauer accused me of killing Tyler and I thought it’d be nice if someone local brought him good evidence, instead of him just taking it.”

Tom smiled and chuckled. “The sheriff will appreciate that.” He tilted his chin. “Any other problems at your place?”

“No. Eddie replaced the door, but Joe and I have planned to spend the night at the cabin.”

He stood. “That’s a good idea.” He navigated me toward the exit. “I’ll add more patrols out your way.”

I shook his hand. “Thanks, Tom. Maybe check on Grace Godwin, too. She was a little spooked.”

At home, I packed for the cabin and wondered if Momma Sanders would be disappointed that I was letting someone chase me out of my own home.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

I followed Joe to the cabin. He’d picked up take out from En-Thai-Sing, the Thai restaurant and karaoke bar. The food was great, the karaoke not so much–especially when Mabel McClure was in her “Sonny and Cher” mood.

Ray came in through the back door with a six pack of beer, a bottle of red wine, and a roll of butcher paper. Over pad thai and beef pan eng I shared everything I’d learned.

“What’s next, then?” Joe asked Ray.

“So far, even if they can prove Peter rented the cars, it’s circumstantial.” Ray stuffed a shrimp in his mouth and swallowed. I honestly don’t think he chewed. “But, since Oscar’s pictures are time, date, and location stamped it’s good evidence. It’d be great if Peter met with the parents.” He scratched his beard. “But he’d be an idiot to be seen. I’m guessing they had a go-between. Maybe Mr. TapOut SUV.”

“That car is local. I swear I’ve seen it around,” I said.

“Babe, that’s the most common SUV out there. And I wouldn’t be surprised if dozens of them had TapOut stickers on them.” Joe picked at the label of his beer. “If we could prove Peter was in town the night Tyler died…”

Ray pushed his plate to the side. “Didn’t you say that Tyler’s divorce attorney went with him on his Cayman trips?”

“Yes, that’s what Polly told me,” I said.

“Did you bring the laptop with you?”

I scooted back from the table. “It’s in the bedroom.” I walked through the small living room, happy Ray took the death chair and I didn’t have to spend the night with it.

The guys had cleaned off the table, and three piles of paper were stacked neatly along with four