The Cold Road (Book 1)

Chapter Eleven

A million thoughts ran their way through James's head as he watched Cindy depart, and his phone ringing interrupted all. It was a texted address. It vibrated again, this time with a text message from Franks.

Geoff's truck has been found. Corner of highway. We will meet you there.

Twenty minutes later, James pulled to a stop by the side of the highway. Ahead of him stood an abandoned truck, around which sat Franks' car and the van belonging to forensics. They were getting quite the workout, thought James as he watched Johnston unpacking his bags from the back and setting up a quick desk. Four officers moved around, setting up a perimeter of yellow tape around the truck and surrounding area.

From the angle the truck sat, James could see that Geoff had not parked it on purpose. Both back tires were completely blown from the rims. Remains of the rubber tires lay scattered as far away as a dozen metres back up the road. Dark skid marks showed where Geoff had applied the break to the front wheels and swerved across the road before eventually stopping in a spray of gravel by the side of the highway.

Stepping carefully, making sure that he did not step on anything that might be important, James approached the group.

'Eric,' began James, 'we need to talk. This isn't my case. I'm here for a kidnapping, not a body. What do you need me here for?'

'You're only here becausePlant told me I had to include you in this. Something about you Geoff popping up in your investigation. So you sit back and don't disturb anything,or so help me I'll send you back to the station with a black eye and tell the captain you tripped on your damn shoelaces.'

'Sure.' James shrugged, looking out at the bustling group. 'I was actually wondering what happened to the car. I read the reports. How did you find it?'

'A couple of kids playing down the road noticed it, alerted their parents who called us,' Franks told him, waving away one of the officers who had come forward to talk. 'They said they remember hearing noises out this way last night, gunshots or something. It was probably the tires blowing up. In this weather, I don't know how they could have burst, and we noticed no nails or debris on the road that might have caused them to explode. Looks like they caused him to swerve off the road. Just a freak accident by the look of it, but forensics will tell us more.'

'Has Johnston had a look at the truck, yet?'

'I told him to wait until you got here, in case you wanted to have a look. I had a quick nosy around, but I don't see anything. It doesn't look like Geoff was taken from his truck, which means he must have been taken somewhere between here and the mechanics. I talked with the owner and he never got a call from anybody that night and certainly didn't see anyone passing by on the road.'

James tried to remember what time Mrs White had said her son called, it would narrow down the time he was taken if they could work out how long it took to walk to the mechanics. There was a possibility that Geoff might have set off without calling for a pick up, in which case there would only be a short opening for the Damascus Devil to grab him.

Pulling on a pair of latex rubber gloves, James opened the door of the pick-up truck and peered inside. He pulled himself up the step so that his body was half in and half out of the truck without actually sitting down. The truck was clean, but from memory, he could not remember Geoff being a clean man. There was a possibility that he had changed, but Geoff was adamant in his ways. The carpets, both in the front and the back, showed signs of a recent vacuum. The side compartment on the passenger side revealed only the car's registration papers, a handful of takeaway menus, plus a stake of giveaway flyers for the local pet shop advertising their annual pet fair.

Climbing out, James allowed Franks to look inside. 'I don't remember Geoff ever being so clean,' he commented. 'Who was the girl he was seeing at the pet shop. And how come she hasn't come forwards?'

Franks stared at him in bewilderment as he climbed back out of the car. 'What girl? Just because his car is clean doesn't mean he had a girlfriend.'

'It's just a guess. Geoff didn't work at the pet shop or do any kind of work for it. He didn't own any animals, so what is he doing with a handful of flyers?' asked James, handing the flyers out to Franks. 'He could only have them because he's helping out someone who works there. I guess a female. It's just something to check into.'

Glaring, Franks took the flyers, glanced at them before handing them to one of the forensic doctors standing behind him. 'Check 'em for prints.' He turned back to James.

'What else do you deduce, Sherlock?' he asked, sarcastically.

'Nothing yet,' replied James. He moved away from the cab and took a stroll around the vehicle. It appeared to be in good condition, not that he was any judge of cars or trucks. Everything was polished and well looked after. The tray on the back was clean. He turned to one of the other officers.

'Do you happen to know if Geoff was delivering anything the other night? Do we know why he was out at all?'

Franks shrugged, stepping back to admire the view. The forest was thicker in this area than others up the road, noticed James. The trees came up right against the road further down. Anyone could have hid behind with a spike strip. Once Geoff's car was off the road, they could have grabbed him.

'When I saw Catherine she said he was visiting a friend, but no one has come forward to say who they are,' Franks told him, joining him at the back. The forensic team moved in and began searching the cab.

'So his car broke down, he called his mother and sometime between then and when your officer found him, he was murdered,' mused James. 'Why was Geoff taken? And where was he killed? I had hoped that it might have taken place here and then he was skinned later.'

'I think we all want to know that,' Franks told him, rolling his eyes as he did so. 'Remember, this is my case. I get to ask the questions and muse the answers.'

'Argh,' groaned James, rolling his eyes. 'I know this is your case, I know Lindsey's is mine. If you don't want me asking questions then why the fuck did you call me out here?'

'I only called you because Plant told me to,' snapped Franks, crossing his arms. 'I told you that before. He told me we had to work together on this. Don't ask me why. I'd rather you back in town trying to find a suspect for Lindsey Perette's kidnapping. Oh, excuse me, findanothersuspect for her kidnapping. Anyone but Rico Belberra.'

As James glared at him, Franks pocketed his hands and stared off at the surrounding forest. 'I hear you are looking for Mrs White.'

'Yeah. I just wanted to ask her some questions about her connection to the Perette's but she's gone.'

'Moved out of town, by the sound of it. Eager to get away from the bad memories. You can't blame her. I hear she has a sister, though, in Cypress.'

'Yeah. I know. I'll check it out in the morning.'

Staring at the abandoned truck and the forensics department searching it, James tried to think. All he had managed to uncover so far were suspicions about Catherine White that only glowed more mysteriously by the fact that when he needed to talk to her, she was gone. To any other officer, that was as much a confession of her involvement in the case as if she had said so herself. But it made no sense to him. Why would Catherine White kidnap Lindsey? He knew Irene Perette thought that Catherine White had kidnapped Lindsey because she had recently lost her only son and, distraught, was looking for a replacement. The theory, however, did not explain the note. If White did kidnap Lindsey, why plant a note saying that she would kill Lindsey by the next full moon?

His mind toyed with answers as he drove home. There were possibilities that White blamed the Perette's for her son's gruesome murder. Maybe she thought the Perette's were involved somehow and was looking for revenge.

Something else bugged him and he tried to ignore it. It had been earlier, when he was questioning the Perette's about the note. He had looked straight into Paul Perette's eyes and seen something reflected back. In the brief moment they had locked eyes, he had seen a lot. It was not enough.