Sharon Sala - Cold Hearts

“Hey, Avery. What’s up?” Trey said, as he topped the hill just outside town.

“You need to go straight to Jackson’s gas station. A customer found him in the garage. Car fell on him. He’s dead.”

Now he understood the need to keep this news off the radio and as quiet as possible for the time being.

“Oh, hell. Who’s on duty?” Trey muttered.

“Earl had just clocked out, but he’s there now.”

“Tell him to secure the scene and not to touch anything until I get there. Did you call the coroner?”

“Yes, sir. They said it will be a couple of hours.”

Trey turned on the lights and siren. “I’ll be there in five, maybe less. Keep radio traffic vague.”

“Yes, sir.”

Trey disconnected and accelerated. This was going to be one hell of a hard day. Paul’s only son, Mack, was a friend. And with that thought came another that made the skin crawl on the back of his neck. Paul was his mother’s old boyfriend and one of the survivors of a bad car crash his mom had been in when they were teens. The investigation into the death of Dick Phillips, who’d been in that same wreck, was still ongoing. First Dick, now Paul. Trey had been a cop too long to be a big believer in coincidence.

He hit the city limits of Mystic running hot. The early hour automatically ruled out excess traffic, but as he pulled up at the gas station, it appeared by the size of the gathering crowd that word was spreading anyway. He sighed. The joys of small-town living.

He saw Melissa Sherman sitting on the curb as he got out. She was crying so hard she was shaking, and he wondered what part she had in this hell. Then he saw his officer putting up crime-scene tape around the area, blocking off access to the gas pumps and the station, and headed for him.

“Earl?”

Earl was tight-lipped, his expression grim.

“Damn, Chief! It’s an ugly sight. Looks like the lift failed. Blood is already drying, so it must have happened some hours back. Miss Sherman found him. She said he’d offered to work late on her car so she could have it first thing this morning. I took her statement. She’s convinced it’s her fault he’s dead because it was her car that fell on him.”

Trey felt sick. “Finish stringing up that tape and then disperse the crowd.”

“Yes, sir,” Earl said. He then turned to look as officers Carl and Lonnie Doyle drove up in their cruisers. “Carl and Lonnie are here, Chief.”

“Good. You’re clocked out, so as soon as you finish up, go home and get some sleep. I might need you again soon, and you need some rest.”

Earl shuddered. “Oh, hell, Chief. I don’t wanna sleep. All I’ll see when I close my eyes is the body.”

Trey sighed. “When you’re through, go write up your report and go home anyway. I’ll call if I need you.”

Earl began tying off the crime-scene tape as Trey backtracked to where Lissa was sitting. When he touched her shoulder, she screamed, then leaped to her feet.

Trey sighed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Lissa’s eyes were swollen from crying.

“My car... It fell. He stayed...should have said no. Oh, my God, it’s my fault.”

“No, it’s not,” Trey said. “Come sit in my car. I’ll take you home later.”

The suggestion seemed to shake her out of her hysteria. She began pulling herself together, wiping tears off her cheeks and pushing wayward curls from her forehead.

“No, no, I can’t go home. I need to get to school.”

“I don’t think you’re in any shape to—”

“I’ll be okay.” She shuddered, then drew a deep breath. “I don’t want to go home. I need to think of something besides what I saw,” she said, and dug a tissue out of her pocket and blew her nose.

“Then, for the time being, take a seat in my car.”

“Yes, thank you,” she said, before gathering up her things and moving toward the police cruiser on shaky legs as Trey headed back to the gas station. He went straight into the garage and then stopped, shocked to the core.

“Dear God,” he muttered. He gritted his teeth and began looking at everything but the body.

At the outset, it seemed obvious the lift had failed. It happened. He would have to check on the whereabouts of the other mechanics who worked for Paul to see if they’d been with him earlier. After a quick survey of the garage, he was disappointed to find out there was no security camera on the premises. It would have helped to know if Paul had been alone. He would send his officers to check if any cameras from surrounding businesses had a view of the station. He met Carl and Lonnie on his way out.

“Carl, is that department camera still in your cruiser?”

“Yes, sir,” Carl said.

“You know what to do. Get plenty of pictures from every angle, and dust the control to the hydraulic lift and the front door for prints. Lonnie, you make sure and keep this scene clear. The coroner will be showing up in a couple of hours.”

Lonnie’s eyes widened. “Are you saying—”

“I’m just covering all the bases,” Trey said.

“Yes, sir,” Lonnie said, adding, “This just feels so weird. We don’t have stuff like this happen here in Mystic, and now two of our locals are dead within a month, although Dick Phillips’ death wasn’t an accident.”

“Yes, and we need to make damn sure this was an accident before we close this case, understand?”

Both officers nodded.

“You and Carl stay on the premises until the coroner is finished, and make sure this place is locked before you leave. Since the lift failed, you may need to call in the fire department to help the coroner remove the body.”

“Yes, sir,” Lonnie said.

One issue dealt with, Trey thought. Now he needed to talk to Lissa.

Two

Trey’s phone rang as he was heading for his cruiser. He glanced at the caller ID and frowned as he answered.

“Hello, Mom. What’s up?” he asked.

Betsy Jakes’ voice was shaking. “Is it true Paul Jackson is dead?”

He paused near the back of his cruiser.

“Damn, bad news spreads fast in small towns. Yes, but I have yet to notify the next of kin, so I need to do that now before someone does it for me.”

He heard his mother gasp, then begin moaning as if in great pain.

Trey frowned. “Mom?”

When the line went dead, he realized she’d hung up on him. His frown deepened. When Dick Phillips had died, she had scared him with her behavior, although he’d chalked up her reaction to being the one who’d found his body. Now she seemed on the verge of going down that road again. Damn it. He needed to be in three places at once. Then he thought of his fiancée, Dick Phillips’ daughter, Dallas. She could go check on his mother.

He made a quick call home.

Dallas answered on the second ring. “Hey, honey, did you forget something?”

“No. Shit hit the fan early today. Paul Jackson is dead. Looks like the lift fell on him. Would you please go check on Mom, and if she’s acting weird, stay with her for a little while until I can get over there? I need to talk to her, but I can’t get over there for a while.”

Dallas was horrified. With her father’s murder still fresh in her mind, she immediately empathized.

“Yes, I’m on my way. I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’ll stay with her until you can get there.”

“Thanks,” he said, then pocketed his phone and got in the car with Lissa.

It appeared she’d been doing a repair job on her makeup. Her eyes were still red and slightly swollen, but she had reapplied some makeup and seemed calmer.

“Are you sure you want to go to work?” Trey asked.

“Yes, I’m sure,” she said. “If I need to sign anything, just call the office and leave me a message. I can drop by the station after school.”