Someone honked.
Poppy jumped back to keep from being splashed by the backwash from a passing car, then wondered why it mattered. She couldn’t be any wetter.
And just like that, the memory was gone.
When she realized she’d missed her chance to cross, she just pulled the hood of her raincoat a little tighter around her face and waited for the next light.
She lost all track of time as she kept walking south. Somewhere along Dupont Street she looked down and realized she was walking in water. Her shoes were full and spilling over with each step that she took, and she couldn’t even register dismay. She thought about taking them off then decided it was too cold to be barefoot, and too late to save the shoes, so she kept on walking while her head was spinning. The bottom line was that her daddy’s murder made no sense. The only thing that had changed in their lives, besides her mother’s cancer, was the fact that Daddy had been fired. Yes, that would have made him mad and it would have scared him, too. He wouldn’t have been able to provide.
So who would he have challenged? The foreman at the mine? Justin Caulfield himself? Even if all those things had happened, killing him still made no sense. He posed no threat to anyone.
The only other thing she could think of was that someone had killed him for the car, which was crazy. The car was old and on its last legs. Why murder for something that might not even make a getaway from the scene of the crime? Poppy was at a loss. She needed to make sense of a senseless act and it wasn’t happening.
As she came around the corner, she quickly realized someone else was afoot in the rain. When she recognized the old homeless man, her heart skipped a beat. She didn’t think she needed to be afraid of him, but he was unsettling. She put her head down and kept moving without making eye contact, but it didn’t help. As soon as he saw her, he started to shout.
“
The devil is alive. I seen him. You gotta hide!”
Poppy lengthened her stride, trying not to stumble, but her feet and legs were so cold she could barely stand upright.
“
You!” Prophet shouted. “He’ll get you next! Run girl! Run! The devil’s in the house!”
When he reached for her, she panicked. All of a sudden she was running, tearing through the rain-soaked streets, taking shortcuts through the alleys just to get away.
By the time she got to the bridge over the Little Man her heart was hammering against her chest and she was shaking so hard it was difficult to put one foot in front of the other. Just as she stepped up on the foot path to take her across the bridge she caught a glimpse of the roiling flood waters below. It was yet another mistake in a day filled with errors.
She couldn’t look down without thinking of her daddy being thrown in there like so much garbage. She tried to look away, but it was too late. The river swallowed her up just like it had taken her daddy until she was leaning over the railing, drawn to the power of the water rushing past.
The sound of a car horn broke the spell. Startled, she pulled back, and then moaned. Overwhelmed by the distance and growing weaker by the minute, she tried to talk herself across.
Move, damn it! You’re freezing. Get over yourself and start walking. Just don’t look down. Don’t look down.
She made it two steps further before another horror popped into her head. What if Daddy hadn’t been dead when he fell in the river?
Oh Jesus.
Had he struggled against the storm and the current, bleeding and in pain? He would have been frantic, thinking about her and Mama, knowing what a mess he would be leaving behind.
Again she forced herself to look away from the river and focus on the other side of the bridge. From where she was standing she could almost see the roof of her house. So close, and yet it might as well have been a thousand miles.
All of a sudden her legs buckled and she was on her knees, shaking too hard to get up. It was a bitch, coming this far and then coming undone. She slumped against the railing, then threw her head back and screamed. Assaulted by the downpour and the harsh sobs burning up her throat, she curled up into a ball and prayed to God to just let her die. The bridge was vibrating beneath her as the flood waters slammed against the pilings below. She wondered if it would collapse and take her with it.
She didn’t hear the screech of brakes or see the man who jumped from the car. All she felt were hands pulling her up and a voice near her ear telling her to lean on him.
So she did.
****
When Mike Amblin learned Jessup Sadler’s missing car had been located in the parking lot of an all-night gas station, he took off to the site, leaving Duroy with Harmon. Because of the rain, the possibility that they might find evidence anywhere outside the vehicle was unlikely, but they could get lucky and find something inside.
There were already two patrol cars on the scene when he pulled into the station. A large area around the vehicle had been blocked off with crime scene tape. A couple of uniformed officers were walking the area searching for evidence while another was directing traffic. As usual, everyone wanted to see what was going on. Even though he doubted this was the actual scene of the crime, they had to go through the motions.
He parked and got out, flashing his badge as he approached.
“
What do we know so far?”
The officer recognized Mike and began relaying information.
“
The car is locked but here’s a weird one. The keys are still in the ignition. A passing patrol car spotted it. The clerk’s name is Roy Parnell. He said it was there when he came to work at 6:00 a.m.”
“
Have you found any bullet casings or anything that would lead us to believe this was where the shooting occurred?”
“
No, and honestly, even if there had been anything here, it wouldn’t have lasted long. Look at the slope. The run-off is going straight into the gutters and then into the city sewers.”
“
What about security cameras?”
The officer pointed to the corner of the building. “There are cameras. Don’t know if they’re operational or not. There’s a wrecker on the way to tow the car to the crime lab.”
“
Thanks,” Mike said, and headed into the station to talk to the clerk.
The door chimed as he entered. He scanned the store for the clerk, spotting him behind the counter. Mike flashed his badge again.
“
I’m Detective Amblin with the Caulfield police department.”
“
Roy Parnell,” the clerk said, eyeing the water making a puddle around the big cop’s feet.
“
Nice to meet you, Roy. You got a minute?”
“
Yeah sure, anything I can do to help. Is this about the man who was murdered? The one they pulled out of the Little Man this morning? I heard it on the news.”
“
Yes. That car belongs to him. I understand you didn’t come to work until 6:00 a.m. this morning. Was the car already there?”
Roy nodded.
Mike pulled out the DMV photo of Jessup Sadler.
“
Have you ever seen this man before?”
Roy took the photo and studied it for a few moments before handing it back.
“
I don’t know him. If he’s been here before I don’t remember him. We get a lot of customers through a day and the majority of them are regulars, but he’s not one of them.”
“
Who was on duty last night?”
“
Two different men, depending on your timeline. Hank McGowan worked until ten p.m. Then Billy Joe Fossey came on at 10:00 and worked until I came on at 6:00 a.m.”
“
I’ll need phone numbers for both of them.”
The clerk scanned his cell phone, then read them off as Mike made note of them in his notebook.
“
Do your security cameras work?” Mike asked.
“
Yeah, but even on a good night the images are shitty. I can’t imagine what they’ll show what with this damned rain and all.”
That wasn’t what Mike wanted to hear. “I still need the tapes.”
“
Be right back,” Roy said, and went into a back room.
The wrecker arrived as Mike waited. He watched them winching Sadler’s car onto the flatbed and thought of Poppy Sadler again. They’d found her car. She would be happy about that. At few moments later, the clerk was back.
“
Here you go. I put them in a plastic bag so they wouldn’t get wet.”
“
I appreciate that,” Mike said, then ran back through the rain to his car.
His intention was to head back to the department to view the tapes, but the least he could do was put Poppy Sadler’s mind at rest about the missing car, so he made a call to The Depot.
Vic Payton answered. “This is the Depot, home of the best homemade pies in West Virginia. How can I help you?”
“
This is Detective Amblin. I’d like to speak to Poppy Sadler please.”
Vic knew Mike from their years in high school together. “Hey Mike, it’s me, Vic. Poppy’s not here.”
Mike frowned. “I dropped her off less than four hours ago. What happened?”
“
Once the news got out about who the murdered man was, we thought it best that she go back home. You know, so she wouldn’t be hammered with stares and questions.”
“
How long has she been gone?”
“
Almost an hour and a half now, maybe more.”
“
Then I’ll catch up with her there. Thanks,” Mike said.
“
Oh, hey, you might want to give her a little more time before you try.”
“
Time for what?”
“
She might not be home yet. She wasn’t acting herself today. Didn’t tell any of us what had happened. We just found out like everyone else when the news broke on TV. Then she wouldn’t accept any help. Didn’t want a ride and wouldn’t let me call her a cab. She just took off out the back door.”
Mike stared through the windshield. Even though he was less than thirty feet from the building across the street he could barely make it out.
“
Walking? You let her walk home in this shit?”
Vic’s guilt resurfaced as he began to defend himself. “Look. You don’t know her. She keeps to herself. She isn’t easy to talk to or anything.”
“
I don’t have to know her to know she was in shock. That’s why she wasn’t talking. She was in shock, damn it.”
Mike dropped the phone in the console. He had no idea which streets Poppy Sadler would have taken to get herself across town to go home, but he was by God going to make sure she was there before he did anything else. He took off out of the parking lot, leaving rubber as he went.
Anxiety grew as he drove. It would be a long miserable walk in good weather. On a day like today it would be grueling. He was pissed at Vic for letting her go, and pissed at himself for even taking her to work in the first place. His first instincts were to go to straight to her home. If she wasn’t there, then he could backtrack.
Urgency grew as he continued south. It was all he could do not to turn on the siren and lights and run hot through the streets, but it would be a recipe for disaster to speed in this weather.
Every car that slowed him down made him antsy. No one was afoot, which worsened his concern. Even the people who lived on the streets knew enough to take shelter.
It took nearly fifteen minutes to get through the city and by the time he saw the bridge in the distance, his belly was in knots.
At first his focus was on traffic, and then he glanced at the bridge, saw a figure standing on the footpath and knew it was her. When he saw her go down, his heart slammed against his ribcage. This time he didn’t hesitate as he hit the lights and siren and went flying through the last traffic light, leaving a rooster-tail of water spray behind him.
He braked as he reached the bridge, slammed the car into park, and jumped out running. She was sobbing so hard she didn’t even see him. He didn’t bother trying to talk to her. When he bent down to pick her up, she didn’t fight him.
“
I’ve got you. Lean on me.”
She went limp.
Chapter Four
For Poppy, the next few minutes were a blur of images.
The face of a man she thought she should know.
A scream in her head that wouldn’t stop.
Windshield wipers rocking to the rhythm of the rain.
Questions she couldn’t answer.
Blessed warmth on her hand.
It was the warmth she held onto, and the warmth that ultimately pulled her back to reality.
The scream was actually a siren.
The man was the detective from this morning.
And the windshield wipers were still at battle with the goddamned rain that continued to fall.
This time when she heard the detective speak, the words actually registered.
“
Miss Sadler, you’re going to be okay. I’m taking you home.”
Poppy looked down at her lap. The warmth to which she was clinging was his hand, and the death grip she had on it was turning his knuckles white, yet he’d said nothing or tried to pull it away.