Jason was nodding.
“Almost perfect cover.”
They walked back to the front of the house. Nina grabbed the file out of the car.
“The address for the ex-wife is in here; want to go talk to her.”
“Yeah, we’re done here.”
Chapter 6
Chelsea Morris took a quick look at the clock. 15 minutes more and her shift was over. She grabbed the coffee pot for the hundredth time today and went over to Mr. Perkins. Ever since Chelsea started at Daylight Donuts, the elderly man had sat in her station. In all that time, he’d never ordered food. Just coffee, black and hot, half a cup at a time.
“Here you go, Mr. Perkins.”
“Just half a cup.”
Chelsea smiled and obediently stopped at the half way point in is cup. They played out this dance all the time.
“You want a donut?”
“No thank you, young lady. I think I’ll just have coffee today.”
Mr. Perkins had lost his wife ten years ago. He had told Chelsea about his beloved ‘Dolly’ many times and Chelsea always listened patiently. She didn’t know how old Mr. Perkins was but she guessed him in his seventies. Talking to people of his generation was easy for Chelsea. As the last of seven kids, her parents were already in their late forties when she came along.
Sitting next to Mr. Perkins was a young man drinking a mocha latte. He hadn’t said two words except to order and now he got up with his coffee and headed for the door. Sitting under the salt shaker was a twenty dollar bill.
Chelsea picked up the tip and called after the man.
“Thank You!”
He turned and smiled at her before leaving.
She turned back to Mr. Perkins.
“Mr. Perkins, my shift is getting ready to end. I’ll see you on Wednesday.”
“Very well. I was just thinking of leaving myself.”
Chelsea smiled at him, patted his hand and went into the back room. Her friend Trudi, was just coming in.
“Hey, Trudi. How ya doin’?”
“Good. How’s my BFF?”
“I’m off for two days, which means I am awesome!”
“Don’t rub it in.”
Chelsea punched out and left before her boss could ask her to do any last minute chores. She’d just finished her sixth straight day and her feet were killing her.
She went out the back door and walked across the gravel parking lot towards her Chevy Cavalier. It was red, was being the key word. It now carried an aged rusty brown color over most of its body, but it never left her stranded, so she hung on to it.
She threw her apron across the front seat and climbed in. The familiar scent of coconut filled her senses as the tiny surfboard dangling from the mirror gave off its aroma. She had spent a few years in California after a traumatic event in her teen years when her parents had sent her to live with an aunt in Long Beach. It was there she had caught the surfing bug and got married. Neither of which lasted very long. Still, it was an exciting time, and the smell of coconut reminded her of those days.
She pulled her seat belt across her tiny shoulders and snagged some of her jet black hair. At just five foot, everything seemed just a little too big, including her seat belt, which didn’t fit comfortably. She untangled her hair and snapped the belt.
Something moved in her rear-view mirror and before she could react, a gun was pushed against the back of her head.
“Start the car.”
She started to cry but did as she was told.
“Now drive.”
“Where?”
“Turn right out of the lot and go north.”
“Why? What do you want from me?”
“No questions, just drive.”
She drove until they got to Huebner road.
“Turn right.”
Chelsea did and after less than a mile, he instructed her to turn left into a cement plant. The yard was huge and she didn’t see anyone around. After directing her to the back, the man had her pull up along an old van.
“Stop here.”
The gun had left her head while they drove but Chelsea could feel it pushing into her back through the seat. Now it returned to her head.
“Get out.”
Chelsea did as she was told; sliding out of the front seat at the same time he slid out of the back, the gun trained on her the whole time.
“Put your hands behind your back.”
“Please don’t hurt me. I don’t have much money, just today’s tips, but you can have them.”
She had stopped crying but her voice was still trembled.
“I said put your hands behind you!”
She did and felt handcuffs click onto both wrists, quickly followed by a hood pulled over her head. Panic filled her and she started to cry again. Her captor steered her forward until she heard a sliding door open. It sounded like the side door on the van.
“Lie down.”
Chelsea fell forward onto some carpet that smelled of oil and grease. She rolled on her side in an effort to be more comfortable and to try and look out under the hood. She couldn’t see a thing and when he slid the door shut, she felt cut off from civilization, alone in the world. Isolated in a world filled with fear.
She heard a door open and close.
“Don’t move, don’t say a word. I won’t hesitate to kill you if you aren’t doing exactly what I say.”
Chelsea lay on her side as the van started and they began to move. She began to quietly pray in between her sobs.
****
The ex-wife of Ed Garland lived on the opposite side of the city and it took Jason and Nina almost an hour to get there.
Rita Garland’s address was a second floor apartment on a quiet street in East San Antonio. She opened the door but didn’t invite the detectives in. She was tall and skinny with bleach blonde hair. A down-turned mouth gave her a seemingly permanent sad face. Jason tried to see into the apartment while he talked.
“Mrs. Garland?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Detective Strong and this is Detective Jefferson. We’re here about your husband.”
“My husband and I are divorced. I’m not sure how I can help.”
“You told the officer you spoke with that you weren’t surprised to learn your ex-husband is missing. Can I ask why?”
She seemed unsure how to answer and finally she pushed the door open all the way.
“You might as well come in. No sense in you standing out in the heat.”
The two detectives followed Rita Garland into the small living room and, as Nina shut the door behind them, the room went dark. After letting their eyes adjust, Jason took a seat on the couch while Nina stayed standing by the door. She had her notepad out.
Opposite the couch was a recliner which Rita Garland settled into with grunt. There was a half empty glass of a caramel colored liquid on the side table. Jason figured scotch.
“Would you like a drink?”
Both Jason and Nina shook their heads.
“No, thank you.”
Rita took a sip of her drink and looked at Jason over the top of her glass.
“Detective…Strong, did you say?”
“Yes, maam.”
“My ex-husband is a troubled man. A fact I wasn’t aware of when we got married.”
“Troubled how?”
“Emotionally, mentally. Not crazy or anything like that. It’s just that there seemed to always be something at the edges of his consciousness, tempering his enjoyment of life. Depressed, I guess.”
“Is he on any anti-depressants?”
“Not that I’m aware of. He’s troubled because of something that happened before I met him.”
“Did he say what?”
“His best friend committed suicide. Ed never told me the whole story, but he did tell me he was there when it happened and he felt responsible.”