“Hi,” Casey said. “My name is Casey Jones, and—”
“One moment. Mrs. Williams is expecting your call.” Her voice cut off, replaced by a Muzak version of a Nickelback song.
“Ms. Jones?” The voice was husky, like she’d had one—or a thousand—too many cigarettes.
“Yes. Mrs. Williams?”
“Nadine, honey.”
“Um, Nadine, Tom Haab told me you have a trucker database I could take a look at.”
“We do. When would you like to come in?”
“Actually, I’m sitting in your parking lot right now.”
“Ah, yes, Tom said you aren’t real big on people.”
“Well, that’s not exactly—”
“On seeing people. Should I say it that way? Anyway, I’ll be out in a minute. Hang on, sweetie.” She hung up.
The phone rang again and another text flashed onto the screen. Casey was ready to dismiss it as Bailey again, but saw it was Sheryl.
can u plz txt B? shes drvng me crzy
Casey sighed. For heaven’s sake. She brought up Bailey’s number and wrote:
I am fine.
She put the phone back in the door pocket and had to wait less than a minute before a short, stocky woman exited the building. Casey got out of the truck and waved. Nadine waved back, gesturing for Casey to join her on the sidewalk. “Now listen, honey,” she said when Casey approached. “The only one inside the office is my receptionist, and she’s more near-sighted than my granny, so you don’t have to worry about her. Anybody else comes along you can duck behind a corner, all right? Come on, then.”
Not having much of a choice in the matter, Casey followed her into the building. The receptionist’s glasses were remarkably thick, but still Casey averted her face. They didn’t see anyone else, and Nadine shut a thick office door behind them.
“Matt—my husband—might come in at some point, but you can trust him. Have a seat.”
Casey sat in an old office chair, and Nadine scooted another one beside it and up to a computer monitor. “Now, Tom says you need to look up some people. Want to tell me any more about it, and why I should help you, other than the fact that I like Tom?”
How much should she tell her? “You know outside Blue Lake last Sunday? A trucker died?”
Nadine’s face fell. “Evan Tague? Oh, that was so awful. How they could be so careless with that construction equipment –”
“It wasn’t an accident. Someone put those machines in the road to stop Evan. But since the road was wet, and he didn’t have enough time…” Casey shuddered. “He did his best.”
Nadine eyed her. “And you know this how?”
“I was in the truck with him when it happened.”
Nadine blinked, and looked Casey up and down. “And you’re okay?”
“I know. It’s crazy. But Evan got…I’m fine.”
Nadine looked at the computer, and Casey could see she was trying to get her emotions under control. Nadine cleared her throat. “Evan drove for us different times. He was a good man. Matt was out at the crash site. He said even from where he was—” She swallowed. “Even where he was it looked like a bomb had gone off. He could see…could see blood on the windows.” She fiddled with the computer’s mouse. “You think some other truckers had something to do with…the accident?”
“A company called Class A Trucking.”
“Class A? Never heard of them.” She keyed something into the computer. “Hmm. There. Tells all about them. Founded eighteen months ago by two men. Owen Dixon and Randy Westing.”
“No one else?”
Nadine glanced at her. “You’re expecting a different name?”
Casey thought back to Bruce, relieved when she mentioned Randy as being her boss. “Yes, but I don’t know who it is.”
Nadine searched the screen some more, but ended up shaking her head. “Nobody else here that I can see.”
“What about their business? Any problems?”
“Nope. Squeaky clean.” She frowned. “Almost too squeaky clean. You mean to tell me nobody’s made a mistake on paperwork or gotten a speeding ticket?” She wasn’t convinced.
“How far back does it go? Their whole history?”
“No. Only a couple of weeks, so this actually isn’t all that helpful. Now, you wanted to look at truckers, right? Tom could’ve helped you a little—there are Internet-based trucker databases, like truckersearch.com, that he could access, but to get the comprehensive list you have to have special circumstances. Matt’s a part-time sheriff’s deputy, so that’s why we have it. I can check pretty much anything you want.”
A cop? Davey hadn’t bothered to tell her that. Another cold sweat broke out along her scalp. She was going to have to take a shower every half hour the way things were going.
“You okay?” Nadine’s face creased with concern.
“Yeah. I mean…” She cleared her throat and tried to erase any guilt affecting her features. “That’s legal? For you to check on the drivers?”
“Sure.”
Casey had her doubts. “Okay, so how do we do this?”
“Give me a name.”
“Pat Parnell.” Might as well start with him.
Nadine punched it in, and Parnell’s photo came onto the screen, with more information than Casey thought anybody should be able to get about a person. Yet another reason for her to stay as far out of the system as possible—anybody who knew her real name would know everything.
Parnell’s likeness was from better times. He looked healthy, well-fed, and, if not supremely confident, at least comfortable with himself. The rest of the information was hard to read.
“So, what does it say about him?”
Nadine opened a new window and pulled up another database. “This is our own driver history. I thought his name sounded familiar. See, we used him a few years ago, even once early last year, but he’s been out of our system completely since then.” She flicked back to the official data. “Can’t find him anywhere. He might not be driving anymore. You think he had something to do with Evan’s death?”
“Not directly. He probably didn’t even know about it. How about Hank Nance?”
Nadine brought him up. “Same as Pat. Used to drive for us sometimes, now never. No traffic violations. Oh, here. Wanted for failure to pay child support.”
“That’s on there? Why?”
“Because he can’t drive across state lines. He does, he’s nabbed at weigh-in. Hasn’t driven for anybody for almost two years.”
“How about John Simones?”
Saying his name under her breath, Nadine put him into the computer. “He’s still driving periodically. Nothing regular. But I don’t see any outstanding warrants or indicators.”
“Mick or Wendy Halveston?”
Nadine made a face. “Don’t have to put them in. They won’t be current in the database, because Mick can’t drive. Everybody knows what happened two years ago. He can never drive again.”
“Because he had an accident?”
“Because he had a physical problem that caused the accident. Seems he has some kind of heart condition. Whenever he sneezed or coughed, or even laughed, he’d pass out. That’s what happened that day. He was talking on his phone, guy told him a joke, he laughed.”
Casey closed her eyes. That entire family had died because Mick Halveston laughed at a joke. No. They died because he was driving when he should not have been. And talking on the phone while he should’ve been driving. “Mick was fine? And his wife?”
“Brand new cab. Airbags, the whole bit. They were both in the hospital for a while, but nothing permanent.”
Like dying.
“Does Wendy drive?”
“Nope. Just liked to travel with Mick when she could. Guess they’ve had to find something else to do now. Maybe they’ve started a new brokerage.” She grinned. “Who else?”
Casey was trying to put it together. Mick Halveston could never drive again. But she had pictures of him with his truck, and talking to Westing and Dixon. So if he was driving, it had to be under one of the names from the manifests.