He could deny her assessment but he’d be lying. “Maybe.”
“They all have such pretty smiles.” Shady Grove taught them to smile. Extra desserts, extra time in the craft center, extra phone calls home if they smiled. Shady Grove taught them all how to hide behind a smile.
“What are you thinking?” she said.
He didn’t raise his gaze from the photo. “It breaks my heart to know they’re still so sad.”
“That last night together when that picture was snapped . . . it was a perfect time.”
“Yes.”
“Not everyone is fooled by smiles,” she said. “Not everyone believes life is preferable to death.”
“I don’t.”
“And they don’t, either. You see. I see. Now it’s your job to take away their pain for good.”
“They don’t have to go on pretending any longer.”
“No.”
Chapter Three
Monday, June 2, 5 P.M.
A background check revealed Spike had been released from prison last year but remained on parole for another three months. It took less than fifteen minutes of calls to locate Spike’s parole officer and get the address of the car wash where Spike worked as a buffer.
Bragg pulled up at Chicken’s Car Wash located off Exit 6 on Interstate 35. He pulled up in his SUV, paid twenty bucks for a basic clean, and drove down into the washer. Water splashed on his windshield and then soap spattered. He sat back in his seat staring past the machines to the crew of men who waited with buffing rags to dry the car and wash the windows. He glanced at Spike’s Texas state prison system photo and then to the trio of waiting men. Black hair, short, a dragon tattoo on his right arm made it easy to spot Spike, who stood apart from the other two. Spike tapped his foot and glanced around as if wishing away the time so he could get on with his life.
Spike had done time for forgery and embezzlement. There’d also been a drug charge, but the prosecutor had dropped it in exchange for the plea bargain on the other two crimes. No violent offenses, but he was the kind of guy you kept away from the till.
The machines hummed and whirred and finally rinsed the last of the dirt from this morning’s crime scene. He pulled up close to Spike who spit once to his right and then tugged the drying rag from his back pocket.
Bragg watched as the guy dried the windshield. He studied his hands and face, searching for signs he’d been in a fight. The medical examiner had called minutes ago and said he had found skin under Rory’s nails. Rory had scratched someone, likely his killer.
Spike didn’t appear to pay much attention to Bragg until he saw Bragg’s white hat resting on the front seat. Worry flowed through Spike, but he kept drying. When Spike finished, Bragg got out of his car and pulled a five from his pocket. He held it out to Spike who, eyes downcast, reached for the money.
“Spike Anders?” Bragg said.
Spike chewed his bottom lip as he quickly tucked the money in his pocket. “Tell my parole officer I’m working hard, and I ain’t been in any trouble.”
“How do you know your parole officer sent me?”
“You’re a Ranger. Last I checked Rangers don’t make social calls to ex-cons.”
“Point taken. I do have a couple of questions for you.”
Spike glanced over his shoulder as if assessing his exit strategy.
Smiling, Bragg slid his hand to the gun resting on his hip. “You’re not in trouble, Spike, but if you run we are gonna have a real issue. And I don’t want trouble. I want to get home to supper.”
Spike sniffed as he twisted the drying rag between his hands. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Good.” The car behind Bragg beeped, and he waved it toward another dryer.
Spike sighed. “You’re costing me tip money, Ranger.”
“Tell me about Rory Edwards,” he said in no particular rush.
The sound of the familiar name eased the stiffness in Spike’s shoulders. “I ain’t seen Rory in about a week.”
“Where’s the last place you saw him?”
“Here at the drive-through. He came by to show me how good he was doing. Said he’d been sober for two hundred days.”
“Did you believe him?”
“He looked good, for Rory, I mean. Clear-eyed and his hands didn’t shake. He wanted to show his brother he had cleaned up his act. Said there was a woman too who he needed to make amends with.”
“He say who the woman was?”
“No. Never gave a name.”
“Rory ever visit his brother?”
“I don’t know. Rory’s kind of afraid of his brother. His brother was good about bailing him out until about a year ago, and then all the help stopped.”
“Why’d it stop?”
“Their mom died. David told Rory he only helped him to keep the old lady happy. It troubled her Rory had turned out badly. To her dying breath, she prayed Rory would straighten out.” He reached in his back pocket and pulled a crumbled cigarette packet and a book of matches. He lit a cigarette and puffed. “Rory used his Mom’s guilt.”
“Used it?”
“He’d lean on his mother, who would go to David and make him cut Rory a check. This went on for years. Rory knew which buttons to push when it came to his mother. Rory wanted to find his brother and apologize.”
“Where’s Rory been the last year?”
Spike puffed on the cigarette. “Up in Houston. A halfway house or something similar.”
Dr. Watterson had told Bragg Rory’s body tested positive for high levels of alcohol and coke.
“I’d bet my last dollar Rory couldn’t stay sober long. It was still a struggle. Rory liked being hammered too much.” Spike glanced past Bragg and raised a hand. “Be right back to work, boss. I’m talking to a Texas Ranger.”
Bragg turned and saw a thin guy with a clipboard scowling at them. He held up a hand as if to say he recognized he was interrupting and then turned back to Spike. “And you have no information on the woman he wanted to see?”
“No idea. He wouldn’t say. But he kept looking at an old picture.”
Bragg pulled out his cell phone and showed Spike the image nailed to the tree. “That it?”
Spiked leaned in. “Kind of like it.”
Bragg replaced the phone. “Back to the last time you saw Rory.”
“He just said he weren’t gonna drink no more, and he’d gotten a line on a job. Seemed excited about it.”
“What kind of job?”
“He didn’t know exactly. Said it was farm work. Said he looked forward to working with his hands.”
“Where was the job?”
“If he told me, I don’t remember. I reminded him he owed me one hundred bucks, and he said not to worry. He’d pay me back when he got his first paycheck.”
“He didn’t look sad or upset?”
“No. The son of a bitch was on top of the world.” Smoke trailed out of Spike’s mouth and nose as he exhaled. “What’s he gotten himself into this time? Job turn out to be bogus? He get arrested for doing something he shouldn’t? I told him good jobs didn’t fall into the laps of guys like him.”
Bragg rested his hands on his hips. “Rory died.”
Spike paused, cigarette at his lips. “Rory’s dead?”
“He is.”
Spike took a deep drag. “Dumb son of a bitch. Someone knife him or shoot him?”
“He was hanging from a tree when I saw him this morning.”
Spike’s eyes widened. “Hanging? Like he was lynched?”
“Someone strung him up. Tried to make it look like suicide.”
“Shit.”
“He piss anyone off lately?”
“Rory pissed everyone off. He owed money to lots of people. Always made promises he couldn’t keep. He was a taker.”
“You ever hear anyone threaten him?”
“No more than usual. Like I said he could piss people off.”
“I heard he also runs with a guy named Dan.”
“Yeah, I met Dan. He’s okay. Saw him a month ago. He was driving to Seattle for a job. He’s a carpenter who does a lot of custom work. Said some computer bigwig was having shelves installed. Contractor needed extra help so he called Dan. I think they went to school together.”