Rich Waters (Jason Rich), page 32
“What about Izzy? You talked so glowingly about her. Do y’all still talk?”
Jason gazed down at his shoes. “No. She . . . blames me for Harry’s death.”
“His death?”
“Disappearance,” Jason corrected.
“You think he’s dead?”
Jason continued to peer at his feet, seeing the photo that Tyson Cade had showed him of Harry’s dead body in his mind. He knew he couldn’t burden Ashley with this information. The last thing he wanted to do was jeopardize the health of anyone else he cared about, and, if he were honest with himself, he knew he was beginning to have feelings for the red-haired attorney from Cullman. “Harry wouldn’t have just vanished. I believe he was killed by the same people that tried to kill Detective Daniels.”
“Goodness,” Ashley managed. “You know you fell off the wagon last year when things got out of control.”
“I know, but I haven’t this time.”
“How?”
“I’ve been leaning hard on my defusers. Shooting. Weightlifting. Reading fiction.” He crossed his legs and averted his eyes. “Watching eighties and nineties pro wrestling videos.”
“Get out,” she said, but the tease in her voice wasn’t mean. “I used to love . . . who was that guy . . . the Heartbreak Kid?”
“Shawn Michaels. The Showstopper. Came to the ring to the song ‘Sexy Boy,’ which he sang himself. Leader of the faction D-Generation X.” Jason stopped when he saw Ashley staring at him.
“Damn, you know your stuff. That’s him all right.”
“It’s getting harder to quell the desire.”
“What about AA meetings? And your counselor?”
“No. Talking things out doesn’t do any good.”
“Why not?”
“Because that makes me explore my feelings, and I don’t want to do that.”
“Repressing them is only going to make the inevitable fall worse.”
“Maybe,” Jason said, standing and beginning to pace around the small lobby. “But I can’t afford to let my guard down right now. I’m in the biggest crisis in my life, and I just can’t do it.”
“That’s why you haven’t come to see me.”
Jason nodded. “I let you inside, Ashley.” He looked at her. “And it makes me feel vulnerable. I can’t feel that way and deal with . . .” He almost said Tyson Cade but stopped himself. “. . . this case.”
“Is it just the Cowan murder trial? I mean, I know that’s a big deal, but—”
“No. It’s not just that. I want justice for Harry. And for Izzy. They were a couple. I want justice for my nieces too. And for Jana.” He squeezed his hands into fists. “For me.”
“All of that ties into the Cowan trial?”
“Yes,” Jason said.
For a moment, she didn’t say anything. Then she approached him. “Promise me something.”
“What?”
“If you get the urge to drink, call me. Don’t fall off the wagon until you’ve seen me, OK?”
He looked into her green eyes and felt the same charge of warmth. “OK,” he said.
He extended his hands at the same time she stretched her arms outward for a hug.
They both laughed, and Ashley took his hands in both of hers and squeezed. “Don’t go so long without calling again. I was worried about you.”
Jason didn’t want to leave, but he knew he must. “Good luck with your trial,” he said. Then he walked to the door.
“Hey, Jason.”
He looked over his shoulder at her.
“Ditto.”
90
Jason drove home with the windows and top down on the Porsche. He relaxed to the mellow sounds of Christopher Cross’s “Sailing” and several other numbers from the eighties crooner before he switched to “Africa,” by Toto, and “Listen to the Music,” by the Doobie Brothers. When he took the Veterans Memorial Bridge, he played “Crazy Love,” the Aaron Neville version, and sang along.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this good.
When he hung a left on Mill Creek Road, he had dialed it up slightly with “Live and Let Die,” by Guns N’ Roses. He was still pumped and thought he might take a dip in the lake.
He pulled into the driveway with the music still reverberating out of his speakers. He continued to sing, but then he saw the visitor sitting on his steps.
Jason’s heartbeat almost skidded to a stop as fast as the Porsche did. Gasping, he hopped out of the car and walked cautiously toward the steps.
“I think you woke up the whole neighborhood. Even the folks across the cove.” She shook her head. “Guns N’ Roses? That’s so high school.”
Jason swallowed. Her hair was longer, and she wore a pair of faded blue overalls over a white T-shirt.
“Jason James Rich,” she said. “Cat got your tongue?”
“Savannah Chase Wittschen.” Jason’s voice cracked on her last name. He reached out with his right arm but didn’t take a step closer. His feet felt like they were in wet concrete.
She rose and stuck her hands in the pockets of the overalls. Then she walked toward him, stopping when she was a couple of feet away.
“It’s . . . been a long time,” Jason finally said.
Chase nodded. Then she reached for his still-outstretched hand.
“I just couldn’t handle it,” Chase said. They were sitting side by side on the steps now. Jason was in shock. He was having a hard time thinking straight. It was good to see her. But also so painful, as flashes of what he knew hit him like lasers.
“What?” Jason asked.
“You asking to marry me,” she said. “I didn’t feel worthy. I’d already started, even before Christmas, drinking again. At first, it was just a few beers on my boat. Then, after the proposal and after I left the cove, I got the whiskey out. I came back one weekend when you were gone, and I saw Nola and that kid doing meth together. At that point, the alcohol wasn’t doing the trick. Once I did my first line again, I was hooked.”
“Tell me about Kelly Flowers, Chase. I know you got mixed up with him. How’d it happen?”
Tears filled her eyes.
“Chase, I have to know.”
Her lip quivered. “He caught me doing meth. I’d gotten drunk at Wintzell’s and was doing a line in my car. He knocked on the door and put cuffs on me. Put me in his police cruiser and drove off. I should have known something was up when he turned off the video camera.”
“What happened?” Jason felt a deep sense of foreboding.
“He told me that he didn’t really want to arrest me.” Her hands and arms were shaking, and she crossed them.
“Then what happened?” Jason asked, thinking that her story was very similar to that of Colleen Maples.
“He took me back to my car and told me that if I wanted to avoid arrest, I needed to check in to the Hampton Inn.”
Jason felt an invisible sword slice his chest. Just like Maples . . . a pattern of abuse by Sergeant Flowers, he thought, envisioning the argument he would make before the jury. There was no doubt about it anymore. He’d be putting the victim on trial.
“Did you go to the hotel?”
She nodded.
“Then what?”
Despite clutching her knees, she began to shake again. “He met me there, and . . .” She glared up at him. “Are you really going to make me say it?”
The blade in Jason’s sternum sank deeper, and he almost groaned. He felt a myriad of emotions churning inside him, but white-hot rage was winning the battle for supremacy. He looked away from her and peered out at the road. Smoke was fluming behind the Tonidandel house, and Jason knew the boys were taking out the trash.
Jason finally just said it. “In exchange for him not arresting you . . . you had sex with him.”
“Yes.”
“Did you see him again?”
“Yes.”
Jason stood and paced a few steps away. He took several deep breaths, reminding himself that Chase was a material witness in his capital murder trial. “Was that the deal?” he asked. “Did you have to have multiple encounters with him before he’d drop the charge? Or were the subsequent times by choice?”
When she didn’t answer, he looked back at her. “Well?”
“That wasn’t the deal . . . and I barely remember it.”
“Why then?”
More tears and she shook her head. “He said he could get me meth. And not what I had been doing, but the best in Marshall County. All I had to do was keep . . .” She trailed off, and Jason glared down at the concrete and tried to keep his composure.
“Where was Flowers getting the meth?”
She sighed and let out a quiet sob. “He never said . . . but we both know it had to be Cade.”
Jason looked up at the sky. The night was cloudy, and he saw no stars. “When did you go see Hatty Daniels?”
Chase stood up and looked at him. He’d finally shocked her.
“I’m a lawyer, Chase, and I’m investigating Flowers’s murder. Hatty Daniels has incurred her own bit of drama these past few months.”
Chase sat back on the steps. “I heard.”
“Detective Daniels told me that you were her informant and that she was investigating Flowers. She said you came forward after being threatened with a public intoxication arrest by Sergeant George Mitchell out at the Sunset Drive Trail. Daniels, Mitchell’s partner, was brought in, and the two of them were trying to organize a sting . . . and then Flowers was killed.”
Chase looked down at her feet.
“Is all of that true?” Jason asked.
“Yes.”
“All right . . . when you would meet with Kelly Flowers, did he have a spot that he preferred?”
“You already know the answer to that.”
“Branner’s Place.” It wasn’t a question.
“Pretty much every time after the arrest.”
“How many occasions?”
“I don’t know.”
“Ballpark it.” Jason spat the words, trying hard to keep his cool. Keep your attorney hat on, he thought. You have to check this box.
“Maybe six,” she said.
“Did you meet with him on the night of April 8 . . . or after midnight on April 9 . . . at Branner’s Place?”
“I was supposed to,” Chase finally said.
“What time?”
“We normally met at nine, but he had to do something that night, so he moved it back.”
Jason licked his lips and swallowed. His throat was dry. “How far back?”
“Twelve thirty,” she said.
“And did you meet him then? At thirty minutes past midnight?” Jason paused and closed his eyes. “Chase, did you kill him?”
She looked past him to the road. “I can’t believe that you would actually think that of me.”
“Go back over what you’ve already admitted to doing,” Jason said. His voice was cold. “Did you kill Kelly Flowers?”
Chase began to cry again. Softer this time.
“Chase?”
“No,” she finally said. “I didn’t show. I stood him up.”
Jason let out a long breath that he had been holding. He took a seat next to her. “Why’d you stand him up?”
She snorted. “I wish I could give you a heroic reason, but the answer is far simpler.”
“What?”
“I needed a meth fix, and I couldn’t wait.”
“Where’d you get it?”
Chase’s tears were falling harder now. “Oh, Jason, I was such a mess. I’m so . . . sorry.”
“Where’d you get it?”
She sucked in a breath and looked at him. “Nola.”
Jason howled like he had never howled in his life. He jumped off the steps and ran his hands through his hair.
Chase was off the steps too. “Jason, I’m sorry. I’m so—”
“I’m not mad. I’m just . . .” He grabbed her arms. “When were you with Nola?”
“It wasn’t really Nola I was with.”
He blinked his eyes in confusion. “What?” He removed his hands. “All right, tell me what happened?”
“After I had done meth with Nola and her boyfriend at the house, the boy left me his number in case I ever needed any more. Before Flowers, my source was him. So . . .”
“You called Kevin Martin?” Jason asked. “K-Mart?”
“Yes,” Chase said. “I ended up meeting him at the gas station there at the intersection of 431 with Buck Island Drive.”
“What time did you meet him?”
“I don’t know the exact time. Flowers called right at nine. I was already at Branner’s Place then. I waited for about fifteen minutes, and then I called K-Mart. I went straight to the gas station, and he met me there.”
“Then what?”
“I bought a gram from him, and he asked me if I wanted to get high with him.” She shrugged.
“Oh, Chase.”
“My brain was cooked by then, J. R. I just wanted to float away.”
“What happened?”
“He drove me back to his house. His dad was still at work, and his mom had gone out with friends. We went to his boathouse. Did a couple of lines. Then he asked me if I wanted to go out on the boat.”
“When was this?”
“I have no idea. After ten.”
“Then what?”
“I remember he drove toward Goose Pond a ways. We did another line, and he had some hard seltzer drinks.”
Jason gazed at the ground. He knew he shouldn’t be surprised, but he was anyway.
“Then I got sick,” Chase continued. “I started throwing up over the side of the boat. I lay down on the console and . . .”
“And what?”
“I don’t remember anything else. The next thing I remember was waking up on the floor of a warehouse with the door locked.” She rubbed her arms. “I was there for a while. A guy they called Matty kept me fed and full of meth. I’m not sure how long I was there, but they eventually brought me home.” She paused. “And then you took me to Perdido on the plane.”
Matthew Dean, Jason thought, feeling anger boiling over. “Did you tell anyone that you were supposed to meet Flowers at twelve thirty a.m. at Branner’s Place?”
Chase sucked in a breath. “Officer Mitchell was my primary contact with the sheriff’s office. I told him about the nine p.m. meeting, and I called him when the time was moved to twelve thirty.”
“So, just to be clear, you told Detective Mitchell that you were meeting Flowers at Branner’s Place at twelve thirty in the morning.”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
She scowled at him. “As shit.”
Jason looked up at the sky, thinking through the possibilities. Why wasn’t any of this in Mitchell’s or Daniels’s investigative report? Good grief . . . Maybe Mitchell is Cade’s new inside source. He offed Flowers and framed Trey. The attack on Flowers by Trey at the Brick was reported to dispatch. Mitchell . . . as well as any other officer on the force . . . could have had knowledge of it . . . especially if they were looking for an opportunity.
Jason’s mind switched gears. “Other than Officer Mitchell, did you tell anyone else about the twelve thirty rendezvous with Flowers?”
“I think I may have told K-Mart.”
And the kid could have told Matty Dean, who told Cade, who showed up at thirty minutes past midnight and killed Flowers . . . or hired one of his goons to do it . . . or maybe Cade already knew about Flowers’s arrangements with Chase. Flowers could have told him directly, never expecting the drug lord to turn on him. Or maybe Bull Branner told Cade. Flowers reserved the barn at twelve thirty for the meeting with Chase, and Bull could’ve squealed. Especially if Cade leaned on him. Or hell . . . maybe Mitchell, Cade’s new inside source, told Cade, and they worked together to kill Flowers.
There were a lot of possibilities, none of which were simpler or better than the obvious one. Flowers got into an argument with his old teammate, Trey Cowan, at the Brick over a drug deal, and Cowan, fed up with his life and blaming Flowers for getting him in with Cade and for stealing his girlfriend, killed him.
Jason continued to gaze up at the stars. “What happened to your car?”
“I left it at the gas station.” She looked across the yard to her home, where her truck was parked under the carport. “I don’t know how it got home.”
“So, if K-Mart were to tell the truth, then you’d have a complete alibi.”
“You don’t think I’ll be charged, do you?”
Jason’s mouth formed a faint smile. “No. But, up until a few minutes ago, you were my most plausible alternative for someone other than Trey Cowan being the killer.” Jason breathed a sigh of relief. “I was sweating whether I was going to have to present that theory to the jury.”
“Do you believe me?”
“Yes,” Jason said. “I do. But even if I didn’t, there’s no witness that can place you at Branner’s Place at the time of the murder. For that matter, there’s no one that can put you there at any time unless you were to testify. And to do that, you’d have to incriminate yourself. To testify truthfully, you’d have to go through buying meth from Flowers and then K-Mart. You can take the Fifth Amendment to all that.” Jason rubbed his hands together. “None of it comes in.”
Chase cocked her head at him. “Are you happy or sad about this?”
“Neither,” Jason said, walking a few steps away from her. “I’m shocked by almost everything you’ve said. But I’m also relieved.”
For a long moment, the two stared at each other. Though the distance was only a few feet, it seemed much further. “Why’d you come home, Chase?”
A lone tear fell down her cheek. “I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”
91
The next day, Jason met Trudy Cowan at Top O’ the River. They’d started meeting every week for coffee around 4:00 p.m., just before her shift started.
“What’s the good word?” Trudy asked.
“Well, we’ve confirmed that Kelly Flowers was working for Tyson Cade. Detective Daniels was investigating him at the time of his murder and had an informant ready to roll on him.”
Trudy crossed her arms. “Well . . .”
