Part 18 (1/2)

He was quick and to the point. It was quite clear that he had no interest in speaking to her beyond the formalities of the job.

”I need some information on a woman named Debbie Toms, particularly her current place of employment.”

”Is this for the firebug case?”

She sighed, not wanting to get into it with him. She reminded herself that as far as Ramirez, O'Malley, and Connelly were concerned, Phillip Bailey was the guilty party and they currently had him in custody.

”Can you just get someone on that for me, please?” Avery asked.

”Will do. I'll get someone to call you with it as soon as possible.”

”Thanks,” she said, but the line was dead before the word was out of her mouth.

Well, if I hadn't p.i.s.sed him off enough before to scare him away, I sure as h.e.l.l did a great job of it last night.

She went back to her car and looked over the material on Roosevelt ”Rosie” Toms again. She knew there was nothing of real use there, but she wanted to drill the information into her head.

As she read over it, her phone rang. Again, she was surprised to hear Ramirez on the other end. She'd been sure he would have tasked someone else with the menial job of finding someone's current employer.

”I've got that information for you,” Ramirez said without any sort of greeting. ”Debbie Toms works as a packager for a Dollar General distribution center. Looks like a s.h.i.+ft-work sort of deal.”

”Can you shoot me the address?”

”Yeah. And look...the reason I called you back...I'm going to ask O'Malley to a.s.sign me to something else today. Agent Duggan is out of the picture now because he's convinced Bailey is the guilty party, too. So I'm solo again. I'm not going to tell O'Malley what you're off doing right now because it might p.i.s.s him off. There's a possible kidnapping that was reported this morning. I might see if I can get some action on that.”

”A kidnapping?” Avery asked.

”Well, not a kid. Some woman went missing. Sophia Lesbrook. It's an interesting one because her husband died a few months ago. There's some speculation that his death might be connected to her being taken.”

”Well, good luck on it. Let me know if you need any h-”

”What?” he asked.

It's a long shot, Avery thought even before she replied. Still, it was worth checking out. ”Do we know how her husband died?”

”Car accident. He hung on in the hospital for a few hours but it was a lost cause from the start from what I hear. Why?”

”Where was he buried?” she asked.

”What kind of question is that?”

”Can you just answer it?”

”Hold on,” he said bitterly. ”Hold on. I've got the files right here. Um...well, he wasn't buried. He was cremated and...oh, Avery. That's a stretch. That's more than a stretch. That's more like a bend.”

”Can you do some digging for me?” she asked.

He sighed but it might as well have been a yes. ”What kind of digging?”

”Look into Keisha Lawrence and Sarah Osborne. See if they had any loved ones pa.s.s away over the last year or so. And if there were deaths, see if they were buried or cremated.”

”Are you serious?” he asked. But even in that question, she knew she had him hooked. She could hear the edge of excitement in his voice.

”Yes, I am. Can you do that for me?”

Again, another heavy sigh came from his end. ”I'll get back to you as soon as I get the results.”

”Thanks, Ramirez.”

”Uh-huh.”

The line went dead and Avery supposed that an uh-huh was much better than a cold disconnection like the last time. Within a few seconds, as promised, he texted her the address to the distribution center Debbie Toms worked at. It was almost like he was right there by her side, helping her out again.

With things slowly starting to fall into place like a morbid puzzle in her head, Avery plugged the address into her GPS. Finally, she felt like she was getting somewhere. She was so certain that it took everything within her not to cut the flashers and sirens on to race across town to find out if her hunches would pay off.

The distribution center was an enormous maze of a place. Without the receptionist to lead her through the stacks and stacks of merchandise being s.h.i.+pped out, Avery would have never been able to find Debbie Toms. As it happened, Debbie was working along one of the conveyor belts that sent the merchandise to several other belts to then be sorted into the delivery trucks. The receptionist had a word with the s.h.i.+ft supervisor and the supervisor then led Avery to a woman at the far end of the belt.

Debbie Tom was a small woman who probably looked older than she really was. There was a slight slump to her posture and her face looked as if the muscles around her mouth had been frozen into a permanent scowl.

The supervisor gestured toward Debbie as if to say she's all yours now and then went back to his station. Avery approached her, almost feeling sad for the woman. Avery guessed her to be about sixty to sixty-five-and this was the type of job a woman of that age took mainly because there was very little retirement money waiting for her.

”My name is Detective Avery Black,” Avery said. ”I need to speak with you for a moment. Your supervisor has offered his office.”

Debbie Toms said nothing at first. She just looked down to where her supervisor was still walking to the other end of the belt and rolled her eyes. ”Okay,” she said finally. ”But can I ask what this is about?”

”I'm with the Homicide Division, Boston PD. We're neck-deep in a case that has raised the name of your son.”

Again, Debbie gave a roll of the eyes. ”f.u.c.kin' Roosevelt,” she said. ”Come on, let's get to it, then.”

They were in the small and rather smelly office of the s.h.i.+ft supervisor three minutes later. Neither of them sat, although Debbie's back seemed to scream for some sort of a break.

”You didn't seem surprised that I mentioned your son,” Avery said.

”Not really,” Debbie said. ”He's never been in any real trouble that I know of. But he's the kind that's like a bomb. You know, one day he's just going to go off. I've felt that about him since he was sixteen and got into his first fight at school. Of course, I haven't spoken to him in nearly five years, so what the h.e.l.l do I know?”

”Did he ever do any jail time that you know of?”

”He spent two nights in jail when he was twenty-five or so for drunk and disorderly behavior. And there was one time when the cops were looking into him for some arson-related crimes. But no...nothing serious.”

Arson, she thought. It keeps popping up. Maybe there's a reason I can't seem to get away from it as a lead.

”If you don't mind my asking, why has it been so long since you spoke?”

”He got involved with some girl that broke his heart,” Debbie said. ”Most boys come back home after that, you know? But Roosevelt was the opposite. He did some traveling...mostly within the States. When he came back around here and settled down, he wanted nothing to do with me. And as a mother, I hate to say this...but I didn't really care. He had changed somehow. He was darker if that makes sense.”