ONE CUP (Part 23)

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93

Ray Garrett

The uniformed officer at my door looked familiar. It took a couple of seconds before I recognized him as the second cop, the one who’d been looking inside my car last night. He looked tired, probably from pulling a double shift, and his uniform pants were stained. I supposed he’d been rolling on the ground with someone since we’d last seen one another. There was another man with him, dressed in plain clothes.

“Ray Garrett?” the plain clothes cop asked.

“Yes.”

He held up his badge. “I’m inspector Graves. This is officer Lewis. Mind if we come in?”

I opened the door. The inspector walked around the room, looking at the furniture, the pictures on the wall, my laptop computer, everything. Looking, but not touching. The uniformed officer stood near the door. Cutting off my exit without being obvious, I supposed.

“We’re looking into a missing person’s report,” he said.

“A neighbor reported seeing someone matching your description . . . ” He flipped open his notepad . . . “making a racket. Banging on the door and yelling. Said his name was Ray Ray.”

“Ray Ray?”

“That’s what she said. And there was a last name, but she couldn’t remember it.”

“You were stopped last night,” the inspector said. “Near the apartment of the girl who’s gone missing.” It was a statement of fact, not a question.

“I was. I did a rolling stop. No ticket, though. You say someone’s gone missing?”

“Where is your car now?”

“In the parking lot.”

“Where are the shoes you were wearing?”

“In my closet.”

“May I take a look at them?”

I didn’t know what was going on, but I didn’t like the way it felt, so I said, “Not without a warrant.”

I remembered the uniformed cop was interested in something he’d seen inside my car. I had no idea what it could have been, but instinct told me I needed to have look before I allowed him or anyone else. “Look,” I said. “Like I told you guys last night, I gave a girl a ride home from a party. That was it. Now unless you’re going to arrest or otherwise detain me, I’m done answering questions.”

“We will be in touch.” The inspector gave me his card. “Call me if you change your mind and decide to help us.”

I did a favor for a teammate, and now, apparently, I was suspected of abducting a woman, or maybe even far worse than that. I’ve never in my life run afoul of the law, and I don’t mind telling you, it scared me. For a brief moment, I thought of Elvis as I closed and latched the door behind them. My hands were shaking and my knees were weak. I didn’t think I could stand on my own two feet.

94

Whitney

I watched in shock and disbelief as Larry beat the dog. The animal looked vicious, and I certainly wouldn’t want to try to pet it, but what kind of a man did that sort of thing? I was about to shout at him to stop, when Leon, said, “Don’t say nuthin’, Miss.”

I jumped, startled out of my skin. I hadn’t noticed him standing only a few feet away, peeking around the corner of the shed. Leon didn’t seem to notice he’d frightened me. He held a finger to his mouth, “It’ll only make it worse for the dog, and for you too, if you say somethin’.”

And just like that, Leon slipped away around the corner of the shed. I turned and watched, as if by doing so I could somehow relieve some of the suffering of that poor animal. I found myself hoping the dog would break free and drag Larry to the ground. But, that was really too good for him.

95

Ray Garrett

I was sitting on the toilet when I heard my cell phone ring in the living room. I didn’t get up. If it was important, the caller would leave a message. More than likely it was just another telemarketer or a recorded message saying I had been selected for a free cruise or some other scam. Like most people, I’d placed my number on the no call list. And also like most people, the telemarketers called anyway.

Maybe a half minute later, it rang again. And again, I ignored it. Geez, can’t a guy even take a dump without these people bugging him?

Eventually, I finished my business, including the paperwork, and stepped into the shower. When I came out, I checked my phone. There were three voice mails.

“Ray, this is your mother, Judy Smith. I’m worried about you, honey. I’ve been getting calls and seeing things on the news. Are you okay? Give me a call. Bye.”

What was that all about?

I selected the second message. “This is Detective Baxter with the Indianapolis PD. I understand from talking with Officer Walker that you were in the neighborhood, possibly the last person to have seen Whitney Ross before she went missing. I need to get with you and ask a couple questions, tie up a few loose ends. Maybe you might remember seeing anyone suspicious in the area.” He left a number for me to contact him before ending the call.

Seriously? This is how he catches people he suspects of kidnapping or maybe even worse?

I would have expected them to come by my apartment with an arrest warrant. Maybe they didn’t have enough to go on yet.

I punched CALL BACK. On the second ring, I ended the call before anyone could pick up. What if they were hoping to get me to talk to them voluntarily, and provide incriminating evidence? They could do that. Wouldn’t even have to read me my rights if I wasn’t under arrest. Then, after I gave them what they wanted, they could slap the cuffs on me and arrest me. I learned that from some TV show, but I don’t remember which one.

I wasn’t going to let them put me in jail for something I didn’t do. If they wanted me, they could come get me. Right then, I needed to get away. Go someplace I could clear my head.

96

Whitney

If I thought what I’d witnessed before, when Larry beat the dog with the hose was bad, it paled in comparison to what happened next. After leaving the meat out of reach of the vicious-looking beast of a dog, Larry walked back toward his trailer. I assumed he was going to go take a nap, or have a beer, or whatever it is one does after beating a defenseless animal. But, unfortunately, I overestimated Larry’s character.

Moments later, he returned, with the cutest little spotted puppy happily loping along behind him. The dog Larry was beating a couple minutes earlier began barking ferociously, and the puppy stopped, peed, and turned on its heel to go back to the safety of the house. Larry, laughing, hustled after the adorable little fur ball and scooped it up like a shortstop fielding a routine ground ball. “Hey, little buddy!” Larry said. “That big old dog scare you?”

The puppy whimpered and burrowed into Larry’s chest, seeking protection. Larry held it close, nuzzled it, and lightly scratched behind its ear. The puppy responded affectionately, licking him and kicking its hind legs with excitement. All the while, Larry was walking directly toward the meat the bigger dog was going for. Through sheer willpower and determination, it managed to drag the tire several feet, and was now mere inches away from its reward. Larry knelt by the meat, the puppy whimpering loudly as the dog barked maniacally. “Hey Pete!” Larry shouted as he picked up the meat, taunting the animal. “You want it?”

The big dog barked and lunged forward. “What’s that, Pete? You hungry? Huh, Boy?” Larry laughed, not unlike the old time movie villains used to do. He held the meat in one hand, the puppy in the other, with both arms outstretched so that both were mere inches from the dog. The puppy was now yelping and thrashing wildly, to no avail.

This time, it was not Leon’s previous warning that prevented me from shouting at Larry. It was pure horror.

After a minute that seemed an eternity, Larry finally tossed the puppy over the big dog’s head. Quick as a flash, the fighting dog’s instincts took over. Before I knew what had happened, it jumped and snatched the puppy out of mid-air. They came down together. If I live to be a hundred, I will never forget the horrible sights and sounds of the poor little puppy being mauled. It was dead within seconds, but the big dog didn’t stop there. He continued thrashing the lifeless body for several minutes, until finally stopping when Larry tossed him the meat. “Good boy, Pete,” Larry said. “I’ll give you another’n’ tomorrow.”

“Not if I kill you first,” I muttered under my breath, without a clue as to how I would do it.

97

Kayla Prescott    

Larry Brown called. “Hey, sweet thing,” he said when I answered. “You know who this is?”

“Yes,” I said. “Did everything go alright?”

“In a manner of speakin’. We did run into a bit of a problem, though.”

I said nothing. Larry waited me out. Finally, I said, “What?”

“We found your little surprise in the trunk.”

Oh, God. “Was she . . . “

“Alive, Kayla. The girl is alive.”

After a long pause, I said,  “Why did you call me, Larry?”

“Thought we might want to discuss what happens next?”

“I told you what I wanted you to do.”

“Yeah. Well, we’re gonna need to renegotiate. Two grand ain’t gonna get it done. For two grand I turn her loose. Maybe even call the cops.”

“We both know you’re not going to do that. Where are you? Is she with you?”

“All in good time, sweet thing. All in good time. What I want you to do now is get together fifty grand in cash. I’ll call you back tomorrow morning.”

“You’re in this as deep as we . . . Never mind. You’re right. I’ll see what I can do.”

“I thought so,” Larry said. “Call me tomorrow.”

We ended the call. I looked into the anxious faces of Michael and Lou Brannigan, and Ian McGregor. “He’s got her. She’s alive.”

Michael perked up at that news. “Oh God, what a relief!” he said. “I thought I killed her. This changes everything.”

“It changes nothing, Michael.”