Walleye Junction (7 page)

“Donna,” said Macy, eyeing what looked like cat hair floating in her coffee. “When was the last time you saw your sister?”

Jay shouted from the bedroom. “Every time Carla's rent was due she'd come here asking for money.”

Donna rolled her eyes. “Jay, keep your trap shut. That's family business.”

“Actually,” said Macy, putting her cup down. “That's the type of thing we need to know.”

“My sister and her husband overdosed on drugs. What business is their financial situation to you?”

“As we're in the middle of an active investigation I'm not at liberty to say.”

Donna pursed her lips. “Six months ago they tried to get us to take their kids off them. Like we have any room here. We can barely feed ourselves on our disability checks. No way we could have afforded a bigger place.”

“The state has since put them into care,” said Macy.

“Oh, I know all about that. It was me that let the police know how bad things had gotten over at their place. Imagine being so obsessed with getting your next fix that you're willing to sell your kids.”

Macy's pen floated in the air. She'd thought she'd heard it all, but apparently not.

Donna sniffed into a tissue. “When Lloyd wasn't using he was mean as fuck. Those kids needed to get out of there. I warned my sister that it was either Lloyd or her babies and she chose Lloyd. There was no way she was ever going to get clean with him still living there.”

The bedroom door opened and Jay stood in the threshold. He had tubes coming out of his nose and wheeled an oxygen tank with him into the room. Macy moved up to make room for him on the sofa. The cats scattered as soon as he sat down. His hair was thin and gray and he smelled strongly of cigarettes and alcohol. Open sores covered his wrists. He yanked down his shirtsleeves to hide them.

“I thought I'd better get in here before Donna mouths off and says something she regrets later,” he said.

“You're one to talk,” said Donna.

“Well,” he said, breaking into a toothless smile. “At least I'm not all talk.”

Macy tried again. “What kind of money were they asking for?”

“Last time it was three grand,” Jay snorted. “Seriously, where in the hell did they think we were going to get that kind of money?”

“To be fair,” said Donna, shifting her weight one buttock at a time, “Carla was really broken up when she lost her kids. I heard she got herself into a recovery program. I was hopeful it was the kick up the backside she needed.”

Jay rubbed his nose. “Serves them right losing their kids. They don't deserve them. Not after what happened.”

“That's enough, Jay. We're talking about my dead baby sister here.”

Macy tapped the table with her pen. “Did something happen that we need to know about?”

“Nah,” said Jay, adjusting the tubes going up his nose. “Nothing specific. Same shit, different day, near as I can tell. Always fucking everything up.”

“Did Carla ride a dirt bike?”

Donna frowned. “She once did a fair amount, but it's been years ago now. Sean is the one who rides. Took after his father, which considering what a loser Carla turned out to be, is just as well.”

“Do either of you know where we can find Sean?” asked Macy.

Donna looked at Jay and Jay shrugged.

“Our son, Kyle, might know,” said Donna “When things got rough at home Sean crashed at Kyle's place. Might be there now.”

Macy handed Donna a pen and a pad of paper. “Do you mind jotting down his details?”

Donna wrote with a firm hand. “I'll give you his work number as well. He's been away in Missoula visiting friends, but he arrived back today. Good boy, that one.”

Macy held up a photo of Sean's girlfriend, Kristina. “Do either of you recognize this girl? She may be in a relationship with Sean.”

Jay and Donna took turns looking at the photo. Jay frowned and Donna squinted.

“Carla didn't say anything to us about her,” said Donna.

“Did Sean get along with his mother?”

“They fought, but considering the situation with Lloyd, that's hardly surprising. I know he loved his mother, but there was only so much he could take. Sean learned not to rely on Carla a long time ago. He brought his brother and sister here on more than one occasion.”

“What about his relationship with Lloyd?”

Jay coughed into his hand. “Lloyd beat him up pretty bad a couple of times.”

“Did anyone report it?” asked Macy.

The pair remained silent and Macy guessed that was a
no
.

“Did Sean have much contact with his real father?”

Another shrug from Jay. “Scott knew to stay clear of that house.”

“You know him?”

“Not well. It's been a good ten years since I saw him last.”

“Got a last name?” asked Macy

Jay shook his head and Donna remained tight-lipped.

Macy gathered her things. “I really appreciate you taking the time to speak to me.” She handed a business card to both Jay and Donna. “I'll be in touch. Please let me know if you hear from Sean.”

*   *   *

Macy sat alone at a table near the coffee shop's front windows watching the entrance to Flathead Valley Security, where Donna had said her son Kyle worked. Situated in a strip mall that ran along Main Street, the company was wedged between a Mexican restaurant and a dry cleaner. The door opened and a slightly built man with blond hair stepped out with two females. Both women gave him long hugs. He smiled as he spoke to them, but his expression darkened once he set off across the road. Dressed in a polo shirt and pair of freshly pressed chinos, he had the air of someone who took life seriously. Macy noted that his posture was slightly askew. His left shoulder drooped. According to his parents, Kyle Miller was twenty-nine, but Macy would have never guessed it. Kyle didn't look old enough to buy a beer.

The woman behind the counter joked with him.

“What's gotten into you? This isn't your usual time.”

Kyle gestured toward the only occupied table. “Client meeting.”

“Sweetheart, you go on. I'll bring your coffee over.”

Macy rose from her chair and held out her hand. “Thank you for coming to meet me.”

He winced. “Sorry,” he said, rotating his shoulder and making a face. “Do you ever get frozen shoulder?”

They sat down across from each other.

“On occasion,” said Macy. “It's awful.”

“It's from sitting at a computer all day. It's been worse than ever this spring.”

“Do you take anything for it?”

“Addiction runs in my family. Medication is not an option.”

“I'm sorry. This must be difficult for you.”

He reached for a napkin and pressed it to his eyes. “You have no idea. We've had near misses in emergency rooms, interventions, incarcerations.” He paused. “And now this.”

“I heard your parents have had issues in the past.”

“They're okay now, but I have to be vigilant. My mother is finally off her meds, but Dad still slips occasionally. He has a problem with the bottle. I've been working with them. We pray together. I'd like to think it helps.”

Macy gave him a small smile. “You sound more like a minister than a computer engineer.”

“I guess you could call it social engineering. I like to help out in the community where I can. Mentoring, sponsoring at AA, that sort of thing. I'm worried about what I'm seeing.”

“And what are you seeing?”

“Now that the government has realized they've got a crisis on their hands they're handling it all wrong. They're cutting off the supply of prescription painkillers without funding programs that could help people who've become addicted to opiates. People are turning to heroin instead.” He took a deep breath. “It's incredibly frustrating.”

“There's been a spike in heroin overdoses throughout the country.”

“Is that what killed Carla and Lloyd?”

“We believe so.”

“Carla was in rehab. I was so hopeful she'd turned a corner.”

Kyle looked up at the approaching waitress and smiled as she handed him a mug of coffee the size of his head.

“Thank you.” Kyle took a sip of his coffee. “This is my only addiction.”

“I like to live dangerously. I mix it up with a little Diet Coke.”

“Now, that is living on the edge.”

“Kyle, when did you last speak to your aunt and uncle?”

“Carla came by a couple weeks ago. She apologized for Lloyd showing up the day before asking for money and then went and did the same thing. The only difference was that Lloyd threatened me with physical violence and Carla used emotional blackmail.”

“Did they give any indication that they might be planning something?”

Kyle raised an eyebrow. “Like a suicide pact?”

“No, like a kidnapping.”

He took a quick glance around the room before lowering his voice.

“Excuse me,” he said, leaning in close.

“Kyle,” she said, keeping a close eye on his reaction. “Your aunt and uncle were involved in Philip Long's kidnapping and murder. Their fingerprints are all over the house where he was held and the stolen van that was used in his abduction was parked near their bodies this morning.”

“That's crazy. They wouldn't—”

“I realize that it's a lot to take in, but we really need your help.”

He raised his voice. “Where's Sean? Is he okay?”

“I was just going to ask you that.”

He made a sudden move for his pocket and Macy almost reached for her gun. Oblivious, he pulled out a cell phone and tapped in a message.

“Sean will call me back right away. We've always been close.”

“Would he have confided in you if he was worried about his parents?”

“I hope so. I'd like to think he trusts me. I gave him a key to my new place so he could come use it whenever things got too rough at home. When I got back from Missoula this morning, I could tell that he'd stayed over.” He frowned. “He didn't leave a note though.”

“Was that unusual?”

“Sean is always compensating for his parents' behavior. Generally speaking he's very well-mannered.”

“Did Sean use drugs?”

Kyle hesitated. “Not in the past, but I've been worried about him for a while now. He has a new girlfriend. She seems the sort who could get him a lot of trouble.”

“You've met her?”

“Briefly. I think her name was Kristina, but she goes by Xtina or something silly like that. Sean said she was an event planner.”

Macy raised an eyebrow.

“My reaction exactly,” said Kyle. “The girl looked more like a prostitute than someone who would plan a wedding.”

“Did you catch her last name?”

“No, but she had an accent. Sean said she was Latvian. Not a lot of those in Montana.”

“I imagine not. We found a lot of guns stashed up at Carla and Lloyd's house. I take it Sean learned to shoot.”

“We all learn to shoot around here. It doesn't make us criminals.” Kyle picked up his cell phone and stared at his screen. “Sean is a good kid. He would have never gotten involved in something like this.”

“Do you know anything about Carla and Lloyd's militia group?”

Kyle smirked. “I don't like to speak ill of the dead, but you're not giving me much choice here. My aunt and uncle weren't the brightest of souls. Sean told me about the meetings they were having up at the house so I made sure I was around for one. It was just a bunch of drug addicts who seemed more intent on getting another fix than organizing an insurgency.”

“Was Sean involved in the group?”

“He was drawn to it when he was younger, but he soon saw it for what it was. Not that his opinion mattered. Lloyd insisted that he go to the meetings.”

“Kyle, it's important that you let me know the minute Sean contacts you. We have reason to believe that Carla and Lloyd Spencer had an accomplice. We'd like nothing more than to rule Sean out.”

Kyle ran his fingers along the edge of the table. “What makes you think there was someone else?”

“I'm not at liberty to say. Do you know if Carla was any good on a dirt bike?”

He rubbed his right shoulder with his left hand. “How do you mean?”

“I understand she used to have one, but she's not ridden recently. Do you know anything about that?”

“I saw her on a dirt bike a few weeks back. She seemed pretty competent to me.”

“Where was this?”

“Out on the trails near the footbridge, north of town.”

“That's a pretty isolated area.”

“There's a lot of homeless camping out that way. My church group goes out every week to distribute food and clothing. I focus on getting counseling for anyone who has addiction issues.”

“Was Carla competent on the bike?”

“It's pretty rugged down that way. I'd say she had to be.”

“Who was she with?”

He hesitated. “I'm not sure. The guy was wearing a helmet. I wasn't introduced.”

Macy pulled an image of the Alliance logo out of her file.

“Does this logo look familiar to you? Could either Carla or the man she was with have been wearing gear with this logo on it?”

“Maybe,” said Kyle. “Hard to say. It all looks the same to me.”

“Do you ride a motorbike, Kyle?”

“Not for a long time. Wiping out on one is what messed up my shoulder in the first place.”

“I understand you've spent the past week in Bozeman.”

“Actually, it was Missoula. I was visiting friends.” He picked up his cell phone again. “I'm guessing you need proof.”

“I'm afraid so.”

Kyle wrote down a few names and numbers on a napkin and handed it to Macy.

“Thank you, Kyle. I appreciate your cooperation.”