The Territory A Novel - By Tricia Fields Page 0,100
like spilled paint.
After a five-minute walk through a field, they came upon a campsite with a ten-foot pop-up camper facing toward them. The camper was fully extended, its closed door facing a small fire pit with a coffeepot lying on the ground beside it. A ten-foot pull-behind U-Haul trailer, most likely hauled by a pickup truck or SUV, was to the right of the camper. Otto pointed out the bumper sticker on the back of it that identified a local rental company. Josie pulled her cell phone out and dialed the number.
“Loan to Own. This is Cammie speaking.”
“Hi, Cammie. This is Chief Josie Gray with the Artemis Police. How are you today?”
The young girl was chirpy and helpful. Last year, Josie had stopped her three times for a blown headlight and finally followed her to a local auto parts store, where she helped the girl change the broken light. Cammie recognized Josie and thanked her again for helping her with the light, then said she would be happy to look up the plate number.
After several minutes of waiting on hold, Cammie came back on the line and said she’d found the number Josie gave her from the back of the storage unit. Josie wrote down the specific rental information, then thanked her and asked her to keep the information confidential.
“Dr. Fallow,” she told Otto after she’d hung up.
Otto raised his eyebrows. “Why would Paul Fallow need to set up a camper, rent a trailer, and then hide them both out here?”
Josie smiled. “Here’s the kicker. He rented the trailer the same day Red Goff was killed.”
Otto pointed a finger at her. “The same day Red’s guns were stolen.” He shook his head. “That little bastard.”
Otto approached the trailer door, and Josie called him back. “I don’t trust this guy. He may have traps set. We need to get back and cook up a warrant and open this trailer up.”
They walked around the perimeter of the campsite, looking for something else that might tie the area to Fallow but without finding anything useful. Once back in the jeep on the side of the road, Josie stared out the window, thinking through the day.
“Why is Medrano spending so much time here? Coming in person? Pegasus saw the car at Red’s place several days ago. They know there’s nothing in Red’s house. They know the guns are gone.”
“Unless there’s something there we didn’t discover.”
“We’ve been through that house, thoroughly, three different times. Marta went out again and walked the property and searched the garage. Nothing.”
“What’s the draw, then, if it’s not Red’s place?”
“What if it’s Fallow?” she asked. “Maybe Medrano came to meet with him today, and I got in his way. Maybe Medrano wasn’t going to Red’s place at all. Maybe he was headed back the lane to meet up with Fallow.”
“He’s buying the guns Fallow stole from Red’s place.” Otto smoothed the flyaway hair down on his head. “That guy’s got more gumption than I gave him credit for.”
“Fallow is taking over Red’s business. Could be that Medrano was here for a lot more than Red’s guns.” She pointed past the camper toward the direction of Red’s house.
“You think Fallow could have killed Red, manipulated Bloster?” Otto asked.
Josie pulled out onto the gravel road with no answer, but she was positive they were getting close. She called the Loan to Own office and asked Cammie to notify her immediately if Fallow tried to return the storage unit.
* * *
The shift from 4:30 P.M. to 1:00 A.M. was Josie’s favorite time to work. Life did not really begin until the nine-to-five workday ended. It was when people fought and made up. After sunset, people let their guard down and said things that were not appropriate during the day. The dark gave people something to hide behind. Even as a kid, she had liked nighttime. Her mom would take off for whatever scheme she had cooked up, and Josie would have the house to herself—a relief from the tension of living with her mother’s mood swings.
She walked to the back of the office and pushed open the large windows to allow a warm, fresh breeze into the office. Otto would complain later that she had let out all the cool air, but it was worth his grumbling. She could hear the faint street sounds from below, the occasional laugh or yell from a kid riding by on a bicycle. Even with the past week’s hell, she would not trade her small town for