Read Passions of the Dead (A Detective Jackson Mystery/Thriller) for Free Online

friends?”
    Noni sighed. “Not anymore. Jared was an employee and they used to be friends. You know, have a few beers after work sometimes. Then Roy had to lay Jared off because there wasn’t enough work. Jared took it badly.”
    “You called Jared this morning looking for Roy. Why?”
    She jumped up in alarm. “How do you know?”
    “Why did you call Jared?”
    “I called a bunch of people. Jared was last. How do you know I called him?”
    “We’ll get to that. What’s Roy like when he’s drinking?”
    She didn’t like the question. “A little obnoxious. Why?”
    “Do you know where he is now?”
    “He’d better be at work. He can’t afford to lose any more jobs.”
    “He’s a house painter?”
    Now she looked defensive. “Roy is a home improvement specialist. He does consulting work as well.”
    “What worksite would he be at today? I need an address.”
    “Just a minute.” Noni hurried across the open space to a kitchen facing the backyard. Jackson followed, casting around for signs of Roy’s presence, such as a jacket over a chair.
    Noni studied a wall calendar and said, “1250 Parish Lane. It’s in the Coburg area, off Bailey.”
    Jackson realized it wasn’t far from the murder scene. “What does Roy drive?”
    “A white Dodge van with the name of his business on both sides.” Noni pulled her hands together in front of her heart. “Please tell me what this is about. I’m starting to get really scared.”
    “We’re investigating a crime; we want to ask Roy some questions.”
    She slumped into a kitchen chair. “What do you suspect him of?”
    Jackson took a seat too. “I can’t tell you yet. Has Roy been the target of blackmail?”
    “Not that I know of.” She gestured at the house. “We’re not exactly rich here.”
    “What time did you last see Roy yesterday?”
    “Around noon. We had lunch together.”
    “Did he call anytime after?”
    Something flashed on her face, but Jackson couldn’t read it. Fear? Frustration?
    “I haven’t heard from him.”
    “I’d like to look at Roy’s business records and get the names of his employees.”
    She shook her head. “Sorry. Not without a court order.”
    “I’ll be back.” Jackson handed her his business card. “Thanks for your time. If you hear from Roy, tell him to call me immediately.”
    As he stood to leave, Jackson heard a vehicle pull up out front. He rushed to the door. A squat, balding man wearing slept-in clothes lurched out of a van parked on the street. The guy looked up at Jackson and jumped back in the driver’s seat.
    “Stop! Police.” Jackson shouted and ran toward the van with one arm held out in front and the other on his still-holstered Sig Sauer. Roy cranked up the engine, and Jackson considered drawing his weapon. He could shoot out a tire and keep a potential mass murderer from getting away.
    A boy on a bicycle rolled across the sidewalk, oblivious to the events unfolding. Jackson took his hand off his gun and the van screamed down the street. He ran for the radio in his car, as Noni shouted at Roy from the front grass. “Don’t run! It can’t be that bad! Roy!”
    Jackson fumbled for his keys. Radio first . He grabbed the speaker and made the connection. “Detective Jackson here. In pursuit of a white van, traveling east on Aspen about five blocks from Centennial.” He started the car as he spoke. “The van is registered to Roy and/or Noni Engall. Lettering on the side says Engall’s Renovation. License plate unknown. Roy Engall is driving. I want him arrested and brought into headquarters.”
    Jackson threw the cruiser into reverse and started to back out. The boy on the bike had returned and was stopped in the driveway. Jackson stuck his head out the window. “Move!”
    The boy scurried out of his way, but stopped to watch as Jackson entered the street. He hauled ass to the corner, but the van was nowhere in sight. Jackson raced toward the main road, wondering if Engall would try to put