Chapter Twenty-seven
“Please stop fretting. I can handle this okay. Don’t you need to be going?” Wes rubbed his hand over his head and observed as his mother gripped the car keys in her hand.
“He’s just had a really bad day. I really need to work this shift tonight. I’ve traded as many shifts as I can. Ms. Williams had to go out of town. She’s been so good about helping me watch him.” Wanda looked back into the bedroom where Pops lay resting. “As long as he is sleeping, he shouldn’t be any trouble.”
“We will be fine. Like you said, he’s sleeping. He usually sleeps through the night, right?”
“I know you think this should be simple, but he could wake up disoriented, and he may not know you.”
“Mom! He’s sleeping. Now go. I got this.”
Wanda stared at him for a long minute and then took a deep breath. “Okay.” She kissed Wes on the cheek and went out the door.
He closed the door behind her, hoping to use the time to rest himself. Wes had been running and tracking down leads. He had finally set up a time to talk with Minister J.D. If he could find out what the minister knew about Melanie’s secret record deal, surely this would make his producer, Alan, a happy man. Wes was interested in knowing what type of contacts Minister J.D. still had in the business to be able to help Melanie.
Wes sank down into his mother’s chair. No wonder his mother loved this chair. He could feel the tension leaving his body as he jotted down notes for Minister J.D. Soon his eyes began to close. Seeing a losing battle coming, Wes tossed his pen and notebook on the coffee table and decided to let a catnap take over.
He was jarred awake by his ringing cell phone. Wes sat up as quickly as he could in the recliner, which seemed to be pulling his body backward. With one last lurch forward, he reached for the phone. “Hello.” He rubbed his eyes and realized it was after ten o’clock.
“Hey, Wes. This is Big Al, man. I think I see your guy.”
Wes shook his head. “What?”
“Your man, the one in the photo you showed me, with the Kangol hat. He’s here, kind of creating a scene.”
“You’re kidding me. What’s going on? What’s he doing?” Wes grew warm with excitement. Melanie Stowe’s dad had surfaced.
“Well, he seems upset. Is this guy the father of that missing singer?”
“Yes, he is. Is he talking about her?” Big Al didn’t answer him back. “Al? Al, are you still there?”
“Yeah, man. Hey, look, brother man just broke down. I don’t think he knew she was missing. Isn’t that crazy?”
Yeah, real crazy! Wes thought he heard something in the back. He got up and walked toward the hallway but didn’t see anything.
Big Al continued. “Drunk as a skunk. What do you want me to do with him?”
Wes asked, “How long do you think you can keep him? Has anyone come up to him to ask questions?”
“I don’t know. He has been talking to a lot of people.”
“Hey, Al, hold on a minute. I got to check something.”
Wes looked at his watch. He walked to Pops’s room and peeked inside. He could make out Pops’s body in the bed. He walked into the room to listen. Pops was breathing regularly and sleeping soundly. Wanda would kill him if he did what he was thinking about doing, but he had to do this. It would take him all of fifteen minutes to drive downtown, ask questions, and come right back. He could return in an hour. Even as he thought about it, Wes felt uneasy.
“Al, try to distract him and hold him. I will be there soon.”
Wes peeked in on Pops one more time. He’s sleeping. He will be fine. Wes drove the whole way, willing Pops to remain asleep and hoping this wasn’t a wasted trip. If Melanie’s dad slipped through his fingers, this could be one of the stupidest stunts he had done in a long time to get a story.
He arrived at the bar and looked around. He didn’t see Big Al anywhere at first. He nodded to the bartender he’d seen the other day and walked toward the back. Wes saw Melanie’s dad before seeing Big Al. He glanced around the room and slipped into the chair across from the man. He looked much thinner and grayer than in the photo, but sure enough, he was wearing a Kangol hat. The hat could’ve been the same one in the photo.
Larry squinted at him. “Who are you?”
“Just here to be supportive. I heard about your daughter.”
The man rubbed his head. “It’s my fault. Sins of the father have come back to haunt me.”
Wes leaned in farther. “Sir, what do you mean?”
“Somebody took my girl to get at me.” Larry picked up his glass and drained the rest of the liquid. He looked at Wes. “You going to give a brother a refill? There was a big cat around here helping me out.” Larry searched around the bar.
“Probably Big Al. He should be back soon. Why would someone take your daughter to get back at you?”
Larry looked back at him; his bloodshot eyes were watery. “I’ve done some bad things.”
“If you think you know who has your daughter, why don’t you tell the police? People have been searching all over for her.”
“No! I told you, I did some bad things.”
“Your daughter has been missing for weeks. Don’t you want to save her?”
“It’s too late.”
Wes looked at the man across from him. Whatever had happened to Melanie, his gut had been telling him this man had to have something to do with it or knew who did. This was out of Wes’s league, though. It was time to get some backup, but he needed to be sure not to let Larry disappear again. “You look like you could use some rest. Can I take you home?”
“I don’t have a place to stay. Got kicked out of the last place I stayed.”
“I can get you a room for the night. Get you a good night’s sleep. Maybe we can talk more tomorrow.” Wes looked at his watch. He’d been there almost an hour, and he really needed to get back to the house. “So, what do you say I get you a place for the night?”
Larry must have been ready for a bed, because it didn’t take too much convincing from Wes for him to get in the car. Wes drove to a nearby motel, paid for a room, and made sure Larry entered the room. Then he dialed Darnell’s cell number.
Detective Jackson came on the phone. “Wes, this better be good, man. I just got in the bed.”
“Man, I’m so sorry, but I thought you might want to know I found Melanie Stowe’s dad. He was pretty wasted, but he confessed he knew who took his daughter.”
“Are you sure?” Darnell asked.
“Yeah, he was spouting stuff like ‘sins of the father.’ Look, I got him a room at the Wren Motel. His room number is two-twenty-three. Can you get someone down here pretty early? I don’t want him to slip away, and I’ve got to get back to the house.” It was now over an hour and a half since he had left Pops alone.
“All right, man. I’ll be there to pick him up.”
“Great. Keep me updated. Don’t forget I helped you find him.”
Wes drove like a madman back to his mom’s house. As he approached the front door, he froze. The front door was cracked open. No! Either the house was broken into or . . . Wes pushed the door open and called out, “Pops.” He ran into the house. Nothing seemed to have been disturbed in the living room. The lamps were still on, and the television was showing an old black-and-white Twilight Zone. Wes rushed to Pops’s bedroom. He turned the light switch on.
He’s gone. Where would he go? It was after midnight. There was no way he could explain this to his mother. Wes ran toward the kitchen and checked the side door that led into the backyard. It was locked, but he opened it and ran down the steps. “Pops!” he yelled. Wes turned and unlatched the gate in the fence, headed to the street, and sprinted down the sidewalk. “Pops!” If there was any time in his life when he wished he could turn back time and reverse a decision he’d made, it would be right now.