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Nineteen

Before heading out, Madison checked the operating hours for Chassis Worx, the body shop where Carl Long had worked after prison. She was in luck because they boasted hours of twenty-four seven, and that would probably make them the only garage open in Stiles on Sundays.

She drove over in her Mazda, figuring from there she’d go to her storage unit and proceed to see what she could muster up regarding the mystery woman’s identity. That, of course, was somewhat dependent on what the people at Chassis Worx had to tell her. She promised, though, even if she got a solid lead on Saul Abbott, she’d have to leave it for another day. After all, Hershey would need her at home by the dinner hour.

A bell rang when she opened the front door of the shop. The bay doors were all shut, but through the windows, she could see some mechanics working away. None of them responded to her arrival, though, so she stuck her head through the doorway that connected the front office to the garage.

“Hello,” she called out.

An air compressor came to life in response, and she was just about to round the first vehicle when a man approached from the back, wiping dirty, greasy hands on a rag.

“What can I do for you?” He squinted at her and let his gaze trail over her body.

She would have loved to push his eyes back in his skull. Instead, she drew her badge. “Detective Madison Knight.”

“Ah.” He groaned and looked away.

She’d had warmer receptions, but she’d certainly had cooler. “I’m here to ask about a former employee.” The man’s brows pinched like he was having a hard time hearing her. She continued, speaking louder. “Are you the manager?” She was going by her gut, but she anticipated a positive response.

“Yep. Luke Landers.”

“Mr. Landers, do you have someplace private to talk?” And quieter.

He waved her through the door she’d come through, back into the front area and shut the door. Surprisingly, it buffered out the racket quite well.

“What employee?” he asked.

“Carl Long.”

“Oh, I haven’t heard that name in a while.”

“I understand that he worked for you for seven years?”

“Yeah, but he left a few years ago now. He in some sort of trouble?”

“Hard to say yet.” And trouble was a relative term. Guilty of murder? Unlikely. Abetting a murderer? Possibly. Playing a role in defrauding women and the government? Likely. “Why did he leave?” She knew it wasn’t another job from the background report.

“Told me he found another job.”

“Huh. Did you know where?”

“He didn’t say; I didn’t ask.”

Madison nodded and brought up a photo of Saul Abbott on her phone and extended the screen for him to see. “Do you know that man?”

Landers studied it, eventually said, “Uh-huh.”

Madison’s heart raced. Maybe this was how they would find out Abbott’s real name. “His name?”

“Oh, I should have been clearer.” He looked from her phone to her eyes. “I recognize him.”

All hope that had fired in her belly burned out. “Oh, well, maybe he worked for you while Carl did?” She certainly hadn’t done any good hiding her disappointment.

“No,” he said firmly and waved a hand. “But he was a friend of Carl’s. He came around a couple times. Can’t say I really liked the guy either. Gave me a bad feeling.”

“In what way? Like he was violent or…”

“No, nothing like that, but he was shady. Just sort of twitchy. Didn’t trust him.”

“Okay, well, thank you for your time.” She pulled her card and handed it to him. “If you happen to remember his name…”

“I won’t. Don’t think I ever heard it; otherwise, it would be in the vault.” He tapped a finger to the top of his head.

Madison simply smiled at him and left. She’d discount the entire visit to the body shop as a waste of time, but she received another perspective on Abbott’s character. All they’d been running on so far was what they’d heard from Lana Barrett. They knew Abbott was shady, but according to Landers, Abbott didn’t strike him as a violent man. Either Landers didn’t know how to read people—and their strongest person of interest in this case was going to be a dead end—or Abbott had changed.