Page 45 of Her Final Hours
Before Harry could answer, Callie confirmed the location by adding, “Off Evans Street or nearby?”
Harry took a deep breath, his demeanor shifting. “No,” he replied firmly, his eyes meeting Noah’s gaze. “We don’t get many calls after six because folks know that we charge more. And if I do get one, you can be damned sure it’s logged, and I check the books every morning. So no, there was no call at that time over there,” he explained, his voice laced with frustration.
“Perhaps in a different area of town?” Noah asked, wondering if one of them had attended a call and swung by the hospital.
“No.”
Noah took a few steps forward, his gaze still fixed on Harry. “Not to sound accusing, but… you wouldn’t cover for your son, would you, Mr. Bromide?” he asked, a hint of suspicion in his tone.
Harry laughed, but it was short-lived. He tossed a rag over his shoulder. “When I found out my son had shoplifted, I marched him down the police station myself to return what he’d stolen. He did time because of me,” he replied, his voice firm and resolute. “And you can fact-check that. So no, I wouldn’t cover for him. Anyway, why are you asking?” he inquired, his eyes narrowing in curiosity.
Noah shifted his weight from one foot to the other, maintaining an unwavering gaze. “That’s good to know. So, no calls, no vans, no emergencies last night?” he reiterated, searching for any inconsistencies in Harry’s response.
Harry’s frustration billowed over as he responded. “Like I said, no. Now, can you tell me why this concerns us?” He sat at an oily wooden table, grabbing a pack of Marlboro Lights and tapping one out with a practiced motion.
Noah’s expression remained serious as he leaned forwardslightly. “We’re looking into an attempted abduction,” he stated, watching Harry’s reaction closely.
Harry raised an eyebrow, disbelief etched across his face. “Abduction? The last I heard, we’re in the plumbing business, detective, not kidnapping,” he said, his chuckle fading as he realized the gravity of the situation. Noah’s seriousness was evident.
Callie pulled out her phone and displayed an image of the van they had seen in the video. Harry’s eyes widened, studying the image intently. “Huh,” he murmured, his brow creasing. “Well, that certainly looks like one of ours, but it can’t be because….” Harry began, but Noah interrupted him.
“You had no calls last night,” Noah stated firmly.
Harry jabbed his cigarette toward him. “Bingo! Now had you gotten a license plate, maybe I could have helped narrow it down. However, perhaps one of the guys nipped out to the convenience store last night,” he suggested.
Noah frowned, sensing that Harry might be holding something back. “What do you mean?” he probed, determined to get more.
Harry took a deep breath, leaned back in his chair, and sipped coffee from a mug. “Well, they take the trucks home. As I said, I know their schedules. If they want to get started first thing in the morning without coming here, they bring the trucks home with them. I like my guys to be efficient in time management, if you get my drift. The sooner they finish their work, the sooner they can go home. We only book so many calls daily,” he explained, his gaze fixed on them both.
Noah narrowed his eyes, a hint of skepticism still lingering. “I imagine you log your miles for tax write-offs?” he inquired, testing his response.
Harry chuckled lightly. “I would if those were leased. I ownthem. So no, I don’t,” he replied. “Besides, I always found that was just a headache. Keeping track of receipts and whatnot.”
“And yet you keep track of their schedules.”
Harry turned and tapped the board. “Pretty simple. Darcy logs it into the computer and then writes it on the board. That way, the guys know, and so does the IRS.” He made a point to clarify that he was running an above-board operation. He took another drag on his cigarette.
Noah pressed on, his tone steady. “What about using GPS to track their movements?” he asked, hoping for any potential leads.
Harry shook his head. “No need for it. Our calls are within the county, and I only hire local guys who know the area like the back of their hands,” he affirmed, a touch of pride evident in his tone. “And even if I chose to, what they do in their downtime is up to them.”
A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “And you trust they are where they say they are at all times?” he questioned, gauging Harry’s reaction.
Harry rose from his chair with a mask of annoyance, his posture becoming defensive. “Detective, I don’t employ bums, and I sure as hell am smart enough to run a solid background check on every employee,” he retorted.
Noah couldn’t resist adding a final comment. “Except on your son, whose background you already know,” he stated pointedly, reminding Harry of the discrepancy in his trust.
That was the final straw.
Harry’s gaze bounced between them, a flicker of concern crossing his face. “Unless there is something else I can help you with, you’ll have to excuse me. I’m a busy man,” he replied curtly, hinting at the end of the conversation.
Callie swiftly intervened, her voice soothing the tension. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Bromide,” she said, attempting to maintain a polite and professional manner.
As they turned to leave, Noah couldn’t resist asking one last question, his curiosity getting the better of him. “Your son Patrick. Do you know where he is now? We have a few more questions. You know, related to that missing appointment,” he said, his voice gentle yet determined.
“You said that’s not what this was about.”
“Initially. We like to give due diligence.”
