Page 46 of Her Final Hours
Harry paused for a second, glancing at them before shifting his gaze to the chart hanging on the wall. “Over at the Fish and Game Hunting Club,” he replied, his voice carrying a mix of caution and concern.
With that final piece of information, they nodded their gratitude and left the warehouse, the snowy landscape enveloping them again.
The Fishand Game Hunting Club was a secluded property in a wintry woodland. Located at the end of a long winding driveway near the Bouquet River, the building stood back from the road, offering a sense of privacy and seclusion. The property had a central clubhouse, a smaller cabin-like structure, and a storage shed. The buildings were constructed with weathered wood, blending harmoniously with the surrounding natural environment.
As Noah shut off the Bronco, they spotted the familiar All Week Plumbing van parked outside the club. Its presence raised further suspicions, fueling their determination to get to the truth.
A young man in his mid-twenties emerged from the building; his tall figure was draped in blue plumber overalls and heclutched a bag in his hand. His troubled expression deepened as they got out and approached.
He looked caught off guard.
“Patrick?” Noah asked, confirming it was him, his voice firm yet curious.
The young man’s gaze flickered between them, a hint of defensiveness in his eyes. “Who’s asking?” he replied, his tone guarded.
Noah flashed his badge once again, making their official capacity known. “Heard you missed an appointment with your parole officer,” he stated matter-of-factly. He figured he would lead with that to ensure his guard was down. The last thing he wanted to do was spook him if he had something to do with the previous night.
Patrick quickly responded, assuring them he’d resolved the matter and it wouldn’t happen again.
Callie jumped the gun, getting straight to it.
“Where were you last night?”
“What?”
“Last night around 8?”
“At home with my girlfriend.”
“So you didn’t take a run out in the van,” she said. “Somewhere up near Evans Road by the hospital?”
He was very dismissive. “No, and I’m running a little behind schedule right now. If you need to speak to me, call later, or I can drop by the station,” he suggested, attempting to redirect their attention.
Noah nodded, not willing to let him off that easily. “Behind schedule, huh? That’s odd because I saw your appointment listed for this place around this time,” he pointed out, his voice laced with suspicions.
Callie interjected, her voice calm but persistent. “Are theowners of this place here?” she inquired, hoping to gather more information.
Patrick shook his head. “No, it’s just me,” he responded, his gaze shifting uncomfortably. “Which is why I need to get back to my job. If you want anything else, you must speak to my lawyer.”
Noah noticed the bag of tools in his hand. The zipper was undone, and he could see it was loaded. He seized the opportunity to test his reaction. “First, you say call me later, or I’ll drop by the station, and now we have to speak to your lawyer? That sounds like you’re hiding something, Patrick, wouldn’t you say?”
Patrick’s demeanor changed, his face contorting with anger. “I know how you cops work. Just because I’ve got a record, you think you can push me around and pin something else on me. Well, that’s not happening,” he retorted, releasing his grip on the door he had yet to open.
Noah, undeterred, maintained his calm composure. “Patrick, everything okay with you? You seem a little rattled,” he observed, genuinely concerned.
Patrick’s eyes darted between them, frustration and resignation in them. “I’m good. Look, I’m sorry for sounding harsh. I’ve been through a lot over the past couple of years. I just need to get back to work,” he replied, his tone softer yet guarded.
With that, he turned and disappeared into the building, leaving them standing outside, their thoughts swirling with questions.
As Noah turned back to the Bronco, he stopped, noticing Callie hadn’t moved. She was carefully examining the van and comparing it to the photo of the van she had. Something caught her attention, prompting her to walk around the van and open the back doors.
Curiosity piqued, Noah hollered at her. “Callie, hey, you good?” he inquired, trying to understand her action.
She nodded, her gaze fixed on the rear. “Yeah, just checkingsomething out,” she replied cryptically. She moved reached down, her hand coming in contact with the exhaust pipe. Noah watched her closely, sensing that she was onto something important.
“Hey, Noah, you might want to call for backup,” she said, her voice tense. She glanced back at the building, a hint of urgency in her eyes.
Confused but trusting her instincts, he returned to his vehicle and reached in, snagging up the radio and requesting immediate backup to their location. Meanwhile, Callie continued her investigation, her focus unwavering. Noah followed her movements as he walked over to the van and noticed it was empty inside. “You ever seen a plumber show up at a job with nothing in their van?” she said. It was more of a statement than a question. “As Harry said, they take them home so they don’t have to come back in the morning.” That’s when he realized what she was on to. All the vans they’d seen at the warehouse were jam-packed with equipment, supplies, and tools, so they didn’t have to return and stock up. Noah dropped down and did exactly what she did. The exhaust pipe wasn’t even warm. That’s when his gaze drifted to the other vehicles in the lot. There was a red truck with tire tracks leading into the lot and another that was a black sedan. The sedan had snow on it, but the truck didn’t. He returned to the Bronco and ran the license plate through the database. The information that came back revealed the truck belonged to Patrick. The puzzle pieces were slowly falling into place.
