Page 31 of Broken Bayou
The thought of Doyle handling equipment for children leaves a nasty taste in my mouth. “Well, that’s good.”
“And Eddie,” he says. “He’s doing okay, too, I guess. Who can tell?”
I can, I think. “How long has Eddie been nonverbal?”
Travis shakes his head. “Since he was a kid really. Then it got worse later, and he started making those dolls.” He takes another sip. “I don’t really want to talk about that.”
“I understand.” I shift to face him more and venture a little deeper. “What about your mother? How’s she?” I just can’t stop myself.
His eyebrows twitch but that’s the only movement on his face. “Same.”
“What doessamemean?”
“Jesus, Willa. You on the clock or something?”
I shake my head and give him a small laugh. “Sorry. Hazard of the trade.”
“Look, she’s troubled, okay? She could probably do with a little of whatever it is you dish out. But I don’t really want to get into all that. I got enough on my plate right now.”
“Of course.” I clear my throat. “Sorry.”
I grasp at something to fill the silence and settle on the topic that’s got this town talking. “I heard a third barrel was found.”
Travis nods. “We’ve already confirmed the ID.” He leans back against the sofa. “Her name was Teri something. Mother of two. Last seen at Jazz Fest in 2006.”
“Not a runaway,” I say.
“Nope. Good thing she had an engraved watch. The state boys said getting a good DNA sample would have been tricky. Her barrel was pretty rusted out. Lots of holes. Big enough for aquatic life to get inside and go to town.”
“Travis!”
He looks over, unfazed. “Sorry. Hazard ofmytrade.” He takes another bite of his pizza.
I set my slice down. “Do you think there will be more?”
He nods as he chews. “Probably. Hard not to call it what it is now. Three barrels. Three women. It’s serial for sure.” He wipes his mouth with his napkin. “Timing’s all over the place, though. After we found the second one, the crime lab had to scrounge up that old DNA from the first one back in ’02. That woman had a daughter who loved her. Left a DNA sample back then that helped us match it up. Crazy.”
“So that victim wasn’t a runaway either.”
He shakes his head. “She’d been at a casino. There seems to be no pattern to this one. One old lady gambler, one runaway addict, one mother of two. Makes no sense.”
“Even if there was a pattern, it wouldn’t make sense.” My stomach sours at the thought of these women having families who loved them, worrying over them all these years. The thought there could possibly be more.
Travis studies me, raises his eyebrows.
“What?” I say.
“Raymond St. Clair said he recognized you by the bayou.”
What else did Raymond say? I suddenly don’t want Travis to know I was at that impound, digging around. It feels like a betrayal, like I’m hiding something. Which I am.
“Remember him?” Travis says. “Ran with those jackasses that used to hang out at the Dairy King.”
“I remember Raymond.” I shake my head. “So did all the juvenile delinquents in these parts become cops?”
“Well, yeah. That’s all there is to pick from.” His grin widens. “You either go to jail or put people in it.”
“So you and Raymond, cleaning up this town.”
