Free Forever Man by Brian Matthews Page B

latex gloves and picked up the piece of plastic.
    She asked, “Anyone have an idea what this is?”
    “That’s a plectrum, Chief Morris. A guitar pick.”
    Izzy turned. Bart Owens standing behind her, his brown face devoid of emotion.
    “And I’m afraid it’s one of mine,” he finished.
     
    *   *   *
     
    “Can you explain this, Mr. Owens?” Izzy asked, holding up the pick in her gloved hand. She was careful to keep her roiling emotions from spilling into her voice.
    Owens shook his head. “I don’t know how it got here.”
    “Where do you usually keep them?”
    He reached into his pocket, pulled out one identical to the one in her hand. “I have more sitting on the amp back at the Lula.”
    Izzy paused. Too many people had access to the picks. Finding one out here wasn’t enough to arrest the man, let alone bring him in for questioning. But he was now her prime suspect.
    “Do you know anything about what happened up here? Do you know where my daughter is?”
    “I’m sorry,” Owens replied, and she heard the first hint of emotion in his voice. It sounded like regret. “I don’t.”
    Everyone was quiet for a moment. Then Stanley pushed past her to stand in front of Owens.
    “Goddamnit, where is she?” he rasped. “Where’s Natalie?”
    Owens took a half-step back. “I’m telling you, I had nothing to do with this. I’m just here to he—”
    “That’s not what I hear,” Stanley said matter-of-factly.
    Izzy threw her husband a puzzled glance. Then Gene caught her eye and nodded at something behind her. She turned. Not two feet away, Denny Cain was devouring the exchange between Stanley and Owens with an expression of black hunger on his face. Worse yet, when he caught her staring, he looked away—a sure sign he felt guilty about something.
    He and Stanley were friends. Had Denny said something to her husband?
    More shouting drew her focus back to the conflict. Stepping up to stand beside Stanley, she said in a low voice, “Please, let me handle this.”
    Stanley’s bloodshot gaze lit on her. “And do what? Read him his rights? ‘You have the right to keep your mouth shut’? ‘You have the right to take our daughter and hide behind a lawyer’? I swear, you’re useless.”
    Izzy stiffened. “Don’t do this. Not here.”
    He would not be deterred. “What comes first with you? Mother, wife, or cop?”
    Stanley bared his teeth in a grin so uncharacteristically fierce that Izzy wondered where her husband had gone. This wasn’t the man she’d married or the one who had taught Natalie to ride a bike and drive a car. Nor was this the man who had attended every Fourth-of-July town picnic wearing the same flip-flops with white socks and those ridiculous red-white-and-blue framed sunglasses, laughing and cheering as he helped run the kids holiday baseball game. And this certainly wasn’t the man who had at one time quietly discounted the cost of medications for the town’s poor and uninsured, absorbing the difference from his profits. No, that Stanley was gone and maybe had been for some time. But thisStanley…well, he looked crazed. Crazed and broken.
    “I’m supposed step aside and let you do your job?” Stanley shook his head. “No, not this time. You may be Police Chief first, but I know what it means to be a father.” He pointed a finger at Owens. “ He took Natalie, Iz. He took our baby!”
    Denny Cain stepped out from the crowd gathered around them. He thrust his chin at Owens. “Look under his eye. See that teardrop thing? That’s one of them prison tattoos. This guy’s an ex-con.” He jabbed a finger into Stanley’s shoulder. “Wouldn’t surprise me if he knows where your kid is—or did her in himself.”
    There was a flurry of activity, all at one time. Gene turned and grabbed a fistful of Denny’s jacket, while Sten snatched his arm. As both men began dragging the protesting Denny Cain back from the crowd, Stanley threw an arm up and crashed violently into Izzy,