Free Vengeance: A Reece Culver Thriller - Book 1 by Bryan Koepke Page A

a fourteen-year-old. Of course, it didn’t take much imagination to figure that out. Crystal was one of those girls that developed early, like her mother. At least she didn’t get herself pregnant like Tracey did,” she said, adjusting the oxygen cannula in her nostrils and inhaling more smoke at the same time.
    Reece could feel his eyes starting to water and wasn’t sure if it was from cat hair, dust, or smoke.
    “Oprah’s on. You ever watch her? She’s great,” the old woman said. She picked up the remote and began increasing the television volume.
    “Can I see the room Crystal stayed in when she came to visit?” he asked.
    “Yeah, it’s that one down the hallway. Help yourself. It’s time for the show.”
    He walked down the hallway, passing an assortment of black and white photos, and idly wondered where the cats were hiding. He came to a door and reached for the handle.
    “Not that one. At the end of the hall,” the old lady shouted.
    Reece followed her directions and turned the brass knob of a light wood door. He walked in and looked around. The walls were pink, and a window at the top of a queen-sized bed was covered with yellow drapes. The walls were covered with an assortment of movie tickets, ribbons, and school photos. Reece studied them, and noticed how different the clothing back then looked. By the closet he saw a corkboard covered with pictures.
    Reece came upon an eight-by-ten photo of a woman with long red hair and bright blue eyes —was that Tracey Roberts? She held a small girl in her arms, and two older boys stood to one side. A man on the left had left a noticeable gap between himself and the others. He had a slight build with curly brown hair and a muted smile. The kids looked sad, but for some reason the mother looked proud. He was guessing the look was put on for whoever was taking the photo, and had nothing to do with how she felt.
    The picture was taken in front of a single-story house with green window trim and white siding. He guessed from the ages of the children that it had been taken in the mid eighties. The corkboard was filled with other photos of Crystal and her friends. In one photo she stood with a boy in an Edison High School football uniform. Reece guessed that was the boyfriend Mrs. Fletcher had mentioned earlier. Crystal was holding a football, and the boy had his arms around her and was kissing her on the cheek.
    He was looking at a bunch of old movie tickets stuffed into the edge of the frame when he spotted what looked like a Rolling Stones concert ticket. It looked older than the rest, and he doubted Crystal had gone to Rolling Stones concerts as a child. He plucked the ticket from the wood border, and read the date. It was from the November 1981 concert in St. Louis. He did some quick math, and confirmed this must have been a keepsake from one of her parents. Crystal wasn’t born until August of 1982.
    He stuffed the ticket into his pants pocket, and as he turned to go, he found Ann Fletcher standing a few steps behind him. How long had she been there?
    “I hope you aren’t taking things,” she said.
    “Mrs. Fletcher,” he said, trying to deflect her attention by pointing to a large group photo he’d seen earlier, “who are these people?”
    “That’s the family,” she said, walking up, bringing a trail of stale smoke-filled air with her. “That’s me and my husband Fred. That man there is Owen Roberts, Tracey’s husband.”
    “Do you remember what year the picture was taken?” Reece asked.
    “I’d guess 1985,” she said. “If I were you and I really wanted to find Tracey, I’d concentrate my energy on locating Owen. He’s the only person I can think of that would have something to gain.”

Chapter Fifteen
    G eorge Kendall walked into his hotel room, bothered by the name Owen Roberts. He’d been considering that last name since leaving the earlier meeting. Kendall sat on the bed and saw a row of pigeons on an adjacent roofline. Things hadn’t