Free exposed (Twisted Cedar Mysteries Book 3) by CJ Carmichael Page B

I’m going to make you pay.” He put his hand on the gun. “But not with this.”
    He left then, and Shirley was relieved. It wasn’t until a few days later that she noticed one of her red scarves—it had been draped over the back of the sofa, along with the cardigan she’d worn to work that day—was missing. At the time it didn’t seem a matter of much consequence.
     

chapter eight
    Wade parked his SUV across the street from the high school, alongside an overgrown hedge but with a clear view of the football field. A practice was in session and Coach Brad Scott stood out as not only the oldest man present, but also the largest. The impressive bulk Scott had sported during his years as defensive end with the Broncos had gone to fat, and even distributed over his six-foot plus frame he looked obese.
    It didn’t seem that long ago that Wade and his friends had been playing football on this same field. Wade counted back. Sixteen years. Hell, that number made him feel old.
    In Wade’s memory, practices back then had been tests of will, skill and physical stamina. But the guys on the field today seemed to be making a lack luster effort, while Coach Scott was spending more time watching his phone than his players.
    Shortly before half-past five, Scott waved the guys off the field. Wade got out of his vehicle and made his way slowly across the street. He paused before approaching Scott, just in case he had last minute questions to answer, but it seemed the team couldn’t get off the field fast enough.
    “So they can run, after all.”
    From Scott’s startled expression, he obviously hadn’t noticed Wade before now. The coach glanced from him, to the departing players.
    “The season isn’t shaping up to be one of our best.” He tucked his phone into his jacket pocket. “Can I help you Sheriff?”
    Up close, Coach Scott was looking rough. His eyes were bloodshot and his grey-speckled goatee was on its way to becoming a full-on beard.
    “I hope so. You may have heard a local boy, nine-year-old Chester Quinpool has gone missing.” Wade pulled out a photo.
    Scott gave it a brief glance. “Yeah. That’s tough. Hope you find him soon.”
    The words were right, but the man displayed no real emotion. Wade would have expected more from a man who coached young men and even had two sons himself.
    “It’s been more than twenty-four hours, so we’re pretty concerned. Have you seen Chester recently?”
    “Why would I?” With a spiritless shuffle, reminiscent of the young men he was supposedly training, Scott made his way to the bleachers lining the west side of the field.
    Wade followed. “Well, the kid is a huge football fan.”
    “I haven’t noticed him hanging out at any of our practices, if that’s what you mean.”
    “Have you seen him anywhere else? Maybe around the grade school?”
    “No. Like I said, why would I? I’m a high school coach, not a grade school babysitter.” Scott picked up a clipboard that had been resting on the lower rung of the bleachers.
    “Maybe so. But we have a witness who says you stopped Chester on his way home from school a few days ago. Monday afternoon, shortly after three-thirty. This witness says you were asking Chester if he had plans to play football when he was older.”
    Scott let out a sound more like a bark than a laugh. “My boys might be pussies this year. But I haven’t stooped to recruiting nine-year-olds.”
    “So you deny talking to him?”
    Suddenly Scott went still. He turned slowly until his gaze was locked with Wade’s. “I’ve never spoken to Kyle Quinpool’s boy in my life. Except, maybe a time or two in boy scouts, but that was last year.”
    “So you know who he is?”
    “Of course I do. It’s a small town. Kyle sold my wife and me our first home. Daisy and my Sharleen used to be friends. She was something that Daisy, huh? Sharleen had the body, but Daisy had the face of an angel.”
    Wade studied his eyes. This man was talking too much. He