His enormous fingers squeezed her palm briefly before letting go. She didn’t doubt he could break her hand if he wanted to without much effort. He took a seat opposite her and crossed one leg over the other, his massive motorcycle boot touching the edge of her desk.
“Mike Bruin’s out on bail,” Tanner said. “I’ve known you three hours and already you’ve lied to me, Deputy.”
“I wasn’t pleased, either.” Vanessa stifled a sigh. “I would have preferred he sweat it out in the cell for at least one night. But the good news is that the judge ordered him not to go within a hundred feet of Jenna.”
“And? That’s it?”
“And there’ll be a trial. He’s charged with aggravated assault. It’s not over.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Tanner’s face darkened. “Those charges are going to disappear faster than you can cry nepotism. They’ll either be dropped, or they’ll be reduced to a misdemeanor for which he’ll do community service. Whichever way it goes, that weasel won’t see the inside of a prison cell. I actually came here to talk to Earl, not you, but he’s not here right now. Which means I get to yell at you, which is a lot less satisfying because you don’t yell back. And, as you made a point to tell me earlier, you’re too new to have had anything to do with it.”
“I’m sorry anyway,” Vanessa said. “I’m a parent. I have a teenage daughter. If something like this happened to her, I’d feel exactly the same way you do. How’s Jenna?”
“She’s been better.”
A silence fell between them, not an awkward one, but it wasn’t exactly pleasant, either. A few moments later he let out a long, slow breath.
“I fucking hate it here.” Tanner’s voice was soft. Looking down, he picked at a speck of dirt on his faded jeans. “Every year I keep thinking, this’ll be the year I sell the shop and close the club, and I’ll get on my Harley and ride the fuck out of Seaside and never look back.”
“Why don’t you?”
“Because Tyler might come home,” he said, looking up at her. “And I don’t want him to come home and I’m not here. I don’t want him to come home and find the house he grew up in filled with some other family. I don’t want him to come looking for me at the clubhouse only to find it’s been turned into a fucking shopping plaza. His mother and I divorced six years ago. She left me for a guy named Steve who drives an Audi and sells vitamins for a living. They moved to San Francisco. Someone has to stay here and wait for Ty to come home.” His voice choked on the last word, and he looked away.
Vanessa didn’t feel the need to respond. There was nothing she could say that would make it better; nothing she could do would dilute his pain. His life had been on hold for eight years waiting for news—any kind of news—about his son, and while she could imagine what that felt like, she wasn’t living through it, and with it, like he was.
She wondered if she should put him in touch with David Cole; maybe the two of them could support each other and talk about what they were going through. But then again, Tanner didn’t look like the sharing circle type.
Donnie knocked on the door and entered her office with one of Seaside PD’s signature navy blue file folders. He placed it on her desk and left without saying anything.
Tanner didn’t even seem to notice. “Every year I hope Earl loses his job.” His voice was still soft. “But every year, there he is, sitting on top of the throne like the proverbial eight-hundred-pound gorilla. I thought things might change when we voted Frank Greenberg in for mayor last fall. He and Earl don’t like each other much. Are the rumors true? Are you and Greenberg friends?”
“Yes.”
“Good friends?”
“Yes,” Vanessa said, ignoring the implications. “What did Earl do exactly? To you? To Tyler?”
Tanner laughed, but there was not one speck of humor in it. “How much time you got?”
“Sum it up for me.”
“Where do I begin?” He leaned back in his chair. “Let’s see. First, he put that jackass Carl Weiss on the job. Weiss from the beginning didn’t believe Tyler was missing. He did a half-assed investigation, and about a day later concluded that Tyler must have run away from home. When I pointed out that Ty was eighteen and didn’t have to run away—if he wanted to leave, he could have left with my blessing—Weiss didn’t care. He didn’t care what I thought at all.”
Vanessa nodded. She reached for Tyler Wilkins’s folder and opened it, skimming through it quickly. “I’m listening,” she said. “Please continue.”
“So I went directly to Earl,” Tanner said. “We’ve had our run-ins over the years. I’ve done some shit, and I get that maybe me and my club have been a pain in his ass for a long time, and that he thought I was an outlaw who didn’t deserve to be helped. But it wasn’t about me. It was about my son. All I wanted was for him to try and find my son. The operative word being try.”
“And he didn’t?”
“He sided with his deputy.” Tanner’s jaw was tight. “Backed that moron all the way. Said there was no evidence that Tyler hadn’t left on his own, that there was no indication of any kind of foul play, and so the department couldn’t waste hours or manpower looking for a kid who probably didn’t want to be found. Waste,” he repeated. “That was the actual fucking word our esteemed chief of police used.”
Vanessa winced. She couldn’t blame Tanner for being angry. Earl’s poor word choice was about as insensitive as it got.
“First Earl screws over my son,” Tanner said. “And now he’s screwing over my daughter. It’s a goddamned joke, and nobody does anything about it. Nothing’s changed. Nobody has the balls to stand up to you people.”
“I just moved here,” Vanessa said. “Do I count as ‘you people’?”
“Haven’t decided.” He met her gaze and held it.
For the first time, she noticed his eyes were a bright, vivid blue. Intense. Piercing. The salt-and-pepper scruff on his face made him look older than he was, and he was only forty-six, based on his file. The edge of one his tattoos was just visible above the neckline of his T-shirt, and Vanessa found herself wondering what the rest of it looked like.
“But you are a cop,” he said. “You wear the badge. And now you live in Seaside. Give it a few months, Deputy. By Christmas, you’ll be toeing the company line.”
“Which is what?”
He leaned in, his eyes never leaving her face. “Wonderland and Seaside are pretty much married to each other. If you don’t see that now, you will. And you know what they say—happy wife, happy life. You hear about the proposed shopping plaza they want to build on Clove Street?”
Vanessa nodded.
“These developers, with Earl’s blessing and Wonderland’s backing, keep wanting to buy me out so they can tear down my club and my shop, and put a fancy mall right in that spot. That’s prime real estate, right off Main Street. Offered me top dollar, and then some. A deal like that would bring in a lot of money for Seaside, and there’s even a nice spot a few blocks down on Clove where I could relocate that’s a lot cheaper, too. Wouldn’t hurt my business a bit. Know why I won’t say yes?”
“Why?”
“Because fuck them. Fuck Earl, fuck Wonderland, fuck Seaside.”
Vanessa looked at him for a moment, thinking. He continued to hold her gaze unwaveringly. Finally she said, “Why don’t you tell me about your son?”
“I could, but why? You have the file right there, don’t you?”
“I want to hear it from you.” Vanessa reached for her notebook. “Because I give a shit. Let’s start from the beginning.”
Another silence fell between them. At first she thought he wouldn’t say anything because he didn’t trust her, and she couldn’t say she blamed him. But then he began to speak.
“Eight years ago, Ty was a Wonder Worker. Surprise surprise. Everybody in Seaside was, at one time or another.”
&
nbsp; “I was.” Vanessa smiled. “A long time ago, when it was still called World of Wonder.”
That got a small chuckle out of Tanner. “You’re older than I thought, then,” he said. “But I never worked at the park. Didn’t have time for a legit job like Wonderland. I was too busy outlawing and getting into trouble and building Double D. But I wanted it to be different for Ty. Because he was different. He was an artist. Does it say anything about that in the file?”
Vanessa shook her head.
“He’d always been good with painting, drawing, sculpting, that kind of thing. Wanted to go to art school, which didn’t please his mother. She wanted him to get a business degree, or be a dentist, anything that would lead to a career. But I liked that Ty loved art. It made him more like me.” Tanner lifted up his left arm, revealing a beautiful dragon tattoo. The colors had faded a little, but it had once been vivid, and beautiful. “These tats? Did them myself.”
“They’re awesome,” Vanessa said. And she meant it.
“Anyway, Wonderland knew he was an artist, and so they had Ty do the mural at the side of the food court.”
“The one that’s a rendering of the midway?” Vanessa knew the mural, and was surprised to learn that it hadn’t been painted by a professional. “It’s beautiful.”
“That was Tyler.” The fatherly pride Tanner felt was obvious. “They didn’t pay him extra or anything, but he was thrilled to do it. But he was only allowed to work on it at night, after the park was closed. Sometimes he wouldn’t get home till three, four in the morning. And then one night, he never came home.”
“Was he always alone in the park when he was painting?”
“Usually. Sometimes cleanup crew would be there, but otherwise it was just him and whoever was assigned to security.”
Vanessa looked at the file. “Glenn Hovey. That’s the security guard on schedule that night.”
“Yep. He’s a fucking weirdo if I ever met one.”
You’re not the first person to say that, Vanessa thought, recalling her conversation with Margie Hamilton, the Hoveys’ next door neighbor. “In what way is he weird?”
“He just makes you feel uncomfortable,” Tanner said. “Tyler said he stared a lot at the kids, the boys in particular. Hovey denied having anything to do with Ty’s disappearance, said he wasn’t even aware of when Ty left the park. Security footage from that night showed Ty leaving the park through the side gates, alone, so Weiss didn’t press Hovey about it. And that’s the last anyone saw of my son.”
“When did you file the missing persons report?”
“Not till the end of the next day.” Tanner heaved a sigh. “I was working late at the shop, and I didn’t realize he was missing until very late the next night. My wife and I were separated at that time, and she’d moved to California with Jenna. Tyler stayed with me.” He choked up on the last four words.
“It’s not your fault.” Vanessa rested her hand on his forearm for a second. “We can’t be with our kids all time. Was anything missing from his room?”
“All I could confirm was that Tyler’s bag was missing. It was this old smelly knapsack he’d gotten at an army surplus store when he was in Seattle once. He took it with him to work every day. I haven’t seen it since.”
“What about his clothes? Were of any them missing?”
“I don’t know. Do I look like the kind of guy who notices people’s clothes?”
No, he did not. She looked at the file again. “And his cell phone?”
“He had a BlackBerry Curve,” Tanner said. “I know that because it was my old phone, which I gave to him. He must have had it with him. Part of me hopes . . .”
“Part of you hopes what?”
“Part of me hopes that Ty did run away, that he’s out there somewhere, living his life, and happy.” Tanner’s voice was thick and his eyes moistened. “I’d be pissed that he didn’t call, but I’d get over it in two seconds if I knew he’d been out there the whole time, and was okay. But my gut tells me that’s not true. Ty was a good kid, a considerate kid. If he wanted to take off and do his own thing for a while, he would have told me and his mother. He would have said goodbye.”
Vanessa’s cell phone buzzed and she checked it, allowing Tanner the moment he needed to regroup. It was David Cole calling. She pressed decline, sending it to voice mail. Aiden Cole’s father had promised to send her something with his son’s fingerprints on them, but she hadn’t received it yet, so the call could wait. Once she ran the prints against Homeless Harry’s, they’d know immediately whether Harry was actually Aiden Cole. If it was, it would be terrible news for Mr. Cole. And what could that mean for Tyler, Tanner’s son? Could he have suffered a similar fate?
“What is it?” Tanner said, interrupting her thoughts. “Your face is doing a thing.”
“What thing?” Vanessa focused her attention back on him.
“You know, like you’re thinking of something unpleasant.”
“I’m working on something,” she said, wanting to be honest with him as much as she could. “When I figure it out, I’ll let you know. But I’ll be honest with you, Tanner—” She stopped. She hadn’t asked if it was okay to call him by his first name, but the man didn’t even blink. “There’s not a lot to go on.”
“I know.” The big man cracked his knuckles. “The private investigator I hired said the same thing. But unlike Seaside PD, at least he didn’t keep insisting that my son ran away.”
“You hired a PI?” Vanessa was surprised. A good private investigator was expensive. “Good for you.”
“Nothing came of it, but I needed to feel like I had done everything I could,” Tanner said. “He was a retired cop from Seattle PD.”
“I came from Seattle PD. Who was it?”
“He’s a lot older than you,” Tanner said. “His name is Jerry Isaac. He was just starting his own PI firm back then. Know him?”
“Oh, do I.” Vanessa couldn’t help but grin. PI firm was probably overstating—Jerry Isaac was a one-man operation with a two-room office in an old building in Seattle’s Fremont neighborhood. “I know him quite well. He was my training officer back in the day. You chose well; Jerry would have done everything he could. I’ll give him a call, see if has anything else to add.”
“I’d appreciate that.” Tanner checked the time on his phone and stood up. “I should go check on Jenna. Thanks for your time, Deputy.”
“No need to thank me,” she said. “Just doing my job.”
“No, I mean it,” he said. “You’ve shown more interest in Tyler than anybody here did when he first went missing. It means a lot to be taken seriously.”
“I don’t know how much I can do, but I can promise I’ll do my best.” She offered him a smile. He didn’t need platitudes or empty promises. No parent did.
“You ever need work on your car, come see me.” He smiled back, and it made him look about ten years younger. “Or if I ever see you at the Monkey Bar—that’s a local spot right near the clubhouse—beers are on me.”
“That’s not necessary,” she said with a laugh. “But I appreciate it.”
“Tell you what.” Tanner’s bright blue eyes were focused on her face. “You find my son, and I’ll buy all your beers and work on your car—all your cars—for free, for as long as I live. How’s that?”
“I’d be stupid not to take that deal.” She offered him a hand.
“Yes.” He squeezed her hand, holding it a little longer than necessary. “You would be.”
SIXTEEN
The Wonder Wheel Kid’s selfie was splashed all over the TV news. Blake Dozier’s father, Derek, finally home from his business trip to China, had finally decided that it really was weird that his son wasn’t returning anyone’s calls or texts, and he’d filed an official missing person’s report earlier that morning. Blake’s smiling, handsome face at the top of the Wonder Wheel was t
he most current photo Seaside PD had, and it had made the jump from social media to mainstream media—with the middle finger blurred out, of course.
But believe it or not, that wasn’t the top story.
The big news of the day was that Seaside PD had officially released the identity of Homeless Harry, and it turned out to be none other than Aiden Cole, the Wonder Worker who’d gone missing three years ago. The official cause of death was blunt-force trauma. Aiden had been murdered.
Wonderland was officially fucked.
Oscar continued to watch the press conference on TV, and police chief Earl Schultz was doing his best to downplay it all.
“Chief, is there any connection between Homeless Harry and the Wonder Wheel Kid?” a reporter called out.
“I think it’s disrespectful to address them by their media-dubbed nicknames, Kurt, when we know what their legal names are,” Earl said to the reporter. “And no, there is no connection at all between Aiden Cole and Blake Dozier. Aiden Cole was a cold missing persons case that is now a homicide, and Blake Dozier is a new case that will be investigated fully, and without bias.”
“Is it true Blake Dozier was the only person at Wonderland at the time Aiden Cole’s body was dumped there?” a female voice called out.
“We’re still working on that, Sarah. We don’t know who might have been at the park other than Blake at that time. As you know, Wonderland is a big place and it will take awhile to narrow down the list of people who might have been at the park at that time of the morning. Next question.”
“Chief, do you have any working theories on who might have killed Aiden Cole?”
“He wasn’t killed at the park, we know that for a fact, Jeff,” Earl said, his tone firm. “There is no evidence to suggest any kind of foul play has taken place anywhere on Wonderland grounds. Wherever Aiden Cole was killed, it wasn’t at Wonderland, and I can’t speculate about why his body was left at the park. As for Blake Dozier, we can’t confirm that he even went missing from Wonderland. The picture that’s circulating around is misleading. If Blake Dozier did meet with foul play, there’s no evidence to suggest it happened on park premises.”