The Evil Men Do by John McMahon

Author:John McMahon
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2020-03-02T16:00:00+00:00

30

Remy took off, and I drove back to the precinct, checking the cash into evidence.

The case was on its last legs, and there was no better feeling.

As I counted the money for the old-timer that ran our evidence locker, I thought of Marvin and the conversation with Garva, the nurse, about Marvin’s personal property.

I wondered if Marvin’s phone was in one of his two cars, and I thought about what I’d have done back on patrol with a gas explosion like this.

If there had been cars in the mini-mall’s parking lot, I would have cleared them to an impound yard immediately just in case there were further explosions. The last thing anyone wants near an open gas pipe are fifteen-gallon pods of gasoline, otherwise known as cars.

I pocketed Marvin’s wallet and keys and drove over to his house.

When I got there, Marvin’s old Chrysler 200 was gone, but his 1972 Dodge Charger was in the driveway. I clicked the fob to unlock it and looked inside.

Spotless. Like it was every time I was in it.

If my father-in-law was going to be in the hospital for a while, he’d want me to come by and start his Charger—at least to let the engine run.

My mind was going ninety miles an hour, and I needed to let it rest. Oftentimes, being in motion soothed me. I got in the Charger and let out the engine.

On SR-908, I headed northeast toward Centa. The night air was cool with the windows down, and a Chase Rice country song about hitting it big in Nashville played on the radio.

To my right, a ghostlike haze hung along the tops of the trees, and the ground was covered in a thousand short stumps that represented the failure of logging control.

Centa was a small town, and after about ten minutes of circling the four main downtown streets and not finding the police station, I pulled into a twenty-four-hour donut place and talked to a guy working the counter.

“City council disbanded the police three months ago,” he said. “Same thing across half of Shonus County. A lot of cops became state policemen.”

I motioned at the street in front of the donut shop. “So this is all GSP jurisdiction?”

The man nodded, and I walked back to the Charger. This meant Marvin’s car might be at any number of Georgia State Patrol substations.

I had set up Marvin’s iPhone myself, so I logged on to the Find My iPhone microsite on my cell, watching as the last location of Marvin’s iPhone pinged. A spot half a mile away.

I drove down Ball Street, turning at 1st. Two blocks away I moved out of the tiny downtown area and stopped at the corner of 1st and Fern.

Yellow police tape hung taut around the stoplight. I turned my wheel to illuminate the area to its right and saw the tape ran west, blocking off a small corner mini-mall with five or six units in it.

This was where the explosion had happened.

From the picture on my phone, Marvin’s cell phone was somewhere in the center suite.

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