Wild Secret by Tripp Ellis

Author:Tripp Ellis [Ellis, Tripp]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tripp Ellis
Published: 2021-05-23T22:00:00+00:00

23

Nothing Denise told me was surprising. Marshall Noonan had a list of felonies and misdemeanors a mile long. He'd been in and out of jail multiple times, and the odds were good he'd be heading back there soon. Assault, battery, domestic abuse, DUI, possession of a controlled substance, and a host of other petty charges. He lived with his girlfriend, Heather Wallace, in Sunset Park.

We pulled into the parking lot and cruised through the rows of mobile homes. JD was a little leery about driving the Porsche into the community. The car always left with an extra dent or scratch.

Some of the trailers were well maintained and trimmed with latticework around the base and colorful gardens of flowers. Others were rusted out and overgrown with weeds.

A couple of kids were tossing a baseball around the lot, and Jack went out of his way to avoid them. He’d already had a few run-ins with an errant football the last time we were here.

We parked on the opposite end of the parking lot from the potential window breakers and walked toward Noonan's trailer. It was actually his girlfriend's trailer. JD clicked the alarm, and the lights on the Porsche flashed.

We climbed the wooden steps to the porch and banged on the door. The windows rattled, and JD shouted, "Coconut County!"

There was some commotion inside, and muffled voices seeped out.

Footsteps rumbled toward the door.

Marshall shouted. “What do you want?”

“We just have a few questions?”

“You got a warrant?”

“This is just a friendly conversation.”

“The hell it is. Come back with a warrant.”

“I get suspicious when I have to get warrants. It would be a lot easier if you just talked to us.”

“What the hell did you do now?” Heather growled.

“I ain’t done nothing,” Noonan replied.

“If you ain’t done nothing, open the door.” Heather’s footsteps pattered across the trailer, the handle rattled, and much to Marshall’s dismay, she swung open the door. A rush of air, stale with cigarette smoke, smacked us in the face.

Heather smiled at us. “You’ll have to excuse his manners.”

Marshall glared at her, anger swelling on his face.

Heather had long blonde hair curled on the ends. Short bangs fell into her eyes that were rimmed with blue eyeliner. She wore a yellow skirt and had a two-tier muffin top that drooped over her waistline.

She spun around, marched back to the couch, and plopped down to resume watching her show.

Noonan’s angry gaze followed her. Then he stared at us with concerned eyes. He looked us up and down as I flashed my badge.

“I didn't do nothing," Marshall said again.

“I haven’t even mentioned why we’re here,” I said.

"Anytime a cop shows up at my door, it can't be good.”

“I take it you don’t watch the news or read the paper?"

Marshall scowled. "Hell no. It's all noise."

Marshall Noonan was in his early 50s, and he hadn’t held up too well. He was a thin, wiry guy. His once strong features had turned into drawn cheeks, hard lines, a crinkled brow, and a receding hairline. His brown hair was short and messy.

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