North Country(125)

The guy was constantly buzzing around—behind the bar, running in and out of the kitchen, changing a keg. He went to his office at least ten times. He was in and out of the camera feed all night long—as anyone can expect a busy owner who works the bar to be—and never for very long. But at 1:05 a.m., Matt grabbed what I now realize was a pack of smokes from the counter and went down the hall. He was gone for nine minutes and thirty-two seconds, and when he reappeared, his blue denim over-shirt was missing and the Bale House logo on his gray T-shirt was an older one.

It’s such a subtle difference, but it’s there, right in front of us.

I’m lost in my thoughts as the red tow truck pulls up on the other side of my pump, its engine chugging. A quick glance around confirms that Axel had four other—more convenient—spots to choose from.

My instincts kick into high alert, given our last encounter. I shut off the gas and set the nozzle back in place, as I use my body radio to call for backup. By the time Axel exits and rounds his truck to reach the pump, I’m waiting for my receipt and dispatch is chirping to inform me that Samir is three minutes out.

Axel’s flat stare when our eyes meet shows no shock. He knew exactly what he was doing when he pulled up there. He scans the area, noting the elderly man at the far side who fills his tank, oblivious to anything but his task at hand.

“Whatever you’re thinking of doing, don’t be stupid.” My hand hovers over my holster as I shift my stance, checking the passenger side for Hank. But he’s not there. Axel’s alone.

He unfastens his fuel cap. “I heard the Bale House owner was arrested for Holly Monroe’s murder.”

“And?” I’m not surprised he’s heard already. These tow truck drivers are on their CB radios all day long, sharing gossip as much as important traffic info.

The machine on the other side beeps as he presses keys. “I towed that guy’s car to the wreckers.”

I already knew this. Not that Axel towed it, but that it was taken there. One of the first things we did was check the Ministry of Transportation’s records to confirm that Matt’s Honda Civic had been registered as scrapped that same weekend. That “beater” that Matt called his “ride or die” only the week before. It’s long gone now, stripped and crushed, the metal gone to recyclers along with any evidence we could have pulled from it.

“Okay.” I watch him closely as he guides the nozzle into his truck. Am I imagining things or does Axel have something specific he wants to tell me?

“He said it was dead, but the engine turned over fine.”

“And you thought that was strange?”

“No. I mean yeah, but what was strange was the trunk. It was empty. Tire kit gone, carpet ripped out, and it reeked like chemicals.”

That’s where Matt would have put Holly. Her blood was probably all over it. “Did you ask him about it?”

“I mentioned it. He said he was bringing industrial cleaners for the restaurant and they’d spilled in there. I didn’t think much of it. Not until now.” He meets my eyes again and something strange darts past. Is that regret? It’s gone just as quickly. “I don’t know if that helps any with your case, but I thought I’d tell you.”

What would have helped is if Axel had reported it to the police back then, but pointing that out isn’t productive. The fact that I’m getting any information from a Murphy, and offered, is shocking to say the least.

Besides, I can see why he wouldn’t make the connection between Matt and Holly. None of us did. We’ve been buying his story all these months. “Every bit of information is helpful.” I pause, considering how I want to word this. “Why are you coming to me with this? You guys haven’t exactly been eager to help in investigations in the past.”

“Honestly? I thought Landry did it, so what was the point of coming to the cops?”

“Because you actually thought I’d protect him if I thought he did this to that poor girl?” A mixture of anger and dismay fills me. How does a person live with such distrust for us? Then again, his father died at the hands of the police, and he was raised by Hank and Big Hank. Who knows what poison he was raised drinking?

“We’re going to make sure whoever did this to Holly pays for it.”

His brow pulls together. “Holly and I were just friends. I knew how young she was. But she was always nice to me. Not everyone around here is.”

Because of who his father is. I’m guilty of that judgment too. And for some inexplicable reason, I believe him about Holly.

“Would you be willing to give a formal statement about the trunk?”

“Maybe.” He purses his lips. “As long as it’s not gonna turn into something else.”

An interrogation, he means. “Just a statement about the trunk and anything you can remember about Matt that day,” I promise.

A cruiser pulls into the gas station then, easing in front of Axel’s tow truck.

He side-eyes it, then me. “Really?”

“Can you blame me after last time?” I gesture to Samir to stay put.

“Guess not,” he mutters.

I claim my receipt from the dispenser. “If you want to help with Holly’s case, you’ll come to the station and give that statement.”

His nod is almost imperceptible.