Page 34 of Night Hawk
“Yeah.”
“We need to mention that to Trent when we talk to him, but I want to take a look outside before we give him a call.” Toni stepped down the hall ahead of Clay.
In the living room, the concentrated smell hit him hard again, and he hurried past the body. Outside, he sucked in fresh air on the way to the tall stockade fence. He opened the rusty side gate to reveal an expansive property with evergreen trees planted in neat rows, tall weeds and grass growing between them.
“Let’s check out the garage.” Toni slogged through the weeds to a ramshackle garage. She lifted the wide door. The rusty metal groaned on the hinges as the sagging door rolled up. She shone her phone’s flashlight inside, revealing stacks of cardboard boxes and worn garden tools.
She set her phone on a pile of boxes and opened the flaps on a box on the next pile. “Miscellaneous household items.”
Clay glanced inside to see a mixer with only one beater and stained pans. “Looks like junk. Wonder why he’s keeping it?”
“If the house says anything, he’s not a packrat or hoarder.” She set the box aside and opened the next one.
Stained linens and torn towels. She moved on to the final box and found broken small appliances. She removed a chipped toaster. Jewelry tumbled out.
“Look at this.” She held out several of the cheap costume pieces.
“Maybe belonged to his wife.”
“The items seem too juvenile.” She set down the jewelry and picked up a stack of rusted cake pans. A silver brush, comb, and mirror set rested inside.
“This could be the wife’s, I suppose,” she said, looking puzzled.
“Otherwise, why would he have it?” Clay reached past her to grab a Sugar Smacks box with a silver frame peeking out of the corner. “I remember when they changed the name to Honey Smacks in the eighties, so this box has to be at least that old.”
He drew out a framed photo, brown with age. She took a look and stumbled back.
Clay looked at the photo, his heart rate kicking up. “This is the same picture as the one in your father’s boxes.”
She gave a wooden nod, and her eyes were tight with unease.
“Who is this?” he asked gently.
“Me and my mom.” The words came out on a whisper. “My dad always kept this picture on his desk.”
“It looks like your fatherisconnected to human trafficking.” He locked eyes with Toni. “And we now need to figure out how.”
Toni could hardly breathe. She rushed out of the garage. The world spun around her, and she planted her hands on her knees to gulp in the fresh air. Her dad was connected to Fritz Rader. A man who’d likely trafficked young girls. There had to be a connection between Hibbard, and Rader too, and was the reason he showed up at the raid where he died.
“Hey.” Clay came up behind her and rested a hand on her back. “We’ll figure this out, and when we do, I’m sure your dad will be in the clear. He was likely investigating Rader, and Rader somehow got a hold of the photo.”
“But why?” She stared at Clay without really seeing him, her mind a mass of questions. “What good would it do Rader to have my picture?”
Clay’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know, but we’ll figure it out. Together.”
Would they? Would they really, or was Clay being his usual positive self? Did he really believe his words?
Did it matter? Not really. She wouldn’t stop investigating until she had an answer.
She stood up straight, hoping the posture would bring back her confidence like her dad had always taught her. But as she peered into the garage, she was so far from confident it wasn’t funny.
She looked at Clay, his eyes filled with compassion. Made her want to cry, but she swallowed away the tears. “I’m glad you’re here. I would hate to have discovered this on my own.”
He raised a hand as if he planned to touch her, but let it fall. “I’m guessing this is more stressful than finding the body.”
Yeah, but she wouldn’t cry. Not even if she was off duty. She blinked the tears away and considered their next move. “I can’t bear to leave the picture in his things. I don’t want to have the detective see it and connect Dad to this.”
Clay didn’t answer right away, just looked at her as if he regretted what he was about to say. “You know we can’t take it, right?”
