Chapter 9 - Greg Comes Back
Greg arrived at Harbor Point Marina at 8:47 p.m.
He drove the same dark pickup Leo had described.
Deputy Quinn later told me the strangest part was not that he came back.
It was how ordinary he tried to look while doing it.
He parked in his usual employee space.
He locked the truck.
He pulled up the hood of his work jacket against the rain.
Then he walked toward the maintenance building carrying a thermos as if nobody had spent the entire day searching his house, photographing his shed, opening his locker, and trying to find the woman he claimed was sleeping at home.
Quinn stepped out from behind an unmarked sheriff's vehicle.
"Greg."
He stopped.
For one second, she saw surprise.
Then it was gone.
"Deputy."
"What are you doing here?"
"Working."
"You told the hospital you had a shift three hours after you arrived."
"I swapped."
"With whom?"
Greg looked toward the maintenance building.
"Why?"
"Because I asked."
He gave her the same smile he had used with hospital security.
"I don't have to explain my schedule."
"No."
"But you do need to stay out of that building."
"Why?"
"Search warrant."
His eyes moved immediately toward Locker 19.
That was all Quinn needed to know about whether he understood the significance of the room.
She stepped sideways, blocking his path.
"You can wait by your truck."
Greg's jaw flexed.
"That's my locker."
"I know."
"You had no right."
"A judge disagreed."
His eyes shifted to the red duffel bag sitting open on an evidence table.
He stopped breathing normally.
Quinn noticed.
"You recognize it?"
"No."
"It was in your locker."
"Then somebody put it there."
"Who?"
He shrugged.
"Ask Martin."
"Martin Vale?"
"You're the detective."
"I'm a deputy."
"Congratulations."
Quinn let the insult pass.
"Where is Danielle?"
"At home."
"You already know she isn't."
"Then maybe she finally came back."
"No."
Greg looked past her.
"I haven't been home."
"Why not?"
"Because I've been dealing with your hospital friends kidnapping my kid."
"Leo is not your child."
His eyes sharpened.
"I raised him."
"That is not what I said."
Greg took one slow step closer.
"You people love paperwork until a man actually does the work."
"What work?"
"Feeding him."
"Driving him."
"Keeping a roof over his head."
"Locking him in a shed?"
Greg's face changed.
Barely.
Enough.
"He told you that?"
Quinn did not answer.
"He lies."
"He has an injury consistent with the shelf in that shed."
"He plays rough."
"There is an exterior padlock."
"To keep thieves out."
"From the outside while someone is inside?"
"There's no one inside."
"There was."
Greg shook his head.
"You're letting a nine-year-old run this investigation."
"I'm letting evidence run it."
He looked at the notebook on the table.
For the first time, real fear appeared.
"Where did you get that?"
Quinn did not respond.
Greg took another step.
A second deputy moved between them.
"Back up."
Greg ignored him.
"That notebook is private."
Quinn studied his face.
"What does LM mean?"
Nothing moved in Greg's expression.
"Labor maintenance."
Quinn had expected something better.
"And SHED?"
"Equipment shed."
"NO DINNER?"
Greg's mouth opened.
No answer came.
The second deputy said, "Greg, step back."
This time he did.
Quinn asked, "What do the dollar amounts mean?"
"Expenses."
"Why is Martin Vale's name over them?"
"Because he owns the marina."
"Did he authorize the expenses?"
"Ask him."
"We will."
Greg looked at the evidence table again.
Then at the door.
Then at his truck.
People often think running looks dramatic.
It usually begins with a calculation.
Quinn saw the calculation happen.
"Do not."
Greg's eyes returned to her.
"Do not what?"
"Whatever you just decided."
He laughed once.
"You think you know me?"
"No."
"I know you drove here after telling hospital staff you were leaving for work hours ago."
"I know your house is an active scene."
"I know a fire was set beside the shed after Leo disclosed being locked there."
"And I know you are staring at that notebook like it can hurt you."
Greg's smile disappeared.
"That kid has always been a problem."
Quinn's voice became colder.
"He is nine."
"You don't live with him."
"No."
"You don't know what he does."
"No."
"He steals food."
Quinn stared at him.
"He hides it."
"Yes."
"He lies about eating."
"Yes."
"He waits until people turn around and shoves crackers in his pockets like some little animal."
Quinn let the silence widen.
Greg did not hear himself.
Or worse, he did.
"Why would a child who gets enough food hide crackers?"
His face tightened.
"Because he's manipulative."
"Or hungry."
"He eats."
"When?"
"Every day."
"Your notebook says NO DINNER."
Greg looked toward the evidence table again.
He had no answer.
Quinn asked Greg one more question before Martin arrived.
"Why did you tell the hospital Danielle was home?"
Greg's expression did not change.
"Because that is where she was supposed to be."
"That is not what I asked."
"I assumed."
"You said she was asleep with her phone off."
"Maybe she was."
"Leo says he had not seen her in days."
Greg laughed.
"Leo doesn't know what day it is half the time."
"He knew which shoe held his aunt's phone number."
That hit something.
Greg's eyes narrowed.
"What aunt?"
Quinn said nothing.
He realized his mistake immediately.
If Greg knew everything about Danielle's family, Claire's existence should not have surprised him.
If he had isolated them as thoroughly as Claire later described, surprise made perfect sense.
Greg tried to recover.
"Her sister?"
Quinn let him work.
"The one in Portland?"
Still no answer.
His jaw tightened.
"Danielle hasn't talked to her in years."
That was more information than Quinn had offered.
She filed it away.
"Why did you want Leo's backpack?"
"I told you."
"Tell me again."
"Work medication."
"What medication?"
"For my back."
"Prescription?"
"Yes."
"Name?"
Greg glared at her.
"You a pharmacist now?"
"What medication?"
He named an over-the-counter pain reliever.
Quinn almost smiled.
"You hid ibuprofen under a nine-year-old's backpack liner?"
Greg's face hardened.
"I never said under the liner."
Quinn did not move.
Neither did he.
There it was.
The detail he was not supposed to know we had found.
He had never been told where Danielle's phone was hidden.
Quinn lowered her voice.
"How do you know there was anything under the liner?"
Greg looked toward his truck.
"Leo hides junk everywhere."
"What kind of junk?"
"Food."
"Phones?"
No answer.
"Women's phones?"
Greg smiled again, but the expression had lost all confidence.
"Get a warrant."
"We did."
His eyes flicked to the evidence table.
For the first time, he understood the police were no longer waiting for his permission.
Quinn said, "Danielle's phone was in the bag."
Greg's nostrils flared.
"She left it."
"You told us she was home asleep with it off."
Silence.
"Which lie do you want me to write down?"
Greg stepped closer.
The second deputy shifted position.
Greg stopped.
Then headlights swept across the wet pavement.
A vehicle turned into the marina lot.
A silver SUV stopped near the office.
A tall man in a waterproof coat stepped out.
Greg muttered something under his breath.
Quinn looked at him.
"Who is that?"
"Martin."
Martin Vale walked toward them with a marina attorney and a folder tucked beneath his arm.
He was sixty, silver-haired, and furious in a controlled way that made Greg's anger look childish.
"Deputy Quinn?"
"Yes."
"I'm Martin Vale."
He looked at Greg.
"You are trespassing."
Greg laughed.
"I work here."
"No."
Martin handed Quinn a document.
"You were terminated Tuesday morning."
Greg's face went still.
Quinn looked at the date.
Tuesday.
The first day Leo missed school.
"What was the reason?" she asked.
Martin kept his eyes on Greg.
"Theft."
Greg stepped forward.
"You lying--"
The second deputy blocked him.
Martin did not move.
"We found fuel receipts altered under my authorization code."
"We also found tools missing from storage."
"And after I confronted him, he threatened to burn the maintenance building before he let me search his truck."
Quinn looked at Greg.
"Did you report the threat?"
Martin's jaw tightened.
"No."
"Why not?"
"I thought he was angry."
"You thought wrong."
"Yes."
The admission seemed difficult for him.
Greg pointed at the notebook.
"He knows about that."
Martin looked at it.
"No."
"You paid me cash."
"For emergency call-outs."
"You told me to move those coolers."
"Yes."
Quinn glanced at him.
"What was in them?"
"Fish samples from a contaminated freezer."
Greg smiled suddenly.
"See?"
The photographs Danielle had taken were not proof of a criminal partnership.
They were proof of something much simpler.
She had seen Greg moving coolers and assumed the movement was connected to the money he was stealing.
Martin looked at Quinn.
"Danielle asked me about the receipts."
Greg's smile vanished.
"When?" Quinn asked.
"Monday."
The day before Greg was fired.
"What did she say?"
"She asked whether Greg was stealing from me."
"Did you tell her?"
"I said I was investigating discrepancies."
Greg began swearing.
The deputy told him to stop.
Martin continued.
"She looked frightened."
"Did she explain why?"
"She said if Greg lost his job before she was ready to leave, he would blame her."
Quinn's attention sharpened.
"Ready to leave?"
"Yes."
"She told you she planned to leave him?"
"Yes."
"Did you help her?"
Martin looked ashamed.
"Not enough."
"What did you do?"
"I gave her access to an employee storage room for one night."
Greg lunged.
It happened without warning.
He did not get far.
The second deputy caught his arm.
Quinn grabbed the other.
They drove him against the side of his truck and handcuffed him while he shouted at Martin.
"You had no right."
"You touched my family."
"You put ideas in her head."
Martin stared at him.
"No."
"You did that yourself."
Greg twisted against the cuffs.
Quinn read him his rights.
The arrest was not for everything yet.
It was for unlawful imprisonment and criminal mistreatment based on Leo's statements, the shed, the exterior lock, the restraint mark, and the medical findings.
The rest would come if the evidence supported it.
Greg turned his head toward Quinn.
"He is lying."
"Save it."
"You think Danielle will back him?"
Quinn stopped.
Greg smiled against the truck.
"She knows what that kid is like."
"Do not talk about him."
"She'll tell you."
"Tell us what?"
Greg's smile widened.
"That none of this happened."
Quinn stared at him.
He seemed almost pleased now.
Then he said something that would matter later.
"Find her."
"Go ahead."
"She'll come home like she always does."
May you like
"And when she does, she'll say exactly what I tell her to say."
