Molly was with someone at all times. I didn’t know if Elizabeth had someone to be with her. She didn’t say, and I never asked. Maybe it was because Detective Lewis said they were staking out her home, and officers were sipping coffee in her restaurant. I looked at the time on my cell phone: 8:45 a.m., then punched the number I’d stored. Lewis answered in two rings, his voice sounding tired at the beginning of day. I said, “Detective, I have an idea that might help your investigation into Frank Soto.”
“I’m listening.”
“If you check tattoo parlors near the University of Florida, maybe between Ocala and Gainesville, you might find the ink artist who recently gave Soto his tat.”
“How do you know it was recent?”
“The ink looked bright. It looked new, similar to fresh paint. There was redness around the art, like his skin was sensitive.”
“That’s a lot of speculation, Mr. O’Brien.”
“It might be worth the effort to find the artist.”
“Maybe. Lots of tat shops. Sometimes these fellas aren’t too eager to talk about who they had for canvases, if you know what I mean.”
“What I know is that Soto tracked Molly from Gainesville to Sanford. He tried to take her out along with her mother. If he’s some kind of enforcer, as you said, or a hit man, it might be related to something Molly saw.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. She was recently in the Ocala National Forest doing butterfly research with her boyfriend. She thinks she saw a man hiding in the woods watching them. Molly and Mark left quickly.”
“That’s a possibility, but seems to me like a remote one if she didn’t see this guy do something illegal.”
“Maybe the guy thought she saw more than she did, and whoever is behind it is making an effort to keep her from telling anyone.”
“O’Brien, I do appreciate your help. I can certainly tell you have a background in criminal investigation. Ocala and Gainesville are out of my area. I’ll let the FDLE know, they’re keeping an eye on her, at least for a few days, at her apartment in Gainesville. If they feel the need to start talking to tattoo artists, they can sure do it. Got to go, O’Brien. Late for court.” He disconnected. A laughing gull flew overhead.
I thought of Molly, her dead father’s gun heavy in her purse, Soto probably heavy on her mind. She would study the tiny building blocks of the planet—insects, plants, the stuff of life, and one day would march out there on the world’s stage and try to save it for audiences yet to be born. She would open boxes of butterflies pointed to the sun and release them into a new world where a Pandora’s box of trade wind pollution might send them spiraling to the ground. I thought of Elizabeth. Courage under fire. The tight, hidden pleas in her voice, as if holding back the seismic screams from the buried primal gene only planted in the soul of a mother. In my mind, I played back the look Soto gave me. He was a snake poised to strike again. When and where I didn’t know. But I knew somebody needed to do something to prevent it. Why investigate a murder or a double murder if you can prevent the crime from happening? By absolute luck, I did it once for Molly and Elizabeth. The question was, could I do it again for them before time ran out?
I called Elizabeth. “Have you reached Molly?”
“Yes, thank God. I should have called you, Sean. Her cell battery died, and she forgot to recharge it. Molly’s one of those rare girls who doesn’t need to be texting or talking on her phone.”
“I’m glad she’s okay.”
“Thank you for caring. Want to come by the restaurant for lunch… or dinner?”
“Thanks, but I have to be on the road for a few hours. I’ll take a rain check.”
“Okay. Bye, Sean.”
I glanced over to Max who was licking her lips and staring at the small piece of toast left on my plate.
“I’m listening.”
“If you check tattoo parlors near the University of Florida, maybe between Ocala and Gainesville, you might find the ink artist who recently gave Soto his tat.”
“How do you know it was recent?”
“The ink looked bright. It looked new, similar to fresh paint. There was redness around the art, like his skin was sensitive.”
“That’s a lot of speculation, Mr. O’Brien.”
“It might be worth the effort to find the artist.”
“Maybe. Lots of tat shops. Sometimes these fellas aren’t too eager to talk about who they had for canvases, if you know what I mean.”
“What I know is that Soto tracked Molly from Gainesville to Sanford. He tried to take her out along with her mother. If he’s some kind of enforcer, as you said, or a hit man, it might be related to something Molly saw.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. She was recently in the Ocala National Forest doing butterfly research with her boyfriend. She thinks she saw a man hiding in the woods watching them. Molly and Mark left quickly.”
“That’s a possibility, but seems to me like a remote one if she didn’t see this guy do something illegal.”
“Maybe the guy thought she saw more than she did, and whoever is behind it is making an effort to keep her from telling anyone.”
“O’Brien, I do appreciate your help. I can certainly tell you have a background in criminal investigation. Ocala and Gainesville are out of my area. I’ll let the FDLE know, they’re keeping an eye on her, at least for a few days, at her apartment in Gainesville. If they feel the need to start talking to tattoo artists, they can sure do it. Got to go, O’Brien. Late for court.” He disconnected. A laughing gull flew overhead.
I thought of Molly, her dead father’s gun heavy in her purse, Soto probably heavy on her mind. She would study the tiny building blocks of the planet—insects, plants, the stuff of life, and one day would march out there on the world’s stage and try to save it for audiences yet to be born. She would open boxes of butterflies pointed to the sun and release them into a new world where a Pandora’s box of trade wind pollution might send them spiraling to the ground. I thought of Elizabeth. Courage under fire. The tight, hidden pleas in her voice, as if holding back the seismic screams from the buried primal gene only planted in the soul of a mother. In my mind, I played back the look Soto gave me. He was a snake poised to strike again. When and where I didn’t know. But I knew somebody needed to do something to prevent it. Why investigate a murder or a double murder if you can prevent the crime from happening? By absolute luck, I did it once for Molly and Elizabeth. The question was, could I do it again for them before time ran out?
I called Elizabeth. “Have you reached Molly?”
“Yes, thank God. I should have called you, Sean. Her cell battery died, and she forgot to recharge it. Molly’s one of those rare girls who doesn’t need to be texting or talking on her phone.”
“I’m glad she’s okay.”
“Thank you for caring. Want to come by the restaurant for lunch… or dinner?”
“Thanks, but I have to be on the road for a few hours. I’ll take a rain check.”
“Okay. Bye, Sean.”
I glanced over to Max who was licking her lips and staring at the small piece of toast left on my plate.
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