Chapter Seventeen
At 10:00 a.m., Colt knocked on Bart’s front door, Jadyn standing beside him. It had been a long night of questioning with the FBI and the state police, but finally, everyone had seemed satisfied that they had the facts and a little more than depressed with the complicity of two FBI agents.
After all the activity, Colt thought he’d have no trouble falling asleep, but instead he’d lain in bed awake for at least another hour. His mind whirled with everything that had happened—Raissa’s kidnapping, the diamonds, the showdown in the garage, and the incredible shot that Jadyn made. The shot that quite literally saved his life.
Everything from start to finish had gone down so quickly that he hadn’t had time to process it all, much less dwell on the meanings and implications of everything that had happened. But in the quiet of his bedroom, it all came crashing back in a jumble, begging him to put it all into perspective.
The crime had been easy. He had plenty of experience processing criminal activity, even crimes that included dirty cops. Everything that had happened with Jadyn, however, was a whole different story, and one he hadn’t managed to classify before finally falling asleep near dawn.
“His truck’s here,” Jadyn said, after a minute of waiting with no answer.
Colt knocked again.
A couple seconds later, the sound of a power tool echoed from the shop.
“He must be working,” Colt said as he left the porch and headed for the shop. With every step, he imagined how this would go down. He hoped Bart wouldn’t cause any trouble, but if life had taught him one thing, it was that you never really knew someone.
Out of courtesy, he banged on the metal door. He hadn’t bothered with a warrant, but with Jadyn along, he didn’t need one. Her jurisdiction extended to Bart’s shop given that they had probable cause to believe this is where the crime originated. He waited several seconds, then banged again, figuring Bart might not be able to hear him over the tool noise.
A couple seconds later, the tool shut off and then Bart swung the door open. He looked tired and worried and when he focused in on them, both grew worse.
“Can we come in?” Colt asked.
He stepped back and they walked inside. In the center of the shop was a platform with some wheels on it. A large object just to the right was covered with a tarp. Colt frowned. He had hoped for cooperation, but he hadn’t expected Bart to invite them in to see him in the process of committing a crime.
Bart grabbed a rag and wiped his hands. “I hope you two aren’t here to grill me about my camp. I got detained yesterday by the New Orleans police because of that asshole from the FBI. I was ready to kill him.” He gave them a sheepish look. “I probably shouldn’t say that to the two of you.”
“Nobody likes Agent Ross,” Colt said.
Everything that had gone down the night before was all still very hush-hush. The FBI was in a panic, trying to figure out how they’d allowed a dirty agent to reach Ross’s position in the agency without anyone catching on, and their attorneys and public relations people were racing in damage control mode. The secret wouldn’t keep forever, but Colt had no problem keeping his mouth shut. The last thing he wanted to do was relive last night over and over again for every resident in Mudbug. The ole “I’m not allowed to talk about a federal investigation” excuse was the perfect out.
“We’re not here about the camp,” Colt said. “We’re here about the cars.”
Bart’s expression immediately shifted to fear. “What cars?”
“The cars you’ve been stealing and chopping. We’ve already seen the car parts, and we found what’s left of stolen cars dumped in one of the channels just west of here.”
Bart looked back and forth between them, his hesitation clear. Finally he sighed. “It wasn’t me.”
Colt frowned. “Don’t make it harder on any of us by lying.”
“I’m not lying.” He walked to a desk sitting on the front wall and pulled a plastic container out of the bottom drawer. “I have receipts for every part in this shop.”
Colt looked at Jadyn, whose eyes widened. She gave him a slight shake of her head, indicating she was just as confused as he was.
“I don’t understand,” Colt said. “Why would you buy used car parts when you don’t work on cars?”
Bart shuffled his feet, looking down at the concrete floor, then finally sighed. “I’ll show you, but if it’s possible, I don’t want anyone to know.”
“Ok,” Colt said. “If it’s possible.”
Bart started across the shop and waved them over to the tarp-covered object. He flipped the tarp over the edges of the object until he could pull the entire piece of plastic off to one side. Colt stared at the jumble of metal, completely confused.
Jadyn’s jaw dropped and she took one step forward, then ran her finger around a wheel. “It’s industrial art.”
Colt narrowed his eyes at the pile as Jadyn took a step back.
“It’s a skyline,” she said.
“Yeah,” Bart said, looking pleased. “It will be the Detroit skyline when I’m done.”
Colt stepped back next to Jadyn and looked at the mass of parts again, this time trying to view the entire thing rather than the individual pieces. He blinked a couple of times, then when his eyes cleared, the full effect of the piece came into focus.
“I see it now,” he said. “You mean to tell me you’ve been hiding artwork in here?”
“Yeah,” Bart said, a blush creeping up his neck. “I mean, Mudbug isn’t exactly the kind of place that a man wants to run around saying he’s an artist. Not if he plans on being treated like a man for very long.”
Colt nodded. It was unfortunate but probably true. Mudbug wasn’t exactly the artistic mecca of the South. “So do you sell these in art shops or something?”
“I did at first, but word got around and some people really liked the work, so now I mostly do commissioned pieces.”
Jadyn smiled. “That’s great. Where is this one going? Or can you say?”
“An automobile museum in Detroit,” Bart said. “This is my biggest commission so far. It’s kinda got me stressed.”
Jadyn nodded. “So the real reason you only work three days a week is because you’re doing this instead of construction.”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
“This is great,” Colt said, “and I don’t doubt it’s on the up and up, but someone in Mudbug is chopping cars.” He narrowed his eyes at Bart. “You didn’t seem surprised when I told you why I was here, which means you already knew about it. And I’m guessing you know who’s responsible.”
Bart’s face fell and he nodded. “I’ve had a bad feeling for some time that things were wrong, but I never imagined something criminal. After you left the other day, I decided to confront him and get a straight answer.”
“It’s Tyler, isn’t it?” Jadyn asked.
Bart looked a little surprised at her guess, but nodded. “Yeah. I didn’t want to believe it, but I walked right in on him in his barn while he was taking the hood off a car. There were several others, all stripped down. It didn’t take a genius to know what was going on.”
“What happened?” Colt asked.
“I told him it was only a matter of time before you found out and he had to stop. He lost it. Started screaming and yelling nonsense, saying it was all my fault because I didn’t promote him back when we were working construction in New Orleans. That he couldn’t make a living shrimping and I was getting rich.”
Bart’s expression was pure misery. “I couldn’t promote him in New Orleans. He wasn’t ready and mistakes on commercial jobs can get people killed. I had no idea he’d been mad at me over it this whole time. Anyway, I didn’t know what to do, so I just left. I had a piece to deliver. I thought maybe I’d figure out something while I was driving, but I couldn’t think of any way to fix this.”
Bart looked at Colt. “What’s going to happen to him?”
“I’ll arrest him,” Colt said, “and he’ll get his day in court. If you want to help, then see to it that he gets a good lawyer. You might also be allowed to speak on his behalf if this goes to trial.”
Bart nodded. “Thanks.”
Jadyn reached out and squeezed his arm. “I’m really sorry.”
“Yeah. Me too.”
Jadyn looked up at Colt and he motioned toward the door. They walked silently out of the shop, leaving Bart to his thoughts. When he pulled away from Bart’s place, Colt looked over at Jadyn, who sat quietly.
“How did you know it was Tyler?” he asked.
“It was something in his expression. He looked scared but also sad. I figured there was only one person he’d be sad over. But I still don’t understand why Tyler would blame Bart for everything just because he wasn’t ready for a promotion.”
“I doubt that’s the only reason. Tyler’s spent his entire life playing second fiddle to Bart—football, grades, women, job—so I guess he decided to create something he could do successfully and alone.”
“So this was Tyler’s way of doing something to get himself ahead. Something that Bart couldn’t best him at?”
“I’m sure that’s part of it, but don’t ever discount cold hard cash. Shrimpers aren’t making what they used to. And Bart’s three-day workweek had probably been eating away at Tyler for a long time.”
She nodded. “So are we going to arrest Tyler now?”
“Yeah. Might as well get this over with.”