Thread of Suspicion

Number II of

Joe Tyler

Jeff Shelby

(2012)

Rating: ★★★★☆

Tags: Mystery

Mysteryttt

Joe Tyler has a picture.

After years of looking for his missing daughter, Elizabeth, and coming up empty, he finally has something. A picture of her shortly after her abduction, showing her with another girl in Minneapolis, far away from her home in San Diego. When Joe arrives in Minneapolis, armed with the picture and an address, he begins to follow a vague trail of clues into Elizabeth’s life in Minnesota. He enlists the aid of a local woman, who specializes in helping runaways. In exchange for her help, Joe attempts to help her locate a boy who works for her and has gone missing.

As Joe digs further into the dark underworld of runaways on the Minneapolis streets, he begins to close the gap between himself and his long missing daughter. A retired detective and a few others offer him more hope, but what Joe doesn’t realize is that the closer he gets to finding Elizabeth…the further away he actually is.

Picking up where the #1 bestseller THREAD OF HOPE left off, THREAD OF SUSPICION brings Joe Tyler closer to the elusive answers about his missing daughter while leaving him teetering on the razor sharp edge between hope and heartbreak.

 

THREAD OF SUSPICION

by

Jeff Shelby

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

THREAD OF SUSPICION

All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2012

Cover design by JT Lindroos

This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited without the expressed written consent of the author.

First Edition: October 2012

Books by Jeff Shelby

 

The Joe Tyler Novels

THREAD OF HOPE

THREAD OF SUSPICION

THREAD OF BETRAYAL

THREAD OF INNOCENCE

THREAD OF FEAR (December 2014)

 

The Noah Braddock Novels

KILLER SWELL

WICKED BREAK

LIQUID SMOKE

DRIFT AWAY

The Moose River Mysteries

THE MURDER PIT

LAST RESORT

ALIBI HIGH

 

 

 

The Deuce Winters Novels (Under the pseudonym Jeffrey Allen)

STAY AT HOME DEAD

POPPED OFF

FATHER KNOWS DEATH

 

 

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For Hannah Elizabeth

 

ONE

I stood on the sidewalk, late afternoon snow swirling around me, and stared at the house.

The wind pushed at me, trying to propel me forward. I pulled up the collar on my wool coat, protecting my neck from the icy air. The snow fell light and steady, already beginning to coat the grass and dot the sidewalk.

But I could still see the house.

A bungalow painted light green, it sat close to the street. The shades were pulled in the windows and a massive tree stood sentry over the entire front yard. The screen door hung crooked in front of the main door. An ancient Buick was parked on the cracked asphalt driveway and a large, blue city-issued trashcan sat just off to the side, under the carport.

The wind pushed again and I winced. The temperature dropped by the minute and snowflakes clung to my hair and tucked themselves inside my ears.

I reached into the back pocket of my jeans and pulled out the folded envelope.

I’d already looked at it at least a hundred times. I’d sat on the airplane, my eyes locked as tight on the handwriting as my hand was on the envelope. I knew the address by heart, plugging it effortlessly into my phone after getting into the rental car at the Minneapolis-St. Paul airport.

I was at the right address.

I shoved the envelope back into my pocket and walked quickly across the yard, hopping up the three concrete steps that led to the front door. I opened the screen door and knocked hard on the door three times, my heart crashing against the inside of my chest.

The door swung open. A kid in his twenties stood in the doorframe, a cigarette hanging from his lips, attitude hanging from everything else.

“Yeah?” he asked, frowning at me

“I’m looking for Jacob Detwiler.”

“Who the hell are you?”

“Joe Tyler. Are you Jacob?”

He took a long drag on the cigarette and blew the smoke in my face. “Fuck off.”

He tried to shut the door, but I stiff-armed it. “So you’re Jacob?”

He flicked the cigarette over my shoulder. “Yo, you better get your hand off my door like now, dude.”

“Are you Jacob?” I asked again.

He cocked an eyebrow at me. “I’m not gonna tell you again, dude. Get your hand off my door.”

I grabbed him by the shirt and whipped him around, throwing him over the steps and into the snow-covered yard. He landed hard on the frozen ground, his mouth open in a wordless scream.

I descended the stairs, picked up the butt of the cigarette he’d tossed and knelt on his chest. The red ember on the end of the cigarette glowed in the falling snow.

I held it near his cheek. “One last time. Are you Jacob?”

His eyes locked on the cigarette. He knew I was ready to bury it in his skin. “Yeah. Yeah. I’m Jacob.”

My mouth was so dry I could barely get the words out. “Do you know where my daughter is?”

He couldn’t pull his eyes from the burning ember. “What? Who?”

I laid my forearm across his throat. “Elizabeth Tyler. Do you know where she is?”

He squirmed beneath me. “No! I don’t know no bitch named Elizabeth.”

I jabbed the cigarette into his cheek and he screamed.

I pulled it away. “Next one’s going in your eye.”

Tears pooled in his eyes. The spot I’d touched was bright red and puffy.

I pulled the photo from my pocket and held it over his face. “Elizabeth Tyler.”

He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, then opened them, staring at the photo several inches from his nose. Something changed in his eyes. “That’s Bailey.”

“No, it’s my daughter,” I said. The snow stung my eyes. I pushed down harder on his throat.

He coughed and shook his head. “No! The one on the left. That’s Bailey. My sister.”

TWO

I lifted my arm off his neck and he wheezed, gasping for breath.

He rubbed at his throat. His eyes were now locked on the picture in my hand. “Man, that’s old.”

“How old?” I asked, my voice tight and raw.

He wrinkled his nose. “Dunno. Maybe six? Seven years?”

That sounded right to me, gauging how old Elizabeth looked in the picture.

“Where’s your sister now?” I asked.

He started to say something, but anger filtered into his features and he frowned. “Who the hell are you? You just show up at my door, throw me down and now you wanna ask me questions? Stick a fucking cigarette on my face.” He ran his thumb over the welt on his cheek.

“The other girl in the picture,” I said. “That’s my daughter. I’m trying to find her.”

“From that old picture?” He smirked. “Good luck.”

I held the picture in my hands as if it might break. “It’s all I have.”

Jacob ran a hand through his overgrown mane. “Well, she might be with Bailey for all I know.”