“Then why are we wasting time? Let’s go see her.” Morgan took two steps back toward his car before he felt a strong hand clamp around his arm. He turned to see Gary shaking his head, a frown creasing up his features.
“We’ve seen to all that.”
“And?”
“The woman—Erika—got into a company truck.”
“Did she get the name of the company?”
Gary nodded. “Heywood Logistics. We got in touch with them, and they’ve located the driver. He’s on his way back to the depot, so if we hurry we can meet him there in twenty minutes. But I’m not kidding: you have to play nice.”
“Always.”
Morgan felt fluttery as he followed Gary to the car. He rushed to the passenger side and opened the door, the slightest hint of faith seeping into the back of his mind. This could lead him to Robin, he realized. It wasn’t even about catching Erika now. He just wanted his boy back in his arms, safe and sound. Whatever happened to that woman was none of his concern.
“Wait.”
Morgan had one foot in the car when he heard the deep voice. He turned.
“Anything I can do?” Mason said, flicking a cigarette into the street where it rolled slowly toward the drain and finally fell in. “You’ve gone out of your way to help me, and whether or not you send the bill to my daughter, I still feel like I owe you big-time. Let me help.”
His breath caught in his throat, Morgan glanced over to Gary, who sat shrugging beside him. It couldn’t hurt, he thought, but there were sensible ways to take him up on the offer without dragging him right into the investigation. Morgan cleared his throat and set his foot back on solid ground, the engine roaring to life behind him. “Don’t you have your own family to go home to? I’m sure they’re missing you.”
“I’m not going anywhere without my car,” he said.
“That might take a while.”
“Then so be it.”
Morgan studied him: the pushed-out chest and stern gaze told him this man was serious. It would be useful to have a man of such experience on his side, but as he kept telling himself, allocation of troops was the best strategy. “Then I’d appreciate it if you could stay here and be with Rachel until we get back. She’s all alone in there with a missing son.”
“You want me to comfort a lady in distress?”
“Sort of.”
Mason bobbed his head and strolled back to the house. “Count on me.”
It was a strange placement of trust, but for some reason Morgan didn’t feel as though it was misplaced. Somewhere inside Mason Black—once you fought your way through his bullshit bravado—was a kind and considerate person. That was enough to let Morgan know his wife was in safe hands while he climbed into the car and buckled up.
“I’m ready,” he said to Gary in a thin wheeze of breath. “Let’s go find Erika.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
They waited in a poor excuse for an office, where nude pictures of women covered most of the walls, and a sickening smell rose into their nostrils. Morgan winced at the scent, unable to recognize it, and continued to pace around the small room.
“Will you sit down?” Gary said.
Morgan took one look at the dirty red leather, multiple stains emanating questionable smells. There was no way in hell he was sitting on that thing. He simply shook his head and carried on.
It wasn’t much longer before the door opened and two men filed in. One of them was the manager they’d spoken to on their arrival. The other was a dumpy man with grubby clothes and an equally grubby white beard. Morgan pictured him on the back of a Harley Davidson rather than behind the wheel of a truck, but he wasn’t about to argue career choices.
There was a bigger subject to tackle.
“Detectives, this is Ray Quidley,” the manager said, gesturing toward the man.
They all shook hands except for Morgan, who opted to stand in the corner and gnaw on his fingernails like a beaver. The anxiety was killing him. If he could just get the information he needed, he’d be on his way, but the problem came with having to ask the question. As with all questions, there came the risk of hearing an answer he didn’t want. He remained silent.
“If you need anything, I’ll be in the yard.” The manager shut the door and left them all alone together. There was a brief passing of seconds where nobody said a word. Ray looked as though he might be in some sort of trouble, but Gary put him at ease and broke the ice at the same time.
“There’s nothing to worry about,” he said, slipping his backside onto the graffitied desk. “My partner and I are just looking for information about the woman you gave a ride to. You won’t be in any trouble.”
“I won’t?” Ray’s voice was deep and strong, but there was a pang of concern in his tone.
“We convinced him it was an act of chivalry.”
“It was.”
Morgan rolled his eyes at the calming act and stepped forward. “Tell us what happened.”
“I saw a woman with an infant, thought I’d stop and pick her up.”
“Did she look like she needed help?”
Ray shrugged and fed his hands into his pockets in one smooth motion. “She was waving her hand around and struggling to hold her baby.”
“It wasn’t her baby,” Morgan said, taking note of the angry look from Gary.
“Wasn’t it?” Ray looked from one man to the other. “Look, I didn’t know anything about that. I just tried to help the lady out. If I’m in some sort of trouble, I’d rather know about it now. I don’t like being tricked.”
Gary stood up and placed a hand on the man’s shoulder as he passed him by and went to look out the office window that overlooked the yard. “You’re not in any trouble. Relax. Just tell us what she said.”
“She didn’t say much at all.”
“No indication of where she was going?”
Ray spun on his heel to answer Gary, but his head kept flicking back toward Morgan. It was as though he could sense there was a personal investment there. “I asked her a whole load of questions, but she didn’t answer any of them.”
“And you didn’t think there was anything weird about that?” Morgan pressed.
“Sure I did.”
“Then why didn’t you do anything about it.”
“I came back to explain, didn’t I?”
Gary cleared his throat. “You did, and that was the right thing to do.”
“Thank you. I came right back.”
“I know.”
“I didn’t do nothin’ wrong.”
“I know.”
The tension in the air was nothing if not uncomfortable. Morgan cracked his knuckles and held his hands together behind his back. Unable to keep them still, he then tucked them into his armpits and heaved a sigh. “Where did you take her, Mr. Quidley?”
“Oh, that’s the easy one,” Ray said. “It was on the side of the road. I tried to argue with her, but she said to let her out right then and there, just by a load of trees in the middle of nowhere. She was pretty insistent that I didn’t see where she was going.”
“We’re screwed, then,” Morgan snapped. “She could be living in the woods for all we know. You didn’t ask her? It didn’t cross your mind to follow her? Listen up, that was my baby she took with her, and you just let her go. So you better have something a damn sight more useful than a bunch of nonanswers.”
“Morgan—” Gary started.
“No, this man is wasting our time.” Morgan stormed past and went for the door.
But something stopped him.
“I was heading to Pittsburgh.” It was Ray’s voice.
Morgan turned. “Pittsburgh?”
“A town called Mt. Lebanon. It might not help, but…”
It helps all right, Morgan thought. The road they were racing down when they’d chased Erika in the Mustang was on the way to Mt. Lebanon. Why had she gone back there? Morgan paused by the door with one hand on the knob, thinking there must be some reason she was return
ing. If not for something in Pittsburgh, then perhaps for something en route.
“Buddy?” Gary’s voice from right beside him.
Morgan lingered in the doorway, weighing his options. The obvious thing would be to leave this to the police, but that was also the tougher choice. Once he stripped away the possibility of sitting and waiting for some kind of result, there was only one clear decision available. “We’re going to Pittsburgh,” he said in one short breath.
A moment later, he slammed the door.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Morgan hurled the pillow and blanket onto the couch, aching to go back upstairs to his wife. Since he’d gotten home, all he’d had was a brief opportunity to check that she was okay and then to mention that he’d be visiting Pittsburgh first thing in the morning.
“Is this enough?” he asked.
“More than.” Mason kicked off his shoes and sat on the couch, adjusting the pillow to his liking and then lying down on it. He covered himself only halfway, pulling the blanket up to his waist. “Thanks again for this. There isn’t a great selection of hotels around here.”
“It’s quality over quantity.”
“Well, this area is lacking both. All the same, thank you.”
Morgan nodded and headed for the light switch, ready for bed. Not that he intended to sleep much—the excitement and dreaded anticipation of finding Erika clashed to create a whirlwind of anxiety inside his stomach. That was what made him stop. “How did you do it?”
“Do what?”
“When your family were in harm’s way. How did you cope? Emotionally, I mean.”
Mason rolled his head to one side. Loose, brown hair dangled in front of one eye. “I didn’t really. Everything hit me at once, and it was all around the time that… you know, Sandra…” He sighed. “Anyway, I guess I got lucky. Met a woman—Diane, actually—and she was always kind of a support pillar. No different from you and Rachel. Hear what I’m saying?”
He did. Pillars usually worked together to support a foundation, and while Morgan had been thinking about getting through this, he knew he had to start taking care of Rachel. She’d do the same for him—no doubt about it—so why couldn’t they lean on each other?
“When do you go back to San Francisco?” he asked.
Mason picked at his nails. “When all this is over.”
“You mean when you get your car back?”
“No. I mean when we get your boy back.”
Morgan stomped forward, shouting at first but then controlling himself so as not to upset Rachel. “You’re not coming with me.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because this isn’t your fight. And besides, you’re a wild card.”
“Oh, please.” Mason tutted. “I was in the business of going beyond police procedure long ago. In my experience, one man isn’t enough to get by. You’re going to need all the help you can get. And besides, I owe you.”
Morgan considered this. Would it really be the worst thing in the world to have a man like Mason at his side? His notorious bouts of violence couldn’t necessarily be relied on, but it would be good to have a second pair of hands…
“Fine. Be up at four.”
“Gotcha. And hey, get some sleep.”
With every intention of doing so, Morgan shut off the lights and went upstairs to see Rachel, who’d fallen asleep by now. At least it appeared that way. He stood in the doorway, watching her curled up in bed with the duvet rising and falling atop her breathing body. How had he let this happen? How could he comfort her and find their son at the same time? There was no way—not as far as he could see. All he could do was wing it.
A glance at the bedside clock told him it was close to midnight. A little over four hours’ sleep and he’d be in his car on the way to Pittsburgh, tracking down the sicko who’d broken into his home, assaulted his wife, and taken their child. As Mason had said, Morgan needed every bit of sleep he could get. If only he could shut off his waking nightmares so he could face his sleeping ones.
He stripped and climbed into bed, careful not to wake Rachel. Nice and gently, he rolled over and planted a soft kiss on her head, praying the delicate act of love didn’t wake her, and then he turned onto his side and closed his eyes.
They stayed that way for only a second.
“Morgan?” Rachel’s voice, broken with tears, sounded lost.
“I’m here, sweetheart.”
“Are you still going away tomorrow?”
Morgan rolled back over and propped his chin up on his fist, watching her even as she had her back to him. Auburn hair spilled over her bare back, covering her pale, freckled skin. He loved every inch of her. “Only if you want me to.”
“I do want you to. But I want you to promise me something.”
She rolled over then, pulling the duvet over her chest and holding a steady gaze on him. Even in the moonlit room, the seriousness of her stare told him everything he’d need to know: that he should heed every word.
“Promise me,” she said. “Promise me you’ll find her and make her pay.”
Morgan felt his mouth go dry. His limbs went numb as he held her gaze. There was no disappointing this woman, but more importantly, he knew that what she was asking was the same as how he felt deep down. Robin was his son, and if anything happened to him, he would never forgive himself. All he knew was that he would feel cold, unforgiving anger toward Erika Givens, and nothing she did would escape his wrath.
“I will,” he said, holding her in the dark. “I promise.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
They awoke before dawn. Morgan slipped out of bed and tiptoed downstairs to wake Mason, navigating through the dark of the empty, eerie house. It struck him as strange how quickly he’d adjusted to there being a screaming baby in the house.
He never thought he’d miss such ear-piercing shrieks.
The drive was long and tedious. They spent hours on the road, riding through until noon. Mason sat quietly in the seat beside him, while Morgan was prepared to drive all the way to Mt. Lebanon. All the while, the same question stuck to the inside of his head like a Post-it:
Why had Erika gotten out of the truck?
If she’d wanted to hide her tracks, she could’ve easily hidden in Mt. Lebanon. With a population of over thirty thousand, it was more than enough to conceal herself. So then, why stop here? Why stick to the sides of the road where nothing was around for miles? It took all of his willpower and hours on a long stretch of road before he realized.
The answer was simple.
Mt. Lebanon wasn’t her destination.
Whatever Erika wanted, she was looking for something between Mt. Lebanon and Washington. Whatever that was, it wasn’t so obvious to the naked eye, meaning that her destination didn’t lie beside the road after all—it was between the trees.
A bit farther along, Morgan saw a motel and he pulled in. Mason asked what the plan was, but Morgan didn’t need him just yet. He was beginning to feel more competent after his recent cases, but mostly he was just angry at the world. He wanted to be the one who stuck a pin in it and watched it pop, but he couldn’t do that from the car.
“Wait here,” he said and made his way inside.
A bell jingled when he opened the door. An overpowering air-freshener scent—probably jasmine—wafted up his nose. He sneezed, and before he recovered, an elderly man appeared behind a counter which took up half of the small room. He wore a flannel shirt and covered it with oil-stained dungarees, hunching over and looking up as if his back were misaligned.
“Afternoon, sir. You needin’ a room or just ramblin’?”
Morgan approached the counter, letting the door slam shut behind him while he dug into his pocket for his cell phone. He found it and flicked through the images Gary had sent him until he found a blurred photo of Erika Givens. “I just need some information. Have you seen this woman?” He knew it was a long shot, but it didn’t hurt to try.
The old man leaned in close and squinted.
“Mmm. Can’t say I have. What she do?”
“She kidnapped my child and hitchhiked in this direction.”
There was no reason to lie.
“Awful, just awful,” the man said. “She came this way?”
“Yes. Tell me about the kind of people who stop here.”
The old man cocked his head to one side, the last remaining wisps of his gray hair falling onto one shoulder. His eyes narrowed. “You a cop?”
Morgan shook his head. “I just want my son back.”
“Right, right…”
Impatience niggled at him. While the clerk took his time to process the information, Morgan leaned over the counter and peered through the glass door he’d just come through. Mason was still there, hanging out the window and smoking one of the cigarettes he’d haggled off an officer the night before. Morgan felt safer just knowing he was there.
“Look,” Morgan said, turning his attention back to the clerk. “I understand a lot of questionable things happen around here, and I know you probably need to make a bit of money on the side to keep this place running, but what I need is important to a lot of people. I couldn’t care less what shady business you’re operating, but I saw the way your eyes lit up when I showed you the photo. Now please, look again and tell me if you’ve seen her. I know she came this way.”
It was a bluff that was likely to rile up the old man, but to Morgan’s surprise it did no such thing. He waited with bated breath while the clerk struggled to pick up the phone with greasy fingers, studying the photo all over again. This time he held it up to the light, as if that would make a difference. Finally, he muttered something under his breath and handed it back.
“Well?”
“Now that you mention it, I did see her.”
Morgan could almost hear his own heartbeat. “Where? Here?”
“I need your word you won’t get me into trouble.”
“Cross my heart.”
“All right, then.” The old man stepped back and leaned forward, shifting through some clutter under the counter. He groaned with pain as his joints cracked, sinking closer and closer toward the floor until he found it. “Here we go.”
Mason & Morgan- The Serial Killer Collection Page 88