Through the Evil Days: A Clare Fergusson/Russ Van Alstyne Mystery

by Julia Spencer-Fleming

  “Noble’s on it. We expect to get the retail locations from the state crime lab by tonight or tomorrow. He’ll hit the stores and run down their name-and-license list. However, there’s another possibility.”

  “What?” Mother snatched kid would be the usual story. Even with the mom being a druggie, chances that one of her contacts took the kid for leverage were slim to none. Users couldn’t muster the long-range planning for something as organized as kidnapping, and dealers cut off the supply before their customers could run up a tab.

  “The MacAllens had a home-cleaning service come in regularly. One of the guys on the crew is on the sexual offenders registry for first-degree rape of an eleven-year-old.”

  “I don’t like where this is going, Lyle.”

  “Yeah? You’ll like this less. When I went to bring him in, he rabbited.”

  “Oh, that’s just…” Russ pinched the bridge of his nose. “Two POIs and you lose both of them?”

  “If you think you can do better, by all means—”

  “Okay. Okay. I’m sorry. It’s not your fault. You’re understaffed for something like this.”

  “No shit. I’m about to call in the staties just to get a few more boots on the ground.”

  Russ took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “The girl. Mikayla. What do we know about her medical condition?”

  “Hadley got hooked up with her doctor through CFS. He said she’s got seven or eight days after her last dose before her body shuts down.”

  “Jesus Christ.” He looked at Clare and mouthed sorry. She shook her head. “Okay. I’m heading home. Let me pick up a few things at the store and get Clare back to the cabin—no, wait, I don’t want her out here all alone with a storm coming on.” He glanced at her. She spread her hands and mouthed I’m fine. “I’ll have to pack our things up—”

  “Stop,” Lyle said. “It’s almost dark and the snow’s picking up. You’re not going to be any help tonight. Go on back to your honeymoon suite, hunker down, and you can make the trip tomorrow. The temperature’s on the way up, so I’m guessing the storm’s gonna be a bust. By Sunday afternoon, the roads’ll be clear.”

  Russ breathed deeply. “Yeah. You’re right.”

  “Course I am. We’ll see you sometime tomorrow.”

  “Lyle, wait. What about”—he glanced at Clare—“that other thing?”

  “What other thing?”

  “The town thing.”

  “Oh! Yeah. I’m going to ask Kevin to hook me up with his mother when he gets back in tonight.”

  “Great. Don’t tell him or Hadley what it’s about. I don’t want anyone worrying until we know … well, until we know.”

  “Roger that. See you tomorrow.”

  Clare was giving him a particularly piercing look as he hung up. “What’s the town thing Lyle can’t tell Kevin and Hadley about?”

  “Uh.” He hadn’t meant to sit on the aldermen’s threat. He was just waiting for the right time to discuss it. Which wasn’t parked in front of the Cooper’s Corners general store. “It’s complicated. I’ll tell you later.”

  “Mmm. And the investigation?”

  He went over what Lyle had told him. Clare looked paler and paler as he spoke. “That poor little girl,” she said when he had finished.

  “Look, I know this sucks, but—”

  “No. Of course you need to go. Don’t even think about it.”

  He squeezed her hand. “Thank you.”

  “I’d like to stay, though.”

  “What? Alone? That’s crazy.”

  “Russ. If you’re serious about the cabin being our weekend and vacation home, there are going to be times in the future, just like now, when you’ll be called away. If being out here alone drives me crazy, I’d like to know now, before we sink hundreds of thousands of dollars into buying the place.”

  “No. Absolutely not.”

  “Besides.” She unlatched her door and slid out. “I’m not alone. I have Oscar to keep me company.”

  He got out of the cab and followed her toward the store. “Clare—”

  “Russ.” Her face was half-lit by a neon Bud Light sign. “I’ll be fine. I need some time away from the church and the rectory to think about things.”

  “What things?” He opened the door for her. A blast of warm, moist air fogged his glasses. He snatched them off.

  “It’s complicated. I’ll tell you when we get back to the cabin.” She picked up a plastic basket and started down the first narrow aisle. “What do we need besides milk and water?”

  He shouldered past a woman pulling disposable diapers off a shelf. “You won’t even have a vehicle. What if something happens?” He lowered his voice. “With the baby?”

  She looked at him. “Does that worry you?”

  “Oh, for God’s sake, Clare. Of course it does. I don’t—Jesus. It’s not like I want something to go wrong.”

  They had reached the meat and deli counter at the rear of the store. An old guy in a trucker’s cap and the woman at the counter both stared curiously at him. “Batteries,” he said tightly. “Double A’s and D’s.”

  She headed up another aisle. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair.”

  “No, it damn well wasn’t.” He pulled a couple of packages of Energizers off the shelf and tossed them into her basket.

  “Let’s not argue. You go. Find that little girl. Then you can come back and get me and Oscar. Maybe we’ll even have a little vacation time left.” She picked up a package of toilet paper and peered at the back. “Do we need something specially biodegradable for the privy?”

  He knew he wasn’t going to win this one. Clare had this thing she did; she wouldn’t fight, she’d listen to all his arguments, but in the end she’d get exactly what she wanted. Emotional jujitsu. He walked to the cooler in the corner of the store and got one of the last remaining gallons of milk. They were already out of water. He and Clare joined the line of folks at the checkout waiting for the one teenaged clerk—probably the owner’s daughter. Several people turned around to look, first at Clare, then at him, then back to Clare. Coming from Millers Kill, Russ didn’t often feel like a sophisticated urbanite, but out here he might as well have been from New York City.

  “Hi,” Clare said to the sixty-something woman in front of them who was still examining them. “That looks like a smart idea.” She nodded toward the bag of deicer resting on the woman’s hip. “Do we need some of that, Russ?”

  “Already got it in the truck.”

  “You’re not from around here,” the woman observed.

  “We’re from Millers Kill. We might be buying a place on the lake, though.” Clare smiled brightly.

  “No, I mean your accent. It’s … southern.” She sounded like a suspicious villager in an old Hammer horror film. Russ half expected the next thing out of her mouth to be a warning not to go up to Count Dracula’s castle.

  “Yes, I’m originally from Virginia. You know what they say. You can take a girl out of the South…”

  “I know you.” The man next in line nudged his neighbor. “Ed. Take a look at this guy. Didn’t we see him on the TV?” The two men stared at Russ.

  “Yeah,” Ed said. “You’re, um, you’re—”

  Clare looked at him, bemused.

  “That police chief,” his friend said. “Who got shot a couple years back.” The rest of the line and the cashier all stared at Russ.

  “From Millers Kill,” the woman added.

  “It was all over the news for a while.” Ed leaned forward as if he were scanning Russ’s parka for bullet holes.

  The woman with the bag of deicer nodded. “He and his—” She paused, looking at Clare.

  “Wife,” Clare said firmly.

  “—wife are getting a house lakeside.” There was a murmur of approval from the people in line.

  “That’s wonderful.” At the head of the line, the disposable-diaper woman was handing the cashier a twenty. “It’s about time we had some law enforcement around here.”
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  “We got the state police,” Ed said.

  “They only show up after there’s trouble. Having an officer living here might keep trouble from happening.” She got her change and picked up her bag but showed no signs of leaving the store.

  “Not an officer,” Ed’s friend said. “The chief of police.”

  “And his wife!” The older woman beamed at Clare. “When are you due, dear?”

  “Late April.”

  The diaper lady smiled up at Russ. “Do you know if you’re having a girl or a boy?”

  “Ah … one of them. Yeah.” Beside him, Russ could feel Clare shaking with barely suppressed laughter. They got through the checkout and escaped the store amid a barrage of questions, advice, and welcome.

  “My husband, the celebrity,” Clare said as they walked through the heavily falling snow to the truck.

  “So much for keeping a low profile.” Russ slung their bags into the narrow backseat. “We might as well have taken out an ad in the local Pennysaver.”

  Clare grinned at him as they got into the cab. “Think of it this way. If I get into trouble, I’ll have lots of people I can call on for help.”

  “Oh, yeah. If you can make it twelve miles around the lake.” Russ started up the truck and backed it out of the parking lot. The snow was still falling straight and fast. They’d have six inches before morning. At least. He was half-tempted to just head for Millers Kill right now. But there was that damn dog back at the cabin. And Lyle was right—it would be safer in daylight, after the roads were plowed.

  Driving past the place where they had dropped Amber off the night before, Russ could see lights in the house below the road. “Should we stop?” Clare wiped the condensation off her window. “Make sure she and the baby are okay?”

  He slowed down. “How come you’ll be fine but I should worry about her?”

  Clare’s voice was dry. “For one, she’s a teenager, not a combat vet with survival training. For another, I won’t be affected if the power goes out. She will be. They heat the place with electricity. What happens if the power cuts out?”

  He made a noise. “I’ll drop by tomorrow.” After he spent the night kicking himself for coming up with this lake house plan in the first place. What had he been thinking of? What?

  8.

  Kevin found his gaze drifting toward the squad room clock during the end-of-shift briefing. Not that he was impatient to get off duty and get home, although he was already anticipating the pleasures of a hot shower, a cold beer, and a good book. He simply couldn’t believe it had only been two days since Mikayla Johnson had gone missing. Two days since the homicide. Two days since he had gotten to his apartment to discover the chief had been right, there was an offer waiting for him from the Syracuse police. He felt the pressure of time hanging low on his horizon, like threatening storms clouds ready to burst.

  “So that’s where we are so far.” The deputy chief turned away from where he’d been scrawling notes on the whiteboard. “Tonight, Eric’s going to continue to track down the pharmacies involved in pseudoephedrine buys, and Paul will get out there and beat the trees for known associates of Annie Johnson.”

  Hadley looked up from the desk where she’d been rereading her notes. “Paul? You really think he’s going to do any, you know, investigating?” Paul Urquhart was the kind of cop who did the absolute minimum in any situation.

  The dep’s bushy gray eyebrows knit together in a scowl. “You volunteering to take his shift?” She slid deeper into her chair and shook her head. “Didn’t think so. Look, we don’t have enough men, that’s a fact.” Kevin could see Hadley roll her eyes at MacAuley’s unconscious sexism. “The chief will try to get here by tomorrow afternoon, but that’s iffy, with the weather and all.”

  Noble stood up, frowning in thought. “Dep, why’n’t we call in the staties? They’ve helped us before when we’ve been shorthanded.”

  “No.” MacAuley’s voice was absolute. “The state Sexual Offenders Task Force is already helping out by running down those of Wendall Sullivan’s nearest and dearest in other jurisdictions. Mikayla Johnson’s face is in every law enforcement database in a ten-state radius. The rest we can do ourselves.”

  Kevin prepared to kiss Sunday dinner at his folks’ good-bye. “Are we pulling another shift tomorrow?”

  “I can come in if you need me.” Hadley sounded positively eager to work, which was weird. She was a good, conscientious cop, but she didn’t like to take any more time away from her kids than she could help. Maybe she needed the overtime.

  “Half shift. All the part-time guys will be in to handle traffic, so you can concentrate on finding this kid.” MacAuley splayed his hands on the big worktable and leaned toward them. “I’m going to remind you all that this isn’t just a kid-down-the-well situation. It’s a kid-down-the-well-and-the-water’s-rising-fast situation. Dismissed.”

  Kevin and Hadley got to their feet as the dep left the room. Noble cracked his back and yawned. “Good night,” he said. “See you in the morning. Sorry you’re gonna miss church, Hadley.”

  “Thanks, Noble. I’ll live.”

  MacAuley stuck his head back into the room. “Kevin, I almost forgot. I need to speak to your mother.”

  “What?” Kevin could feel his cheeks pinking up. Hadley was looking at him, amused.

  “I mean professionally. As a politician.”

  “Oh. Okay.” Kevin was so relieved that the dep didn’t have some bizarre checking-up-on-him thing going on, he didn’t bother to ask what professional reason MacAuley might have to talk to his mom. “I’m seeing her tomorrow for Sunday dinner. I’ll have her call you.”

  “Do. It’s important.”

  That was enough to ignite Kevin’s curiosity, but the dep disappeared again, to be replaced by Harlene in the doorway. “Hadley, you got a call while you were out. Your granddad said somebody named Dylan was taking your kids to the Chuck E. Cheese in Glens Falls, and you could meet ’em there. Noble, are you headed home right now? Will you help me shovel out my car? The plow boxed me in.”

  Noble shambled after Harlene, leaving Kevin alone with a no-longer-smiling Hadley.

  “Who’s Dylan?” He kicked himself the second the words were out. It wasn’t any of his business if she was dating someone.

  Her face worked. “My ex,” she finally said.

  “Your ex-husband?”

  “Yep.”

  “From California?”

  Her mouth twisted in a bitter smile. “Come to spend a little time with his dearly beloved children.”

  Kevin paused. “You didn’t mention anything about the kids’ dad visiting.”

  “It was unexpected. Like the asteroid that killed off the dinosaurs.”

  Wow. Okay. She was obviously unhappy about this. Kevin had no idea what to say in response. This was the most intimate conversation they’d had since the night of the chief’s wedding, when he and Hadley had done their best to destroy their relationship. Friendship. Whatever. “How do Hudson and Genny feel about it? Seeing their father again?”

  Hadley hitched one hip against a desk. “Hudson thinks it’s great. All he remembers are the fun times. ‘Dad took us to the beach. Dad took us to Disneyland.’” She looked at Kevin. “Dylan used to drag the kids places when they were little and cute and pretend to be a divorced dad to pick up women. I paid for the trip to Disneyland.”

  Kevin slid his Taser from its holster. “Let’s go tase him.” She laughed. “Seriously. We’ll sneak up behind him. You hit one side and I’ll hit the other. I bet if we juice him a few times we can give him convulsions.”

  Hadley laughed until she had to wipe her eyes. “Oh, man. What I wouldn’t give to see that.”

  “It’d make you feel better.” He stated it as a fact.

  She sighed. “Yeah. It would.” She looked at him again. “You make me feel better. Thank you.”

  He waved her gratitude away. “Are you going to be okay?”

  “Yeah.” She picked up her parka f
rom where she had slung it over a chair. “He’s scared shitless of driving in snow, so he’s probably already on his way back to Granddad’s. I’ll terrify him about the road conditions and he’ll split for his hotel.”

  “He’s not staying with you?”

  She took her car keys out of her pocket. “God, no. There’s no way I’d let him, and Granddad’s house is much too downscale. Nothing but the best for Dylan Knox.” Her voice had gone bitter again.

  “Where’s he staying?”

  “The Algonquin, of course. What other five-star hotel is there around here?”

  Kevin stroked his Taser theatrically. “Good to know.”

  She laughed. “Good night, Flynn. See you tomorrow.” She vanished down the hall, still laughing.

  He picked up his own parka. Stuffed his notebook into the pocket. The homicide. The missing girl. Sunday dinner. Syracuse. Hadley.

  The clock ticked.

  9.

  Mikayla woke up shivering with cold. She rooted around in the darkness, tugging her bedding into place. She had a heavy wool blanket to keep her warm, but it was scratchy, so she laid it on top of the quilt, and it liked to slide off the narrow cot onto the floor.

  Everything was quiet. There had been somebody new here today, after dinner, with arguing and loud shouts and long quiet times. Mikayla had stayed in the little room and didn’t hear anything. She was good at not hearing. Sometimes Mom had people over at her apartment that Mikayla wasn’t supposed to see or hear. She would curl up in her bed and read really hard, until the only thing in her head was Amelia Bedelia or Junie B. Jones.

  She had books here, too, and even though they were really old—like her Meme could have read them when she was a girl—they were okay. She was reading a funny one called Mr. Popper’s Penguins. She read it when she ate and when she heard weird noises coming from the other bedroom and even in the bathroom, because if she read and read and read she could forget there was someone standing there right in the doorway. He said he wasn’t watching, but it still made her feel all shivery and cold inside.