The Sam Prichard Series - Books 9-12 (Sam Prichard Boxed Set 3)

by David Archer

  The small woman stepped forward until she was chest to belly with Sam, who towered over her. “They had just better be,” she said in tones that dripped with anger. Then, without another word, she turned and walked out the door, got into her car and drove away.

  Sam stood stock still in the middle of his front doorway for a moment, then slowly closed the door and went back to his chair.

  “Beauregard,” he said to no one. “This is one time, buddy, I really hope you're right.”

  Indie called an hour later, and told Sam that they had arrived safely in Orlando. Someone at the hotel had given Jennifer their passes, which included Disney World and Universal Studios, so she was quite certain that Kenzie was about to have the time of her life.

  “I miss you already,” she said, and Sam told her that he felt the same way. They talked for a couple of minutes, and then Sam told Indie about her mother's visit, and Beauregard's message.

  Indie sighed. “Sam, I know you hate it, but that old spook is always right. You know that as well as I do. If he says the boy will get in touch with you, then you might as well just sit around and wait.”

  “Yeah, I know, that's what burns my ass. I want to be out there doing something, but I don't have any more leads to work, not really. It's like I've come up on a dead end.”

  “Well, maybe that's because you're thinking like a private investigator. Think like a kid; if you were an eight-year-old boy and wanted to hide, what would you do?”

  Sam thought about it. “I'd find a friend who knew how to keep a secret,” he said.

  “Well, there you go. Is there any way you can find out who his friends are? Or better yet, find out where he goes to school. In fact, give me just a minute, I've already got my computer set up here in the hotel and on the Wi-Fi.” Sam heard her tapping on the keys of her laptop, and a moment later she said, “Aha! Charlie goes to Raynor Elementary School, it's a private school on East Alameda. He must be an advanced student, he's in the fifth grade already. His teacher is Becky Martinez. Sam, what you need to do is go and speak to his teacher in the morning. She would probably know who he's close to.”

  Sam nodded into the phone. “Baby, that's an excellent idea. I'll go first thing tomorrow.”

  They talked for a few more minutes, and then Sam got to talk to Kenzie, who assured him that Samson was having a wonderful time, as well. Kenzie had taught Samson to walk on a leash when he was only a kitten, which was a pretty good idea since he had some sort of nerve damage that occasionally made his back end pass up his front end, causing him to look like a rolling, furry cannonball whenever he tried to run too quickly. Because of this, he would even get to go along to the parks the next day.

  Kenzie finally let her mother have the phone back, and Sam and his wife whispered their affections to each other for a few more minutes, but then it was time for the call to end. Jennifer was in charge of pretty much everything, and it was time for them to go and find some dinner. That reminded Sam that he was getting hungry, himself, and he wandered into the kitchen to dig in the freezer for something he could pop in the microwave.

  Two large red-hot burritos and another bottle of root beer later, Sam plopped into his recliner again and watched a movie. Indie called at around nine, and they talked for a few more minutes, then Sam went into his bedroom to get some sleep.

  Five minutes later, he carried his pillow out to the couch. The bed just wasn't going to work, not when Indie wasn't in it with him.

  10

  Sam walked into Raynor Elementary a few minutes before it opened the next morning and asked to speak to Ms. Martinez. The secretary told him to wait, and a moment later the principal, Mrs. Jackson, came out to ask him what he needed. Sam showed his ID and explained the situation. After a moment of thought, Mrs. Jackson led him to Ms. Martinez's classroom and explained to the teacher that Charlie had apparently run away. Sam, she said, was a private investigator who wanted to speak to the class about whether they had any idea where Charlie would go.

  Ms. Martinez said she was happy to help, and when the students finally filed in, she introduced him to them. “Mr. Prichard is what they call a private investigator, like a policeman. He's looking for Charlie McAlester, who seems to be missing.” She looked at Sam and nodded encouragingly.

  Sam stepped up before the class and looked out over the sea of little faces that were staring at him. “Hi, kids,” he began. “Well, like your teacher told you, Charlie has run away, and we're all very worried about him. I know he hasn't been in class the last couple of days, but that was because something bad happened at his house, and we're all afraid that it's got him pretty upset. I wanted to ask if any of you might have some idea of where Charlie might go, someplace he might want to hide. If you do, please let me know, because it's very important that we find him soon.”

  The kids all looked to one another, but nobody spoke up. “Okay, well listen, if you do happen to hear from him or think of somewhere he might go, I would appreciate it if you would ask your parents to call me as soon as you can, or if they don't want to call me, then they could call the police. I'm going to give each one of you my business card, so you can call me anytime if you know anything about Charlie, or how I might be able to help him.” He had brought a stack of business cards with him for this very reason, and Ms. Martinez had two of the children in the front row take them from him and pass them out. Sam thanked the teacher and the children, and then left the school.

  Once again, Sam felt like he was at a dead end. The message from Beauregard echoed through his mind, that he should simply wait for Charlie to get in touch with him. He turned the Corvette toward home again, and spent the whole day just hanging around the house.

  Indie called him a few times, and he was delighted to hear how much fun they were having. He didn't tell her that he had been so lonely the night before that he slept on the couch. Instead, he told her about talking to the students that morning, and how he was hoping that Beauregard's prediction would come true.

  He fielded a couple of calls from the other band members, Janice Peet and Stan Bennett. He assured them both that he was doing everything he could to help Candy, which is what they seemed to want to hear. Each of them was convinced she was innocent, and they were counting on Sam to do the impossible once again. After all, they had met Sam when their original lead singer had disappeared, and they had hired him to find the fellow. Unfortunately, Sam had found him dead, and it was only an accident that led to them finding out Sam could sing.

  Chris called, and Candy called, and Sam did everything he could to keep all of their spirits up. He had learned long ago, as a police officer, that it was necessary to keep his own voice sounding confident so that other people wouldn't give up. Looking back, he was glad he had taken that lesson to heart.

  Evening finally fell, and Sam continued his boring routine of the day, watching television and drinking more root beer than was probably good for him. He watched a couple more Supernatural episodes on Netflix, then found a movie about the war in Afghanistan and started watching that. It was nearly eight o'clock, and he was waiting for Indie to call and let him talk to Kenzie before she went to bed. It was two hours later in Orlando, so the call would be coming anytime.

  When the phone rang a moment later, he didn't even look at the caller ID. He picked it up and said, “Hey, gorgeous.”

  A very young voice that sounded surprised said, “Is this Mr. Prichard?”

  Sam's eyes flew wide open. “Yes, it is,” he said. “I'm sorry about that, I thought it was my wife calling.”

  “Oh. Oh, that's okay. My name is Cindy, you came and talked to our class this morning. About Charlie, you said you were looking for him.”

  “Yes,” Sam said. “Yes, I am. Do you know where he might be?”

  There was silence on the line for a few seconds, and Sam began to worry that he had scared the little girl off. Finally she spoke. “If I know where he is, and I tell you, is he going to be in trouble?”

  “No, not at all. Charli
e hasn't done anything wrong, we just need to find him to make sure he's safe.”

  “But what if he's already safe, and he doesn't want anyone to know where he is? What if he's afraid to go home? Would you have to take him home?”

  Sam thought, Well, this puts a wrinkle into things. Aloud, he said, “Not necessarily. If there's a reason why he doesn't want to go home, then maybe we can find him somewhere else he could stay, somewhere he'd be safe and comfortable.”

  Once again there was silence, but it didn't last as long. “Well—he's here at my house, out in our garage, but he's afraid to talk to anybody. I told him I thought it would be okay to talk to you. If I give you our address, would you be willing to come over by yourself and talk to him?”

  Sam thought quickly. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't even consider agreeing to a request like that, but for all he knew Charlie might be in danger. He wanted to know more about why Charlie ran away from his grandparents before he decided whether to report his whereabouts to the police.

  “Yes, I could do that. When?”

  “Well, maybe, like now? And—and would you bring him something to eat? I tried to sneak some food out to him, but my dad caught me. He doesn't want my dad to know he's here.”

  Sam smiled. “Sure, I can do that. What's the address?”

  Cindy gave him the address and told him that Charlie would be waiting for him in the garage. It opened onto the alley behind the house, so Sam could park a little ways down and get there without being seen. Sam promised to be there within half an hour, and to bring a big box of fried chicken with him.

  Because the Corvette was both loud and flashy, Sam decided to take the Honda Ridgeline that he had bought for Indie to drive, instead. The truck was quiet, and nobody seemed to pay a lot of attention to it. He thought it would be a good idea to be as discreet as possible.

  Indie called while he was pulling away from the house, and he filled her in on what was going on. She told him how glad she was that Charlie's little friend had reached out to him, and they both avoided mentioning Beauregard's prediction that something like that would happen. She let Kenzie talk to Sam for a couple of minutes, and he heard all about their first day at Disney World. The little girl seemed to have had a blast, and Sam wished once again that he was there to enjoy it with her.

  Indie came back on the phone and they talked for a couple more minutes, whispering words of love and how each wished to be with the other. They hung up, with Sam promising to call and let her know how things went with Charlie.

  He made a quick stop at the KFC and bought a double three-piece meal, then headed for the address Cindy had given him. He found it easily with his phone's GPS, and turned off his lights as he pulled into the alley. He parked a couple houses down from the garage, walked over, and tapped lightly on the garage door.

  A small round face appeared in one of the frames where a window had been broken out. “Charlie?” Sam asked, and the face nodded. The boy held up a finger to tell Sam to wait, and then a smaller door on the side of the building opened with a creak. Charlie came around the building and stood just out of Sam's reach, as if he was ready to run if he had to.

  “I got you some chicken,” Sam said. He held out the bag, and after a moment the boy took it. Sam stood there for a second, then sat down on the ground and leaned back against the front bumper of the Ridgeline. After a few seconds, Charlie sat down and leaned back against the garage, then tore into the chicken, clearly famished.

  “Charlie, I know we haven't met, but I'm a friend of your mother. You know she's in a band, right? Well, I'm the singer.”

  Charlie looked up at him, with half a chicken leg already in his mouth. He nodded his head, as if telling Sam to go on.

  “Charlie, can you tell me why you ran away from your grandparents?”

  Charlie ate the rest of the chicken leg and devoured a wing before he answered. He swallowed hard, then said, “I had to get out of there. All they did was talk bad about my mom.”

  Sam smiled and nodded. “Okay, I guess I can understand that. But, Charlie, they still think your mom killed your dad. It's probably normal for them to be mad at her right now, don't you think?”

  “Well, yeah, I could understand that,” Charlie said. “It's worse than that, though, they keep saying that she should have been locked away a long time ago, and that she's a bad mother and stuff like that. She's not a bad mother, no matter what she's done.”

  Charlie ripped into a chicken breast, and Sam let him eat for a couple of minutes before he asked any more questions. When the boy showed signs of slowing down, Sam started talking again. “Charlie, the police said you told them that your mom killed your dad. Do you really believe that's true?”

  Charlie sat there and looked down into the box of chicken in his lap for a long moment, then looked up at Sam. “Well, I think she did,” he said slowly. “They were fighting and yelling, and then I think I heard my dad screaming like he was hurt. I wasn’t supposed to leave my room, but I waited to see if there was going to be any more fighting, then I ran out to see what was going on. He was already lying on the floor, and I guess he was already dead. I didn't know what else to do, so I called 911, like they always tell us to do.”

  “Charlie,” Sam said, “was there anybody else at the house that morning?”

  Charlie shook his head. “Uh-uh, not by the time my mom got there. I think my dad's girlfriend was there a little before that, though. Whenever she comes over, Dad made me go in my room. He said I was too young to see him and his girlfriend together, so I always had to go in my room and watch TV there.”

  “So you didn't see her there?” If Sam could establish that someone else had been in the house that morning, it would be another bit of doubt as to Candy's guilt.

  Charlie shook his head once again. “No, I never did see her. Well, just once, but I didn't get to see her face. She and my dad were—you know, doing stuff. It was late at night, and I got up to go to the bathroom and I heard something in the living room. I looked, and they were on the couch but when I saw it was them I hurried up and went back to my room.”

  “Okay, no problem. Do you know her name?”

  “Uh-uh. My dad always just called her Sweetie Pie, that's all I know. But she wasn't there when my mom got there, I know that. I was out of my room then, but Dad made me go back when they started fighting.”

  Sam sat there on the ground, and wondered what else he might ask. “Charlie, do you know who your dad worked for? Not his job at the lumberyard, but his other job. Do you know?”

  More head shaking. “No, but sometimes he would get a phone call, and had to leave all of a sudden. He always said it was work, but I knew it wasn't at the lumberyard. They were closed a lot of times when he got those phone calls.”

  Sam waited while Charlie started on the second box of chicken, but his appetite seemed to have run down. He managed to eat a wing, but then he closed the box and put it back in the bag.

  “Charlie, your mom told me that she left the house to get some coffee and calm down, because she and your dad were fighting. She said he was alive and well when she left, but by the time she got back he was dead. Now, I've been in your house, and even in your bedroom. If you had the door shut, it was probably pretty hard to hear what was going on out in the living room, right?”

  Charlie nodded. “Yeah, Dad liked it that way.”

  “Okay, then, do you think it's possible that your mom left like she said, and that somebody else might have come in, maybe through the back door, and killed your dad?”

  Charlie sat there and looked Sam in the eye for a long moment. “Sometimes, like at night, I leave my door open just a little bit. Sometimes when I did that, I could hear the back door open and close. We always kept it locked, so whoever it was must've had a key. I asked my dad about it once, and he told me I better keep my door shut from then on.”

  Sam pursed his lips. “Do you think it might've been his girlfriend?”

  Charlie shrugged. “I don't know,”
he said. “I guess it might have been.”

  “Charlie,” Sam said, thinking about how he wanted to approach the subject, “I really can't leave you here like this. I'm going to need to take you with me to see a police detective, the one who talked to you that morning. She's a real good friend of mine, and she'll arrange for a place where you can stay, without getting into trouble. Will you come with me without making a fuss?”

  Charlie looked at him, but didn't make any effort to get up and run away. “You're really a friend of my mom's?”

  “Yes, I really am,” Sam said. “In fact, if you want, tomorrow I could arrange for you to see her. Would you like that?”

  Charlie smiled. “Yeah, I would. Do we need to go see the detective tonight? Like, now?”

  Sam nodded. “Yeah, I think we better. If you stay here, it could get Cindy and her parents in trouble, and we don't want that, now, do we?”

  Charlie shook his head again. “No, I don't want to get anybody in trouble. Let me get my stuff, and I'm ready to go.” Charlie got up quickly, handed Sam the bag that still had part of the second meal in it, and hurried into the garage again. By the time Sam got to his feet, the boy was back. He had an overstuffed backpack on his shoulders, and Sam helped him get into the Ridgeline and buckle up.

  As soon as Sam got behind the wheel, he took out his phone and called Karen.

  “Sam? Is that you?” Karen asked.

  “Yeah, Karen, it's me. I've got Charlie McAlester with me, and we need to come and talk to you. You're probably gonna want to contact CPS, because he really doesn't want to go back to his grandparents.”

  “Holy crap, Sam, how do you do this stuff? I've got every cop in thirty miles looking for that kid, and we haven't turned up even a lead.”

  Sam smirked. “I got a message from a ghost, and that's all I'm gonna tell you. A guy has to have some secrets, right?”