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Count to Three

Page 17

by T. R. Ragan


  Carlin hadn’t left any scissors about so she carefully tore the edges of the paper so the envelope wouldn’t be too thick when she closed it back up. Making sure the note was well hidden within the statement, she slipped everything back into the envelope.

  She spent the next fifteen minutes stumbling around the house looking for glue. There was none to be found. Flour and water! She would make a paste. She needed to hurry so it would have time to dry.

  Back in the kitchen, she found the flour easy enough except it was inside a cupboard too high for her to reach.

  She looked at the clock on the kitchen wall. Two hours had passed. Desperate, she used the cane to move the bag of flour until it finally fell to the ground with a thud and sent a white cloud exploding around her.

  Shit.

  There was flour everywhere, on the cabinets and the floor and on her. She leaned over, holding on to the counter for support, and scooped flour into a small bowl. Adrenaline pumping, she added a few drops of water, and used her finger to stir it together. She quickly washed and dried her hands before picking up the envelope. Using the tip of her finger, she applied the paste sparingly to the back of the envelope and sealed it closed again. She then placed it under a stack of bowls to keep it from coming apart, found a dish towel, ran it under the faucet, and got down on all fours and started cleaning.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Dani stared at her reflection as she brushed her teeth.

  She hardly recognized the woman peering back at her. The bruises were now a light shade of yellow. Her cheeks looked hollow, and the half-shaved head was not a good look on her. She’d hardly slept last night, which was nothing new. Every time she closed her eyes, a black-clad figure appeared, swinging the base of a lamp.

  She found herself thinking of Matthew, which was really weird, since she usually only thought about him when he got right up in her face and lectured her about Tinsley. For quite possibly the first time since they’d divorced, she looked inside herself, questioning what had happened to them. Their life together was blurry, like most people’s memories from the ages of one to six—unsure of what parts had been real. If a moment in time together popped into her head, she wasn’t sure if it was a recollection or something she’d seen in an old photo.

  They had been in love once, hadn’t they?

  She tried to imagine them out to dinner on her birthday, an annual tradition, and the only thing that came to mind was how antsy she’d felt whenever they did go out, always ready to call it a night and get back to Tinsley.

  After rinsing her mouth, she splashed cool water on her face and grabbed blindly for a towel to dry off. Enough of that. No more strolling down memory lane. It wasn’t any fun.

  She put on her shoes and made her way to the kitchen to make some coffee. She knew she should go to the office, but she hadn’t been there since the attack. At some point she would need to get back on the horse, so to speak.

  It was nearing ten. She needed to be at McKinley Park by noon in case Mimi showed up with information on Rebecca Carr.

  She checked her messages, surprised to see a voice message from Cameron Bennington. She’d forgotten she’d given Cameron her cell phone number. Dani thumbed the tiny arrow and listened to Cameron apologize for calling so late, explaining how she’d returned home after midnight and noticed someone had been trying on her clothes and rearranging her toiletries in the master bedroom. Cameron ended the call by saying she had a meeting in the morning and had to be at the office by eight, but was hoping Dani wouldn’t mind having a look around. She left her a six-digit keyless code to get inside, another gadget she’d had installed in hopes of stopping the intruder from getting inside.

  A part of her wanted to pass Cameron’s case to another investigator, someone who could devote more time to the situation. But doing so would probably be more work than just getting the job done. Whoever was snooping around Cameron’s house couldn’t possibly be coming in through the front door. Otherwise they would have been captured on the security camera. The house did not have a basement, and the garage was detached. When they had first met, Cameron had taken Dani on a tour. There was an aluminum bar to secure the sliding glass door, and Cameron had had a latch with a chain installed on the laundry room door leading to the backyard. The house had been secure.

  If she left now, Dani figured she could have a look around before heading for McKinley Park. She grabbed a sweater and her purse. She would pick up a coffee on her way.

  The first thing she did when she arrived at Cameron’s house twenty-five minutes later with a half-empty vanilla latte in hand was to do what she always did: she used her binoculars to scan the neighborhood to see if anyone was peering out curtains or sitting in their car.

  The street was quiet, but the sun was already bright. It was going to be another hot day. Dani didn’t have a whole lot of time. She texted Cameron to let her know she was going to take a look around inside the house. Two seconds later, she got a thumbs-up emoji.

  Dani got out of the car, looked both ways before crossing the road, and headed up the walkway to the front door. A little more paranoid than usual, she glanced over her shoulder before punching in the code. The keyless lock beeped and whirred before she pushed it open.

  Cool air greeted her when she stepped inside. The trees surrounding the property did a good job of protecting the interior of the home from the sun. After shutting the door, she walked into the family room and looked around, spotting a camera on the bookshelf. The problem with the placement was that it wouldn’t capture anyone going up the stairs. Nevertheless, she waved, then continued on through the dining room and into the kitchen. A large-pane window above the sink gave her a clear view of the yard, which was basically one square consisting of a wood deck and a patch of lawn. Fuchsia-colored bougainvillea covered the back fence.

  Again she looked around for a security camera, finally spotting one above a high cabinet. She didn’t bother checking out smaller spaces like the pantry or coat closet, but she did take a look in the laundry room to make sure the chain was latched before heading upstairs. When she reached the landing at the top of the stairs, her phone buzzed. She saw that it was Cameron and picked up the call.

  “Hi, Dani. I had a minute and thought I’d let you know I received two alerts and I was able to see you walk through the living room and the kitchen.”

  “Where am I now?” Dani asked.

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Are there cameras upstairs?”

  “No. I figured if we caught the intruder coming in that would be good enough.”

  “I’m going to angle the camera in the living room so the viewer will catch anyone going upstairs.”

  “Thanks for taking a look around.”

  “No problem. I’ll text you when I’m finished.”

  They hung up and Dani inwardly scolded herself for not insisting she have someone do the installation from the start. Cameron had wanted to save money by doing it herself, which was costing her more money in the long run.

  There were three bedrooms upstairs, two to the left, both with windows overlooking the street. One appeared to be used as an office, and the other room was obviously being used for storage since it was stacked with plastic bins. Once she was done inspecting both rooms to the left, she headed for the main bedroom, making her way straight to the walk-in closet where Cameron had said her clothes had been disturbed.

  The french doors leading into the closet were latticed. She opened them wide and stepped inside, impressed by the perfectly organized shoes and hats and rows of color-coordinated clothes. No wonder Cameron knew exactly what was missing and which pieces had been tampered with. If someone ever rummaged through Dani’s clothes, she’d be none the wiser.

  She closed the closet doors and made a quick pass through the bathroom before coming back to stand in front of the bedroom window that provided a bird’s-eye view of the backyard. If ever there was a mystery, this was it. She plunked her hands on her hips and pivoted on he
r feet, taking it all in. She was about to sit on the light-blue velvet settee when something caught her eye. The floors upstairs were all carpeted with a thick, natural-colored Berber. But the floor wasn’t her concern. There were hairs on the settee. Not a lot. But enough to stand out.

  Cameron was a brunette, and she didn’t have a dog or a cat.

  Dani got down on her knees to get a closer view of the hairs. They weren’t all over the settee, which is why they hadn’t stood out at first. If she had to guess she would say someone noticed it and attempted to wipe the settee clean. But whoever had done so had missed a spot.

  With the sun shining brightly through the window, it was clear they were short blond hairs—dog hairs.

  Dog hairs that looked as if they might have come from a white lab. A white lab named Sadie, who belonged to a man named Frank Petri.

  Everyone knew a dog couldn’t rearrange furniture and try on clothes. But the animal could sit on the settee and wag its tail while it watched its owner do his thing. Dogs were funny that way. No judgment. Just pure, unconditional love.

  She pulled her phone from her pocket and sent Cameron a text: I think I know who your intruder is.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Quinn pulled up behind a flatbed truck delivering supplies to the construction site in Sacramento near Tahoe Park. From the looks of it, they were building at least a dozen look-alike homes, all at once. An explosion of sounds greeted her when she stepped out of the car: the whine of an air compressor and the pop, pop, pop of numerous nail guns while men shouted to be heard above the din.

  She’d already been to Grayson Electric, where she’d learned they only used their logo on business letterhead and their website, not on their vehicles. Quinn had made note of that and headed for number four on the list since numbers two and three had later office hours.

  The woman managing Green Haven Construction’s main office was busy, buried behind stacks of files and invoices. She didn’t recognize the logos Quinn showed her and made it clear the only person worth talking to would be her boss, Ed Hoffman. He had a memory like an elephant, she’d said before sending Quinn off with the address of the construction site, telling her to look for the guy with the long white beard wearing a red hard hat that said BOSS.

  Quinn stood in place, looking from half-framed house to half-framed house, and spotted him two doors down. The ground was covered with sawdust, bent nails, and cigarette butts. Nobody paid her any mind as she walked past buckets of nails and stacks of lumber. Ed Hoffman was a big burly guy with a ruddy face. As she approached him, she waved. He frowned.

  They met each other halfway.

  “You can’t be walking around here. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

  “I was just at your main office, and they told me where I could find you. I need only a few minutes of your time.”

  “I’ll be with you in a minute, Jimmy,” he shouted to a man holding blueprints.

  “It’s about a missing girl,” Quinn said. “It could be a matter of life and death.” She knew she was being dramatic, but if Ali had been kidnapped and was still alive, they needed to find her sooner rather than later. And besides, the life-and-death thing had softened his expression somewhat.

  Quinn opened her slim manila file and showed him the logos they had enlarged and printed at Mary’s house. “Recognize any of these? We have reason to believe it’s the vehicle lettering on the suspect’s white cargo van. We think he’s a tradesman.”

  While he looked closer, she pointed to Ethan’s drawing in the file.

  He used his free hand to scratch his neck as he looked at it.

  Quinn gritted her teeth at the nerve-racking sound of a jackhammer somewhere close.

  “This one,” he said, tapping a finger on Ethan’s drawing of a swirly logo.

  “You recognize it?”

  “Yeah. It looks familiar.”

  She had to tamp down the giddiness threatening to consume her.

  He kept nodding. “I’ve seen this design on a white cargo van.” He dug his meaty fingers into his beard and scratched his chin while he thought.

  “Do you remember the company name or what line of work he might have been in?”

  “I’ve been using a lot of the same guys for years. It’s not my electrician,” he murmured, “or the roofer.”

  Someone called his name and the light went out of his eyes. He returned her file. “Sorry. Can’t remember off the top of my head, and I gotta go.”

  In a heartbeat her excitement had been extinguished. Quinn handed him a card with her name and number. “If it comes to you, please call me. Any time, day or night.”

  He tucked the card into his back pocket. “Good luck to you.” He waggled a finger at the ground. “Watch where you step.”

  Once she was in her car, she took a closer look at Ethan’s drawing, shaking her head all the while. There was an S, and possibly a C, but for the most part it looked like nothing more than random scribbles. She set aside the paper, pulled out her phone, and sent Ethan a text to let him know she was on her way.

  As she drove, she tried to stay positive. Ed Hoffman would call her if it came to him. They just had to keep going, keep ticking off the boxes, as Dani liked to say.

  When Quinn arrived at the Hawkeye Mobile Home Park, Ethan was out front, leaning against a five-foot, crumbling cobblestone wall, smoking. Quinn was about to beep the horn when Ethan straightened, snuffed out his cigarette, and swaggered her way.

  The cool kid, she thought. Every school had one.

  He opened the passenger door, picked up the papers on the seat so he wouldn’t sit on them, and hopped in. “What’s all this?”

  “Mary and Gracie Cross helped Dani and I come up with a list of companies we’re looking into. It turns out Mary had some work done on the house. I went to a construction site just before I texted you and talked to the owner of the Green Haven Construction Company, who also happens to be the foreman, and he remembers seeing a logo on a white cargo van that looks similar to your drawing.”

  “Well, who is it?” he asked with raised eyebrows. “Do you have a name? Did you call the police?”

  “No. Not yet. He couldn’t recall the name of the company, but said he would call if it came to him.”

  Ethan didn’t respond. He didn’t have to. Unless Ed Hoffman had a sudden breakthrough, it was basically another dead end.

  Ethan put the file and papers on the back seat and asked, “Where’s Dani?”

  “She’s busy with another case.”

  “My mom told me about Ali’s friend, Dylan Rushdan. She’s worried there might be a connection. She made me promise I would stay away from you and Dani.”

  Quinn’s fingers curled around the steering wheel. “She’s right, you know. Maybe you should lay low for a bit.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “Don’t treat me like a kid, okay?”

  Her first thought was that he was a kid, but she said, “Okay.” She sniffed the air. “When are you going to quit smoking? You smell. And it’s an expensive habit, isn’t it?”

  He shrugged. “I know where Mom hides her cigarettes.”

  “That’s stealing,” she told him. “It doesn’t matter if it’s your mom. In fact, that’s even worse.”

  “You sound just like her.” He stretched the belt over his lap and snapped it into place.

  “I’m flattered.” Quinn merged onto the road.

  “You shouldn’t be.”

  “Why not? She obviously loves you.”

  “How would you know?”

  “Because I’m a PI.”

  He chuckled as he stretched out his legs.

  “Laugh all you want, but it’s true. I know things. Your father left when you were two. Your mom went to jail for a bit, but at least she came back.”

  “Then you also know she loved me so much she almost went back to jail.”

  “But she didn’t go back to jail, did she? She was selling weed. Everyone smokes weed or uses one of those
medicinal cards to get edibles these days. It’s not easy being a single mother.”

  “How would you know?”

  “I guess I wouldn’t. But I took care of a neighbor’s new puppy for a week one time, and it was the most difficult week of my life.”

  He laughed.

  “I’m serious. That puppy chewed on wires and tanbark and plastic wrappings, anything he could get hold of. I had to watch him like a hawk. I would think taking care of a baby would be a hundred times harder.”

  He said nothing.

  Quinn sighed inwardly. Ethan seemed off today. She didn’t want to make too much of it, but she wished he could see what she and Dani saw, a good kid who probably just needed a little push in the right direction. “Babies and puppies aside, I hope you realize you’re smart and kind—”

  “I’m neither of those things.”

  “You’re wrong. Everyone who has met you—Dani, me, and Mary, for starters—has seen firsthand that you’re a good person. You came forward, despite your mom’s situation, because you saw a girl tossed in a van. You knew she needed help. You could have ridden away on your bike and never said a word, but you didn’t.”

  He grunted, unwilling to take any sort of praise.

  “You’re still young. Don’t throw it all away because you have a shit dad. Use that brain of yours to do the right thing. Go to school. Make something of yourself and show your mom what a real man does for his family.”

  It was quiet for a long while before Quinn asked him if he had any flyers left. If not, they would stop by Mary Cross’s house to grab more.

  He leaned over and pulled them out of the backpack he’d thrown on the floor by his feet. “I posted all but fifty, concentrating on the area where Ali disappeared.”

  “Great. What about Midtown?”

  “Sounds good.”

  After finding parking on Sixteenth, they split up and posted flyers wherever the store owner would give them permission—Temple Coffee Roasters, Device Brewing Company, Urban Roots, Mendocino Farms, the Mill, and Magpie Café. From there they headed up Seventeenth, Eighteenth, and Nineteenth, hitting up Safeway and a bookstore. They grabbed bottled water and a delicious ice cream cookie at Ginger Elizabeth Chocolates. By the time they reached Peet’s Coffee on J Street, they only had a couple of flyers left, which was a good thing because the heat was becoming unbearable.

 

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