by T. R. Ragan
“I’ll go and get the car, then text you on my way back so you can tell me where you’re at,” Quinn told Ethan as she fished around in her bag for her keys, wishing Grandma drove one of those newfangled cars with the fob instead of a key. Her bag slipped out of her grasp, and the keys she’d been looking for, along with a pen and her phone and an assortment of odds and ends, rolled out onto the cement around her feet.
Ethan bent down to help her.
The sun’s rays reflected off her key and hit Ethan in the face. He put his hands over his eyes. When he pulled his hands away, his eyes were wide and his mouth hung open.
“Are you okay?” Quinn asked.
“Keys!”
“What?”
“Remember when we sat for three whole days in the same spot where I had seen Ali Cross abducted, and you were badgering me about what I had seen, asking me the same questions over and over again until my head pounded?”
“Sure. Yeah. What about it?”
“Remember when I told you the sun was bouncing off something inside the guy’s van and blinding me?”
“I do,” she said, waiting, trying to be patient.
“The sun’s rays were reflecting off keys, lots of them. They were hanging off a giant pegboard that was at the back of his van. The guy must be one of those—”
“A locksmith,” Quinn blurted excitedly.
“Yes! Do you think he was visiting one of those stores to put in a new lock?”
“I don’t know,” Quinn said, “but we’re going to find out. I’ll get my car and be right back.”
Carlin’s morning had been spent sitting in his car a block away from the Hawkeye Mobile Home Park. The moment he saw Ethan Grant stroll out and light up a cigarette, he felt a lightness in his chest that quickly turned into a block of cement when the same young woman he’d seen the last time he was here drove up minutes later, ruining what could have been a slam dunk.
After seeing her with the boy and Ali’s mom the other day, he’d done some research and learned her name. Quinn Sullivan worked for Dani Callahan.
Carlin had also found an obituary for Quinn’s old man, and he knew she lived with her grandma, but her mother was a mystery.
He kept a good distance away as he followed the old clunker that the wannabe investigator drove from West Sacramento to Midtown. It wasn’t too surprising to watch them park and begin to post more damn flyers. If their big priority was tacking flyers to telephone poles, that told him they probably didn’t know much, not enough to make him sweat.
He thought about heading home early.
And yet . . . he couldn’t let it go. The kid might have seen his face. He was the only person in the world who could point him out in a lineup. For some reason that made him laugh. The thought of standing against a wall next to four other guys while someone spied them through one-way glass seemed silly. He’d never once been in trouble with the law.
But still.
He couldn’t let it go.
For the next hour he would park his car in some random spot, wait for the two of them to get a few blocks ahead of him, and then seek them out again.
He found another spot, not bothering to put money in the meter as he waited to see where they would go next. He was hungry, and it pissed him off that he hadn’t asked Ali to make him a bag lunch, like his mom used to do for him when he was a young boy. The thought lifted his spirits and reminded him that he could check in on her anytime without her knowing. He pulled out his phone, hit the camera app, and watched at least a dozen videos pop up.
Ali had been busy.
He grimaced as he watched her try to get through the door, then fall back on her butt.
I warned you.
The videos were set to record movement for thirty seconds. He randomly selected another video and saw her on all fours in the kitchen cleaning the floor. It looked like flour. He wondered if she was making cookies, or maybe a cake, hoping to surprise him. He clicked on another one. In this video she was fiddling with his mail, which worried him, making him wonder what the hell she was doing. By the time he watched a few more clips, he knew exactly what she was up to.
He took slow, steady breaths.
Ali had been so sweet and nice lately. Too nice. It saddened him to think he couldn’t trust her, after all. He was about to pull out of his spot and drive off when he saw Quinn walking away, leaving the boy on his own.
He swallowed a laugh. He’d have to deal with Ali later.
It was somewhat nerve-racking, following the kid now that traffic had thickened, making it impossible to go too fast or too slow. More than once, he had to circle around, which was frustrating since he figured Quinn might come back for the kid and he didn’t have much time. Even so, he managed to trail Ethan all the way to Capitol Ace Hardware on I Street, where the boy took a seat on the sidewalk out front.
This was it. Go time. He had to hurry. He pulled into the nearly empty Ace Hardware parking lot, drove around to the back of the building, left the engine running, and hopped out. He ran around to the back and opened the trunk. Working fast, he grabbed a rag and soaked it in chloroform before putting on the act of his life.
Wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses, he ran around to the front entrance, only a few feet away from where the boy sat, and yelled loud enough for the kid to hear him. “Help! Please help!”
The boy stood up, looked at him.
“My dog! I think it’s heatstroke!”
The boy held up his water. “Maybe this will help.”
“Yes!” he said. “Hurry!”
He didn’t look over his shoulder to see if the kid was following him, not until he rounded the corner where he could see his car. As soon as the kid caught up, he grabbed him and held the cloth over his nose and mouth. The boy struggled. He was strong, but he weighed nothing. The kid finally fell unconscious, dangling from his arms. His phone dropped to the ground.
Carlin tossed him into the trunk, threw the rag inside with him, and slammed it shut. He then ran back for the phone and scooped it up from the ground.
Nobody was around when he made a right out of the parking lot and drove away. He should have been shaking with excitement now that his biggest problem was stashed in his trunk.
Instead, the video clips he’d watched of Ali played havoc with his mind and soul, creating a feeling of extreme disappointment weighed down by the realization that she would need to be punished.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Dani arrived at McKinley Park ten minutes early. Right or wrong, Cameron’s problems would have to be put on the back burner for now. At the moment, her only thought was of the mystery woman who had been at the last RAYTEX picnic before Tinsley disappeared. The anticipation was making her crazy, her mind creating a fantasy so beyond reality she could hardly breathe.
But what if? What if she had found a connection to Tinsley?
Despite Matthew’s worries, despite a prisoner’s confession that he’d killed her daughter, Dani needed to talk to the woman who called herself Rebecca Carr. She couldn’t let it go. Why would Rebecca Carr use an alias? If the woman wore the right clothes and a hat and sunglasses to cover her face, she easily could have passed for Dani.
She opened the door and stepped outside, brushing a wrinkle from her pants before walking across a large expanse of grass toward the tennis courts. If Mimi had been able to find a social security number or Rebecca Carr’s real name, anything that might lead Dani to the woman, she might be one step closer to finding out what happened to Tinsley.
Even on a Monday afternoon, the park was bustling. A large group of people huddled around two picnic tables under a shade tree where colorful balloons and streamers hung from every branch. A couple in the middle of the park tossed a Frisbee back and forth. There were joggers and dog walkers. More than one young mother could be seen pushing a stroller around the perimeter of the park.
Dani found an empty bench, took a seat, and checked for messages on her cell phone. There were none. She kept he
r phone out in case Mimi called.
As she put her face to the sun, an odd sensation washed over her. Her skin prickled, the sort of feeling one got when they felt they were being watched. She glanced over her shoulder in time to catch sight of a man with his dog.
Frank Petri.
A coincidence?
Had he followed her to the park?
She had no idea, but she planned on finding out. She stood, slipped her phone into her purse, and walked briskly toward him.
A glance over his shoulder prompted him to step up his pace.
He definitely appeared to have seen her. When she broke into a jog, he started to run with the dog at his side, disappearing behind the public bathrooms. By the time she got to a spot where she could see both sides of the park, he was gone. She looked around, past the tennis courts and across the street at a row of two-story houses. Nothing. Damn.
What was going on? Had he seen her enter Cameron’s house and followed her here?
She took a moment to catch her breath before heading back to the bench, where she forced herself to forget all about Frank Petri and his dog. He had seemed harmless enough when she’d met him. Her only concern at this moment was whether or not Mimi had information. Dani hoped Mimi hadn’t changed her mind about coming to the park.
No sooner had the thought entered her mind than she spotted Mimi walking her way.
Mimi’s mouth dropped open when she drew near. “What happened to you?”
“I was caught off guard and attacked by an intruder in my office. I’ll be fine.”
“Who would do such a thing?”
“We don’t know. Detective James Whitton is looking into the matter.”
Mimi took a seat on the bench beside her. “I wasn’t going to come,” she admitted. “But I put myself in your shoes for a minute and thought of my own daughter and granddaughter. I can’t imagine what you must have gone through and are still going through. The not knowing. So I called the temp agency and made up a story about needing to talk to Rebecca Carr about a project she worked on when she was at RAYTEX.” Mimi exhaled. “I’m sorry to say she’s no longer at the agency. I asked for a social security number, but they said they couldn’t give me that sort of information. I was able to get a telephone number and address, but when I called the number, I got a recording telling me the number has been disconnected.” She handed Dani a piece of paper. “I wrote down the address, which appears to be an apartment complex in Carmichael.”
“Thank you,” Dani said.
Mimi stood, looked around.
“It means a lot to me that you went out of your way to help. I’m sorry I put you in an uncomfortable position, but—” Dani shook her head. “Nothing. Just thank you.”
Mimi nodded. “Good luck. I do hope you can find peace.”
The apartment complex in Carmichael had seen better days. Trash bins in the parking lot overflowed with garbage. The walls were cracked and the building could use fresh paint. More importantly, if Rebecca Carr still resided in apartment 29 B, would she even talk to Dani?
It was time to find out.
She headed up the stairs, following the signage with apartment numbers and arrows, until she was standing in front of the door. Without wasting another second, she knocked.
A child, maybe three years old, opened the door. Dani smiled at her. “Is your mom home?”
The child had a round face and adorable chubby cheeks. The little girl shook her head, which worried Dani until a man in his late twenties peeked out from a room inside the apartment. His eyes grew wide. “Sophie! What are you doing?”
When Sophie smiled, a dimple appeared.
The man frowned at Dani as he approached and took the child into his arms. “Can I help you?”
“I’m looking for a woman named Rebecca Carr, dark hair, about my height.”
“Sorry. Nobody here named Rebecca.”
“She lived here five years ago.”
“Oh, well, good luck with that. I’ve only been here for six months, and my wife and I are already thinking about leaving. The place is falling apart.”
“I’m sorry.”
He shrugged. “That’s life, I guess. You might want to talk to management,” he said. “Not that they’ll be helpful.”
“Thank you. I’ll do that.”
He shut the door, and Dani went to the main office, where she was bluntly told that they did not keep records of tenants who were no longer living in their complex. That was it. Sophie’s dad had been right. Management was less than helpful.
As she drove back to her office, her thoughts meandered. She needed to find Rebecca Carr, and she needed help. With that thought in mind, she made a U-turn at the light and headed for the police department on Franklin Boulevard.
She lucked out when she caught Detective Whitton on his way into the building after taking a lunch break. She knew this because he had a spot of mustard on his shirt.
“Hey,” he said when he noticed her. “What are you doing here?” He angled his head. “The bruises are fading. Lookin’ good.”
She snorted. “I need to talk to you inside, if that’s okay?”
He signed her in at the front desk. The waiting room was filled to capacity. She followed Detective Whitton to his office, weaving around cubicles where uniformed officers waded in paperwork, past rows of file cabinets and interview rooms. The place clamored with activity and noise: police radios squawking, keyboards clicking, and the low murmurs of dispatchers at their stations and citizens filing complaints.
He was one of the lucky few with a private office. He told her to take a seat, then offered her coffee, which she declined. Once he was seated, he gave her a long, hard look, his head tilted to one side, and said, “What are you going to do when I retire?”
“Are you really retiring this time?”
He chuckled. “You sound like my wife. But the answer is yes. I’d like to spend more time tinkering in my woodshop and maybe take Teresa on a cruise.”
She smiled, trying to think of how to ask him for yet another favor.
“What is it?” he asked. “You’ve got that look on your face. Even through the rainbow of bruises, I can see it. What do you need?”
“Before I get to the reason I came, any updates regarding the Dylan Rushdan murder?”
He shook his head. “No fingerprints. No witnesses.”
She didn’t press him further. It was an open case, and if there was anything he thought she should know, he would tell her. Reaching into her purse, she pulled out a piece of paper and slid it across his desk. Written in all caps was Rebecca Carr’s name, along with “Skyler Temp Agency,” where Rebecca had worked five years ago. “Rebecca Carr is the woman I mentioned when you paid me a visit at the hospital—the woman in the pictures taken at my ex-husband’s company picnic before Tinsley was abducted.”
He glanced at the paper as she talked.
“I’ve used all my usual databases and techniques to locate her, but Rebecca Carr doesn’t seem to exist,” Dani explained. “She must have changed her name. I was able to get a number and an address where she resided at the time, but the number has been disconnected and she’s no longer living at the apartment.”
“And . . . ?”
“And so, once again I am at your mercy. I need your help, and I was hoping you could do some digging for me. The temp agency should have her social security number on file. I would think they would have done a background check. If not, wouldn’t they need her SSN for wage-reporting purposes?”
Elbows propped on his desk, he made a steeple with his fingers. “I’ll do what I can, but only under one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“Promise me you’ll go straight home and get some rest.”
“I thought you said I was looking good.”
“I lied.”
She laughed. “Okay. I promise.”
“I don’t believe you’ll do any such thing.”
She chuckled. “I don’t know what I’ll
do if you ever really do retire.”
“You’ll be fine, Dani. You’ll be fine.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Ali stiffened when she heard a car pull into the garage. Time held still until keys jingled outside the front door. Straightening her spine, she finger-brushed her hair, trying to appear relaxed, which was far from reality. Her heart pounded as if a herd of horses were galloping within her chest. Looking down at the book in her lap, she turned the page and continued to read.
The door clicked open and then closed, followed by the clicks and snaps of too many locks. When Carlin stepped into the family room, she looked up and smiled brightly.
He smiled back at her. “You look happy. Did you have a good day?”
“I did.”
“I haven’t had lunch. I’m starved. I’ll make us both something.”
Her body tensed as she watched him head straight for the kitchen. Seconds later he returned, holding up the envelope she’d worked so hard on.
Her stomach dropped.
He knew. How could that be?
“Remind me to take this with me when I leave in the morning. Otherwise the lights might be shut off,” he said with a laugh.
She laughed too, a little too heartily.
“Are you sure you’re okay? You don’t look well.” He set the envelope on the table and stepped close enough so that he could put the back of his palm against her forehead. “You’re clammy. I’ll get the thermometer so we can take your temperature and make sure you don’t have a fever.”
“I’m fine. Really. It’s my foot. It’s been aching all day.”
“I’ll make us a sandwich. Do you like tuna?”
“That sounds good. Would you like me to help?”
“No. No,” he said. “Don’t get up. I want you to rest.”