But he’d have to wait another few. He wasn’t ready to go home just yet.
twenty-two
Mom, don’t take me to the hotel! I want to go with you.” Barbara had no intention of taking Lance with her to Ethan Horne’s address. She had stopped on the way home from the police station to buy a map, and asked the clerk if she knew where Ala-mega Street was. The woman told her it was in an area known by the locals as Cabbage Town.
“You don’t look like somebody who got business there. You goin’ by your lonesome?”
Barbara’s knees grew weak. “I might, why?”
“Because it ain’t such a good area. Lot of crime there. Drive-by shootin’s, dope dealers, hookers … ”
Her throat constricted. “Oh, I didn’t know.”
“You got relatives there or somethin’?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’d call and tell ’em to meet you somewhere else.”
That was all Barbara needed to hear. She may be walking into hell’s playground, but Lance was not going with her.
His protests continued as they drove back to the hotel. When they got there, she saw a television news van out front, and several people with cameras waiting near the front door. “Oh, no. Don’t tell me.”
Lance’s face lit up. “Sweet! They’re here to talk to us.”
She drove past the parking lot and went around the block to come in the side entrance. No one seemed to be waiting there. She got her key card out of her purse so she wouldn’t waste any time. “When we get out of the car, don’t make any noise. If they approach us, keep walking and don’t talk.”
“But why won’t you talk to them?”
“Because I can’t tell them what I know or it’ll jeopardize the investigation. Now please, just do what I say for once.”
They got out, and Lance slammed his door a little too hard. She rushed for the hotel’s side door, stuck her key card in, and prayed they’d get in before the reporters found them out. The door unlocked and she pulled it open and let Lance in.
“I don’t see why we couldn’t walk through them. It wouldn’t kill us to make one little statement, so they’d put us back on TV.”
“I’m not interested in being on TV.”
“Well, it might help Emily.”
“I’m about to help Emily right now.” She reached the elevator and pressed the button. It opened quickly. “You lock the deadbolt behind me and don’t let a living soul in. That includes reporters, and even maid service. Got it?”
“Mom, I’m not some little kid. I could protect you.”
“I don’t need protecting. I need for at least one of my children to be safe.”
“But what if you don’t come back? What will I do then?”
She absorbed the pain of his fear. “Call Detective Harlan and tell him.”
“Those guys won’t help!”
“Maybe he will. He seems more compassionate. Maybe he’s not as useless as his partner.”
The elevator door opened, and she got off and hurried up the hall to their room. Lance lagged behind. She unlocked the door and waited for him to go in. “Hurry up!”
“Why don’t you wait and let Detective Harlan go with you?”
“Because he wasn’t going to go! They were dragging their feet.
And if he did go, he’d do it so he could arrest Emily. He thinks she’s just some dispensable addict who’s committed a crime. He’s not concerned with saving her life. Besides, he’d never let me go with him.”
“And why do you think that is? Mom, this is stupid. Detective Joiner told you it was a fake address.”
“I have to see for myself. Even if the house doesn’t exist, she could be next door or somewhere on that street.”
“If Dad were here, he wouldn’t let you go by yourself, and you know it. I’m the man of the house now, so it’s my responsibility to protect you.”
Her heart softened, and she touched her son’s face. “Son, this conversation is over.”
“Man!”
“So help me, Lance, if you don’t stay in this room, I’ll kill you.”
“Will you at least get me a drink out of the machine before you go?”
“No, I have to hurry. Emily’s in danger. Lock the door, Lance.”
He let out a long-suffering sigh. “I will.”
“Now. Lock it as soon as it closes.”
He let her out. She heard the bolt turning behind her.
She tried not to think of the danger she was going into as she went back to her car. If it weren’t for the delay at the police station, she could have been there and back by now. It had long ago gotten dark. Where had the hours gone?
She hurried down the stairs, hoping to avoid any press who might be wandering around the hotel. What was she doing, leaving Lance alone here at night? Was it the right thing?
Lord, I can’t keep both of my children safe. Please watch over them.
She made her way back out the side door and slipped into her car. She turned on the overhead light and studied the map. All she had to do was get on 401 going north. She typed the address into the rental car’s GPS system, but it rejected it. She’d have to find her own way.
She said another prayer for her own safety. As she pulled into traffic, clouds moved in, darkening the sky even more. “Hold on, Emily. I’m coming,” she whispered.
Her eyes stung, blurring the oncoming headlights. She had to pull herself together or she’d never find her way. She navigated to the right exit, then pulled into the parking lot of a convenience store with bars on the windows. Turning on the dome light again, she studied the map.
She glanced through the windshield and saw some rough-looking men walking toward her. Turning off the light, she started the car and pulled away, skirting past them.
On a normal day, she would have been terrified of going deeper into enemy territory. But tonight, fear for her child and rage at the circumstances controlling her life sucked all the anxiety out of her. If she had to, she could kill Ethan Horne.
She turned onto a dark street, saw men lurking on the curbs. Some of them stepped into the street to approach her car as she drove by. They were clearly drug dealers, competing for her business. She kept moving. Her headlights swept over the faces of men hawking their goods and hookers displaying their wares.
Her rage unfurled, forcing her on. She checked the locks on her doors and turned onto Alamega Street. There were men on the street corner, men gathered on porches and standing in driveways. Women also walked the streets, clad in high heels and scant clothing.
Emily, where are you?
She checked the house numbers. 394, 396 … She drove a little faster, moving down the street, looking for the 2400 block. The thought that Emily could be hidden in one of these houses made her nauseous. This wasn’t a place where a young girl should be.
She prayed Emily hadn’t succumbed to an offer of drugs. She could be in one of these crack houses, lying in a stupor on the floor, or bouncing high as a kite. She could be doing all manner of things to get her next hit. She could have texted from one of her drug buddies’ phones.
Barbara wiped her eyes and reached the end of the road. It came out on Cullman Avenue. Where were the 2400s?
Something hit her car, and she jumped. A man who blended into the night, except for a white muscle shirt, banged a fist on her hood and yelled something at her. She jerked the gearshift into reverse and backed up, looking for a place to turn around. Another man hammered a fist on her windshield. She jumped and backed into a driveway, then jerked the car into Drive and screeched out.
She stepped on the accelerator, trying to get away from them, but she wouldn’t turn off this street yet. Emily was here somewhere. The numbers must be out of order. Maybe the 2400 block was before the 400 block.
Gritting her teeth, she drove up the street again, searching for the right house. Maybe Emily was watching for her. Maybe she’d come running out.
Headlights came up behind her and a horn blasted, jol
ting her. She glanced in her rearview mirror and saw a blue light flashing.
Had she run a stop sign? She pulled over, praying that no more predators would come out of the darkness to torment her.
She watched as the cop got out of his car and strode toward her. She wiped her face and rolled her window down.
Kent Harlan leaned in. “Mrs. Covington, I had a feeling I’d find you here.”
She leaned her head back on the seat and closed her eyes.
“My partner told you the address was bogus,” he said in a soft voice.
“I know, but I didn’t believe him.”
“I know you didn’t.” His voice was deep, soothing, non-condemning.
She looked up at him. The blue light still flashed across his face, keeping evil somewhat at bay. “I have to find her. She needs me.”
“I know.”
“If she’s not here, then where did she text from?”
“We’re trying to figure that out. Mrs. Covington, if we could just go somewhere and talk.”
She looked through the windshield, saw that the men were clearing off of the street. “Are you sure … that there’s not a 2412 Alamega?”
“Positive.”
“She asked me for help, and I don’t know how to help her!” She covered her face, pressing her eyes. Veins in her neck and forehead strained.
His voice was soft. “There’s a coffee shop not too far away. Why don’t you follow me?”
She thought about Lance, back at the room. She couldn’t be gone that long, if it wasn’t absolutely necessary. She smeared the tears across her face, wiped her hands on her pants. “No, I have to get back to the hotel. Lance is alone.”
“Where are you staying?”
“The Hampton Inn near the airport.”
“Good. There’s a coffee shop next door to it. You could let Lance know we’re there, in case he has any problems. Sound okay?”
“Okay.”
“I’ll lead, you follow.”
She kept an eye on the men as Kent went back to his car. As her fear subsided, disappointment overwhelmed her. She had been so close. But it was all a hoax. A cruel joke. Emily wasn’t here. Maybe the text was just a prank.
But only a few people had her number. It had to have been Emily.
Why won’t you help me, Lord? I’m begging you!
Detective Harlan turned off the blue strobe and pulled his unmarked car around her. She followed him up the street to a turn-off. There wasn’t a dealer or hooker to be found now. The police light on his dash had frightened them back.
She was glad something could.
Staying close to his car, she followed him several miles to the coffee shop next to her hotel. She pulled into the parking space beside him. Before she got out, she blew her nose and tried to pull herself together. She was tired … so tired. All her efforts hadn’t helped.
Maybe Detective Harlan could.
twenty-three
If Kent weren’t a sucker for tears and broken hearts, he would have gone home. He hadn’t slept in two days. She probably hadn’t, either. Dark circles hung under her eyes. Her skin looked paper-thin.
He figured a little sympathy might be in order, before he called it a day.
She was on the phone with her son when she got out of the car. Judging from her side of the conversation, it sounded as if the kid was safe. She didn’t sound so sure he would stay in the hotel room and not let anyone in. There must be some history there.
He led her into the coffee shop as she gave a few more admonitions to the boy. He found a table in the back corner and slipped into the booth. She sat down as she hung up. “Sorry about that,” she said.
“No need to be,” he said. “He seems like a good kid.”
“He is a good kid.”
“Has a good camera phone, apparently.”
If she could have mustered a smile, he was sure she would have.
“So are you ready to compare notes with me?” she asked.
He leaned forward and crossed his hands in front of him. “Mrs. Covington — ”
“Barbara,” she said. “Call me Barbara.”
He didn’t delude himself into thinking she was letting her guard down. “All right. And you can call me Kent. Barbara, I know you think we haven’t been working on the case. But I want you to know that I’ve done nothing but work on it since Trish’s body was found. I haven’t even been home, as you can probably smell.”
Finally, the hint of a grin. “You smell fine.”
“Normally I’m clean-shaven and good-looking as all get-out.”
Now she laughed. He considered it a victory, but it was short-lived.
“The point is, I’ve been up to Emerson today, I’ve searched Trish’s office and collected evidence, I’ve interviewed her friends, I’ve talked to residents in her program … ”
Her eyes came up, locked hopefully on his. “Did they tell you who could have done this? Who would want her dead?”
“They didn’t know. I got some leads, and I’m working them.”
She swallowed and looked down at her hands. “If you’ve been questioning them, that must mean that you don’t think Emily did it.”
“I didn’t say that. We haven’t ruled her out, but I’d be a terrible cop if I didn’t consider every possibility.”
“So when you find her, you’re going to arrest her for murder, right?”
He sighed. “Depends on what the DA wants to do. But there are worse things than jail.”
“Are there?” Her brows furrowed. “Are you a Christian, Kent?”
That had come out of left field. He almost flinched. “Well, no. Not really.”
“Either you are, or you’re not.”
She was right about that. “I guess I’m not, then. But I don’t have anything against people who are.”
“Then maybe you won’t understand. I raised my child the way the Bible taught me to. I did the very best I could.”
Her sad eyes were killing him. “I’m sure you did.”
“I guess … it’s just my pride talking,” she said softly. “I just want you to know that Emily was raised in a good home. We had morals and rules and we sat down to dinner, and I taught her right from wrong.”
“You don’t have to convince me you did that, Barbara. I can tell from how you’ve responded to this crisis that you’re a good mother.”
“Thank you.”
Why did he feel so exposed when she met his eyes?
“The thing is, the last thing I wanted for either of my children, the very worst thing I could think of, was for them to wind up in prison. It hardly ever even crossed my mind because it was so … out there. Not even a possibility.”
“It’s better than death.”
“And that’s the other thing. The thought of burying one of them … ”
He waited as she covered her face, hiding her terror from him. Her pain hit him deep, and he wanted even more to help her. “I bet having a kid on drugs wasn’t in your top three dreams, either.”
She shook her head. “No, it’s an absolute nightmare.”
A waitress brought them some coffee, and he dumped a few spoonfuls of sugar in his. “I know that nightmare. I have a brother with a drug problem. He’s in prison right now for armed robbery. It was all about drugs. You get used to the blows, after a while. Your threshold for pain rises as they do worse and worse things.”
“She’s innocent. I know my daughter. She brings home stray animals. She spent a year on the rampage about abortion clinics when she was twelve. She picketed every Saturday. She couldn’t kill anyone.”
The words hung in the air as the waitress came back to the table, her order pad poised. “Can I get y’all something to eat?”
Barbara shook her head, but kept her eyes on Kent. “Nothing for me, thanks.”
“Have you eaten today?” he asked.
She looked like she couldn’t remember. “I had a burger earlier … ”
He glanced up at the waitress. “G
ot any nachos?”
“Sure, how many orders?”
“Three,” he said. “One in a box … for Lance.”
“Yes … he’d like that. Thanks.”
When the waitress left, Barbara locked onto him again.
“I’m not going to quit looking for her,” she said. “I’ll knock on every door in Atlanta. I’ll go on every talk show. They love missing girl stories, and Emily’s pretty. Before you know it, she’ll be as well-known as Lacy Peterson or Natalee Holloway.” Her voice cracked. “Except it’ll turn out better for my Emily. It has to.”
Just what he needed. A hundred reporters intruding on the investigation, publicizing every iota of evidence, giving the killer their best escape strategies. “You don’t want to do that. Not if you want her found quickly.”
“I’ll do what I have to do.”
He knew she would. If she’d go into the neighborhood he’d found her in tonight, the woman would walk through an inferno to get her daughter back.
“Look, I know you don’t know me, Barbara,” he said. “You don’t think I care about your daughter. But I do care. Even if she’s the one who killed Trish Massey — ”
“She didn’t.”
“Even if she did, I worry about her out there somewhere. If I didn’t care, I’d be at home asleep right now. If she’s in some terrible place of her own choosing, she’ll be better off in our custody.”
She sighed. “I need to see the videos of Emily at the airport.”
So … she had finally accepted that Emily was the girl in the video. “I showed you the picture of her.”
“I want to see the whole thing. Her behavior, the look on her face — ”
“So you can decide if she’s acting like a killer?”
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