by Blake Pierce
She dialed his number and waited as the phone rang, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling growing in her chest. After three rings, he picked up.
“Hi, Keri,” he said, his voice already sounding wary.
“Hi, Stephen. Did I get you at an okay time?”
“I’m almost home so I only have a few minutes,” he said. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah. I’m sorry to bother you. I won’t beat around the bush. I need your help.”
“What is it this time?” he asked tersely.
Keri felt the irritation rise in her throat and reminded herself to keep it in check. This was to be expected. She knew he was going to push her buttons, even if he didn’t realize he was doing it.
Stay calm. Keep focused on your goal. Do whatever it takes. Evie is more important than your pride.
“I’m not sure if you’re aware of this but we had a break in Evie’s case in November.”
“Go on,” he said, revealing nothing.
“Just after Thanksgiving, I found a clue that led me to the address where she was being kept. I saw a man shoving her into a gray van. They got away but I saw her, Stephen. It was our little girl. She even called out “mommy” to me. I’m sending you a video clip now. It’s from a Walmart parking lot later that night. It shows the man who took her getting shot and the shooter carrying her to the trunk of his car and driving off.”
“I see the clip,” Stephen said, noncommittal.
“Okay, well, unfortunately, that’s where all the leads run dry. The man who put her in the trunk is a professional assassin. He knows how to cover his tracks. I’ve tried to track him down but it has only led to dead ends. But I have another idea.”
“What’s that?” he asked.
This is the time he usually gets dismissive. Why is he holding back?
“I know we discussed this before but I want to hire a private investigator. There’s another lead worth following, one I know has potential. But following it up is going to be expensive, more expensive than I can handle on my own. I need your help, Stephen.”
There was a long silence on the other end of the line. She could almost picture her ex-husband screwing up the courage to say what he’d clearly been holding back this whole time. She imagined him brushing his wavy hair out of his eyes and adjusting the hip, thin-framed glasses he didn’t really need.
“Keri, I have a confession to make,” he said quietly.
“What?” she asked, attempting to keep her voice level, even as her stomach did a flip.
“I’ve already seen the video.”
“How?”
“Your partner, Detective Sands, showed it to me,” he said.
“What?” she asked, bewildered. “When?”
“Last month. He came by the office and showed it to me. He asked me the same thing you are, for money to hire the investigator you want.”
“Why is this the first I’m hearing of this?” she demanded.
“Probably because he didn’t want to tell you what I said, what I’m going to repeat to you. I don’t see anything in that video that proves that the girl in it is Evie.”
“What?” Keri said, disbelieving. “But it’s her. She’s wearing the same clothes from earlier in the night. That’s the same van. It’s all smashed up.”
“You’re not going to like what I have to say, Keri. That’s why I didn’t reach out—because I was worried about how you’d react.”
“Just tell me, Stephen,” she said, forcing herself to keep the bitterness out of her voice. There was still a chance she could convince him, but only if she stayed cool.
“You can’t see her face in that footage, Keri. And no one was with you when you claim to have seen her earlier in the night. When I pressed him, even your partner admitted that he was taking your word that the girl was Evie.”
“Why would I lie?”
“I don’t think you’re lying, Keri. I believe you saw a girl that night who was being forced into a van and that you got into a crash chasing it. The video does show a girl. But it’s been almost six years since we lost her. And you’re telling me that in the middle of the night, from a significant distance, you recognized a girl you haven’t seen since she was eight and knew it was our daughter. Isn’t it possible that you saw a blonde-haired girl and you willed it to be Evie?”
“She called out to me when I shouted her name, Stephen,” she said, knowing her voice was getting hard and unsure how to stop it. “It was her.”
“Please put yourself in my shoes, Keri. My daughter, our daughter, has been missing for over half a decade. And my former wife, who by any fair assessment has devoted her life to finding her, says she saw her. But no one else saw her. And the video footage she claims shows her is inconclusive. Am I supposed to upend my whole world based on that, allow myself to hope again based solely on…your word?”
Keri knew her word meant nothing to him anymore so she didn’t even bother to appeal to him on that basis. But Stephen was a practical guy. Maybe that was the way to win him over.
“Even if you have doubts, what harm is there?” she asked. “The worst that happens is you spend a little money and it doesn’t pan out. The possible benefits far outweigh the cost.”
“Not the emotional cost, Keri. It’s like I have this wound and over time it’s scabbed over and healed. But what you’re proposing wouldn’t just rip off a scab. It would take a knife and cut a brand new hole in the wound. Why would I do that to myself?”
“Because you might get your daughter back,” Keri insisted slowly, knowing she was near the limits of her self-control.
“But here’s the thing, and I hate to say this. I just don’t believe you, Keri. I don’t think you’re lying. But I don’t trust that you saw what you think you saw. And I’m not willing to tear my life apart based on your word. I can’t keep reopening the wound. I have to move on with my life. Can you understand that?”
Keri, nearly overwhelmed with frustration bordering on rage, opened her mouth. She was about to respond when something inside of her made her stop. It was like a light had been switched on, not just in her head but in her very being. It was an epiphany, perhaps the saddest one she’d ever experienced. He just didn’t care anymore.
What he said was reasonable on the surface. The pain of trying to find Evie and failing was too much for him. But she could sense that it wasn’t true. She could tell in his voice that he was paying lip service to emotions that weren’t really there any longer.
There was a time where he’d loved Evie, and Keri too. He had been a good father and a decent husband. But he didn’t love them anymore. He’d shut that part of himself down a long time ago. Maybe he felt he had to in order to survive. And Keri hadn’t made it easy on him. Her drinking and cheating and permanent aura of grief had pushed him away.
But she refused to believe that any parent who still cared would ever reject a chance, however small, to find their missing child. Even now, years later, the parents of missing children she couldn’t find would come into the station to ask if there were any new leads. Ray once told her about a father who, for the last decade, still came in every year on the day his daughter disappeared to check in with him in the hope that he might have uncovered some new clue.
But not Stephen. He was done. He had chosen his new life, his new wife, and the living son he could still hug and kiss and read to at night. Part of her understood that. She wasn’t as angry as she expected. He wasn’t a bad person. But some part of his soul had atrophied because of what happened. And it was gone forever.
He would never agree to give her the money or to help in any way. Doing so wouldn’t just be pursuing a lead that might not pan out. It meant upending his whole, reconstructed world. And that wasn’t something he was willing or able to do. It just wasn’t in him. So she stopped asking.
“I understand,” she said.
“I’m sorry, Keri.”
“Okay.”
“I hope you find some peace.”
“Thanks,
” she said and hung up.
She was on her own.
Or maybe not completely.
As she looked up, letting the chilly air dry the tears running down her cheeks, she saw Ray walking out the door, looking around. As he peered out into the dark, she studied him, the man who had secretly asked her ex-husband to help because he knew that it would be too difficult for her.
He was the man who had put himself on the line, risking his pride and his independence by asking her to be more than just a partner and friend. Despite the conversation she’d just had, Keri felt a smile start to form at the corners of her mouth.
“You looking for me?” she called out, realizing as she said it that the question had more than one meaning.
He turned in her direction.
“Yeah, you’re going to want to come back inside. Tim Rainey is about to do a press conference on live TV.”
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
When Keri arrived in the conference room, heart pounding and out of breath from running, everyone was already crowded around the monitor. She pushed her way through so she could see.
Rainey was just stepping up to the microphone. His face was strained and exhausted from lack of sleep. He was clearly nervous but his expression was determined.
“This message is for the person who has my daughter. I will meet any of your terms. I will go wherever I need to and pay whatever amount you demand. I just want my daughter back. Please. I will do anything. I beg of you. Let my little Jess go. That’s all I have to say.”
With that, he turned and returned to the house, ignoring the flashing lights and cacophony of shouted questions from the assembled reporters.
“Ugh,” she heard Lieutenant Hillman say and turned to see him slump into a chair in the corner of the room.
“This is not good,” Manny Suarez muttered.
“What was that idiot thinking?” Brody demanded, gruffly voicing the question everyone was silently asking.
“He’s desperate,” Ray said. “Cut him some slack. Still, this is a nightmare. I can only imagine all the calls he’s already getting from the crazies and the con artists. I can’t believe he thought this was a good idea.”
“Neither can I,” Keri agreed.
“You sound suspicious,” Ray noted.
“It just doesn’t make any sense. I know he’s desperate. But what good did he think this would do? He’s not stupid. He had to know that a big public appeal wasn’t going to have any impact on the guy who did this. You read the letters. Did they sound like the work of a guy who would be swayed by a devoted dad?”
“They don’t sound like the work of someone who could be swayed by anything,” Ray pointed out.
“Exactly. Something’s not right here,” Keri said as she walked out to her desk to grab her coat.
“What are you planning to do?” Ray asked, following her.
“I’m going to go over there and ask him what the hell is really going on.”
“But it’s not our case anymore, Keri,” he whispered. “We can’t just go barging in. The feds will have our heads.”
“Not ours,” Keri insisted. “Just mine. And maybe not. Winchester’s a jerk but I think I can charm Agent Crowley into letting me have a go at Rainey. You stay here and keep Hillman occupied while I sneak out.”
“Is that an order?” Ray asked, more amused than angry.
“Sorry, would you please cover for me so I can violate orders?”
“It would be my pleasure,” he said. “Just keep me posted.”
“Is that an order?” she asked snarkily as she headed for the door quickly, not letting him get in a comeback. She imagined him behind her, fighting the urge to make a crack, knowing it would draw attention. Once again she felt a smile sneaking across her lips.
*
There were no smiles to be had at the Rainey house when she arrived forty-five minutes later. It was hard enough to navigate the gauntlet of wooden barriers, officers, and TV trucks in the surrounding neighborhood just to get to the front door. But when she stepped inside, she was met almost immediately by the frowning Agent Winchester.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded roughly.
“I just wanted to update you and Agent Crowley on the status of that case file research you had us doing,” she answered sweetly. “There have been some interesting developments. Where’s Crowley? I can fill you both in together.”
She could see he wanted to tell her off but the phrase “interesting developments” held him at bay. It was a load of bull. There were no developments. But if she could just get to Crowley, she was pretty sure she could convince him to let her talk to Tim Rainey and determine what was going on.
“Follow me,” Winchester growled and led the way into the kitchen, where a half dozen agents, including Crowley, were crowded around the kitchen island, studying what appeared to be a map of the area. Carolyn Rainey and Nate were seated at the breakfast table, putting together a jigsaw puzzle. Tim Rainey was nowhere to be seen.
Crowley looked up and seeing her, walked over.
“This is a bit of a surprise, Detective Locke. To what do we owe the honor?”
“She says the case files we gave them had something interesting,” Winchester said before Keri could reply.
“Really?” Crowley asked, looking mildly surprised.
“Yeah,” Keri said. “What I found interesting was that there was virtually nothing relevant in any of them. It was almost like they were given to us as busy work so we would stay out of the FBI’s way. But I know you guys would never do that.”
Crowley and Winchester exchanged uncomfortable looks but neither spoke so she continued.
“Anyway, I just wanted to report that not a single file had anything of value. But as long as I’m here, how are things going?”
Winchester looked annoyed that they’d been played but Crowley, apparently amused, answered.
“I’m sure you saw that nightmare of a statement Rainey gave.”
“I did.”
“Then you can imagine the reaction we’ve gotten. We’ve been fielding calls from every crackpot in the greater Los Angeles area. It’s been awful.”
“Why do you think he did that?” Keri asked. “He had to know it wouldn’t do any good.”
“We’d love to ask him,” Winchester said. “But the second he walked in the house, he went straight up to his bedroom, closed the door, and locked it.”
“He muttered something about needing to rest and said to let him know if we got any worthwhile responses,” Crowley added.
“So he made this impassioned plea for his daughter, then just went upstairs to take a nap?” Keri asked, incredulous.
“He’s not really in tip-top form,” Winchester said.
“You mind if I go up and try to talk to him?” she asked.
Winchester looked stunned at the idea.
“He’ll rip your head off,” he said, not entirely unhappily.
“That’s okay. He already hates me. One more vitriolic tongue-lashing isn’t going to make that much difference to me. I just didn’t want to step on anyone’s toes. After all, it is your case now.”
“You know,” Crowley mused, “it’s not a terrible idea. If he says anything worthwhile, that’s great. If he shuts you down or blows up at you, our relationship with him hasn’t been harmed. I say have at it.”
Winchester, unable to think of a good reason to oppose the idea and likely intrigued by the idea of Keri getting yelled at, nodded.
“Okay, I’ll let you know how it goes,” she said. “That is, if you can’t already guess from the screams and shouts.”
As she turned to leave, she caught Carolyn Rainey looking at her furtively, almost guiltily. The woman averted her eyes the second Keri made eye contact.
That was weird.
But saying nothing, Keri left the room and made her way up the stairs. The Raineys’ bedroom was at the end of the hall. She got there and paused for half a second before knocking.
&n
bsp; Is this really a good idea? Maybe I should just let the man rest. He clearly needs it.
But she couldn’t let go of the feeling that something wasn’t right. And so she knocked, softly at first, then louder.
“Mr. Rainey. It’s Detective Locke. I know you’re unhappy with me but I need to speak to you. It’s important.”
She waited a few seconds and then knocked again, this time banging loudly. There was no way he couldn’t hear that.
“Mr. Rainey, I really need you to open the door.”
She glanced back down the stairs and saw a couple of the agents poke their heads out the kitchen door and stare up at her.
I’m committed now.
She slammed the door hard with her fist, making the whole thing rattle. When that got no response, she checked the handle. It was indeed locked. Now she was genuinely worried. An image of Tim Rainey lying on the bed with an open bottle of sleeping pills in his hand flashed through her head.
“Mr. Rainey,” she shouted. “I’m concerned for your safety. If you don’t open the door right now, I’m going to have to break it down. You have five seconds.”
She started counting down. When she reached zero, she braced herself to slam her shoulder into the door. She was just starting to move forward when she felt a hand on her forearm. It was Winchester.
“As much as I’d love to watch you throw yourself at that door, maybe you better let me give it a go.”
“You don’t think I can do it?” she demanded.
“I’m sure you can but I also know you broke your collarbone less than a year ago. If someone else is willing to use his body as a battering ram, maybe let him.”
“How do know about my collarbone?” Keri demanded.
“We’re the FBI, Detective Locke. You’d be amazed at what we know.”
Before she could respond he launched himself at the door, hitting it with a force she hadn’t thought possible. There was loud crack as the thing came off its hinges and crashed to the floor. Winchester stumbled in, almost falling before gathering himself. Keri stepped in after him. Rainey wasn’t on the bed or anywhere in the room for that matter.