by Karen Rose
‘Just waiting for you.’
‘I’ll be there in two.’ Joseph hung up and squeezed Daphne’s hand. ‘No,’ he said when she opened her mouth. ‘You’ll just have to be angry with me, but you can’t go.’
‘I was going to say “Hurry”,’ she said.
He made himself let go of her hand and took off through the halls at a run.
Chapter Ten
Tuesday, December 3, 5.50 P.M.
‘And be careful,’ Daphne murmured. She clasped her hands together, warming the one he hadn’t touched with the hand he’d held. Hurry. Please hurry. Please find him.
Paige put an arm around her shoulders, urging her to a chair. ‘Breathe, honey.’
Daphne’s knees gave out as she lowered herself into the chair. She pressed her folded hands to her lips, trying to quell the panic that rose in her throat, threatening to choke her. She inhaled deeply . . . and smelled Joseph’s aftershave on her hand.
His scent calmed her. Greedily she covered her nose and mouth and breathed until the heartbeats in her head had quieted. The panic was gone. For now.
Dropping her hands to her lap she looked up. Hector and Coppola stood in front of her. ‘How long does it take to get to that Timonium address from here?’ Daphne asked.
‘Not too long,’ Hector said. ‘Thirty minutes.’
‘Thirty minutes,’ Daphne repeated. ‘Then we’d best get busy.’
‘Doing what?’ Coppola asked.
‘Figuring out who the hell this Doug guy is.’
‘You don’t think they’ll find Ford there,’ Paige said softly.
‘No. I don’t. I think George was telling the truth.’ She leaned left to look around Coppola. George was still in the interview room, still sitting in the chair. He’d stopped crying, now sitting with the expression of a man who knew he’d lost everything that mattered. ‘I think they’ll find Marina’s baby in the Timonium house, unless one of Bill’s devotees has whisked her away. But Ford’s not there.’ She squared her shoulders. ‘Let’s go upstairs to one of the conference rooms. I can’t think in this room.’
Because it was dark and she was underground. Normally she could lie to herself that Interview was just a windowless room on the first floor, but today her mental walls were weak and she could feel the panic closing in.
When they reached BPD’s homicide floor, they were met by Lieutenant Peter Hyatt. To Daphne’s utter shock the lieutenant wrapped his beefy arms around her in a bear hug, nearly lifting her off her feet. He released her, his expression fierce.
‘Anything you need, Miss Montgomery, and I mean anything, you need only to ask.’
‘Thank you.’ Daphne didn’t dislike the man, but she didn’t always trust him. He liked to grandstand and he could be a real prick. But there was honest pain in his eyes today and it helped ground her somehow. ‘We came up here to explore some new leads. Can we use the conference room?’
‘Of course. I happen to know the commander isn’t using his right now and it’s a lot more comfortable. Come with me.’ He set off with long strides. ‘Nice to see you, Miss Holden,’ he tossed carelessly over his shoulder.
Paige’s lips twitched. ‘Always a pleasure, Lieutenant.’
Paige and Hyatt had really gotten off on the wrong foot while working the Muñoz case nine months before, Daphne recalled. But after helping Hyatt’s detectives catch a killer, Paige had earned his trust and respect, and maybe even a little affection. Daphne had always suspected that Hyatt had a softer heart than he let on. That bear hug confirmed it.
He led them to the conference room and showed them in. ‘There’s a washroom through that door and snacks in the cabinet. I’ll make sure no one disturbs you.’
When Hyatt had closed the door behind him, Hector let out a low whistle. ‘Can we make whoever stole the real Hyatt keep him?’
‘He’s not so bad,’ Paige said, raiding the snack cabinet. ‘Mostly bark, minimal bite.’
Daphne sat down near the white board. ‘Would one of you mind being the scribe? The smell of those markers makes me dizzy and my head is already killing me.’
‘I’ll be scribe,’ Coppola said. ‘I love the aroma of markers. Especially the red ones.’
‘You have a headache because you haven’t eaten,’ Paige said, dumping several boxes and cans on the table. ‘We’ve got most of the major food groups here. Nuts, raisins, crackers, and Cheez Whiz is dairy. Kind of. Eat, Daphne.’
Daphne grimaced. ‘Cheez Whiz is not even close to dairy.’ But she took a few cashews to keep Paige from nagging her. ‘What do we know about Doug?’
Hector leaned back in a chair, getting comfortable. ‘We only have George’s word that he exists,’ he said and Coppola noted it on the white board.
‘He’s Caucasian, average everything,’ Coppola added. ‘Height, weight, coloring.’
‘George said he texted him,’ Daphne said. ‘We can get a phone number.’
‘Nice,’ Paige said. ‘I’m betting everyone has disposable cells, but George probably had his cell on him when he was arrested. We can check the call and text logs.’
‘Let’s get CSU on the line,’ Daphne said. ‘They need to hear this, in case they have evidence we don’t know to ask for.’ She dialed the CSU lab.
‘Lab. This is Peterson.’
‘Hi, Drew. It’s Daphne Montgomery.’
‘Daphne.’ His voice warmed. ‘How are you?’
‘Keeping busy. I’m on the homicide floor with Rivera, Coppola, and Paige Holden.’ She told him about the mysterious Doug. ‘Do you have George Millhouse’s cell phone?’
‘I have it inventoried. I just hope it’s not encrypted. I’ll put you on speaker so I can listen while I look for it. I’m going to mute you because the lab is busy tonight.’
The line went quiet and Coppola pointed to the board. ‘What else?’
‘He’s a weapons dealer,’ Hector said. ‘Tasers, knives, semi-autos. Assault rifles.’
Daphne nodded. ‘Assuming Doug sold the knife to George this morning, Doug may have had it in his possession the night before. He could have killed Zacharias.’
May be Z’s killer, Coppola wrote. ‘If this is the case,’ she said, ‘he’s smart. He’s capable of planning and quickly adapting.’
‘Yeah, Tuzak showing up in the alley must have been quite a shock,’ Paige said. ‘If Doug killed Tuzak and took Ford, he’s got some muscle, or he had help. Ford’s a big boy. He had to be able to lift him into a vehicle.’ Paige cast Daphne a nervous glance as she said this.
‘It’s okay, Paige. I’m not going to fall apart. I’m . . . compartmentalizing.’ Which was keeping her barely sane. ‘Doug connects to the theft of those weapons from the cop in Philly because he used the tasers. Semi-automatic pistols from the same theft showed up in Bill’s trunk. Either he stole the weapons himself or he knows who did.’
‘He’s ambidextrous,’ Hector said. ‘He shot two tasers in rapid succession, probably one in each hand.’
‘He’s probably right-handed though,’ Coppola inserted. ‘He missed the shot that he aimed at Kimberly. She was a bit farther away by then and his aim was off. That would have been his left hand.’
‘He’s good with drugs,’ Hector said. ‘Joseph believes that Zacharias was drugged with a cocktail meant for Ford, that the killer had customized doses for Ford and Kim. Customizing for size is more complicated than it appears. He may have a medical degree or have access to medical knowledge.’
He drugged my child. Daphne had gotten stuck at that point, barely comprehending anything else Hector said. Fury whipped up within her, making her jaw clench. Paige patted the hand she’d balled into a fist.
‘Down, girl. You’ll get your chance with Doug, but we have to catch him first.’
‘You’re right. Sorry.’ Daphne forced her fist to relax. ‘George said that Doug’s father served in the army, in Desert Storm with Bill Millhouse. I have Bill’s military record in my file.’ She pulled the folder from her bag and searched. ‘Bil
l served in the Persian Gulf with the First Infantry Division, attaining the rank of sergeant. So we have to find out who was there with him who has a son named Doug.’
Hector shook his head. ‘Possible, but unless Doug’s father listed him as a beneficiary on his benefits paperwork, it’ll take a while to find him. Anytime we deal with the Army, we’ve got red tape. Hyatt’s request might carry some weight. He was Army.’
‘He offered to help,’ Daphne said. ‘I’ll ask him when we’re done here.’
There was a slight lull as everyone read what they’d captured on the white board so far. Daphne wouldn’t let herself stare at the clock on the wall. Her millions of small glances had been enough. It had been only twenty-two minutes. Joseph should be there soon, assuming they drove north to Timonium with sirens blaring. They’d do a silent approach to the house itself, but the sirens would cut most of the travel time.
‘Hey, Daphne.’ The speaker phone crackled as Drew Peterson un-muted his end. ‘Got George’s cell phone. I got lucky. It wasn’t encrypted. You want calls or texts?’
Yes. ‘Both, please. The abduction happened at eleven. Maybe then?’
‘How about six P.M. yesterday?’ Hector said. ‘Kim got a text at seven with a large file. We think that was the photo of her kidnapped sister. We want to start before that.’
‘Here we go,’ Drew said. ‘Between six and ten last night George sent ten texts. Nine were to the same number – Marina. All a variant of “How’s my little girl?” Marina answers “She’s fine”, “She’s pretty”, “She’s sleeping”. With one she sends a photo of the baby sleeping in a room with yellow walls.’
‘What was the tenth text?’ Daphne asked.
‘It went to Bill. That’s how he has him labeled in his contact list. “Bill” not “Dad” or “Father”. Bill sends the first text at 9.55 P.M. “Do you have it?” George answers, “D supposed to come at 10.30.” Bill responds, “If you fuck up, don’t come home.” George doesn’t respond. From 10 till midnight there are eight more texts to Marina, asking about the baby. She responds to four of them, responses pasted from earlier texts.’
‘Now I almost feel sorry for him,’ Paige commented.
‘Not me,’ Drew said harshly. ‘At midnight there’s a text to Doug. “Waiting for you. Where are you?” There’s no reply. He gets a text from Bill at 12.30. “Do you have it?” George responds right away, “D didn’t show.” There are three texts at 1.30, one each to Bill, Cindy, and Marina. “Let me in. It’s cold.” Nobody answers.’
Hector winced. ‘They locked him out of the house? Bill meant what he said.’
‘I guess so. Then nothing until 4 A.M. This is a text from Doug. “Sorry, got tied up. Meet me at 9 A.M. Same place.” George asks if they can meet earlier, but Doug doesn’t reply. Between 9.30 and 9.57, George sends six texts. Four are to Doug, asking where he is. Various expletives are used. One is to Cindy saying he’s waiting. One is to Bill, same thing. Then at 10.01 he texts Cindy, “Finally. Got it. On my way.”’
Daphne checked her own cell phone. ‘I got the text from Ford’s phone at 10.04.’
‘George sends a text at 10.03. “At Balt n Calv. Running.”’
‘He couldn’t have sent the text from Ford’s phone,’ Daphne said. ‘He would have had to run backward. Or he lied to Cindy and he wasn’t at Baltimore and Calvert.’
‘I can check the security cameras around the courthouse,’ Drew said, ‘to see where he was at 10.04. Anything else?’
‘Not right now. Thanks, Drew.’ Daphne hung up, looked at the clock, then closed her eyes, fighting off a new wave of panic. ‘Joseph should be arriving at Odum’s house in Timonium any minute now.’
Tuesday, December 3, 6.30 P.M.
‘Go!’ Bo barked into his radio. ‘Now!’
In a coordinated wave, three teams busted through the doors of the three houses belonging to Richard Odum. Joseph’s team barreled into the Timonium house along with a SWAT team carrying enough firepower to wipe out a neighborhood. They’d expected resistance, shots fired.
Instead they were met with an oppressive quiet. By previous agreement Joseph and Bo took the top floor and the SWAT guys took the main floor and the basement.
Joseph had just started up the stairs when he heard it – the squall of a new-born baby. He ran upstairs where there were four closed doors. Joseph grabbed the doorknob to the first door. And froze as his training kicked in. What if this was a trap?
He backed away as Bo made it up the last stair, breathing hard. ‘What is it?’
Joseph pressed his ear to each door. The crying was coming from behind all the doors. ‘It’s the same baby’s cry, played on a loop. How long before the bomb dog gets here?’ Joseph asked, sniffing at each door.
‘A few more minutes. Are you vying for the dog’s job?’ Bo asked him.
‘No. I’m hoping for fresh paint.’ Through the last door he smelled it. ‘This is the nursery. George said he just painted it.’ Joseph pressed his ear against the door and listened. ‘There’s real crying in here, muffled, but I can hear it.’ He went to the banister and leaned over to where an officer waited at the door. ‘Evacuate the neighbors in the surrounding houses and tell the handlers to hurry up here when they arrive.’
Then he went back to each door, called Ford’s name loudly, and listened, trying to block out the recorded baby’s cry. The only response was at door number four. The muted crying grew a little louder before quieting altogether.
‘Dammit, Bo, that baby’s suffocating.’
‘You don’t know that,’ Bo soothed. ‘And you’re not opening the door until it’s safe.’
One of the SWAT guys jogged up the stairs. ‘We’ve called for both Ford and Kim, but get no response. There’s a basement. There could be rooms down there.’
‘When the bomb guys come,’ Bo said firmly.
Three excruciating minutes went by, then Joseph heard barking. ‘Finally.’
‘Everybody out!’ A burly cop came up the stairs with a dog. ‘I’m Innis. This is Rascal and the guy behind me is Poehler.’
Poehler lugged a large trunk. Both cops carried riot shields.
Joseph pointed at door number four. ‘There’s an infant in there, a few days old.’
‘We’ll be careful,’ Innis promised. ‘Now get out and let us work.’
Joseph and Bo left the house to wait at the curb. Joseph could picture Daphne waiting by the phone and frustration clawed at him. ‘I can’t just stand here,’ he muttered. ‘I’m going to interview the neighbors, see if anyone saw anything.’
He didn’t have to look far. The neighbors who’d gathered when they arrived had been moved two houses down where they watched from a front lawn. There were six of them, four women and two men, ranging in age from thirty to eighty. A woman in her sixties who looked every inch the corporate executive approached him. Apparently she was this group’s representative.
‘Hello,’ Joseph said, showing them his badge. ‘I’m Special Agent Carter, FBI. I’d like to ask you some questions about this house. Can I have your names, please?’
‘I’m Arwen Jacobsen,’ the executive said, then introduced the others – two teachers, a retired nurse, a bus driver, and a pastor. ‘We’ve been hoping somebody would do something about that place, but we were afraid to call.’
‘Why?’
‘We thought a family would move in. Instead, it was a place of business. We’re not zoned for business. This is a nice neighborhood.’
‘It was,’ the pastor said morosely.
‘What kind of business?’ Joseph asked.
‘We think it was drugs,’ Arwen said. There were murmurs of assent. ‘A black van would come two or three times a week, pull into the garage, unload, then leave a few hours later.’
‘How do you know it was unloading?’
‘The van was several inches higher off the ground when it left,’ Arwen said.
Joseph was impressed. ‘Not many people would notice that.’
‘We
did because we were looking,’ the retired nurse said. ‘Mainly because the people who lived there were suspicious. About a month ago we realized who they really were. That terrible Millhouse family that’s been in the news. You know, because the oldest son murdered those two people on the side of the road? At first it was just the mother and the other son. Then that pregnant girl moved in.’
‘She was just a kid,’ one of the teachers said sadly.
‘Old enough to shoot up a crowd at the courthouse today,’ the other teacher said. ‘I know it sounds cruel, but I’m happy that cop shot her.’
Me, too. ‘Tell me more about the baby.’
‘She had it,’ the retired nurse said, ‘at home.’
Arwen shuddered. ‘Without a single drug. You could hear her screams through the walls. It was horrible.’
‘It wasn’t that bad,’ the nurse said, rolling her eyes. ‘I’ve heard a lot worse.’
‘She sounded like she was being skinned alive,’ Arwen insisted.
‘Did anyone attend her?’ Joseph asked.
‘Mrs Odum,’ the first schoolteacher said. ‘She’s a midwife.’
The nurse gave her a puzzled look. ‘How do you know that, Bea?’
‘I asked. I live right next door,’ Bea explained to Joseph. ‘Our upstairs windows are only a few feet apart. The girl did sound like she was being skinned alive. I was looking out my window and saw Mrs Odum come out to smoke on the front porch. I took her a loaf of bread I’d baked and asked her how it was going and if they needed help. She said she’d attended lots of births, that she knew when to call for help. The screams stopped three days ago, around midnight. I waited for Mrs Odum to leave, but she didn’t. I went to work the next day and never knew if it was a boy or a girl.’
‘Have you seen anyone else go in or out?’
‘Mr Odum,’ the other teacher said. Her name was Angie. ‘He came in the black van this afternoon around three. I was coming home from school and drove in behind him. He had someone with him. Another man.’