First Comes Love

by Heather Heyford

  “It’s your fault he’s not coming back.”

  “Relationships are complicated, Shay. You’ll learn that as you get older. When something goes wrong, it’s hardly ever just one person’s fault.”

  “But no one ever stays with you. They all leave. Just like my bio dad, and Dick. They left. And now Alex. What is it with you?”

  Guilt filled Kerry to overflowing. She could have changed course at any step of the way. Made different decisions. Yet, after she had vowed to put her children first, she still let Alex in.

  Shay’s phone rang. “Mayree!” she exclaimed, her mood instantly brightening. “You finally got your own phone!” She headed outside to talk in private.

  Kerry didn’t mind being shut out. She was just glad Shay had someone to distract her, even if it was her former best friend back in Portland. She didn’t have to worry about Mayree making Shay homesick. Shay had gotten past that, thanks to Alex.

  Or so Kerry had thought, until fifteen minutes later, when Shay came back inside.

  “I wish I could go back to Portland.” She swung her new backpack filled with supplies over one shoulder, the way she’d seen the high school kids do it at the pool.

  “You’re going to injure your spine if you keep lifting your book bag like that.”

  “Stop telling me what to do! I don’t want to be in this house anymore! I hate it here!” She stomped upstairs.

  Beneath the kitchen table, Hobo panted nervously and whisked his tail across the floor, scattering toast crumbs.

  There was no use arguing with a dejected, hormonal thirteen-year-old girl, even if you were a crack defense attorney. Especially if you were her mother. And especially when she was right.

  Chapter Forty-one

  Before long, Shay became caught up in the swirl of texts and phone chats with the friends she’d made over the summer. Kerry was relieved. It helped her forget about losing Alex, if only a little.

  The dinner hours were filled with Shay and Chloé talking about their teachers and who had the most homework and filling out activity forms.

  And then, one morning, Kerry got an automated phone call from Shay’s school, letting her know that Shay was absent.

  Shay, absent? There had to be some mistake. Kerry called the school office to talk to a real person. “What do you mean she’s not there? She got on the bus this morning. You’d better check again.”

  But Shay had been a no-show in homeroom when attendance was taken, and was not in her first-period class.

  Kerry hung up and called her mother.

  “Is Shay there?”

  “Why would she be here?”

  “She’s not at school. Please tell me she’s with you.”

  “She’s not here, honey.”

  “Who’s not here?” asked Kerry’s dad in the background.

  “Shay’s missing,” replied her mother. “Kerry got a call from the school.”

  “Dad’s putting on his shoes. He’s on his way over to the farmhouse right now,” she continued. “He’ll call you as soon as he gets there.”

  Kerry paced her office. Maybe I should run home.

  No. There was nothing to worry about. Shay probably cut school as a way of acting out. Typical teenage stuff. She supposed she’d better get used to it.

  Minutes later, her phone rang. “Did you find her?”

  “I’ve looked everywhere,” said Dad. “She’s not here.”

  “Are you sure? She has to be there!”

  “I went through the entire house, calling her name. Where else could she be?”

  Ryan strolled into Kerry’s office, looking puzzled. “Everything okay?” When he saw Kerry’s stricken face, he went over to her and cupped her elbow. “What’s wrong?”

  “Shay’s missing. She’s gone.”

  “She can’t be gone. When was the last time you saw her?”

  “This morning, when she left for the bus.” Kerry pulled away from her brother and pressed her fingers to her forehead.

  “Dad. Ryan’s here with me. I’ll call you back.”

  “She can’t have gone far,” said Ryan.

  “She’s not at school or at Mom and Dad’s,” Kerry said, her voice rising ever higher, “and Dad said she’s not in the farmhouse.”

  “Panicking won’t get us anywhere. Was Shay angry when she left this morning? Do you think this has anything to do with the trouble you’ve been having with Alex Walker?”

  “No. I don’t know.” Her stomach sank with fear. “These days, everything sets her off. Her former best friend back in Portland got her first cell phone and has been calling her, making her homesick all over again. I can’t seem to do anything right . . . you’re right. I should call Alex.

  “Dammit!” she said, pressing the phone to her chest when her call went to voice mail. “He’s not picking up. He’s probably working a case.

  “Alex. Call me as soon as you get this voice mail.”

  She texted him too, for good measure.

  Then she called the school back to make sure they hadn’t made a mistake after all, and Shay was sitting in the cafeteria eating the substantial lunch she’d packed for herself.

  But no.

  Kerry paced, one hand on her hip, clutching her phone, the other pressed to her forehead.

  “Have you heard back from Walker?” asked Ryan.

  She shook her head.

  “I don’t want to be an alarmist, but it might not hurt to get in touch with the chief of police, if only to find out his whereabouts.”

  She’d been thinking the same thing but been reluctant to take that step. Calling the police took things to a whole new level. “You’re right.” She looked at her phone, then had another idea. “I’ll just go over.” She had an overwhelming urge to see Alex in person. To share her escalating fear.

  The police station was an easy walk from her office. With every step, she thought of him. She yearned to pour out her anxiety to him, to be taken into his arms, to lean on his strong chest. He loved Shay. He’d be as worried as she was. He would know what to do.

  When she was informed Alex wasn’t there, disappointment flooded her veins. She asked to see the chief instead.

  Chief Garrett took one look at her face and escorted her back to his office and closed the door behind them.

  “Do you know where Alex is?”

  The chief narrowed his eyes.

  Kerry had no illusions about how the local police viewed her. The chief had seen her out of professional courtesy and the high regard with which he held her father.

  “I need to know. It’s urgent.”

  “Took some time off. Why?”

  “My daughter, Shay, never showed up at school this morning.”

  “She mention anything about going someplace lately?”

  “She recently got a call from her best friend from when we lived in Portland. But she has no way of getting there. I’ve been trying to get in touch with Alex to see if he might have seen her. Alex and his foster children were supposed to move in with us and then, as you know, he lost the boys, and . . .” She threw her hands in the air. If she wanted help, the chief needed to know all the facts. “To make a long story short, we broke up. Shay’s at a difficult age. She was very affected by what’s happened. She’s very attached to Alex, and vice versa.”

  Chief Garrett massaged his lower lip and thought for a minute. Then he picked up his phone and made a call. “Ms. Bartoli. What’s the latest you have on the Pelletier boys?” Following a brief pause, he filled her in on Shay’s situation. “Appreciate it. I’ll be standing by.

  “Sit tight,” Garrett told Kerry. “That was CPS. She’s going to check with the school to see if the boys are present and accounted for.”

  “What about Alex? Why isn’t he answering my calls?”

  The chief measured his words. “Maybe he just needed to unplug for a little while. People don’t do that nearly enough anymore.”

  His phone rang. “Yeah. Well, I’ll be.” He eyed Kerry as he listened
to the caller.

  “What?” Kerry rose and flattened her hands on the chief’s desk. “What did she say?”

  Chief held up a finger as he finished his phone conversation, frustrating Kerry to no end. “Bet you dollars to doughnuts we’re going to locate them in a park somewhere between the school and the Pelletiers’ place with stomachaches from too many Slim Jims and grape sodas from the Thrifty Market. Right.”

  He hung up. “Travis and Tyler Pelletier were no-shows at school both yesterday and today.” He smiled blandly. “Could be at home, nursing summer colds.”

  Kerry sniffed in derision. Neither she nor the chief believed that for a minute. They were both thinking the same thing: Or maybe they’re trying to make their way back to Alex.

  Chief stood up and walked around his desk. He opened his door and stood in the doorway, signaling it was time for her to leave. “We’re checking into it. I’m going to give a shout out to Patrol to keep an eye out for all three of them,” he said, walking her through the hallway to reception and on to the exit. “We’ll also ask at the bus station. Try not to panic. It’s a beautiful day and it’s only been a few hours. There’s a good chance Shay’ll go home after school as usual, believing she got away with cutting.”

  “I appreciate your help. You’ll let me know immediately if you hear anything?”

  “Will do. Likewise for you.”

  * * *

  Gerald Garrett stood in the doorway and watched Kerry O’Hearn stride away. Passionate woman. Solid upbringing. No wonder Walker was so smitten with her. Too bad she had gone over to the dark side. The county could always use another top-notch prosecutor.

  Back in the summer, Gerald had seen with his own eyes how close Alex and Kerry’s daughter were, the day of the boxing exhibit at the Community Pool. And after Alex lost the Pelletier kids, he’d been visibly shaken. He said he needed a little time to clear his head. Claimed he was checking out some resort town in BC and would be turning off his phone for a while.

  Gerald returned to his office, sat down, and tried to call Alex without success.

  Within seconds, the ancient desk phone jangled. He picked it up on the first ring, believing it was Alex calling him back.

  “Have you heard the news?”

  Gerald leaned back in his springy chair. “Now, Seamus, don’t start thinking the worst.”

  “Easy for you to say. It’s not your granddaughter.”

  “Your daughter was just in here. I’ll tell you the same thing I told her, which is the kids probably just cut school and they’ll show up any minute now.”

  “Kids? Who else is missing?”

  “Pelletier kids.”

  “Jesus.”

  Gerald could almost see his friend rubbing a hand down over his face.

  “When Kerry got involved with another cop, I knew it’d be nothing but trouble.”

  “What’s Walker got to do with this?”

  “Are you kidding? I smell him all over this. Everything was fine until he came into the picture. Kerry was back home with her girls. The farmhouse was filled with a family again. And then she gets tangled up with this guy, and he gets it into his head that he can take on two little troublemakers with no experience being a parent, and next thing you know, he’s reneging on moving in with her and loses the kids to boot. And now they’re gone, along with Shay. Don’t tell me he’s got nothing to do with it.”

  Gerald teepee’d his fingertips and considered.

  “Where is he? Where’s Walker? I want a word with him. Now.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean, you don’t know? The man works for you, does he not?”

  “He took some time off.”

  “Well, if that isn’t a strange coincidence. Where’d that son of a bitch go? So help me, Gerry, if you’re going to put Alex Walker ahead of thirty years of friendship—”

  “Hold on,” Gerald said. “Let me think.” What was the name of that town Alex was headed to again—assuming that was really where he had gone? It started with a K.

  “You better think long and hard. That is, unless you don’t mind the mayor, the town council and The Trib getting an earful about you and old Curtis Wallace’s still. I hear you just bought a couple of bushels each of Winesap, McIntosh, and Jonathans from Stillman’s Orchard.”

  These days you could walk down the streets of Newberry openly smoking a joint, but get caught making a batch of giggle juice and you’d be facing felony charges. All because Uncle Sam wanted his share of the taxes. Gerald could see the headline already: POLICE CHIEF FIRED FOR ILLEGAL MOONSHINE STILL. “You wouldn’t.”

  “Wouldn’t I? Try me.”

  “Pretty hypocritical, given how many gallons of that ’shine you’ve bought from me and Curtis over the years.” But then, what if Seamus was right? He thought of all the people—rich and poor, young and old—people of all stripes he’d seen herded through his processing center in cuffs throughout his career. What if Alex had something to do with the kids’ disappearance?

  “I want answers, and I want them now. Put out feelers. Call in old favors. Whatever it takes to get my granddaughter back.”

  “Lemme see what I can find out,” said Gerald.

  * * *

  Crazy, how Google unearthed more information in seconds than you could get from slogging through the traditional channels in days. But then, what could you expect, given the nature of bureaucracy? Gerald’s departments’ radios weren’t even hooked up to the staties,’ let alone the feds.’ Officers across all agencies had learned to swap personal cell phone numbers if they were ever going to get anything done.

  “Sorry, Alex,” he muttered as he punched in the number of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. “They say one is the loneliest number. I just hope you’re smarter than you are lonesome.”

  Chapter Forty-two

  Alex was sitting at his gate, waiting to board his flight back to Portland, when three officials wearing black service caps with gold bands and vests over button-down shirts approached him.

  “Are you Alex Walker?”

  He stood up. “I am.”

  “Turn around and put your hands on top of your head.”

  The clink of metal made his heart start to race.

  “What’s this about?”

  His arms were being twisted backward and he heard the familiar snap of the cuffs closing.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Right now, you’re being detained for questioning in a missing child case.”

  “What the hell? What missing child?”

  He was led away, a cop clutching each of his arms and the third following close behind. All around him, bored passengers lifted their heads from their phones and paperback novels and stared.

  “We’ll talk about it when we get to the substation.”

  They led him to a windowless room barely large enough for a table and three chairs. The acoustic tile walls were pockmarked with dents from angry fists. The only decoration was a clock and a video camera in a corner near the ceiling. Then he saw the large eye screw embedded in the center of the table.

  “Guys,” he said, trying to hide the panic swelling up in him like a balloon, “is all this necessary? I’m one of you. I’m a detective with the Newberry, Oregon, PD. I’m not resisting.”

  “Hang tight,” said the lead officer in clipped tones as he attached Alex’s cuffs to the eye screw. “Be right back.”

  What else could he do? Alex knew from long experience what hang tight meant. They might be back in a minute. Or it might be hours he would have to sit there, unable to scratch an itch or reach anything beyond six inches from the table’s center while they got their ducks in a row in preparation to interrogate him for whatever crime it was they suspected him of committing. How many times had he done the very same thing? Now it was his turn in the hot seat. Sweat poured off his forehead and his heart pounded like a drum. He sucked in deep breaths. Tried squeezing his eyes shut so he couldn’t see the cuffs encircling his
wrists. But no matter what he did, he couldn’t escape the iron bands cutting into his skin with his slightest movement. He was hopelessly trapped.

  He watched the hands crawl around the clock as he racked his brain, trying to figure out what he’d done wrong. Was he being mistaken for someone else?

  The airport intercom announced that his flight was boarding.

  “Aaaagh!” He yanked his wrists against the eye ring with all his might, but it didn’t budge. Every second was an agony, every minute felt like an hour.

  He yanked at his shackles again. He couldn’t breathe. He imagined all the oxygen was slowly being depleted from the cramped room.

  “Passengers on Alaska Air flight 346 to Seattle. This is your final boarding call.”

  Anguish added to his panic. Until this morning he’d lost almost everything. His parents, his old partner, the boys. Ruined what he’d had with Kerry and her kids. But he’d still had his crime-fighting comrades. If there was anyone he could count on, it was them. Now, even they had deserted him.

  Alone again, naturally. Just like the song. Just like Curtis.

  He lay his head down in despair.

  After what seemed like an eternity, the door finally opened and fresh air rushed in. Slowly, Alex lifted his head. The cool air evaporated the sweat beaded on his forehead, and a detective entered.

  Alex rubbed his raw wrists.

  “Where are Tyler and Travis Pelletier?”

  That’s what this was about? Ty and Travis? Alex shook his head. “Last I knew, they were back with their parents, in Newberry, Oregon.”

  “They’ve been reported missing.”

  “Ask my superior, Chief Garrett of the Newberry PD. I have no idea where Tyler and Travis are. They have a long history of running away. Tell the chief to scour a two-mile radius around their house. They’re probably hiding in someone’s shed.”

  “Funny. That’s what he said.”

  “Huh. Then why . . . ?”

  “You lose custody of the boys, then you leave the country around the same time they’re reported missing?” The detective sighed. “How about a thirteen-year-old girl by the name of Shay O’Hearn?”