The second bedroom was hardly bigger, and sported a pink bedspread with a Disney princess on it. Bianca’s daughter would have gotten along well with my brother Dix’s kids. They like Disney princesses, too.
The last door was closed.
“My husband—” Bianca began when Rafe reached for the knob.
He gave her a look over his shoulder, but it didn’t stop his momentum. He turned the knob quietly, though. I felt my heart beat faster. If Carmen was anywhere in the house, this would be where she was.
Although to be honest, I didn’t expect we’d find her. A woman in the middle of giving birth doesn’t tend to be quiet, nor does the baby once it’s born. This house was too quiet to have two escaped convicts in it.
Rafe slipped through the door. The entire second floor was carpeted, just like the basement, so he moved silently. I crept up to the door and peered in. The master bedroom was burgundy, with what might have been the ugliest bedspread I had ever seen, and what looked like a dozen pillows strewn across the floor. I wondered if the kids enjoyed having pillow fights with those?
But no, if Daddy worked nights and slept during the day, they probably weren’t allowed upstairs. That’s why their playroom was in the basement.
Rafe moved silently across the floor to the bed, stepping over and around pillows on the way. He stopped at the edge of the bed and peered down. After a few seconds he straightened, hands on his hips, and turned in a slow circle, surveying the room. There must have been a closet over on the other wall, because he headed in that direction. After a moment, I heard the sound of doors opening. But Carmen must not have been there, because another few seconds later, he came back.
“Thank you,” he told Bianca after closing the door behind him.
She wasn’t about to tell him he was welcome, I guess, because she just nodded.
“Let’s go downstairs and talk,” I said. Carmen wasn’t here, but it was just possible they might think of somewhere else she could be. And if we played up the danger she might be in, giving birth in some hole somewhere without the necessary medications or equipment, maybe they’d share what they knew with us.
Rafe gave me a look. Bianca gave her mother one. Then we all traipsed downstairs and into the dining room, where we took seats around the table.
“Here’s the thing,” I said when we were all seated. Properly, I guess this was Rafe’s deal, but I didn’t think they’d be too willing to help him. Not only was he the law, but he was the man who had arrested Carmen. They might respond better to me. “Your daughter—your sister—is out there somewhere. She’s nine months pregnant, and as far as we know, she’s in labor. We have to find her. Not just because she escaped from prison, but because she needs to be in a hospital, with doctors and equipment and drugs. Her life, and her baby’s life, could be in danger otherwise.”
Mrs. Arroyo said something to Bianca, and Bianca answered.
“We’ve already been to your house,” I told Carmen’s mother, “and we didn’t see her. We’re going to check her old townhouse out by the lake. Someone’s checking the area around where the van was left, in case they just walked off. But after that, we don’t know where else to go.”
We still had Denise Seaver’s house in reserve, and maybe St. Jerome’s Hospital, although I didn’t think she’d go there. But I didn’t want them to know that Carmen had a trained OB/GYN with her. That might make them think there was nothing to worry about.
“Can you think of anywhere Carmen might go? Any friends she has, who might be willing to help her? Other family?”
They looked at one another. Like one, they shook their heads.
I didn’t bother to sigh. It was what I had expected, but I had hoped for better.
We got to our feet.
“If she calls here,” Rafe said, and dug out a business card from his wallet, “call me.”
He put it on the table. They both nodded, but I think we both knew they wouldn’t. If Carmen called, they’d tell her we’d been here, and then they’d find out where she was and go help.
Someone would have to stick around and follow them if they left, I guess.
Rafe caught my eye, and I knew he was thinking the same thing.
We headed for the door. It wasn’t until we were outside and Bianca had her hand on the door, ready to close it, that Rafe broached the subject I’d been waiting for. “Did Carmen tell you who’s the father of her baby?”
Bianca looked at him. For longer than was strictly necessary. Her eyes were flat and black, giving nothing away, and her face was impassive. Just when I wanted to grab her and shake an answer out of her, she shook her head. “No. She never said.”
She closed the door with a thud that sounded very final.
TWELVE
We walked back to the car in silence. Rafe was already digging for his phone, but he didn’t dial until we were both inside the car with the doors closed. The first words out of his mouth told me everything I needed to know about who he was calling.
“I need the boys. Tell’em it’s a surveillance assignment.”
Wendell—for it was him on the other end of the line—must have asked for clarification, because Rafe explained where we were and what we were doing. “Tell them to bring their own rides. One of’em follows Mrs. Arroyo, one of’em follows Bianca’s husband when he leaves, and one of’em stays with Bianca. They can decide who wants to do what, but I wanna know where everybody goes and what they’re doing there.”
Wendell must have approved of the plan, because the next thing Rafe said, was, “I’m gonna go check the townhouse out by the lake where she used to live.”
That must have passed muster with Wendell, because they hung up. Rafe started the car.
“Don’t you think we should wait until the boys get here?” I asked.
He glanced at me. “Not right outside the house. We don’t want’em to think the boys have anything to do with us. We’ll park around the corner.”
“But it’ll take your boys the best part of twenty minutes to get here. And we only have one car right now. If Mrs. Arroyo thinks were gone, and she leaves, we’ll have to follow her. And as soon as we’re out of sight, Bianca might leave too, and we’ll never know it. If we can keep them together and in one place until reinforcements arrive, wouldn’t that be preferable?
Rafe turned the car back off. “Maybe we should just sit here awhile.”
Maybe we should. We had plenty to talk about, after all, and it wasn’t very likely that Carmen was in the townhouse by the lake, if someone else lived there now.
“They aren’t here,” I said.
Rafe shook his head. “No sign of’em. And the mother and Bianca were angry, but not afraid. Not of us.”
“Afraid for Carmen, though.”
He nodded. “Seemed that way.”
“Did you get the impression that they knew where she might be?” He’s a much better liar than I am, and more adept at picking up on other people’s lies, too. And besides, he spoke their language.
He shrugged. “Hard to say. I didn’t get a buzz, but by now, they mighta thought of something.”
They might have.
“Do you think Bianca told the truth about Carmen’s baby daddy?”
“No,” Rafe said. “I think Carmen talked to her. But there ain’t nothing I can do about it. Not like I can beat the truth outta her.”
No. And anyway, it might not be the truth. “I guess it’s too early for the DNA results?”
He nodded. “Tomorrow or Friday.”
“I guess we’ll just sit here and wait, then.”
Which we did, for a few minutes. Rafe was watching the house, and I was staring straight ahead, out the window.
It wasn’t all that long before I couldn’t stand the silence anymore. What came out of my mouth wasn’t particularly a propos to the situation, however.
Or maybe it was.
“Were you in love with her?”
He took his eyes off the house to look at me. Unblinkingly.
After a few seconds, the look became a stare. I squirmed. “I have a right to know, don’t you think?”
He took his eyes off me and went back to looking at the house. “This is about Carmen? You’re asking if I was in love with Carmen when I—maybe—knocked her up?”
I nodded.
“No.”
I waited. When he didn’t say anything else, I said, “You slept with her. You must have felt something for her.”
“It wasn’t love. Mostly I was feeling that if I made a wrong move, she’d tell Hector I wasn’t Jorge Pena, and then I’d be dead.”
That was understandable. “She’s just so pretty. Even nine months pregnant, she was glowing. And I feel fat and blotchy and like I don’t have any ankles.”
His mouth twitched, and he took his attention off the house to focus on me. His hands came up to cup my cheeks. “I’ve wanted you since I was seventeen. Once I got you—even if I wasn’t sure I totally had you—I wasn’t gonna want nobody else.”
That was so sweet. My eyes filled with tears and my lips trembled. “Sorry,” I managed. “Hormones.”
He chuckled. “No problem. And you’re not fat and blotchy with no ankles. Your ankles are fine. And you’re gorgeous. You’re having my baby.”
One hand dropped to my stomach. The other moved around my neck, into my hair. He pulled me toward him as he leaned in. My eyes fluttered closed as his lips descended.
The moment was interrupted by the tooting of a horn and a loud voice. “Get a room!”
I felt Rafe’s lips curve before he pulled away. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a big pickup zoom off down the street. The Virgin Mary was glued to the rear window. José must have flown to get here so fast. And had let us know he had arrived without drawing attention to the fact that we knew each other.
Rafe grinned and put the car in gear. “Let’s get outta here.”
I settled back in the seat and crossed my ankles primly. “Let’s.”
* * *
WE PASSED Clayton’s Camaro and Jamal’s old Buick on the way out of the neighborhood. Since we were out of sight of the Arroyo residence, Rafe slowed down to greet them both. “Wendell tell you what to do?”
They both nodded, heads hanging out of their respective windows. “José’s parking down the street from the house,” Jamal said. He tended to be the spokesperson for the group when they were together. “Clay and I are gonna stay up here. He’s got the husband, I’ve got Mrs. Arroyo. If either of’em leaves the house, José’ll call.”
They both brandished their phones.
“And José’s staying in sight of the house unless Bianca leaves?”
Jamal nodded. “That’s the plan. If somebody shows up, we’ll call you. How long do you want us on the job?”
“Until we find Carmen,” Rafe said. “You stay with’em until I tell you otherwise.”
They both nodded.
“Call me if anything happens.”
“Will do.” They both retracted their heads back into their shells, and drove off. Clayton continued down the street, while Jamal made a U-turn at Bianca’s street and parked just beyond. As we prepared to leave the subdivision, I saw the Camaro appear in the rearview and come to a stop on the other side of the intersection.
“You’ve trained them well,” I told Rafe.
“They’re good kids. And they’ll make good agents.”
He turned the wheel, and we rolled out of sight.
* * *
CARMEN’S TOWNHOUSE on the lake was in a subdivision called—appropriately enough—Lakeview. I could see glimpses of water between the trees in the backyard when we drove in. The house itself was on the end of a row of five, and there was a white SUV parked in the driveway.
Rafe pulled the Volvo to a stop across the driveway, parking the SUV in. “Just in case they’re here and think they’ll make a break for it.”
I nodded.
The SUV’s doors were locked, so he shined his flashlight app through the windows. “No sign of blood.”
I shifted from foot to foot. “Would there be blood?”
He glanced at me. “No idea. I figured there would, but maybe not.”
Maybe not. I didn’t know, either. “If her water breaks, there’s fluid. That can happen before or after labor starts, though.”
“No sign of liquids,” Rafe said, “except for a Starbucks cup in the cup holder.”
“I don’t think that would be it.”
He shook his head and turned the flashlight off. “Let’s go knock on the door.”
There was a doorbell, actually, and a few moments after ringing it, we heard steps inside. Then came the rattling of the locks and security chain. A young woman in a skirt and blouse and bare feet peered out. Her eyes widened at the sight of Rafe, before she noticed me. “Yes? Can I help you?”
Rafe pulled out his badge and introduced himself. “How long have you lived here?”
She glanced from him to me again. “Six months?”
“Do you know the woman who lived here before you?”
She shook her head. “I never met her. The place was for sale and I bought it.”
She sounded sincere. She also didn’t sound like she was harboring two fugitives inside her tidy townhouse.
Rafe pulled up a photo on his phone. “This is what she looks like. If she shows up, would you call 911 and let them know?”
The girl’s eyes—hazel—widened, and the door closed a few inches. “911?”
I smiled reassuringly. “She escaped from prison this afternoon. And she’s pregnant and possibly in labor. We’re trying to find her before she does harm to herself or the baby.”
Strangely, my reassurance didn’t seem to help at all. “Sure,” the young lady said through the now two-inch gap between the door and the door frame. “If I see her, I’ll call it in.”
“Thank you,” I managed, before the door shut entirely. The rattling of locks and chains went on for a while. Maybe her hands were shaking.
I turned to Rafe. “Do you think they’re here?”
He shook his head. “She didn’t seem worried until I mentioned 911. She just don’t wanna get mixed up in anything.”
“So what do we do now?”
“Not sure,” Rafe admitted, as we walked slowly back to the car. “Maybe we shoulda stopped at the Havana on the way past. Maybe they went there.”
Maybe. Although it didn’t seem like a particularly comfortable place to give birth. I’d prefer somewhere with some furniture, if it were me. A bed, or at least a sofa or a fluffy carpet. Although I guess beggars can’t be choosers.
He opened the car door for me and I slid in. No sooner had my butt hit the seat, than my phone rang. I dug it out of my bag while Rafe walked around the car and got behind the wheel. “It’s the sheriff.”
“Answer it.”
I pushed the appropriate button. “Hi, Sheriff.”
“Savannah.” I had put the phone on speaker so we could both hear what he had to say, and his voice sounded a little hollow. “I’m here at the Seaver place. It’s empty.”
That explained the hollow sound.
“No sign that anyone’s been there?”
“Not since you and your brother and sister broke in three days ago,” Sheriff Satterfield said.
I had my mouth open to tell him that Catherine hadn’t been part of the expedition when I remembered that I had two sisters now. And Darcy had definitely been there.
“Can you spare someone to sit there for the rest of the day?” Rafe asked. “Just in case they haven’t gotten there yet?”
“Sorry,” the sheriff told him. “We don’t have the manpower to put someone on guard duty like that. But I can have someone drive by every hour or two for the rest of the day. And night.”
Rafe made a face, but it didn’t affect his voice. “Appreciate it. We’ll keep on looking up here. I’ll let you know if we find’em.”
“I’ll do the same,” the sheriff said, and hung up. I dropped the phone back in my bag
and buckled up.
“I guess they’re not going to Sweetwater.”
Rafe shook his head. His hands clenched into fists, and I reached out and put my hand on his arm. The muscles were hard as granite. “We’ll find them. The baby will be OK.”
He gave me a sideways glance, but didn’t say anything. The look said plenty, though. You can’t know that.
And I couldn’t. But it seemed better to be optimistic than the opposite. I cast about for something to say that might distract him. “When you and Carmen did your thing...”
He arched a brow. “Thing?”
“Horizontal mambo.”
The other brow followed.
“Was it just once?”
“No,” Rafe said.
No. “You obviously knew where the townhouse was, so at least once must have been here.”
He shrugged, but I thought I saw a faint smirk.
I swatted his arm. “I’m not asking because I want to imagine you making love to someone else.” I had imagined that plenty, and my imagination didn’t need any more fodder.
“I didn’t.”
“Didn’t what?”
“Make love to her. It was sex. Nothing more.”
“Fine.” But something inside me unknotted a little. “To continue. Did you ever make... have sex anywhere but here?”
“The nightclub,” Rafe said.
I winced. “I didn’t need to know that.”
“You asked.”
“Anywhere else? Where were you living while you were pretending to be Jorge?”
“Motel,” Rafe said. “Jorge wasn’t local.”
“She wouldn’t have gone there, then. Anywhere else? You didn’t take her to the duplex, did you?”
He shook his head. “Never. And anyway, it isn’t habitable anymore. It blew up this weekend, remember?”
Scared Money (Savannah Martin Mysteries Book 13) Page 13