I remembered. “She wouldn’t have known that, though. Not until she got there.”
“She wouldn’t know where to go,” Rafe said. “I never took her there.”
“Then I don’t know where else to go. Denise Seaver worked at St. Jerome’s, but I don’t think she would have gone there. They all know what happened to her. If she suddenly showed up, I think someone would call the police.”
Rafe nodded. “Maybe one of the boys’ll get lucky.”
Maybe. Although I hadn’t gotten the impression that either Bianca or her mother knew where Carmen was. Then again, a phone call from Carmen could easily change that.
“So what do we do now?”
He leaned back against the seat with a sigh. “Dunno.”
We sat in silence a moment or two.
“No point in going to Sweetwater, I guess?”
“Not unless the sheriff calls.”
“Would you like me to contact Tamara Grimaldi? Maybe she has heard something new.”
That was if she even knew what was going on, of course. She was busy with Devon’s shooting, so no one may have informed her.
“If I wanna talk to Tammy,” Rafe said, “I can call her myself.”
“Grumpy.”
He rolled his head on the seat to look at me. One eyebrow arched.
“Maybe, if we don’t have anywhere else to go right now—if you can’t think of anywhere else where Carmen and Denise Seaver might be—we could call Grimaldi and arrange to drop off the paint scraper?”
He didn’t answer, and I added, “I realize that finding Carmen is more important. But we can’t drive around expecting her to be walking down the sidewalk somewhere. She won’t be.”
He sighed. “Fine. Call Tammy. Maybe you’re right. Maybe she’s heard something.”
I was already dialing. A few seconds later, Tamara Grimaldi was on the line. “Ms.... Savannah.”
“Detective,” I said. “Has anyone told you that Denise Seaver and Carmen Arroyo escaped custody?”
Her voice went directly to extra-grim. “Yes.”
“We’ve been checking out the places we thought they might be. Mrs. Arroyo’s house, Carmen’s sister’s house, the last place she lived. We called Sheriff Satterfield in Sweetwater, and he went by Denise Seaver’s house. We didn’t find them anywhere.”
“We?” Grimaldi said.
“Rafe and I.”
“Your husband’s there?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Put him on.”
I made a face, but handed the phone over. “She wants to talk to you.”
Rafe took it, his face impassive, and put it to his ear. “Yeah.”
Grimaldi quacked.
“No,” Rafe said.
Grimaldi quacked again.
“Who the hell knows?”
Grimaldi quacked some more.
“No idea. You have anything to do with this case?”
They continued to talk. Since I could only hear Rafe’s side of the conversation, it was kind of boring. I gathered that Grimaldi did have something to do with the case, though—she had been involved in both arrests, so it made sense that she’d be kept abreast of things—and there was nothing new.
When it sounded like they were winding down, I said, “Don’t forget to ask her about the paint scraper.”
He did, and listened to the answer. “She’ll meet us for dinner,” he said when they’d disconnected and he was handing the phone back to me. “The FinBar in forty-five minutes.”
Was it that time already?
I looked at the phone, and yes, it was. Or would be by the time we got to the FinBar. At rush hour, it would take us every minute of that forty-five minutes to get back to our own neighborhood.
“No news on Carmen and Denise Seaver?”
He shook his head and turned the key in the ignition.
“Any news on Devon’s murder?”
“I didn’t ask.” He gave me a quick glance. “Sorry.”
“No problem. I know finding Carmen’s more important. And I’ll be able to ask her when we get there.”
Rafe nodded and put the car in gear. We rolled away from Carmen’s townhouse on the lake and headed back toward town.
THIRTEEN
We didn’t speak much on the drive. Nobody called, and there just didn’t seem like there was much to say. I didn’t know how to make him feel better. His mind was fully occupied with Carmen—or more likely with Carmen’s baby, and its chances of survival out there in the wild, in the company of two criminals who had just escaped from prison.
I wanted to help. I really did. I just didn’t know how. I couldn’t think of anywhere else they might have gone. And while the fact that Denise Seaver was an OB/GYN, was in Carmen’s favor, it was pretty well canceled out by the fact that Denise Seaver’s history with pregnant women and children wasn’t precisely encouraging. It was difficult to find anything positive to say.
So we sat in silence while Rafe battled his way back to town, through rush hour traffic and his no doubt dark thoughts. I concentrated on my own, which weren’t any better.
Detective Grimaldi’s unmarked sedan was parked in the lot when we got there, easily identified by the government plates. I got out of the Volvo and opened the door to the back seat.
“Leave it until we’re done,” Rafe said as I reached for the curtain-wrapped bundle lying there. It sounded a little impatient, and when I looked up at him, he added, “The less you handle it, the better. You don’t wanna smudge the prints.”
No, I didn’t. I closed the door again and we headed inside.
Grimaldi had snagged a table in the back of the restaurant, facing the door. That would leave Rafe with his back to the room, and I knew it wouldn’t make him happy. They both liked to sit with their backs to the wall, where no one could sneak up on them. Every time we went somewhere together, it was a battle between the two of them as to who would get the preferred seat.
This time, however, Grimaldi took in Rafe’s expression as we walked toward her, and got up. “You take this side. I’ll sit with your wife.”
Rafe’s eyebrow arched, but he didn’t say anything, just slid into the booth with his back to the wall and did an overview of the room. Meanwhile, Grimaldi waited for me to scoot in first, before she slipped in beside me.
“You look like hell,” she told him bluntly.
He nodded. There was no point in arguing the fact. I mean, he did.
Oh, he’s always good looking. Tall, strong, muscular. Handsome face, great body, power in motion. Several women had turned to look at him as we walked through the restaurant. But for us who knew him, the strain was obvious. The set of his mouth was tight and the look in his eyes grim. He looked like Atlas, forced to carry the heavens on his shoulders.
He probably felt that way, too.
“Any news?” I asked, as the waitress approached the table. “I’ll have sweet tea, please.”
“Same,” Rafe said.
Both Grimaldi and I blinked. Usually he has a beer with his burger. I guess maybe he thought he couldn’t risk that today.
Grimaldi already had her drink, and the waitress took herself off, telling us she’d be right back to take our orders.
“On the escape?” Grimaldi said when she was out of hearing. “Nothing I’ve heard.”
“What about Devon’s murder? Did you talk to Brittany again after I left?”
“For a minute. She has no idea why her boyfriend would have been at your office last night. She didn’t send him there. She also doesn’t know why he would have been at Magnolia Houston’s house in Goodlettsville. She says it’s possible they may know each other, since they’re both involved in the music business, but that Devon never mentioned Magnolia to her. She doesn’t own a gun, and he didn’t either. She didn’t leave her apartment after she came home last night, and she says she can prove it. There’s an alarm system tied to the front door, and if the front door was opened, it would be on the log. She even called the security company and requested the log so I could lo
ok.”
“And did you?”
“They’re sending it to me. But if she says it’ll prove she didn’t go out, I’m sure it’ll do just that. No need to mention it to me otherwise.”
“So Brittany couldn’t have shot him.”
“That’s the way it looks,” Grimaldi nodded.
We sat in silence a moment. The waitress made her way back with the two glasses of iced tea. She put them down and pulled out her notepad. “Are you ready to order?”
We were. Rafe had his usual burger and fries. So did Grimaldi. I opted for a salad, since I was still a bit burgered out from all the red meat yesterday. The waitress left again.
“So if he wasn’t at the office to pick something up for Brittany, and she doesn’t know why he was there, what was he doing?”
Grimaldi shook her head. “It seems only he would be able to answer that. And maybe you.”
“We?” I glanced at Rafe. He wasn’t looking at me, just kept staring at the spoon he was turning between his fingers. “We have no idea.”
“Well, where was he when you saw him? What was he doing?” She looked from me to Rafe. Rafe had seen him first, so I gestured to him. It took a second for him to answer.
“Scrambling through the lobby on his way to the door.”
“Could you tell where he’d come from?”
Rafe shook his head.
“Brittany’s desk is there,” I said, “with the petty cash box and the check book and everything else. But Rafe looked at the desk after Devon left, and as far as we could tell, it was all there.”
Rafe nodded.
“Is your office still on the other side of the lobby?” Grimaldi asked. “Any chance he’d been in there?”
“I checked it,” I said. “I didn’t notice anything out of place. But he didn’t have much time to look around. I think he was alone for less than a minute before Rafe went after him.”
Grimaldi nodded.
“What makes you think he’d be interested in my desk?”
“You said you saw his car in Goodlettsville yesterday. Or at least a car that looked like his.”
I had.
“And he saw you, and ran away from you.”
He had.
“Do you think he recognized you?”
“He might have.” I hadn’t recognized him—if indeed it had been Devon—but that didn’t mean anything. He could still have recognized me. And might have decided to take a look at my desk, just in case there was something there to tell him what, if anything, I knew.
“I don’t suppose there’s any way to know for sure?” I asked.
“I can fingerprint your office tomorrow morning,” Grimaldi said. “Unless he was wearing gloves, he would have left prints.”
“I didn’t see any gloves.” I glanced at Rafe, who shook his head.
“Then I’ll put that on the schedule. Has anyone used your office since last night?”
“I went in there this morning, just for a few seconds. Then Tim showed up and told me Brittany wouldn’t be in, so I had to sit at the front desk until lunch. And then I left to meet you. So no, nobody should have been in there.” Unless someone else had taken it upon themselves to search my office. If so, Grimaldi would find their fingerprints, too.
She nodded. “Meet me there at nine tomorrow.”
I said I would. By then, hopefully Carmen and Denise Seaver would be back in DOC custody, and Rafe and I wouldn’t be driving all over creation looking for them.
His phone chirped, and he pulled it out of his pocket to look at the message. “Bianca’s husband’s on the move.”
“Probably heading in to work,” I said. “Bianca said he worked nights.”
Rafe nodded, without looking at me. “Clayton will let us know if he doesn’t.”
“Of course.”
We lapsed back into silence.
All in all it was a weird meal. Grimaldi and I tried to keep things going, but Rafe had very little to contribute. And while he’s never really the life of the party, the fact that he wasn’t even following the conversation was unusual.
Of course I knew why. But that didn’t make it any easier to deal with. In fact, it made me worry a bit. I could usually count on him to give me his full, undivided attention when we were together. Before, even when he’d been in the midst of work-related stress and issues preying on his mind, I’d never felt like an afterthought. And again, while I understood why, it was still a strange feeling.
It also made me wonder again what would happen if Carmen’s baby turned out to be Rafe’s baby, and he expected me to take it in and raise it with my own. I had considered what might happen from my perspective. The fear that I wouldn’t be able to love it as much as the child I’d carried and given birth to, and the fear that I’d favor one over the other; either my own, or Carmen’s, out of guilt.
I hadn’t considered how Rafe would feel. They would both be his children, along with David. I’d never worried that he’d love David more—or less—than a child I gave him, although David might well worry about it. Then again, Rafe was just an exciting sort of uncle/big brother/recently discovered dad distraction to David. His real mother and father were Ginny and Sam. Neither of them had brought him into the world, but until a year ago, they’d been the only parents he’d known. He’d be sad if Rafe disappeared—he’d worried enough about him to run away from camp and get himself in trouble when Rafe was abducted over the summer—but I didn’t think it could compare to how he’d feel if something happened to Sam.
The thoughts were all pretty unpleasant. Thankfully, my phone rang and tore me out of my reverie halfway through the meal. I fished it out of my bag. They were both looking at me: two pairs of dark brown eyes surrounded by black lashes.
“It’s Dix,” I said, after checking the display. Rafe went back to eating, no longer interested, while Grimaldi’s face stayed impassive. “Do you mind?”
She shook her head. I answered the phone. “Dix.”
“Savannah. I’m just calling to update you. Mother is mostly sober, but still angry.”
“I figured,” I said. “I spoke to the sheriff earlier this afternoon. He said she hadn’t tried to contact him, or as far as he knew, Audrey.”
“What did you call the sheriff for?”
Ungrammatical, but fair. “Denise Seaver escaped from prison,” I said. “We thought she might be on her way down there, so Rafe had me call the sheriff to put him on alert.”
“Why is Collier involved? He had nothing to do with Denise Seaver’s case.”
Other than the fact that Rafe’s son was one of the babies Denise Seaver had sold to a waiting couple, Dix was right. Rafe had only been involved in the adoption case—which also included Dix’s wife Sheila’s murder—because of me.
“Another woman also escaped,” I said. “Her name is Carmen Arroyo, and she’s someone who was part of Rafe’s case back in December.”
If we had been alone—or rather, if I had been alone with Dix on the other end of the phone—I might have given him the rest of the details. As it was, I didn’t. “The sheriff said he’d drive past her place a few more times tonight. But if you happen to see her—or a very pretty Hispanic woman with a very large stomach—let him know.”
There was a second’s pause. “Very large stomach?”
“She’s pregnant. Almost nine months. They were on their way to the hospital when the van either broke down or they figured out a way to get the guard to stop it.” My money was on option two, but I was sure the police would check both scenarios. “They stabbed him and ran.” Or in Carmen’s case, waddled. “Now they’re out there somewhere, either on foot or in another car.”
“Collier can’t be happy about that.”
I glanced at him across the table. “He isn’t.”
Rafe arched a brow but didn’t speak.
“Tamara Grimaldi is sitting next to me,” I added. “Would you like to say hi?”
Grimaldi gave me a look. “Sure,” Dix said, sounding happy.
I handed over the phone and picked up my fork, hoping for something good.
I didn’t get it.
“Yes,” Grimaldi said. She didn’t sound happy. She didn’t sound anything. Except maybe a little annoyed. With me, I figured. “Yes. Having dinner. Yes. Fine. OK.”
She handed the phone back. “Don’t do that again.”
“Do what?” I dropped it in my purse.
“If I want to talk to your brother, I’ll call him myself.”
Uh-oh. “Trouble in paradise?”
Grimaldi gave me another look. “Your brother and I are friends. Nothing more. Now stop it.”
Fine. I pouted and went back to eating.
Nothing exciting happened during the rest of the meal. Rafe’s phone dinged, with the message from Clayton that Mr. Bianca had arrived safely at work, at the Mountain Dew manufacturing plant on Murfreesboro Road. In case you aren’t aware, Mountain Dew originated in Tennessee: the original recipe was created by beverage bottlers Moses and Ally Hartman in 1940. The Tip Corporation bought the rights in 1958, and Pepsi-Cola acquired them from Tip in 1964. We still make Mountain Dew right here in town.
At any rate, Carmen’s brother-in-law went inside the plant, and Clayton wanted to know whether he should stay in the parking lot and wait, or go back to the house in Antioch.
“It might not be a bad idea to send him back there,” I said, without being asked. “What if Bianca and her mother both leave the house, and Jamal and José follow them? Then the house will be empty, with no one keeping watch.”
Grimaldi nodded. “Ms. Arroyo and Doctor Seaver might show up as soon as the house is empty. Chances are that Mr.... um... Bianca’s husband is at work and will stay there. He’s no kin to Ms. Arroyo. If he’s law abiding, he’ll want her away from his children. If anyone’s likely to help her, it’ll be either her sister or her mother.”
“I agree with that,” I said. “It was the mother and sister who were there on Sunday, visiting. Not the brother-in-law.”
Rafe looked from me to Grimaldi and back. After a second, he nodded.
We finished the meal mostly in silence. Grimaldi was irritated with me because I’d forced her to talk to Dix—what was going on there?—while Rafe just couldn’t seem to keep his mind on anything that was going on. It was easier just to be quiet and eat.
Scared Money (Savannah Martin Mysteries Book 13) Page 14