At the top of the board was a newspaper headline that read 'Man drives family into river.' Kathryn's lips bent into a sad smile. "Even though they were spreading the word about his son, I think the media was out to get Mathew from the start."
Ryan stepped away from the board. He pulled out a penlight. The thin radiance sliced through dark recesses, revealing storage boxes and stacks of old magazines. After kneeling behind a dusty tub filled with Christmas ornaments, he jerked up with disgust. "Found what's making that awful smell."
Kathryn cocked an eyebrow at him. "Dead raccoon?”
“Rats.” He wrinkled his nose. "There's several traps and a few strips back here.”
“He told me that a raccoon was trapped up here at some point. The rats must have followed the scent. Either that, or they just felt right at home in Wade’s filth.”
Kathryn continued to follow the threads. Some seemed to connect without rhyme or reason, while others targeted sequences of events, such as the arrest of Rainer. An unnerving amount of missing child articles littered the board and pointed to Rainer's operation, but some didn't at all. A teenager with long hair and a John Lennon T-shirt had a thread to Harris bus station, or what the local kids called The Runaway Train. There was a brown haired girl with big round eyes underneath a headline that read 'one of three missing kids after mysterious house fire.'
"He's been at this for a long time," she said thoughtfully. Another photograph at the bottom corner of the board caught her eye. Immediately, her heart began to pound. "We need to go, right now!"
It was a picture of Martin Green.
Chapter Fifteen
The house was a two story stucco with bay windows in the front. A wrought iron fence surrounded the perimeter with tangled vines crawling up the bars. There was a brick walkway stretching from the front porch to the paved driveway where a 1967 Mustang convertible was parked.
Detective Lincoln slid through the half open gate and started up the drive. Behind her, Ryan seemed to be having trouble keeping up.
"Are we off to the races or what?"
Kathryn made her way along the brick path and up the steps. "Go around back," she whispered. "If you see anything out of sorts, be ready to call it in."
"You got it." Ryan vanished around the hedges, but not without flashing her a look of apprehension.
Kathryn peered at an adjacent window. The curtains were pulled. She strained to listen through the front door and thought she heard shuffling coming from the other side.
"I got this," she whispered. "Breathe in, breathe out."
The door swung open on the second knock.
Martin Green stood trembling before her. Beads of sweat dappled his brow and his eyes were wide with fright. A dark shadow detached itself from the entryway behind the coach. Stepping into the light, Mathew blinked at her through the open door.
He gripped a butcher knife inches from Green's neck.
"Mathew, this isn't what you want." Kathryn fingered the nine millimeter holstered at her side. "In the history of bad ideas, this one will go down in the books."
"What I want," Mathew seethed. "Is for this piece of shit to tell me what happened to my son!"
Green tried to shift himself away from the blade, but Mathew moved in closer. "I already told you. I never knew your boy." The words fell from his lips in a quaver.
"You're lying!" Mathew's voice boomed in the small entryway. He grabbed a fistful of the gym teacher's shirt and shoved him against the doorframe. "Who are you covering for?"
"Nobody," Green stammered.
Kathryn snapped her weapon free and aimed it at Mathew. "Put the knife down."
"What are..." Mathew let go of Green's shirt. "You promised to help me."
"I'm not going to tell you again. Drop the knife."
Tears spilled down Mathew's cheeks. "You're just like all the others. Nobody was willing to help back then, either. Nobody gives two shits about what happened!"
"That's not true." She took a step forward.
He took a step back. "It is the truth!"
"What happened that night on the bridge wasn't your fault."
A flash of surprise crossed his face. "You know about the accident?"
"Yeah. I know."
"Then you know that everyone gave up on him. The police, the reporters... they turned against me." He looked at her and sobbed. "They all turned against me."
A cold wind worked its way inside her jacket from the porch. A few drops of freezing rain spit between them. She knew that Mathew wouldn't have stopped looking for his son. There's nothing more powerful than a parents love for their children, and although she didn't have kids, the pain in his voice resonated with her.
"I'm not against you." Kathryn slid the gun back in its holster. “Just drop the knife.”
Mathew glanced down at the blade. The gentle rain transformed into snow. "My son..."
"Your son is dead."
The knife fell from his grip and clattered loudly onto the floor. He dropped to his knees, body shaking, and released an anguished wail that cut right through her.
Kathryn knelt next to him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He bawled into her chest, hands clutching at her jacket.
Detective Ryan emerged from the shadowed interior. He silently mouthed the words 'cuff him' and she responded with a quick shake of her head.
Not yet.
Chapter Sixteen
"Why am I not surprised?" Captain Chivler marched across the lawn, closing the space between them in a half jog. "Aren't you supposed to be on vacation?"
Kathryn stepped away from Ryan and Green on the front steps. When she saw the captain, she found herself struggling to maintain composure, especially since several news vans had just pulled up along the curb.
"I wasn't finished with a case." She put her hands on her hips. "And for gods sake, stop yelling!"
The wind picked up bursts of snow that was already accumulating on the grass just as an ambulance carrying Mathew Wade backed out of the drive. She wanted him to be okay. She hoped he would be able to move forward at last. Her heart went with him, but the appearance of Chivler shifted her focus away from the man who would never be reunited with his son.
The captain straightened his coat and thrust a gloved finger in her face. "Fine. You don't want to be on vacation, that's fine with me. Xray samples came back on the bones they found out there in the woods. It relates to a case that went cold a year and a half ago. The girl's name was Tracie Cutler, one of three siblings that vanished after a house fire. Her legal guardian released the dental records to confirm. So you want something to do? You want to work yourself to death? Stop working off the clock, and start working this homicide with Ryan. You are a homicide detective, aren't you?"
Kathryn's shoulders drooped. "So, vacation time is over?”
"Am I speaking another language?" The captain’s face reddened. "Give your report to Ryan, then get your ass in gear." A reporter from channel two news made his way toward them with a cameraman trailing closely behind. In an instant, the captain transformed his expression into one that exuded confidence and determination. "We'll be holding a press conference very soon. You'll be able to ask all your questions then. In the meantime, I would like to ask that everyone stay behind the line. Thank you."
The reporter glanced at the yellow caution tape stretching the perimeter and ignored the captain's request. "Is this in anyway related to Larry Rainer or the trafficking ring he was a part of?"
Kathryn turned back to Ryan who was finishing up with Green’s statement. "You're my ride. I'm ready when you are."
"We going to the office or am I dropping you off at your place?"
Kathryn turned her gaze down the road where the ambulance cautiously made it's way through the snow. The streetlights made halos in the haze, and for a moment she thought about following Mathew to the hospital. A part of her didn't want the man to be on his own, but she also understood that some roads have to be travelled alone.
"Y
oo-hoo.” Ryan snapped his fingers. "Earth to Kat."
She took a deep breath of the frigid air before turning back to him. "My place. I think it's a good time to call it a night. Besides, the paperwork will still be there in the morning, right?"
Chapter Seventeen
"The teacher decided not to press charges. He seemed to realize the pain and grieving Mathew was locked in for so long. He really felt sorry for the guy." Kathryn Lincoln plopped down on the couch and put her bare feet up on the glass coffee table. "There's still the matter of filing a false report, misleading investigators, stuff like that. The arraignment is next week, and I really hope the judge goes easy on him."
"Grief is a powerful thing," Selena said through the phone receiver. "It can make people do crazy shit, but one thing is for sure: it impacts everyone differently."
Kathryn wiggled her toes and considered painting them. "It definitely hit him hard. I think the main thing was guilt. Guilt and disbelief. Mathew was so sure that Rainer had something to do with his kid’s disappearance."
"Heard Rainer had a heart attack not too long ago."
"Yeah. Right around the time of his arrest, after we got back to Montana. I actually paid the 'man of god' a little visit."
Selena's voice lifted in surprise. "Seriously? I'm sure the captain loved that."
"Chivler doesn't know." Kathryn went into the bathroom, grabbed a small bag of nail polish, and returned to the couch. "Anyway, Rainer tried some scare tactic. Can you believe he actually used the line 'you don't know who you're dealing with?”
"Still riding high on that horse, isn't he?"
Kathryn carefully began brushing a layer of deep red on her toe nails. "I really was hoping he would cough up some solid information about Vanessa Finch. All he said was that she was sold, and that she was just another name on a page."
"What do you believe?"
The smell of the polish made her wrinkle her nose. "I don't know if she was sold or not, but I think she was more than just a name on a page. At least to Larry Rainer."
"You're suggesting he knew her more intimately?"
"Maybe." She dabbed a napkin on her pinky in order to soak up a mistake. "You know what bothers me about Finch?"
"No, but I'm sure you're about to tell me."
Kathryn furrowed her brow. "Look how big the Rainer case is. It's garnered widespread media attention. People from all over are calling in to discover if we have any information about their missing kids. What's weird is that nobody has come forward about Vanessa Finch. Not one person out there is looking for her? That just doesn't sit right for me."
There was a pause on the other line before Selena spoke again. "Maybe Ethan knows something he isn't telling us?"
"Well, the coach told me those two were pen pals. We knew that much, though we never were able to recover those letters. Even if we did, it still doesn't put a face to the name. I'm telling you, this girl is a ghost."
"Trust me, if you focus on all the little details that don't add up, you're the one that'll go crazy. You're on a new case anyway, right? I read about the bones found in the woods."
A knock at the door startled Kathryn. One of the cotton balls separating her toes fell onto the floor as she stood from the couch.
"Everything alright, Kat?"
"Yeah." She waddled over to the front door on her heels. "Someone's at the door."
"Well, I'll go ahead and get off here. Thanks for keeping me up to date on our old case."
"Don't mention it. And you better call me back. I want to hear all about what it's like working with that hunky partner of yours."
"Yeah right."
Kathryn pressed the end button and stuffed the phone into a pocket. The person on the other side of the door knocked again, louder. She peered into the peep hole, and a smile broadened her face. Without hesitation, she flung the door open.
"Hey.” Detective Ryan's voice sounded a little uncertain. He was carrying a bucket of fried chicken, and the scent made her mouth water. "Nashville hot, right?"
Kathryn shook her head in surprise. "You know the way to my heart."
Part III
“Honey,
Why’re you crying’?
Honey,
While the world is dying?
Honey,
Don’t make a scene
Don’t get trampled by the ones
Spraying gasoline.”
-Vanessa Finch
Chapter One
Mouse hefted the backpack over her shoulders and sprang out into the streets. Immediately, cold air snapped against her. The soles of her boots were worn, and she winced as freezing wetness seeped in when she darted through a puddle.
The kid at the abandoned building loaded her up with red tops. The excitement of the new shipment put an extra spring in her step, no matter how wet her socks were. It meant she might actually be able to find a decent meal for once.
Her brother, Joel, disapproved of drugs. He preferred money to come by honest means, but she was a bit fuzzy on what that meant. When you're cold and hungry, the important thing was to look out for yourself. She knew about Maslow's hierarchy of needs. Just because she was only fifteen years old didn't mean she was stupid.
The bakery next to a shady looking pawn shop would be opening soon. Already, the smell of freshly baked bread permeated the air. Drawn to the sweet scent, Mouse hurried along. The thought of scrumptious, flakey treats made her mouth water.
When the sun finally made an appearance over the city, it burst with a vibrant yellow glow. She ducked through a housing project, underneath zig zagging clothes lines with dangling white delicates, following the scrumptious smells of a hopeful breakfast. The streetlights in a back lot switched off with the emergence of a new day, and she quietly scampered up the concrete steps behind the bakery filled with an animalistic hunger. She gave three meager taps at the back door and waited.
In the back of her mind, Mouse wondered if her brother was alright. The rising sun slanting through the warehouse windows would have awakened him by now. She imagined him stretching beneath the blankets and blinking away a heavy sleep only to find that she was gone. He was protective, always had been, but it was unusual for Mouse to stay put for too long. She had acquired the name by reputation, and was glad of it.
The door flung open with a loud creak, revealing a heavy set man in an apron covered with flour. He was bald, with thick tufts for eyebrows that rose when his weary looking eyes fell upon her. "Good morning, Mouse. I'm afraid the night shift didn't leave much for waste. But..." He gave her a wink. "There's something I'm afraid I couldn't allow going into the trash.”
Mouse looked up at him with big green eyes. "You mean it?"
The man nodded. "There's an entire birthday cake left over from an order. They never picked it up, for some reason."
"That's kind of sad if you think about it." Mouse bit the corner of her lip. "I hope nothing bad happened."
"Oh, no." The man shrugged. "It happens more than you'd think. Maybe the buyer decided to go with another baker. Who knows?"
Mouse grinned at the man. "I can't imagine a better baker in the whole world than you, Jeffery. So, it's their loss."
Jeffery shook with laughter. "And your gain, I guess. Now, wait right here."
The door closed and Mouse paced back and forth. The weight of the backpack made her shoulders ache, but her brother always said what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. She imagined in the future she'd have to carry a lot more than a few blankets, Ziploc bags of toiletries, drugs, and of course the books she managed to check out from the local library. Although she would never be able to step foot in a public school, Mouse was determined to learn all she could about the world outside the one she lived in.
The door swung open again, this time revealing Jeffery holding a plastic container with a round chocolate cake inside. Mouse stood on her tip toes and clapped. "Oh my gosh, is that double chocolate?"
"With strawberry filling.” Jeffery bent down and handed
the container to her. "I hope you like it."
Mouse looked up at him with tears of joy threatening to spill down her cheeks. "Are you kidding? I LOVE it. Thank you so much. Really, thank you."
Jeffery grinned and tussled her wavy brown hair. "It's my pleasure, kiddo."
Chapter Two
Kathryn Lincoln pulled her Maxima into the gravel driveway. Tiny flecks of snow glided lazily through the brisk morning breeze, and she sat in the car for a moment longer, relishing the blast of heat from the vents. She wore a heavy coat with a wool hood, but she knew it wouldn't protect her from the sting of winter's breath.
The driveway wrapped around the back of the house, a single story flat with dirty vinyl and chipped shudders. There was a fresh blanket of snow spread across the lawn, but not enough to hide the litter from the street. An empty Coors box lay half crushed and half frozen next to the mailbox. She couldn't help but wonder if the trash was thrown from a passing car, or if it belonged to the resident she intended to meet.
Sucking in a lungful of hot air, Kathryn turned off the engine and made her way up to the front porch. Her boots crunched in the snow, making the trip more effort than she wanted to give. Still, there was a job to be done, and she didn't want to have Mr. Cutler drive all the way to the station. She wanted the man to be comfortable, in his own home, while she probed for answers.
Someone knew what happened to Tracie, why her bones were buried in a box, and this was the best place to start looking.
The door opened and a tired looking bald man wearing a stained wife beater stepped outside. He grimaced when he saw the detective, and ignored her greeting while fishing out a cigarette. "I don't reckon I want to talk to anyone right now."
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