Then There Were None (Matt Foley/Sara Bradford series Book 2)

by V. B. Tenery

She winced and rubbed her wrist. “I wasn’t playing.”

  “You embarrass me. The risks involved in my profession require me to keep a weapon handy at all times. I missed that one. I wasn’t expecting to bring home guests. It won’t happen again.”

  A sharp rap at the door made Sara turn to the bolted entrance. She froze, panicked. Surely it couldn’t be Garza so quickly. She and Emily needed divine intervention. Now.

  Tom held up his hand and moved to the peephole. After a split second, he opened the door, braced his left hand against the lintel, letting in a shaft of sunlight. “What do you want, Julio?”

  “Garza sent me. He asked me to inspect the merchandise.”

  “I just spoke to Garza. How did he reach you so quickly?”

  “Ever hear of a cell phone, gringo? He knew I was close and asked me to drop in. See what you got.”

  Tom moved aside and let the man enter. He was Hispanic, of average height, with tattoos that ran up one side of his neck, and disappeared into straight back hair that touched his collar. Julio’s gaze roamed around the room and landed on Sara. “This the property?”

  “You’re premature, my friend.” Tom closed the door. “I haven’t sealed the deal with Garza. I have another client coming tomorrow.”

  Sara’s attention never wavered from the greasy-looking man as his inspection darted to Emily. Did Tom have another buyer, or was he stalling?

  “Garza’s not gonna like that.”

  Tom lifted one shoulder and let it drop. “What can I tell you? I’m a businessman.”

  Julio pointed at Sara. “That one’s a little skinny, but she has the face of an angel. The other one will bring a lot of money because of those eyes.” He crooked his finger at Sara. “Come here and turn around.”

  Sara glared at him. “No.”

  The Mexican turned to Tom. “What did she say?”

  A hint of a smile twitched the corners of Tom’s mouth. “I think she said no.”

  The white-slaver pulled a gun from inside his jacket and pointed the barrel at Emily. “Come here or I shoot her.”

  Sara swallowed the orange-size lump in her throat. “Go ahead. Dead bodies won’t be worth much to your boss. Besides, my friend would prefer a quick death to going with you.”

  Julio shot a disbelieving glance at Tom. “You need to teach this one some manners.”

  The words slipped out before Sara could stop them. “Who taught you your social skills, Attila the Hun?”

  The man shook his finger at her, and then holstered the gun. Her heart settled back in her chest.

  “I don’t know anybody named Attila.” Julio reached for the door, inclined his head toward Sara. “My friend, I may buy this one just so I can shoot her.”

  “That thought occurred to me more than once today,” Tom said. “Tell Garza I’ll call him.”

  After letting the man out, Tom turned to Sara. She raised her chin, eyes blazing. “Know this, that whatever you do, Matt Foley will find me. And more importantly, he’ll find you. And I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes when he does.”

  “Who is this Matt Foley? Superman?”

  “No. Super Cop. And there won’t be a hole big enough for you to hide in if you harm either of us. Neither you nor that dirty little man can do anything to us that my God doesn’t allow you to do.”

  Tom grabbed her arm and shoved her toward the back of the house. “Go to your room before you get hurt. In case you haven’t noticed, God doesn’t live on this side of the border.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Twin Falls Police Station

  Twin Falls, Texas

  Starbucks sugar-free hazelnut cappuccino in hand, Lucy Turner made her way to the Detectives Bureau and stumbled over the Aussie carton on the floor before taking a seat at her desk. It must have arrived late yesterday.

  Probably should have gone for her usual too sweet java, but she’d lost fifteen pounds, and she didn’t want to start over. But this morning, she needed the sugar boost. She hadn’t yet fully recovered from jet lag. She took a long drink of the hot beverage and sighed. It tasted good. Even if she didn’t get the sugar high.

  As soon as they nailed down the Grayson case, she would take a week off, maybe take her mom and the kids to San Antonio to visit the River Walk. One of her favorite places.

  Pulling a box cutter from the desk drawer, she sliced the tape just as Davis walked in.

  “Good Morning, Turner. Watcha got?”

  “The box we shipped from Australia.” She folded back the flaps and waved at the cloud of dust that floated up from the carton. “Looks like we shipped back a pound or two of Aussie soil with the other contents.”

  Davis chuckled. “Better you than me.”

  “Yeah, we wouldn’t want you to get your prissy white shirt dirty.”

  “Prissy? Turner, there is not now, nor will there ever be, anything prissy about me.”

  “If you say so,” she mumbled, turning her attention back to the box.

  “Leave it,” Davis said. “We’ve got a lead on the kidnapper. He was registered at The Suites Hotel. I need you to check it out.”

  She set the box back on the floor. “Sure. I can get back to this later.”

  ***

  Matt didn’t even stop at his office when he arrived at the station. He went directly to the crime lab. Davis had called him earlier. They had narrowed the list of suspects to just one. Chance Crawford.

  Davis was perched on a stool when Matt entered. “Tell me about him.”

  “First of all, he’s driving a new Land Rover with WJS as the last letters on the plate,” Davis said.

  “I want to know about the man, not the car.”

  “He’s ex-special forces, Marine Force Recon. Thirty-eight years old. An expert in martial arts. He’s skirted the law, but never done time except for misdemeanors.” Davis pulled a print out from his inside jacket pocket. “Law enforcement in McAllen said kidnapping and murder don’t fit Crawford’s profile. He’s done some mercenary work off and on since he left the military.”

  “Why’d he leave the service?”

  “According to McAllen authorities, he apparently became disillusioned after his team was killed by the Taliban.”

  “What makes him our top pick?”

  “Besides the car, opportunity. He spent four nights in a local hotel and checked out the day the women went missing. Turner is checking out the hotel room now, but I don’t expect she’ll find anything. Also, the description Mr. Stein gave you fits.”

  “Where do we find him?”

  “The Feds are working on that. His last known address was in McAllen. The Bureau is sending a team down there to question his associates. Now, it’s just wait and pray.”

  The information gave Matt one hope to cling to. If Crawford wasn’t a madman, and he didn’t kill for pleasure, Sara might have a chance. With any luck at all, she might outsmart him.

  He stood and pushed the chair under the desk. “Waiting’s not good enough. Get me the name of the agent in charge in McAllen. I’m taking the next flight out. You’re in charge here.”

  He picked up the phone and called his boss. “Doug, I’ll be out of town for a few days. I’m following up on the Bradford/Castleton kidnapping. If you need anything, call Miles Davis. I’m leaving him in charge. You have my number if you need to contact me.”

  “Where exactly are you going?”

  “McAllen. We have a tip the kidnapper might be there or in the vicinity.”

  Back in his office, he picked up his revolver and jacket. Davis stuck his head around the door.

  “Got a minute, Chief?”

  “Just a minute. I’m on my way out. What’s on your mind?”

  Davis leaned against the doorframe. “I think we’ve found your mole. It looks like the new janitor, Curtis Watts, is our man. Turner and I placed a couple of mini-cams in the ceiling of the detective bureau. The camera caught him looking in the murder book.”

  “Not his job, but he could just be curious. Anyt
hing else?”

  “He checked the murder books on each desk two or three times a day. Added to the fact the day we returned from the morgue after you identified Victoria Grayson as the murder victim, Turner and I were discussing the foul up in the break room. Watts was there. What do you want to do about him?”

  “Nothing for the present. Lock up the murder book and anything else confidential. Pass the word to Hunter and Cole to do the same. We might want to plant some bad information for him to see, then wait for a reaction from Hall, but I can’t think about that now.”

  “I’ll take care of it. Chief, I’m sorry about Sara and Emily. Think it’s connected to the Grayson murders?”

  “My gut tells me it is, simply because Emily is involved. Take care of the Grayson investigation. You know what to do.”

  “Go do your thing, Chief. I’ll hold down the fort.”

  Matt had one last thing to do before he boarded the plane.

  Sara Bradford’s Home

  Matt found Sara’s aunt, Maddie Jamison, in the library with her friend, Don Tompkins and Seth Davison. It was deja vu from Sara’s kidnapping last year.

  Maddie rose to meet him. “I’m glad you came by, Matt. I don’t suppose you have any news for us.”

  Matt gave Maddie’s arm a squeeze then shook hands with the two men. “No, I just wanted to check on you and the children. How are they doing?”

  “Fine, so far.” She walked back to her chair by the hearth. “We haven’t said anything to the kids yet, and we’ve been able to keep them away from the television. But unless we hear something soon, we must tell them.”

  Don Tompkins stood by Maddie’s chair and placed his hand on her shoulder. “Anything I can do to help, Matt.”

  “Just keep an eye on Maddie and the kids until I can bring Sara home. We’ve traced the kidnapper as far as the border. The FBI has set up a base there. I’m flying down in about—.”

  The doorbell interrupted him and shortly Beatrice led a couple into the room. The man was of medium height and dressed in business clothes, the woman blonde and petite wearing a classic black pants suit.

  The man cleared his throat. “I’m Adam Elliot and this is my wife, Lindsey. Sorry to barge in like this, but we saw the news about Sara. We wanted to offer our help.” He gave an acknowledging nod to the pastor. “I forgot to mention, I’m Sara’s boss at Global.”

  Maddie walked to the doorway and invited them in. “It’s kind of you to come by. Sara has mentioned you both so often I feel like I know you.” She shook her head. “Unfortunately we haven’t received any further news. We’re waiting for updates.”

  Poppy and Danny skidded into the room and ran to Matt, grabbing him around the legs. Poppy tugged on his pants leg. “Come see our playroom Sara is making for us.”

  He reached down and lifted Poppy into his arms. “I’ll see it later. I have to go back to work, but you can give me the grand tour next time I’m here.”

  The children turned their attention to Lindsey Elliot.

  “Miss Lindsey,” Poppy squealed. “Come let me show you our playroom, but it’s not fixed yet.”

  Danny grabbed one hand, and Poppy took the other. “Come see, its way up high.”

  Lindsey glanced at her husband and he nodded.

  When they had gone, Elliot cleared his throat again. “I know this is a difficult time for you, and we don’t want to impose here. We just thought that perhaps Lindsey and I could invite the children to our home for a while. Our four kids go to school with yours, and we could keep them occupied for a while until—.”

  “I...I don’t know,” Maddie glanced at Seth, then at Matt.

  Seth came and stood beside her. “It might be a good idea, Maddie, provided the children are agreeable. I know Adam and Lindsey. They’ll take good care of them.”

  Matt nodded a silent consent. “The atmosphere around here might make the kids start asking questions. They’ve had a lot of trauma in their lives. I’d like to keep Sara’s disappearance from them as long as possible.”

  Matt thought Sara would approve. It would also give him some measure of comfort to know the kids didn’t have to deal with this situation until it was unavoidable. He could concentrate on what was the most important thing. Finding Sara and Emily and bringing them home.

  A short while later, Danny and Poppy left with the Elliots. Matt said his goodbyes then headed to the airport.

  At Love Field, Matt picked up his hastily thrown together bag when his flight was called. As he reached the boarding gate, a familiar figure stood next to the jetport.

  “You going to a shootout without inviting me?” Joe Wilson asked.

  Relief flooded over Matt. “If you’re waiting for an invitation, consider it given.”

  “Who’s taking care of the Grayson murder case?”

  “As far as my boss is concerned, it’s solved with Jack McKinnon in custody. But Miles Davis is in charge. It’ll be in good hands until I settle this mess. How about you? Can you spare the time to come with me?”

  “I’m on a case. This case. Did you forget the kidnapping took place on my turf?”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Twin Falls Police Station

  Twin Falls, Texas

  As he left the detective bureau, Miles met Lucy Turner in the corridor. She glanced over her shoulder. “Where’s the Chief going?”

  “He’s chasing our lead on the kidnapper. We’ve got the con.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “We’ve got control until he gets back. It’s military jargon. He’ll be away a couple of days.”

  Lucy eyed him warily as they walked back to the squad room. “Good riddance, I say.”

  “Turner, what’s your problem with Matt Foley? The man has treated you more than fair. Me, I’d have fired you the first week.”

  “My problem is that being Chief of Police is a hobby. He doesn’t need to work. He should let some poor shmuck who needs a job step in.”

  “You know what, Turner, your head is a permanent brain freeze. It isn’t a hobby, it’s a calling. I’ve worked for a couple chiefs in other cities and Matt Foley is without question, the best. He offers his help and his ideas but he doesn’t micro-manage me or anyone else. And he backs his people with the brass.”

  She froze at his tone and jerked the desk drawer open, face flushed and angry.

  Lord give him strength. The woman was a work in progress.

  He sat on the corner of her desk so she couldn’t ignore him. “What about me, Turner? You think I should quit and let some other less fortunate soul have my job? Truth is, I don’t need to work. You asked before how I could afford my wardrobe. Just this once I’m going to indulge you.”

  He picked up her stapler and opened it, checking the staples. “Some years back, I went into the security business with a couple of retired detectives. I had some money to invest, and they let me in as a partner. The timing was right and the business took off. I could walk away from this job tomorrow and live well.”

  Her eyes pinched into a scowl.

  Impatient, Davis moved her stapler aside and glared at her. “I’m good at what I do, Turner. So is Matt Foley. And I enjoy the work. How much money I have or don’t have is none of your business nor do I care about your opinion, good or bad. Let me repeat, it’s none of your affair.”

  Davis stood and went back to his desk. Best to get back to business. “Did you find anything in Crawford’s hotel room?”

  ***

  Glad to have the subject changed, Lucy’s shoulders loosened, and she brought her mind back into the case. Would she never learn to keep her mouth shut? “Nothing in the room. The desk clerk identified Crawford’s driver’s license photo as the man who rented the room. She also thought he was a hottie. Her words, not mine. She said a delivery service brought a package for him.”

  “What kind of package? Did she remember the name of the service?” Davis asked.

  “Yeah, it was Speedy, Incorporated. No help there. It was a drop off, and
no one saw or at least remembered who left the package. It was a manila envelope. She said it looked like it might contain photos. What’s our next move?”

  “We’re going to Dallas to try to shoot holes in Jack McKinnon’s story on how he came by the rifle. You can go through the box when we get back.”

  She set the carton on the floor by her desk. “I can’t. Charlie has a soccer game this afternoon, and I work tonight. I need to spend time with the boys, since I’m not independently wealthy like you and Matt.”

  The woman never let up. He gave a disapproving shake of his head and left to get the car before he strangled her.

  ***

  A gray, overcast sky followed them into the city. Davis tapped the steering wheel as traffic crawled into the worst parts of South Dallas. It was after four o’clock before they reached the club where Jack said he’d bought the gun from Vargas aka Trujillo.

  Too early for the night crawlers to be out and Davis found a parking place in front of the building. A triple X video store sat on one side of the Anything Goes Club and a tattoo parlor on the other. Wind swirled trash in the gutter in front of the once-white building, now a dingy brown. The entrance featured a gold-bradded red leather door that had seen better days. Washed-out dull pink spots were now scattered across its surface.

  Davis pushed into the dark, cool interior with Turner behind him and made his way to the bar. The room was rectangular with a bandstand at the back and a small dance floor. Walls were decorated with neon beer signs. It smelled of cigarettes and dirty urinals.

  A lone customer sat on a stool at the end of the counter. In his early to mid-sixties, he wore baggy jeans, a faded red flannel shirt, and a Texas Rangers baseball cap. He and the bartender watched warily as Davis and his partner approached across the sticky cement floor.

  “Hep y’all?” The bartender asked in a slow Cajun drawl. He was a short, rotund man whose brow had receded to the top of his head, dressed in a long sleeved white shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a black bow tie. Probably his idea of adding class to the establishment. It missed the mark.