He shook his head. “Like Mr. Phil,” he said, make loops with his finger.
Dante noted Phil’s short, curly hair, then looked to Jessica, who gave him a smug smile. During their drive to Lamoni, she’d told him she’d try this method to gain a crude description of the kidnappers. With little experience dealing with toddlers, he’d expressed his doubts, thinking the boy too young to notice such things as hair and eye color. Either Elton was the exception to the case, or he’d misjudged the intelligence of kids.
“Not like that,” the boy said, frowning at the way Jessica drew in the hair.
“Is it longer?” She tugged her ponytail free and let her long hair brush past her shoulders. “Like Miss Jessica’s”
“Uh-huh, like Miss Jessica’s. Where her mouth?”
“Oh, we do need to make her mouth. Without a mouth, your mommy can’t give you smiles and kisses. I bet your mommy gives you all kinds of smiles and kisses.”
“Yes. Daddy, too.”
“Your daddy, too? Aren’t you lucky? Well, let’s give your mommy a nose and then we’ll draw a picture of your daddy.” She finished the rough portrait, then set another blank piece of paper in front of her. After she made an oval, she asked, “Are your daddy’s eyes purple?”
Elton shook his head and looked at Dante. “That color,” he said, pointing to Dante’s eyes.
“So your daddy has brown eyes. What about his hair? Is that brown, too?”
“Mmm-hmm. Daddy needs hat.”
“A cowboy hat?”
Elton giggled and scooted off his chair. He went to the corner of the room, shifted through what looked like a box of dress-up clothes, then pulled out a ball cap and placed it on his head. “Ta-da,” he shouted.
Despite the anger and sadness churning in his gut, Dante grinned. The boy was smart and adorable, and had an awesome personality. How could anyone have given him up? How could these people have given him smiles and kisses, then tossed him aside? The evidence was clear. They’d treated the child as if he was their own, ensured that he was healthy, had taken the time to teach him his colors, numbers and ABCs… Had they also loved him? If so, why not keep him or the others? Why spend the time raising these boys for a couple of years only to replace them with another?
“Here. You try,” Elton said, taking the hat from his head and handing it to Dante.
The hat was meant for a little kid, and when Dante did as Elton ordered, it sat on his head like a beanie. Elton laughed. “You look silly.”
“That’s because he is silly,” Jessica said, and added, “He’s stinky, too.”
The boy held his nose. “Pee-eww.”
Dante pretended to sniff. “I don’t know, you’re kind of stinky, too. Or is that Miss Jessica I smell.”
The boy laughed and sat back next to Jessica. “We draw more?”
“Sure.” While Elton did more scribbling, Jessica continued to ask questions the boy could relate to. Ten minutes later, and the boy’s attention span depleted, they’d learned that Elton’s dad drove a pickup truck—based on the different styles Jessica had drawn—and that he had tools and built houses. While he didn’t want to discount the boy’s description of his so-called father, Dante couldn’t put much credit into everything Elton had said. Maybe the man in question had tools, but had used them on the house they’d live in, or he’d used them to build a shed or play house. Still, this was more than they had when they’d first arrived. As for the woman who’d acted as Elton’s mother, from the way the boy had described her, it sounded as if she didn’t work. Except for making his favorite cookies or ‘pasgetti’, Elton hadn’t had much to say about her other than he missed his mommy. They’d also learned the couple didn’t have any animals.
When Jessica had broached the subject of pets, the boy’s eyes had brightened. Although he was adamant that they didn’t have a dog, he’d gone on and on about the black puppy from the park, and how he saw pictures of it on the ‘c’pooter’ at the library. Again, nothing concrete and nothing helpful.
“Thank you for playing with me,” Jessica said to Elton. “Are you ready to go see the surprise Maddy and her mommy made for you, and give Maddy the picture you made for her?”
Elton picked up the paper he’d scribbled on and stood. “I have snack?”
“How about some lunch first,” Phil said, pushing out of the rocking chair.
“I have sandrich? Samami and cheese?”
“Sure, buddy. Miss Carrie can make you a salami and cheese sandwich.”
How Phil deciphered samami to mean salami, Dante didn’t know. Although the boy talked well, there had been a few times during their conversation with him that he could have used a translator.
“I show Miss Carrie mommy and daddy picture, too?” he asked, staring at Jessica’s drawings. “Wait.”
“What is it, buddy?” Phil asked.
“Imples.”
“Imples?” Phil frowned and looked between him and Jessica. “Don’t know what you mean.”
Elton pressed his index fingers on cheeks and gave them all a big, fake smile. “Imples.”
Jessica grinned. “I think he means dimples. Is that what you’re saying, Elton?”
Fingers still pressed on his cheeks, he bobbed his head.
“Who has dimples? Your mommy or daddy?”
“Mommy.”
“Well, I’ll just put them in like this,” she said, making marks on the picture of the blond, curly haired woman. “How’s that?”
He answered her by taking the picture and hugging it to his chest. Then he grabbed the picture of his dad and raced out of the room.
“That was really great,” Phil said. “We know they were living with him in St. Joseph and—”
“We don’t know that for sure,” Dante said. “We only know that the stroller was bought there.”
Phil shrugged. “I suppose you’re right, but it does make sense though. Unless they bought the stroller as they were passing through. Anyway we can get a time stamp on the date the stroller was purchased?”
“We’re working on it.” During the drive to Lamoni, he’d called Rachel and asked her to contact Walmart. Hopefully they’d offer up assistance and wouldn’t force them to obtain a warrant.
“The stuff about the kidnappers…Elton was able to give us quite a bit,” Phil said, and looked to Jessica’s different drawings of trucks. “The boy knows his trucks.”
“And trains,” Jessica added. “He’s obviously obsessed with Thomas. I wish I’d known that. I would have brought him a train.” She cocked her head, the expression on her face thoughtful. “What do you make of the dad building houses?”
“That could mean anything,” Dante responded as he worked the kinks out of his back. “But I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to check with builders in the St. Joseph area.”
“I can do that,” Phil volunteered. “Knowing the man we’re looking for drives a dark grey or silver pickup truck might lead to something.”
“If Elton was right on the color.”
“Oh, come on, Dante. That boy knows his colors. I think it’s a great lead.” She looked to Phil. “I also think you should look into any company that offers a handyman service or does home renovations. A kid Elton’s age wouldn’t understand the difference.”
Phil nodded and walked toward the door. “I can do that, too,” he said, as they followed him down the hall. When they reached the bottom of the steps, which opened near the kitchen, he stopped and rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe it’s just me, but don’t you find it bothersome that these people—from the sound of it—loved Elton?” He looked to Jessica. “When you were talking about smiles and kisses, I saw Elton’s face light up. That boy genuinely loved being around his mom and dad. You could see it in his eyes.”
“I know where you’re going,” she said with a shake of her head. “How could these people have showed Elton love and yet get rid of him?”
“Exactly. But what really bothers me is that you two think this has happened three other
times before Elton. Why? What’s the point?”
“People love babies,” Phil’s wife said. When they all turned and stared at her, she lifted a shoulder. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. Anyway, we have plenty if you’d like to stay for lunch.”
When Carrie disappeared into the kitchen, Dante looked to Phil. “Carrie might be right.”
Jessica let out a deep sigh. “That’s a scary thought. And if it’s true, that these people want to have a perpetual baby in their lives, how many more kids will end up like Elton?”
At that moment both Elton and Maddy let out squeals of laughter.
“Sounds like lunch is a riot a minute. You’re more than welcome to stay or, if you’d like, I can take you to our police station and you two can look at everything we have on Elton. Photos, clothes, stroller…my captain said to keep the doors open for you.”
“We’d really like to be on the road within the next couple of hours. We have a long drive ahead of us,” Jessica said, moving toward the kitchen. “Just let me say goodbye to Carrie and the kids.”
“There’s a Super 8 at the center of town. It’s a decent place if you need to stay overnight. I know the owner and can reserve you a couple of rooms. I’m sure my captain will approve covering the cost.”
She turned and flashed Dante a ‘no way in hell’ look that bordered on revulsion, then said, “That really won’t be necessary, but thanks.” Then she swiveled and headed into the kitchen.
“If you two end up changing your mind,” Phil began, “just let me know. I’m going to tell my wife what I’m up to and will meet you outside.”
As Dante let himself out of the house, he refused to think about Jessica or how she’d acted repulsed by the idea of being stuck out of town with him. Hell, Phil said he’d reserve two rooms for them, which he wouldn’t mind. After already spending six hours in the car with Jessica, he could use a longer break—a solid twelve to fifteen hour break—before having to do it all over again. If they hadn’t been talking about the investigation, they hadn’t talked at all. He’d tried to, but she’d kept shutting him out.
Forcing her from his thoughts, he leaned against the porch railing and shifted his focus to Elton. The kid was a character. Animated, funny and damned smart. He smiled. That thing he did with his fingers when he was trying to describe—
“What are you smiling about?” Jessica asked when she stepped onto Phil’s front porch.
He pushed off the rails and pulled his keys from his pockets. “Dimples.”
Chapter 7
WAYNE FANNED HIMSELF with his ball cap, then flipped his wrist and checked his watch. Dimples had been inside the house for over thirty minutes. He double-checked the time. More like forty.
A cramp seized his calf. He slammed the hat back on his head and tried to flex his foot, but there wasn’t enough room. Cursing, he rubbed the knot and decided he’d had enough of lying in the back seat. Irritated, concerned and melting from the hot sun baking the truck, he sat upright and looked out the window. Because he’d been lying down when Dimples drove the truck up the driveway, he hadn’t had a chance to see exactly where they were. Looking around now, he took in the grove of fruit trees near the front apron of the driveway, the small pond on the other side and then the house. The place wasn’t much, but there was quite a bit of land—something he wouldn’t mind owning himself one day. Yeah, lots of property to grow on, maybe he could build a barn, put in a swimming pool, a nice big deck.
He drew in a deep breath as he pictured Dimples and a little boy swimming in that imaginary pool, and caught the scent of earth and apples hanging on the thick, humid air. Running his tongue along his teeth, he tried to moisten his dry mouth. Dang, he could use something cold to drink. The small cooler Dimples had packed before they’d left their rental and St. Joseph behind was empty and needing to be refilled. Chances were, once they had the baby and were on the road, Dimples wouldn’t let him stop until they’d put plenty of miles between them and the dog breeder’s home. Deciding a piece of gum would have to do for now, he reached into the front seat and opened the glove box. No gum. He checked the compartment under the dash. Empty. Now he’d have to wait on Dimples for a damned piece of gum, too.
Using the hem of his t-shirt, he tilted his cap back and wiped the sweat off his brow. After he reclined in the back seat and rested his arm on the baby’s car seat, the spigot next to the small front stoop snagged his attention. He tried to ignore it, but with his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth and the sweat soaking his clothes, he couldn’t help thinking about quenching his thirst. About how delicious that cool water would taste on his tongue, how it would soothe his parched throat and wash away the dust the hot breeze had been carrying into the truck. As if his body needed to remind him of what it needed, an itch developed in his throat. It tickled and forced a dry cough. He quickly covered his mouth, then decided this was ridiculous. Dimples had had ample time to knock the woman out and grab the baby. The longer they stayed, the greater the chance they’d be caught. Maybe something had gone wrong. Maybe the woman had overpowered Dimples and had already called the police. He could be a sittin’ duck and not even know it.
A damned thirsty sittin’ duck.
Worried, irritated and in need of hydration, he decided enough was enough. He opened the back passenger door. From the moment Dimples had told him about the breeder and the baby, he’d been uncomfortable with her plan. He resented how soon she could go from one child to the next without a care. She had a strange off switch, and once it was hit, she was done. As if the boy they’d loved and cared for hadn’t been a part of their lives for two years. As if she hadn’t held their son, kissed him, dealt with sleepless nights while worrying about the couple of nasty colds Mr. Independent had endured.
God, he missed the boy, but at least he knew he was safe.
Dimples didn’t watch the news—her delicate soul simply couldn’t handle all of the evil in the world and she’d claimed that was basically all one would find during a newscast. Evil doings. No talk of the good God’s children had done, only the bad. He tended to agree, but he’d checked the news channels while Dimples had been in the shower last night, and again this morning when she’d gone out for coffee. One channel had done a short piece on Mr. Independent, showing his cute smile and those big blue eyes…
He let out a sigh and blinked several times to ward off the tears. Like he’d hoped, college kids had found Mr. Independent and now he was safe with the authorities. In time, he’d be back with his real parents, or a nice family would probably adopt him. He’d done right by the boy, better than his Dimples would have.
Did you bring the shovel?
If only she knew. She’d hate him. She’d tell him he was a stupid, sentimental fool. That he was only asking for trouble. He might be sentimental, but he wasn’t stupid or a fool. He also wasn’t a killer.
He swiped at his eyes, then fisted his hands. Dimples had been inside the house for too long. While his woman could chat up a storm with most strangers, she wouldn’t be foolish enough to waste that kind of time now. Something had to have gone wrong. He scrubbed a damp hand down his sweaty face, then eyed the spigot again.
Opening the door, he stepped onto the gravel-dirt driveway. He wouldn’t risk prison for a drink of water from an outdoor faucet, but he also couldn’t stand the thought of being separated from Dimples because she’d put too much risk into having this baby for their own. If the woman had overpowered her and had already called the police, his wife needed rescuing. If he was wrong and Dimples just hadn’t made her move yet, well…he’d worry about that and how Dimples would make him pay for screwing up her plan later.
With long strides, he quickly made it to the front stoop. Using his t-shirt, he opened the screen door, then he tried the door knob. Locked.
Telling himself that made sense, that the dog breeder wouldn’t leave her house unlocked with her and the baby the only occupants, he ran around the side of the garage to the backyard. The land on the back of
the property stretched far and had a large steel barn—nothing like the wooden one he’d build, along with another pond and acres of trees. He looked toward the back of the house and noticed a few wooden steps leading from a door out onto the grass. After giving the yard a final glance, and confident no one was watching him, he ran to the steps. The patio door was a slider, which he particularly liked because it let in a lot of sun, and something he and Dimples hadn’t had since living in Phoenix. When he reached the wooden steps, he edged closer to the glass door and peeked inside. From his angle, he caught sight of a breakfast nook that housed a four piece dining set and hutch, but nothing more.
He leaned against the cream-colored vinyl siding. Maybe he should go to the barn and check that area. If that was where the dogs were kept, could be Dimples and the woman were still there.
But for over forty minutes?
Not a chance.
Knowing he was going against Dimples and her plan, knowing he could mess up the entire situation, the protective husband in him took over. He’d rather deal with her wrath than prison. If the woman had outsmarted and outmaneuvered Dimples, his wife would need his help.
And there was always another baby they could take.
Decision made, his heart racing with worry over the unknown, he held his breath, reached over and nudged the patio door handle with his forearm. When the glass slid an inch, he released the air from his lungs and grew more confident. He moved closer to the door and opened it a few more inches, then a few more, until the door stood open wide enough for him to slip through.
He hovered outside the threshold, held his breath again and listened. He heard a grunt. A woman’s grunt.
Dimples? The dog breeder?
Despite the heat, a chill coated his skin. Fear made his head light, made it difficult to breathe.
At that moment, nothing but his wife mattered. He filled his lungs with air, filled his heart with determination and quietly slipped inside.
Ultimate Fear (Book 2 Ultimate CORE) (CORE Series) Page 14