by Tatum, Clare
Someone else’s little girl missing? How horrible. Your own little sister or daughter taken? A reason to find someone and kill them in order to make sure they didn’t hurt your little girl.
Please God, let both Julie and Tiana come out of this unharmed.
Brice got on his cell phone, asking about where the mayor was—at her home or city hall. He put the car into drive and took off. They’d rolled half a block when he hung up and said, “The mayor’s at her house.”
“Then, turn left here,” Lainey spit out. “There’s a quicker way than going down Euclid.”
Brice turned left but gave her a funny look. “You know where the mayor lives? Been there for an official function?”
She didn’t say. “Turn right, up there.” All she could think about was getting there and finding out about Julie.
She had tunnel vision and tunnel thought, everything centered on making the trip as quickly as possible.
Brice drove like a cop, accelerating quickly, making tight turns that wasted no motion, and braking very little.
His face was grim, his jaw tight and his hands firm on the wheel. They came up onto a long line of cars stopped behind one car trying to make an illegal left turn. Brice turned on his blue lights, hit his siren, then drove into the oncoming lane in order to bypass the cars.
The driver who’d been trying to make the illegal left turn glanced over his shoulder, his eyes wide, as if he thought he would be ticketed. But, Brice just went around him too, accelerating quickly once he’d returned to his own side of the road.
Finally, they made the last turn onto the mayor’s street. Every form of cop car possible lined the road. Flanking the outer perimeter of the clogged street were news trucks, looking like some strange modern birds, their masts waving in the air, almost pulsating with the vibrant images they sent back to the station of cops running, intent, serious.
Quick movements, sharp angles of action. No one moved in slow motion today.
Brice flashed a badge and they swept into the inner spiral of motion.
Lainey walked straight toward the mayor’s front door where a uniformed cop stood.
Lainey flashed her I.D. and the cop stepped aside.
The front door was ajar and Lainey stuck her head in, and immediately saw the mayor.
The small African American woman with the salt and pepper hair, usually so bold and cheerful, looked so small. She slumped in a chair, as if her spine had been broken.
The strong and confident mayor looked like just another victim’s mother. She stared down at the floor, blankly, as if anticipating the worst news.
“Helen,” Lainey said softly, approaching her.
The mayor looked up slowly, as if the words took a while to reach her. Then, her mocha colored eyes lit up with a spark of hope.
“Lainey,” she said weakly, standing and reaching for her.
Lainey stepped forward, wrapping her arms around Tiana’s mother. “They’re going to be okay. Everything’s going to work out.” She hugged the mayor tightly then pulled back to look her in the eye.
Helen’s mouth quivered. She didn’t speak, pressing her lips firmly together, struggling for control. She was the mayor and had stood up to immense pressure on the job.
But this was different. This was personal.
All bets went out the window when it was one of your own in danger.
Brice walked away and spoke to another detective. After a second, he came back toward Lainey and the mayor.
Lainey turned toward him, still with one arm wrapped around Helen’s shoulders. Brice waited until the mayor looked at him before nodding. “Ma’am.”
She met his eyes, attempting a smile. But it failed badly.
An overwhelming wave of sadness and desperation flowed off her, washed through Lainey and lapped against the edges of Lainey’s own self control. Lainey kept her arm around the mayor’s shoulders, although her own body vibrated with the fear of what if.
The mayor glanced at Lainey with a weak smile. “We’re both shaking so hard, I don’t know where your tremors leave off and mine begin.”
Tears strained to erupt from Lainey’s eyes. She leaned her head sideways against the mayor’s, tightening her grip on her shoulders. “We’re going to get them both back.”
Helen nodded. “At least, they’re together. Julie is so strong, I know she will prop up Tiana.”
Who would prop up Julie? She might be feisty but she was still a little girl.
“When did you last see Tiana?” Brice asked without any emotion, as if sensing that was the best way to bring Helen and Lainey back from the brink.
Strength returned to the mayor’s face and she straightened, pulling away from Lainey, clasping her hands together. “This morning when our driver picked her up, same as usual, same as he does every school morning.”
“Same as usual? You saw him?”
Doubt wrinkled around Helen’s eyes. “I didn’t actually see him. Was just expecting him, saw the car and saw him wave through the tinted window.”
“But, you didn’t actually see him?”
Collapse crept back into her expression, along with the self doubt and recriminations that often overwhelmed victims, leading them to blame themselves.
“Helen,” Lainey spoke emphatically so that the mayor looked at her. “Let’s not go there. No one thinks this is your fault. We’re just trying to figure things out.”
The mayor tightened her lips and nodded. “I didn’t actually see the driver’s face, just his hand waving and I sent Tiana out.”
Brice nodded. “And just the one phone call since?”
Her face tightened and she glanced away.
“Helen? What?”
The mayor met Lainey’s gaze. “He called twice.”
Brice’s eyes narrowed, as he focused on her face. “Yes?”
The mayor glanced away before looking back directly into Lainey’s eyes. “He said not to tell.”
Lainey reached for her upper arms, holding her reassuringly, willing her strength into the mayor. “What did he say?”
“He said,” she took in a deep gulping breath. “He said to stop the police furloughs.”
Shock rolled through Lainey. “Like a political statement or something.”
She’d never heard of such a thing on a local level. International kidnappings, yeah, but never a homegrown kidnapping with such a political demand.
She looked at Brice, but his eyes gave nothing away, a man practiced at hiding his thoughts.
Just then, Brice’s cell phone rang. He answered it, turning away so Lainey couldn’t quite hear his conversation. After a moment, he hung up. “Let’s go,” he said to Lainey. He nodded his head to the mayor. “This detective will stay with you in case you get any more phone calls or information. They’ve found your usual driver tied up at his home. He’s okay,” he answered the question before it came out of her open mouth.
As they walked out the door, it was as though they’d stepped into a washing machine of noise. Reporters talked into microphones for live shots for their stations, camera men yelled across the distance to their live truck operators.
But through all the chaos, she saw John Canton’s eyes burrowing straight into her, as he approached the yellow tape that had been pulled to keep the press at a distance from the mayor’s front door. He looked directly at her.
“Is the mayor going to stop the police furloughs?” he yelled from behind the tape.
A streak of cold ran down Lainey’s body then back up again, centering finally in her heart. How did he know about that?
Brice’s head swiveled toward the reporter and he motioned with his hand for him to come forward. “Let him through,” he said to one of the uniformed cops manning the police line.
Canton slipped underneath the yellow police tape, and walked forward as though he’d gotten an invitation to the White House, strutting a bit for the benefit of the other reporters.
“Hey, why’s he getting to go inside?” another
male reporter yelled. That guy anchored the weekend news, so it was obvious the TV stations were pulling out their big guns.
“Treat us all equal,” a blonde female reporter Lainey recognized said loudly.
Canton turned and lifted his hands and shoulders in a big shrug. He didn’t think they were all equal, clearly.
The male reporter/anchor frowned but the female just smiled as if she recognized something more was going on than a simple sound bite.
When Canton reached them, Brice leaned in, speaking in a low voice but clearly and with a hint of edge. “Why would you ask that question?”
Canton’s face went purposefully blank. “Makes sense, that with a crime spree happening, and with even the mayor’s daughter not safe, that she would stop the furloughs of the men and women who keep our city safe.”
Brice tilted his head, his eyes narrow and hard. “Really? That’s all?”
“Why else?” the reporter sawed back with just as tough a tone as Brice’s. “Is there something you want to tell me, detective?”
“Huh,” Brice guffawed roughly. “Is there something you want to tell me? Is there something you know that the police should know?”
Canton’s expression wavered for a minute. “I got a tip. That it was a demand for the mayor.”
Brice’s eyes opened and his face relaxed a bit. Maybe the guy could be some help. “Do you know who gave you that tip or anything else that could help us?”
Canton shook his head, his face serious and almost truthful. “I don’t. Just a call from an anonymous tipster. Happens all the time.”
“We need that phone number, to see if we can trace it.”
Canton lifted a shoulder. “I tried calling back but there was no voice mail, and no one picked up. Probably a burner phone, so it couldn’t be traced.”
Brice studied him for a minute. “We might could find out some information from it, anyway, like where he bought it, see if the store has any video.”
Canton nodded.
“Let me know if you get any more tips or anything else we can use.” Brice gave him a card, took Lainey’s elbow and turned toward his car.
“Do you believe he doesn’t know who tipped him off to the demand?” Lainey asked when they were in the car.
“Don’t know.” Brice buckled his seat belt. He pointed at the car radio. “Almost the top of the hour news. Maybe we can get some info from the news guys. Seems like they know more than us.” His jaw tightened, as he pulled away from the curb, driving out of sight of the cameras.
Lainey gripped her armrest hard. She wanted to scream as the tension coiled inside of her tighter and tighter. Where was Julie? “Why would the kidnapper come by my house to pick up Julie? If he wanted power over the mayor, why would he bother with another little girl? Another witness?”
She put her hands to her face to hide the anguish that poured out of her. Her face felt as if it were crumpling from the pressure.
Just then, her cell phone rang. She yanked the phone out of her pocket and looked at the incoming call number. It was Julie’s cell phone.
Chapter Nine
Brice pulled over to the curb, as Lainey feverishly hit the connect button. “Julie.”
“Mama,” a small voice bleated out. It was Julie’s voice but Julie never called her that.
“Julie,” she said.
“I call her that sometimes,” Julie said to someone off phone. “Mama, I just wanted to tell you that the mayor needs to stop the furloughs of the police. They need all the police they can get.”
Mama was a signal that Julie was being forced to say this. They’d established that word a long time ago as a tip if something was going on that Julie didn’t want to go along with.
They’d been talking about peer pressure and how Lainey could come get Julie and drag her home, forcing her to comply with house rules, but not having to take the heat from friends or school mates for being a spoil sport.
“Julie, are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I’ve got to go.”
“Julie, don’t hang up.”
There was no reply. Lainey looked at the phone face. They were disconnected.
A spiraling silent scream filled her body, aching to escape.
Brice reached for Lainey’s phone and hit recall for the last call. He shook his head and hit end. “Went straight to voice mail. He must have turned it off.”
He picked up his cell phone, punched in a number, and gave Julie’s number to someone on the other end. He described the situation then hung up.
“They’re gonna see if they can get any information on where the call was pinging from.”
Lainey heard him, but barely, as if from a long way away.
He reached over and took her hand. “We’re gonna find her, Lainey.”
She nodded. Julie, her little Julie, was in the hands of a monster. A monster that would terrorize children for his own purposes.
Brice wrapped his arms around her like a large warm blanket enveloping her, pulling her into his embrace.
“We’ll find her, Lainey. And she will be brought home safe.”
“It happens sometimes.” She nodded vaguely, trying to reassure herself, clinging to any hope. “That little runaway daughter of the banker, she came home.”
Brice pulled away to look down into her eyes, something registering there about her comment.
“Let’s go talk to the mayor’s usual driver, then maybe later the banker and his daughter.”
“You think they could be connected?” She swiped at her eyes, pushing back the tears that begged for release.
“Don’t know. But you mentioned her in the same breath as your sister and the mayor. Don’t that many little girls go missing in one week and be heard from again afterwards. Could be some connection. There was something funny about that case. I remember the detectives who handled it thought there was something off about it.”
Looking at him, for just an instant, she believed everything was going to be okay. If Detective Mark Brice put his full attention to something, he would solve it.
And, she’d be right there beside him, making sure of that.
Julie is coming home. Julie is coming home. Like a mantra, she chanted it silently. Nothing would shake her from that belief.
She sat up straight, pulling away from Brice’s embrace. Slowly, he let his hands drop from her shoulders.
“Let’s go talk to that driver. He’s a cop, right?” she said, intent on following every lead in order to find Julie.
“Oh, yeah. All the mayor’s drivers are cops.”
“I can’t believe this happened. That some car just pulls up and the mayor’s little girl is allowed to jump in, sight unseen.” It was incredible.
“People get lulled by routines. Every morning at that time, the car pulls up and she jumps in.” He shrugged. “Who would even believe something like this could happen?”
She swiveled suddenly to look at him. “And now, this demand. That the cops get taken off furlough.”
Brice turned on the radio just as the noon news started. The top item was the mayor’s daughter.
“We’re going straight to the mayor, who is giving a news conference at this moment,” the newscaster said.
Lainey leaned forward and turned up the volume.
“Immediately, I am suspending the furloughs of police officers. A benefactor has come forward to supplement the city’s budget to provide the money needed for their pay for one year. By then, we should be back into the black and can continue with our regular schedules.”
“Already!” Lainey’s attention jerked to Brice’s face. “Already, the mayor has met the kidnapper’s demand.” Maybe that meant Julie was coming home with Tiana. Maybe this nightmare would be over very shortly.
Brice’s face was taut, his jaw tense.
“Let’s go back to the mayor’s.” He sawed the steering wheel to the right, circling back the way they’d come.
With one hand, he pulled out his cell phone and punched in a nu
mber.
“Hey, yeah, it’s Brice. Can you bring the mayor’s driver to her place? We’re going over there.” He hung up.
“Can you believe this?” Lainey looked at Brice, but he his eyes straight forward, driving with intent and purpose.
“Unbelievable,” he bit off in a tone as sharp and concise as his driving.
The man could go from joking to deadly serious in a manner of seconds. She’d seen that manner in the courtroom and the day she’d been attacked.
His serious expression gave a reassuring steel promise. Now that she was on this side of the victim line, she wanted deadly serious.
As if he felt her studying him, he reached over and grabbed her hand for a brief second. Then, released it to grasp the steering wheel again.
But that momentary contact shot strength into her soul.
* * *
Brice walked ahead of Lainey, clearing a path through the reporters and photographers outside the mayor’s house. He walked under the yellow tape, stepped through the front door and met the mayor’s intense gaze. Desperately, the mayor looked at him, a mother’s eyes, searching only for her daughter, praying that her daughter was coming home soon.
Lainey crossed the threshold an instant after him and the mayor looked quickly away. Deviousness hid there in that glance. She looked away, almost as if she hadn’t seen Lainey.
But she had. Brice watched the mayor for more clues that might slip out, clues to what exactly was going on.
Lainey closed the distance between herself and the mayor quickly.
“Julie called me,” Lainey blurted out. “Wanted you to call off the furloughs.”
They had an odd relationship, Lainey and the mayor. He needed to know more about that.
The mayor nodded, still not looking Lainey directly in the eye. “A benefactor came forward, said he’d heard about the demand.”
“Heard?” Lainey asked. “How could anyone have heard so soon?”
Brice placed a hand on Lainey’s shoulder and she swiveled her head to look at him, her eyes desperate, crazed almost, like a fox that would gnaw his hand off.
The mayor shrugged. “It must have been on the news.”