Dark and Twisted Reads: All the Pretty GirlsA Perfect EvilBone Cold (A Taylor Jackson Novel)

by J. T. Ellison

  “You got any proof, Ter? That sure doesn’t sound like the Penny I know.”

  “I’ve got proof all right. Alex told me she’s been out a lot at night, that Grandma Stockwell’s been sitting for them. He said it’s really late when she gets home.”

  “That’s it?” Quentin unlocked his car door. “That’s your proof? Alex, who’s six? Pretty flimsy, Detective.”

  “Why else would she be out at night? What else would keep her out so late?” He balled his hands into fists. “She’s my wife, goddammit! She belongs at home with our kids.”

  “She could be visiting with a girlfriend. Or at the show. You don’t know for sure that she’s with other men.”

  “I know. I just do.” Terry swung to face Quentin. “You’ve got to talk to her, Malone. She likes you. She respects your opinion.” His friend’s voice took on a desperate edge. “Please, talk to her. Convince her to take me back.”

  When Quentin hesitated, Terry took a step toward him, expression pleading. “You’ve got to help me out, buddy. You’ve got to make her see it’s the right thing to do. The best thing for the kids.” He glanced over his shoulder, then back at Quentin. “I gotta be honest, I don’t know how much longer I can go on this way.”

  “All right,” Quentin said. “Against my better judgment, I’ll do it.”

  CHAPTER 19

  Friday, January 19

  Central Business District

  Twenty-four hours passed with no word from Jaye. With each hour, Anna grew more certain that Jaye had not run away. And more certain that the Clausens were not the caring, concerned foster parents she had once hoped them to be. In fact, as Anna had replayed her conversation with the couple in her head and had recalled their expressions, tones of voice and body language, she had become convinced that they were hiding something.

  What she was thinking frightened her to the core.

  Desperate, Anna had decided to pay a visit to Paula Perez, Jaye’s caseworker. Anna poked her head through the doorway of the woman’s windowless, closet-size cubicle. “Knock, knock.”

  The woman looked up and smiled. “Anna, come in.”

  “The receptionist wasn’t at her desk, so I came on back. Is this a good time?”

  Paula motioned the top of her desk—every available inch was covered with case files, memos, textbooks and court reports. “Here at Social Services there’s no such thing as a good time. Or a bad one. Have a seat.”

  Anna did as the woman invited, clutching Jaye’s memento box to her chest. “I came to talk about Jaye.”

  “I figured. There’s been no word yet, Anna.”

  “I know.” Anna lowered her gaze to the box, then returned it to the social worker. “I wanted you to see this. It’s Jaye’s.”

  She handed it over. The other woman opened the container and leafed through its contents. After a moment, she looked back up at Anna. “How did you get this?”

  “From the Clausens, the night Jaye disappeared.”

  “I’ll have to keep it. As a ward of the state—”

  “I know. But I was afraid…” She drew in a deep breath. “I was afraid if I didn’t take the box, it might disappear.”

  Paula drew her eyebrows together. “I don’t understand.”

  “The contents of that box are proof Jaye didn’t run away.”

  “We went over this on the phone, Anna. I know you don’t want to accept—”

  “She wouldn’t leave these things behind, Paula. She wouldn’t! They represent her history. They’re all she has of her past.”

  “Jaye’s a smart girl, Anna. She knows that anything she leaves behind gets sent to us for safekeeping. She also knows we have no time limit on storage of her things. She shows up for them ten years from now, and they’re here for her.”

  Undaunted by that logic, Anna tried another tack. “If Jaye had planned to run away, why not fill her book bag with food and clothes? Why pack it with textbooks? Why leave her music behind? It doesn’t make sense.”

  “Fran and Bob called just this morning. Seems quite a number of food items are missing from their pantry.

  “So they say.”

  Paula stiffened, her cheeks growing red. “What’s that supposed to mean, Anna?”

  “It means, maybe Fran and Bob aren’t telling the whole truth. Something’s fishy about—”

  “For God’s sake!” Paula stood and glared down at Anna. “These are nice people. People who have been foster parents for nearly twenty years. They are very highly thought of by everyone, including me. How dare you come in here and suggest them guilty of some sort of…criminal activity.”

  Anna got to her feet. “All I ask is that you dig a little deeper into Jaye’s disappearance. Question the Clausens more thoroughly, call the police—”

  “I have contacted the police, I reported Jaye missing, just as I’m required to by law.”

  “I know Jaye, Paula. She wouldn’t do this. She wouldn’t. Something’s happened to her.” Anna leaned forward. “She told me a man followed her home from school. Maybe if you told the police—”

  “Fran passed that information to me and I passed it to the authorities.” The woman let out a tight-sounding breath. “You may not know Jaye as well as you think you do. She’s a complex child, one capable of unexpected and troubling behavior. That may be difficult for you to hear, but it’s true.”

  “I know about her past. That she’s run away a half-dozen times. That she attacked one of her teachers. That she tried to take her own life. But she’s grown so much in the past two years. Emotionally. Spiritual—”

  The social worker held up a hand, stopping her. “Before you say another word, Anna, I want you to ask yourself how much your own guilty conscience is contributing to your refusal to accept that Jaye’s run away.”

  “My guilty conscience?” she repeated. “What do I have to feel—”

  “I understand you two fought recently. That she felt you betrayed her. That by keeping the truth about your past from her, you lied to her.”

  “That has nothing to do with this.”

  “Doesn’t it? Have you considered that she ran specifically because you hurt her? Just as she ran so many other times in her life? That the emotional growth you saw in her, growth based on trust, was shattered by what she perceived as you lying to her?”

  A denial raced to Anna’s lips, choked back by the lump of tears that formed in her throat. “I didn’t mean to hurt her,” she finally managed to say. “I tried to explain about my past and why I kept it from her.”

  “I know,” Paula said softly. “I understand. But I’m not a hurting teenager who’s been betrayed by everyone she ever loved and trusted.”

  Guilt overwhelmed her. As did regret. And despair. “I didn’t mean to hurt her,” she said again. “I love Jaye.”

  The social worker’s expression softened. She picked up the box and held it out to Anna. “Keep it for now. I think she would like you to be the one holding it for her.”

  Anna took the box, turned and walked away. As she left the building, Anna prayed that Jaye was all right. Safe and warm. She prayed that she really had run away and that she would come to her senses and return home soon.

  CHAPTER 20

  Friday, January 19

  Seventh District Station

  Quentin spotted Anna North the moment he entered the precinct. She stood across the crowded room from him, a slim box clutched to her chest. Her face was in profile, her stance and what he could see of her expression conveyed unease, which was not unusual as few civilians visited the cops under happy circumstances.

  He tilted his head, studying her. What was it about Anna North that drew his gaze as if she were a burst of color in a black-and-white day? Sure, she was a looker. But there were probably a half-dozen equally gorgeous women in the room, and his gaze hadn’t been drawn to them.

  Nor was it her clothes, nothing more outstanding than a brilliant blue sweater, black jeans and deep brown leather jacket. Nor even her red hair, as b
right and shiny as a new penny.

  So what was it?

  A sudden smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. It had been obvious at their last meeting that Anna North had not been impressed with his detecting skills. She certainly wouldn’t be happy to be paired with him again.

  He liked nothing quite as well as a challenge. Especially such an attractive one. It was a character flaw, he acknowledged that. But what the hell.

  He sauntered over to the desk officer. “Morning, Violet,” he murmured, leaning against the counter. “I must say, you’re looking mighty inviting this morning.”

  Violet DuPre, a fifty-something woman with enough sass to face down even the cockiest the NOPD had to offer, swept her gaze over him. “Can the crap and sell it to somebody else, Malone. What do you want?”

  “That’s what I like about you, Violet. You’re so susceptible to my charms.” He rested an elbow on the counter and leaned his face to hers. “What’s with the redhead? She waiting for someone special?”

  “We all are, toots. Unfortunately, the good Lord don’t always send the choicest cut.” She grinned. “That one asked to speak with a detective.”

  “She didn’t request me by name?”

  “Sorry, Romeo. Better luck next time.”

  “You’ve got the wrong idea, doll. That one’s been in before, touting some crazy story about alien abductions. I pulled her while filling in over at the Eighth. I’d hate to have one of my fellow officers be forced to deal with that.”

  Her full mouth lifted in a smirk. “That’s real generous of you, Detective Malone.”

  “That’s me, always thinking of others.”

  She shook her head, expression disgusted. “You know, Malone, I’d think since another girl died last night you’d have more to do this morning than worry about alien abductions.”

  He straightened, sending her a wicked grin. “You’re selling me short, babe. Got that covered, too.” And he did. He had interviewed a half-dozen bartenders, gotten the descriptions, names and when possible, the addresses of the men Evelyn Parker had spent time with the night of her death. He’d spoken with her family and had paid a visit to a couple of her friends and co-workers. Using the information he’d gleaned, he had begun piecing together a time line of her last evening alive. And it wasn’t even lunchtime yet.

  He leaned closer to the other officer. “So Violet, most gorgeous one, anything you can do to help me out?”

  She shook her head and reached for the phone, a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. “Actually, since you two have a history, I’m thinking I ought to assign her to you. For expediency’s sake.”

  “You’re a peach, no doubt about it.”

  She snorted with disgust. “No self-respectin’ black woman’s gonna be no peach. Save that for those wimpy white girls. And you might want to lose that tie. It’s not so cool, stud.”

  He laughed and blew her a kiss. “I’ll take that under advisement. See you around.”

  Quentin crossed the room, aware of Violet watching him, no doubt smirking with amusement.

  “Ms. North,” Quentin drawled. “What brings you down to my neck of the woods?

  She turned, a subtle expression of dismay crossing her features. Obviously, she had hoped their paths would never cross again. “I needed to speak with a detective—”

  “That would be me.”

  She glanced toward Violet—and found her smiling at them—then back at him. “I see you got lucky again. And here I thought they might assign me a different detective. Me being in a different precinct and all.”

  “Computers.” He lifted a shoulder. “Once you’re in the system with one of us, you can’t get away.”

  “Like a fish with a hook in its mouth.”

  He laughed. “Follow me.”

  He led her through the busy squad room to his desk and motioned her to take a seat. When she had, he perched on the desk’s edge, directly in front of her. “How’s the writing coming?”

  “Very well, thank you.” She crossed her legs. “Nice tie. Colorful.”

  He looked at it and grinned. “Thanks.”

  “It’s not every grown man who can carry off a tie printed with crawfish and bottles of hot sauce.”

  “You didn’t miss the Mardi Gras masks, did you?” He leaned toward her. As he did he caught the scent of flowers, a little sweet, a little spicy. Like her, he thought, a ripple of awareness moving over him.

  “How could I, Detective? They’re purple and gold.” She arched an eyebrow. “The tie, is it a homicide thing? A way to inject a little levity into what’s a grim job?”

  “Naw, dawlin’,” he murmured, slipping into a Cajun patois. “It’s a N’awlins thing. Laissez les bon temps rouler.”

  For a moment she was silent, then she made a sound of irritation. “Are you at all interested in what brought me in today? Or did you want to spend the day chatting about your tie?”

  “You brought it up, sugar.” He plucked his spiral and pen from his breast pocket. “How can I help you, Ms. North?”

  “A friend of mine is missing. Actually, she’s my little sister.”

  “Little sister?”

  “I’m a Big Brothers, Big Sisters of America volunteer. Jaye’s been my little sister for two years.”

  He asked the girl’s full name, her age, where she lived, who she lived with, jotting the information down. That done, he looked up. “When did she go missing?”

  “Thursday morning she left for school at the regular time. She had her purse and backpack. She told her foster mother goodbye and no one’s seen or heard from her since.”

  Anna smoothed her hands over the lid of the box in her lap. “That night I called her friends, checked all her regular haunts. No one had seen her all day.”

  “What about her foster parents? Why aren’t they sitting where you are now? And what about Social Services? She’s a ward of the state and as such—”

  “They think she’s run away. If you check police records, I’m sure you’ll find they reported it. You see—” she smoothed her hands over the box again “—she’s been in the foster system for years and has had a pretty tough time. She’s bolted from foster homes in the past.”

  “How many times?”

  She didn’t blink. “Six.”

  He made several notes in his spiral, then met Anna North’s eyes once more. “But you don’t think that’s the case now?”

  She leaned forward. “I know it’s not. Look at what I found under her mattress.” She opened the box and passed it over. “Jaye’s a kid who’s had a lot more bad in her life than good. She’s lost everyone and everything she’s ever loved, beginning with her mother. The contents of this box represent everything that’s tangible about the good in her past. It’s all she has. She wouldn’t leave it behind.”

  He sifted through the contents. “Is that all?”

  “No. A week ago she mentioned that some guy followed her home from school.”

  “Did she report it?”

  Anna sighed. “No.”

  “Was it an isolated occurrence or did it happen mare than once?”

  “I don’t know…. She only told me about the one incident.”

  “That’s not much to get excited about.”

  “But she left that morning with a book bag filled with textbooks! If she had planned to run away, wouldn’t she have filled her bag with clothes, toiletries and her keepsakes? She left other things of importance to her behind as well. Her CDs and player for one. It doesn’t make sense.”

  “Her friends don’t know anything? Could she have stashed clothes and toiletries with one of them?”

  “I don’t think so. I’ve hounded her friends. They’re not lying about not having heard from her, because they’re scared. I see the fear in their eyes. Besides, that doesn’t account for this box of mementos.”

  Quentin shuffled through the items once more, admitting that he couldn’t find fault with her logic. This girl had obviously held on to some of these item
s for a long time. According to what Anna had told him, the girl kept the box under her mattress, indicating that she coveted its contents.

  “I know Jaye, Detective Malone.” Her voice thickened and she cleared it. “I know she didn’t run away. I know it.”

  He closed the box and handed it back. “So you suspect…what? That she was kidnapped? Some sort of foul play?”

  Her eyes flooded with tears. “Yes,” she managed to say. “I wish to God I didn’t. I wish she had run away. At least then…she—”

  The last came out choked and Quentin waited while she struggled to get a grip on her emotions. “I’ve done all I can,” she continued softly. “I’ve contacted her friends and cruised her hangouts. I don’t know what else I can do, so here I am.”

  Quentin stood, went around the desk and sat. He tossed his spiral onto the desk beside him. “I’m going to pass something by you, Ms. North, just for the sake of argument. Two days ago you were in to see me. You had received some letters from a fan and were concerned that this fan, a child, was in danger.”

  “Her name’s Minnie, but yes, that’s right.”

  “In fact, you not only believed Minnie was in danger, but some other, yet unknown girl as well.”

  “That’s right, but I don’t see where that has anything—”

  “How old is Minnie? According to her letters?”

  “Eleven.”

  “And how old is Jaye?”

  “Fifteen.”

  “And how old were you when you were kid napped?”

  Anna shot to her feet, cheeks flaming. “I see where you’re going with this and you’re wrong!”

  He ignored her outburst. “Could it be that you’re preoccupied with the idea of young girls in danger?”

  “No. Look—” She brought a hand to her head, then dropped it. “Jaye’s gone. If she purposely ran away, she left without some things of great importance to her. Her foster parents…they didn’t act right, Detective Malone. Their behavior varied between nonchalance and anger at my interference. I sensed they were…hiding something.”