Bud’s cell vibrated and he stood, walking away.
Jenson said, “Your father is a good man.”
“I guess you feel the same way?” Chip said.
“Goodness, no. Whoever wrapped Dennie Dutter up tighter than a tick did this city a favor.”
“Why’d you say it made sense?” Chip said.
“What?”
“About it being Dennie Dutter?”
“Enid is underage,” Jenson said.
“She’s not homeless or a runaway.”
Bud returned to the table, overhearing the last remark. “How do we know that?”
Chip said, “Because – ”
Bud said, “Instead of assuming – how ‘bout we go ask her?”
“But she has a dad. She’s not a runaway,” Chip said.
“Facts,” Bud said. “Let’s go see if we can get some.”
Chip sighed, following them out.
In less than an hour, Bud and Chip were at Enid’s hospital and Jenson was back at the station house.
The male nurse who looked like he could crack walnuts with his biceps told him that a woman and a boy had paid a visit and they hadn’t seen Enid since. They’d been trying to reach her father all morning with no success.
“Did you file a report?” Bud said.
The nurse eyed Bud tiredly, “It was documented in her chart. If we filed a report on every patient who left AMA, we’d spend all day filing reports.”
Bud left a message on Jack’s cell and, as soon as he hung up, it vibrated that he had an incoming call from Jenson.
“Surprises abound, my friend,” Jenson said. “You might want to mosey down to the station and see what the cat dragged in – before he gets bailed out.”
Within a short time of Bud arriving at the station, Jenson had filled Bud in on the facts, and they made their way to the area where Sam was finishing the paperwork for bailing out Jack.
Sam looked up as they entered, “Here to get my theories on the Kennedy assassination?”
Bud said, “Stolen car, reckless driving, destruction of private property – possibly arson…?”
“Jack didn’t burn down his own house,” Sam said.
Bud said, “What I’m interested in – the woman in the other car.”
“I don’t know anything about it,” Sam said.
“You were his one phone call?” Bud said.
“To bail him out. Other than that – you have to talk to him.”
“Does he know that his daughter disappeared from the hospital?”
Sam looked at him, startled.
Bud said, “Any idea where she might be?”
“My wife went to visit her – Enid was there,” Sam said.
“When?”
A buzzer sounded and a corrections officer entered, followed by Jack.
“All yours, Sam,” the officer said as he turned to leave.
Jack’s forehead was bandaged and had the remains of dried blood. Wearing jeans, a jail-issued shirt and flip-flops, he looked bedraggled. His eyes hardened at the sight of Bud and he homed in on Chip scribbling notes.
Jack hooked his thumb at Chip, “What’s up with Nancy Drew?”
Chip frowned, pocketing the notebook.
Sam said, “Good news is the neighbor’s not filing charges – the girl had weed in the car.”
Jack eyed Bud, “What do you want?”
Bud said, “Why would Laura Hargrove want to torch your house?”
Jack said, “She confessed?”
Bud said, “I’m working under the assumption you didn’t run Laura Hargrove off the road to ask the time of day.”
Jack turned to Sam, “I need to borrow your car.”
Sam hooked his thumb at Bud, “Detective Orlean tells me Enid is missing.”
Jack’s neck snapped in Bud’s direction, “What? Are you sure?”
“Can we go somewhere to talk?” Bud said.
Jack followed Bud to an interview room, where they sat on opposite sides of the table. Jack stared at Bud with poorly concealed hostility.
Bud said, “We pulled a known human trafficker out of the canal this morning.”
Jack shrugged. “What’s that got to do with me?”
Bud said, “The cause of death – strangulation.”
Jack’s eyes narrowed.
Bud said, “With a man-made fiber – perhaps an article of clothing.”
“Like a bra,” Jack said wryly.
Bud leaned forward, elbows on the table, “Did Enid run away?”
Jack’s cheeks flushed red.
“She did,” Bud said, leaning back as he watched Jack, who looked guiltier than a hooker in the front pew.
“I can find her,” Jack said, running his hands through his hair. “I need time.”
“Why? What do you know?” Bud said.
Jack jumped up. “You can’t be serious – are you seriously accusing Enid of strangling that – ?”
“How would Enid come into contact with a human-trafficking pedophile who preys on runaway kids – unless she ran away?”
Jack sat down, dropped his head into his hands.
Bud said, “Tell me what you know. Enid could be in danger.”
Jack wavered, unsure. He shook his head. “Go to hell.”
Jack strode out, the door closing behind him.
Bud sat back, pissed. Jack was hiding something and Bud decided that he was going to dig it out of him if it was the last thing he did.
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
You don’t develop courage by being happy in your relationships every day. You develop it by surviving difficult times and challenging adversity.
–Epicurus
Enid pushed Aunt Cheryl’s neatly hung socks out of her face. Hiding in the closet was more boring than she would have ever imagined – not to mention the strange “closet smell” tickling her nose to the point of threatening to force a sneeze out of her. Straining to hear, she struggled to make out what Jack and Sam were saying.
Something about last night…
She heard Sam telling Ernie to go to the backyard, which meant he’d be no help until he got back in or she got out.
Pinching her nose so that she wouldn’t sneeze, Enid crept out of the closet, determined to hear what Sam and Jack were saying. Heart pounding, she tiptoed down the hall until she came to the guest bathroom, which was as close as she could get to the living room. She kept the door cracked so she could hear them talking and stepped into the tub, pulling the shower curtain closed behind her.
Sam said, “How could you pull such a bone-headed move?”
“What the hell?” Jack said, “What do I know about taking care of a kid?”
“For starters, don’t send them undercover. Jesus, Jack, what were you thinking?”
Jack said, “I’ve checked the bus station, what’s left of my house, Jeni’s place – I don’t know where else to look.”
Enid wrinkled her brow, wondering what he meant by what’s “left” of his house?
“You need to talk to Detective Orlean,” Sam said.
Silence.
“Listen, Jack, this is beyond you not liking the guy. You put Enid – a kid – your kid – in a dangerous situation, and you need to do the right thing. Orlean is a good guy – a damned good detective – maybe he can help.”
There was a long pause. Jack said, “You think she really is my kid?”
Enid sank down in the tub, face flushing with anger.
“Yeah, I do,” Sam said. “Don’t tell me – deep down – you never wanted a kid?”
“Never.”
Enid compressed her lips, tears stinging her eyes.
Sam said, “Whether she’s your kid or not – it doesn’t matter. You put her in that situation, you need to get her out.”
“I will get her out,” Jack said.
“Talk to Detective Orlean – or I will.”
“Jesus, Sam.”
“You put a kid in danger. Step up to the plate or I do it for you.�
�
“I told you that in confidence.”
“This isn’t a game, Jack. Your kid is out there alone – scared. From how she tells it, she was drugged, abducted and she may have killed somebody. If what she says is true, what if the guy she killed has friends and they come after her? God knows what she stepped into.”
The hairs on the back of Enid’s neck stood up. It never occurred to her that anyone would be hunting her. She thought of the gun hidden inside Jeni’s freezer and felt a desperate need to get it back in her hands.
Jack said, “I need to talk to Laura.”
“I’m not telling you what hospital she’s in.”
“She burned my house down, Sam.”
Enid sat up, shocked.
Who’s Laura?
The name rang a distant bell but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.
Jack said, “I need to talk to her.”
“Oh, good. Talk. I was afraid you might do something stupid like run her off the road into Madame Woo-Fucking-Woo’s Palm Reading Emporium. She, by the way, is filing charges.”
“Your car. I’ll have it back by tonight.”
“Ain’t happening,” Sam said.
“Not telling me what hospital Laura’s at – is just slowing me down from finding Enid.”
“Call Orlean.”
Silence.
Sam said, “You call – or I will. Pick your poison.”
“Fine,” Jack said.
Enid listened as Jack left a message for Detective Orlean. Sam grudgingly gave him Laura’s location.
Sam said, “I thought you weren’t into the Daniel Hargrove murder case?”
“I don’t know what I’m into,” Jack said.
Enid heard the front door close and, moments later, a car drive away.
Sam let Ernie back in and Enid began plotting how to get Ernie to help her get the gun. The thought of bad guys coming after her made her blood run cold.
An hour later, Enid was back in the treehouse, wrapped in Ernie’s Sesame Street sleeping bag and gorged on Oreo cookies. She found herself letting out a series of gentle burps as she gripped the hammer that she swiped from Sam’s toolbox.
It wasn’t a gun but, in a pinch, it’d be weapon enough.
She felt a smug satisfaction at the thought of Jack being too stupid to figure out where she was. She imagined him worrying and desperate – unable to find her. A contemptuous smile curled her lips as she thought about how he never thought to ask Ernie any questions or search the house.
Doofus.
Her smile faded.
Jack was no fool. He would find her sooner or later – unless she outwitted him. She pulled the sleeping bag tighter in an attempt to rid herself of the emptiness in the pit of her stomach that even the Oreo cookies couldn’t fill – and she suspected had nothing to do with hunger.
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
Get your facts first, then you can distort them as you please.
– Mark Twain
For the hundredth time, Jack shuddered at the thought of Enid – trapped in the fire and him unable to get her out. As bad as it was that she ran away from the hospital, it was a thousand times better than her being home with him last night when his house burned to the ground.
He’d find her.
Jack pinched his nose tiredly. Everything he owned was gone. He was going to have to start over with nothing – except for one disappeared pain-in-the-ass kid and a shitload of insurance hassle.
He was so tired he could hardly think, and it didn’t occur to him till after he’d dropped Sam at the station and was driving off in Sam’s car that he’d never questioned Ernie or Cheryl. He should’ve asked them more questions about their visit to Enid. He was wanting to go home and crawl into bed but – jarringly – kept remembering that he no longer had a home, or a bed.
He called the hospital, verifying that Laura was still there. He drove to Scottsdale Thompson Peak Hospital, which still had a “new car” smell in the plush lobby. The volunteer concierge, who looked to be about ninety, pointed a shaky finger to the elevators and, within what felt like moments, Jack found himself in the hallway outside of Laura’s hospital room.
He stopped.
Laura lay in bed. She was partially blocked from his view by Eve’s graceful figure as Eve leaned in, intently listening to something Laura was murmuring.
Jack walked in.
Laura’s eyes darted past Eve and widened in fear. Eve jumped to her feet and spun toward him, hand outstretched. “Jack, it’s not what you think. You have to trust me.”
From behind him, a man’s voice said, “Well, this makes my task easier.”
A man whom Jack could only describe as “dapper” strolled to the foot of the bed, smiled down at Laura.
“Detective Jenson,” he said with a smile.
Jack eyed him, curious. He had more the air of a host of a garden party than a Phoenix detective.
Eve said, “Officer, there’s been a terrible misunderstanding.”
“I didn’t do anything!” Laura said, bursting into tears.
Eve said, “Laura thought I was at – ”
“My house,” Jack said.
Detective Jenson said to Jack, “And you would be?”
Eve stepped forward, “Eve Hargrove. My sister, Laura. He doesn’t – ”
“Jack Fox,” Jack said, holding out his hand.
Jenson shook his hand, “Ah! So nice to meet you, Mr. Fox. You’re the private detective?”
Jack nodded, knowing that the police detective, if he was worth his weight in salt, which he obviously was, would know of him – and his dad.
“And were you?” Detective Jenson asked Eve.
“What?” she said.
“At his house?”
“No. I wasn’t,” Eve said.
Jack shot her a look.
She can lie.
Jenson said, “Is that right, Mr. Fox? Ms. Hargrove was not at your house last night?”
Eve said, “Laura thought I was with him but I wasn’t. She was worried about me – that’s all.”
“Why would she think that?” Detective Jenson said.
Eve hesitated. “She was under the impression I hired him.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
Jack’s jaw tightened.
What is she playing at?
Jenson ticked off the list, “Arson, reckless endangerment, destruction of private property – ”
Eve said, “Laura thought I was with Mr. Fox, she was worried and went over and – she certainly didn’t set the fire. Jack started chasing her and – she panicked.”
Jenson gazed at her impassively.
Eve said, “I’m personally guaranteeing restitution to all injured parties.” She pulled a card out of her purse. “This is my lawyer. He’ll be handling the restitution.”
Jenson turned to Jack, “May I call you Jack?”
Jack felt the weight of Eve’s eyes on him, urging him to play along.
“Is there anything else?” Detective Jenson said.
“It’s like she said,” Jack said, startled to hear his words hang in the air, sharp and untrue. He looked away, certain his lies were as transparent as the air that separated him and Eve in the suddenly oppressive room.
“Excuse me,” Jack said, turning to leave. Before anyone could speak, he was out the door and, ignoring the elevators, he made his way to a stairwell, which let him out on the side of the hospital.
I’m not a liar.
A voice deep inside whispered, “Now you are.”
He felt a wave of self-loathing.
I don’t lie!
That same voice murmured, “Broken promises – they aren’t lies?”
With a curse, he spun around, determined to go back and set the detective straight.
He slammed into Eve.
It took him several moments of shock to register that she had remained so close behind him and yet so silent.
She was speaking but he didn’t u
nderstand what she was saying. His eyes followed the curve of her face, her lips. He didn’t want to believe that she would lie.
She looked like an angel.
He tried to tell himself that if she did lie, she would have a good reason – the lie would be for good, not bad.
“I had to – ” she said, her voice breaking through his jumbled thoughts.
He grabbed her arms, anger welling up, breaking over him.
“I lied for you,” Jack said.
“I’m sorry.”
He released her like she was poison, made his way to his car.
Eve stayed hot on his tracks. “Laura’s sick! Ever since Daniel – I had to lie. After he got – after he disappeared – you have no idea! Journalists digging into our business – they hounded us. I’ve done everything – the best doctors – medications – she’s – mentally – ”
Jack unlocked the door but Eve jumped in front of him, blocking him.
“You can’t go – not till you understand – ”
Jack shoved her against his car, holding her at arm’s distance. “Did she set the fire?”
“I don’t know.” Eve gazed at him, miserable.
“Last night – where did you go? Why did you go?”
“I was worried. I knew…” Eve drew a ragged breath.
Jack examined her eyes, which shone with sincerity.
Or – ice?
Jack said, “She’s done this before?”
“She wasn’t there when I left. You have to believe me. I would never lie to you.”
Jack grimaced as her fingers caressed his cheek. She kissed him softly on the lips.
He closed his eyes.
He didn’t kiss her back – he couldn’t. A need – too raw to be called desire – flamed up within him and the soft kiss transformed into something white hot and insatiable.
CHAPTER SIXTY
All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream.
–Edgar Allan Poe
Bud was exhausted.
Chip was driving him home when Bud got a phone call from Larry, his AA buddy. After a brief conversation, Bud asked Chip to drop him off at a nearby coffee shop.
Gunning For Angels (Fallen Angels Book 1) Page 23