by Rita Herron
But why leave his shoes here to be found?
Because he’d assumed the police had already processed the scene and wouldn’t return. His motive for the kidnapping was problematic, but the possibility of a ransom call still existed.
But the amount of blood on the floor and sheets perplexed him. Perhaps Rice had stored up blood to stage the scene. Or he could have stolen a few pints from a blood bank.
If so, the blood wouldn’t have matched his own.
He needed to ask the sheriff to verify that the blood type and DNA collected at the crime scene matched Rice’s.
Energized by his theory, he searched the closet again, dropping to the floor to make sure he hadn’t hidden something beneath the carpet, behind a loose board, or the top shelf.
Nothing.
One last room. The bathroom.
The bathroom cabinet contained the usual toiletries. Soap. Shaving cream. Toothpaste. Shampoo.
A used razor and a box of hair dye in the trash caught his eye. He examined the package—the color was sandy blonde.
In earlier photos, Rice’s hair had been darker, almost black.
If Rice had faked his own death, he’d most likely alter his appearance so no one would recognize him. Colt dropped to his knees and dug through the trash again, but barring a Q-tip and a tissue, he found nothing. Just as he was about to stand, he spotted a loose tile behind the back of the toilet.
He removed his pocketknife from his pocket, flipped it open and pried the tile loose. A second one came free, revealing a small hole carved in the wall. Colt dug around until his fingers closed around a small pad.
His heart jackhammered. No, not just a pad, but a ledger. Maybe the details inside would lead to Rice and his plans.
Columns of dates and what resembled GPS coordinates lined the pages. Another column was filled with numbers and letters, but he couldn’t discern their significance.
The notations were obviously entered in some kind of code.
Anxious to get the ledger to Ben to decipher, he jammed the ledger inside his jacket, then replaced the tiles. Shutting off his flashlight, he made his way to the kitchen again.
The headlights of a car fanned across the front, and he ducked down and inched into the kitchen. He paused at the door and glanced back at the front window to make certain the cops hadn’t arrived, but the car slowed, then moved on.
Relieved, Colt let himself out the back door, then eased open the fence, and dashed behind the bushes just as another car drove by.
He’d switched his cell phone to silent, but it was vibrating, and he checked the number. Serena.
He closed his hand over the mobile unit and darted behind the other condos, then to his SUV. Just as he shut the door, his phone vibrated again, and he connected the call. “Serena?”
“Colt, Petey called,” Serena said in a choked voice. “He’s alive, but the kidnapper grabbed the phone before he could tell me where he is.”
Sweat beaded on Colt’s neck. “Did he ask for a ransom?”
“No,” Serena cried. “He hung up.”
Colt clenched the steering wheel with a white-knuckled grip. That was a bad sign. Various scenarios surfaced, different cases he’d heard about on the force. The horrific things child predators did to children. The mental and physical abuse. Murder.
This kidnapper wasn’t motivated by money or he would have stayed on the line.
Which meant that he either intended to kill the boy or pass him on to someone else.
Roy Pedderson had kidnapped Sara Andrews to give to his sister. But Colt had a bad feeling this perp hadn’t abducted Petey for a relative.
The other possibilities made his skin crawl.
SERENA STARED at her cell phone and the landline, willing them to ring. Willing the kidnapper to call back and ask for money, to promise that he’d return her son to her alive.
Poor Petey… He’d sounded terrified.
Would the kidnapper punish him for calling home?
Various scenes from TV shows of abducted and exploited children taunted her along with her own painful memories of the streets, and she broke out in a cold sweat.
She’d been older when she’d run away from the last abusive foster home, but she’d still ended up in trouble. She hated to think what her little boy might be enduring now.
A car engine puttered, and she checked the window. Colt whipped his Range Rover into the drive and jogged to the front door. Grateful not to be alone anymore, she threw open the door.
Storm clouds gathered on the horizon, a stiff wind scattering leaves and bending tree limbs. The breeze also caught the strands of Colt’s black hair and made them stand on end. He kicked dirt from his boots onto the doormat and stepped inside.
“Did he call back?” Colt asked.
Serena shook her head. “No. I’m afraid of what that means, Colt.”
He cut his eyes away, and she realized that he shared her fears. Then the steel was back in his expression, his angular jaw taut.
“Focus on the positive. We know he’s alive.” He removed a small leather ledger from inside his jacket. “I might have a lead on the con Rice was working on. I need to take this to Ben at the office ASAP.”
“What is it?” Serena asked.
“A ledger with dates and GPS coordinates in it, and some other information, but it’s in a code. Hogan Rouse, the hit man who shot your husband, said that Parker wasn’t killed over drugs, that something bigger was going down. That if we figured that out, we’d find Petey.”
Serena’s pulse clamored. “Did he tell you what Parker was investigating?”
Colt shook his head. “Said he didn’t know. But this ledger might be the key.”
“Then take it to GAI now.” Serena remembered the date book she’d found in Parker’s things and hurried to retrieve it. “Look at this, Colt. It was in Parker’s things. There are dates and places of meetings he set up. The initials D.M. are in here repeatedly.”
“Do you know who D.M. is?”
“No. But I told you about that phone call from the woman, Dasha. If you look closely at the meeting places, they’re bars and hotels. My guess is D.M., Dasha, was Parker’s lover and these were their rendezvous times and places.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Colt said. “But she might have information about Parker’s investigation. What about his partner? He might know about both.”
Serena frowned. “Geoff Harbison?”
Colt nodded. “Detectives share things with partners they can’t share with families. Maybe he can help us.”
Serena nodded. Although she hadn’t seen Geoff since Parker’s funeral. “It’s worth a try.” She shoved the date book in his hands. “Show it to him. I have to know the truth.”
“I want you to go with me,” Colt said. “When we leave GAI, we’ll confront Harbison. He might feel more compelled to open up if you were present.”
Geoff’s face flashed into her mind. He’d paid his respects at the funeral, then literally walked out of her life. Not that she’d expected the older guy to visit her and Petey, but she had expected something. He’d worked with Parker for five years outside of Raleigh and had a wife and son of his own.
Then she remembered the call from Petey, and panic set in. “But what if Petey or the kidnapper calls back? I have to be by the phone.”
Colt rubbed her arms with his hands, his look determined but reassuring. “I set up a trace on your cell and landline, and arranged for your home phone to automatically be forwarded to your cell if you’re not home.”
Serena inhaled a calming breath. “Then let’s go.”
She had survived foster care and the streets. She would survive now and beat down those same streets herself if that’s what it took to find her son.
FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER, Colt and Serena met with the agents at GAI. “I found this ledger at Rice’s apartment. I’m hoping you can decipher it.”
Ben narrowed his eyes as he studied the columns of information. “It might take a little while,
but I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thanks.” Colt shifted and turned to Slade. “Did you learn anything from Rice’s cell mates?”
Slade shrugged. “Just that he went from one con to the next, and was always looking for the next score. Each one had to be bigger than the last.” He drummed his fingers on the desk. “Only woman they mentioned was some girl who wrote him in prison a couple of times. Her name was Candy.”
“Last name?” Colt asked.
Slade made a sarcastic face. “Kane.”
Colt rolled his eyes. “Did you find her?”
“Dead end. The address she wrote him from was California. Tracked down her old roommate and she said Candy is a stripper and cokehead. She overdosed six months ago.”
Damn. Colt hadn’t shared his theory about the possibility of Rice being alive with Serena, but he had to now. “There’s something else. Gage, can you make sure forensics analyzed the blood on the sheets at Rice’s apartment and find out the results?”
Gage leaned back in his chair and folded his hands behind his head. “You have some reason to believe it’s not Rice’s?”
Colt hesitated. “Maybe. A few things about this case just don’t add up. First, there was no body. And second, we know Serena didn’t murder Rice, drag his body from his room and dump him. So who did?”
“Good question,” Derrick muttered.
Colt shifted. “When I was at Rice’s I noticed a razor and hair dye box in the trash.”
Derrick shrugged. “Rice was a master of disguise. He could have altered his appearance to escape, but he was killed before he had a chance to get away.”
Colt chewed over that theory. “True, but why didn’t the CSI unit take the hair dye package and razor for processing?”
Amanda cleared her throat. “Are you suggesting that Rice isn’t dead? That he faked his murder, then came back and changed his appearance after the police were at his apartment?”
Serena gaped at him, obviously stunned. “Why would he go to all that trouble to frame me?”
Colt clenched his jaw. “Like we said before. Maybe he wanted revenge against your husband. Having you arrested cleared the way for him to kidnap Petey.”
“So if Rice faked his death,” Amanda cut in, breaking the awkward silence, “then where did all that blood on his sheets and floor come from?”
“Exactly the reason I want the blood tested,” Colt continued. “For all we know, Rice could have saved his blood to plant it there. Or the blood could be an animal’s.” He paused. “Or if Rice had a partner, he could have killed his partner, gotten rid of the body, then made it appear as if he’d been murdered instead.”
“So no one would look for him,” Derrick said in disgust.
“Makes sense. It would explain why Rice’s body hasn’t been recovered,” Slade said, picking up the thread.
“And how evidence against Serena showed up,” Gage added. “Rice stole evidence from your place, Serena, then planted it at his house.”
Colt showed them the evidence bag holding the pair of boots. “These boots were in Rice’s closet. Size twelve. They have dirt and grass caked in the soles.”
Derrick stood. “Let me have them analyzed and see if they match the prints taken outside my house. I’ll also see if there’s DNA inside to verify that Rice wore them.”
“But why would Rice kidnap Petey if not for the money?” Serena asked.
A tense heartbeat passed while everyone considered that question.
No one, including Colt, liked the answer.
SERENA LAPSED INTO SILENCE as they drove toward Geoff Harbison’s house near Raleigh. Petey’s terrified voice echoed in her head, tormenting her.
Would she ever see him again?
She clenched her hands in her lap. How could she have been so foolish to get involved with a devious man like Rice?
If Rice had faked his own death, he had methodically planned every detail. The first time they’d met, the coffee, the invitation into her house to steal her things. Maybe he’d even copied her key so he could come and go at will.
She struggled to remember the sound of the kidnapper’s voice, the intonation, but she’d been so focused on her son that she couldn’t recall the details. Could that voice have been Rice’s?
Had he abducted her son, then returned to shoot at her and Colt outside the courthouse?
Her lungs tightened. If he wanted her dead, that meant he had no intention of returning Petey….
Dear God, what was he going to do with her son?
Chapter Ten
Colt slipped his hand over Serena’s, and she ached to hold on to him. But how could she trust any man when it appeared her husband might have deceived her as well as Rice?
“We’re going to find Petey,” Colt said gruffly. “You have to keep telling yourself that. You can’t lose faith.”
“I don’t know what I believe anymore,” she said on a pained sigh. “It seems like everyone I’ve ever known has lied to me.”
“I promise never to lie to you,” he said in a husky voice.
Serena sensed he meant it, but what if he already had lied? What if they didn’t find her son?
Their earlier kiss teased her mind, and she pulled her hand free from his. That kiss had felt too good, too tempting. Too selfish.
She couldn’t rely on Colt or anyone else, or put her own needs before Petey’s.
Hadn’t the streets taught her about survival? Sure, she’d softened after she’d married Parker. She’d allowed him to take care of her and Petey, but then he had been murdered, and they were alone, on their own.
If she’d stayed on her own instead of allowing Lyle Rice into her life, she and Petey would be safe at home now.
Colt steered the vehicle into a small neighborhood of older homes. Although night had set in, the moon glimmered, revealing a mixture of small brick ranches mingled with clapboard houses, some with peeling paint and sagging awnings. Even so, most of the yards were well tended and signs of children sprang up in the toys and outdoor play equipment in the yards.
Serena twisted her hands in her lap. “Geoff knows we’re coming?”
Colt nodded. “I phoned on my way to your house. Do you two keep in touch?”
“No.” Serena noted the handicap ramp on the side entrance and remembered that Geoff’s son had cerebral palsy. “The last time I saw Geoff was at Parker’s funeral. I guess he’s been too busy to check on me and Petey.” Besides, he had his own family and problems and hadn’t needed hers dumped on his shoulders.
She almost hated to bother him now.
Colt parked, and Serena noticed the withered flower beds and parched grass as they made their way up to the front door. Colt rang the doorbell, and a ding sounded, then the sound of a dog barking followed. A second later, a golden retriever bounded up to the glass window closest to the door and pressed his nose against the glass.
Footsteps followed, and the door swung open. Geoff stood in the doorway wearing an ill-fitting T-shirt and baggy pants, his face craggy and weathered.
The dog barked, and Geoff patted her back. “Go to Billy, girl, go on.” The dog turned and trotted away.
Serena frowned. Geoff looked as if he’d aged ten years since she’d seen him at the funeral. Dark pockets were carved beneath his gray eyes, his hair had grayed and looked shaggy, and he’d lost weight.
He glanced at Colt, then a weary sadness flickered in his eyes at the sight of Serena. “Hello, Serena.”
“Geoff, it’s been a long time.”
He nodded and cast his face downward as if ashamed. “I know, I’m sorry.” His voice caught, then he cleared his throat. “I heard about Petey. That’s awful.”
Serena nodded, biting her lip to stem tears.
Geoff, shifted, obviously uncomfortable, then angled his head toward Colt. “You must be Mason, the detective who called me.”
Colt extended his hand and Geoff accepted it. “Yes, sir. Colt Mason, GAI. Thank you for seeing us.”
Geoff rub
bed an age-spotted hand across his chin. “Come on in. I’ll get us some coffee.”
The whir of a wheelchair echoed, and Serena spotted a dark-haired boy with a big smile, probably about ten although he looked small for his age, hunched in the wheelchair. “Pop, the ninja is about to attack.”
Geoff forced a tight smile. “Okay, son. But Pop has company now.” Geoff gestured toward the room to the right. “Go back in the den and finish the movie. I’m going to chat with these people for a few minutes.”
The boy’s face fell slightly. “I can pause the movie till you’re finished.”
Geoff glanced at his watch. “If you do, you won’t have time to see the end before bedtime.”
Serena almost laughed at the torn expression on the child’s face. “Okay, but I’ll watch it again with you this weekend.”
Geoff nodded. “Deal.” The boy spun the wheelchair back around, and zoomed into the den, and Serena and Colt followed Geoff to the adjoining kitchen. Geoff handed them coffee in chipped mugs, and Serena toyed with the handle as he lumbered into a seat across from them.
“I don’t know how I can help you,” Geoff said as he dumped sugar in his coffee. “I retired a year and a half ago and spend my days taking care of Billy now.”
“Where’s your wife?” Serena asked gently.
Geoff’s mouth drew into a frown. “Lost her to a heart attack two years ago. It’s been rough since. Billy needs constant care, physical therapy. I couldn’t keep on the job and take care of him, too.”
Serena covered his hand with hers. “I’m sorry, Geoff. That must be hard.”
His gaze met hers and moisture filled his eyes. A moment later, he pressed his lips together and straightened, blinking away the tears. “You have any idea who took your little boy?” Geoff asked.
Serena shook her head.
Colt explained the chain of events and his most recent suspicions. “Rouse suggested that Parker Stover was investigating something bigger than drugs, and that investigation got him killed. You and he were partners. Did he confide in you what he was working on?”