by Karen Leabo
“Jeez, Caro, what rock have you been living under? Krill hates the police. He and Chief Livingston can’t say a civil word to each other. Krill actively lobbies against any city employee pay raises, including ours. If we come nosing around, insinuating that his kid was born to a runaway teenager who died in childbirth and whose body was dumped in a lake, he’ll find a way to shackle us. He might even manage to get us fired, who knows?”
“Is he really that ruthless? I mean, you sound like you’ve tangled with him before.”
“I have. Remember two years ago when we got our new contract with the city? I was one of the union representatives involved in the negotiations. Krill acted like a real bastard. It was in the paper.”
“I guess I didn’t pay much attention to that stuff,” she said with a shrug.
“Anyway, to answer your question, he is that ruthless. And he’s no dummy. If his wife knows where the baby came from, you can bet Krill knows. And he’s not about to volunteer any information that will get him into trouble.”
“All right, so we can’t confront Don Krill till we have more conclusive evidence. Why don’t we approach his wife? She’s the one who’s suffering pangs of conscience.”
“And she’ll do what she has to to keep her child. No, I’d say she’ll be even more dangerous than her husband if she’s cornered. Anyway, she’ll call him at the first sign of trouble.”
Caro nodded, then thought for a moment. “Okay, how about the lawyer who handled the adoption? He’s probably closer to the source, anyway.”
Austin thought about this approach. “Maybe. Do you have his name?”
“It’s Beaman, I think. Travis Beaman. It’s in the photocopies.”
“You want to check him out?” Austin asked, wondering just how far he could stretch Caro’s generosity.
“I would, but I have to go pick up Scott Humphrey. He’s finally back from vacation. Unless you want to go.”
Austin considered that option. “I’ve got a lot going on here. As long as you can scare Humphrey, I’d rather you go.”
She stood up straighter. “I can scare him. Anyway, Villaverde’s going with me. The way he stares with those black eyes, he’ll scare the pants off the kid.”
“Okay. Sure you don’t want to question Scott once we get him here?”
“Positive.” She answered too quickly, and her eyes widened for just an instant, almost like she was spooked by the idea of conducting an interrogation. She clasped her hands around her cup and headed for the door. “Oh, and I really won’t be able to give you much more help on these cases. We’re shorthanded in Missing Persons, and Sergeant Quayar says she’s gonna bust me back to foot patrol in Deep Ellum if I don’t quit foisting my work off on Villaverde.”
As they walked back down the hallway, Austin didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. He hadn’t wanted Caro’s help in the first place, but she had proved useful. He never would have had time to dig through all that paperwork. “Well, if you’re really that busy—”
“Don’t pretend to be sorry, Lomax.” There was a sharp edge to her voice. “Now you don’t have to worry about me ‘getting in your way.’”
Had he really said that? He touched her arm, halting her before they reentered CAPERS. “Look, I was way out of line when I said you’d be in the way, okay? I appreciate all the help. And if you change your mind...” He let the sentence trail off when Deputy Chief Raines sauntered out into the hall.
Raines stopped midstride when he saw Caro. “Well, hello, lady,” he said, smoothing his thinning gray hair with the palm of his hand—primping, Austin thought, irritated. “It’s a downright pleasure to see your face in these parts again.”
“Hi, Chief.” Caro smiled warmly. It occurred to Austin that she’d never smiled at him like that. “I’m only up one flight of stairs.”
“Then you ought to visit more often,” Raines said. “I’ve been meaning to thank you personally for stepping in and helping out. Poor Lomax here has been given quite a baptism of fire with two such high-profile, pain-in-the-butt cases when his partner is out with the flu. I know he appreciates help from a seasoned pro like you. Right, Lomax?”
“Yes, sir.” Jeez, Louise! He hadn’t been made to feel like such a bonehead since his rookie days. It wasn’t as if Caro had any seniority over him. In fact, he’d entered the police academy a year ahead of her, and they’d both gone into investigative work at about the same time. He’d checked. It just so happened he’d spent eight years in Auto Theft, while she’d sharpened her detective’s teeth in Sex Crimes.
“I’m glad I could be of assistance, sir,” Caro said. “But I was just telling Corporal Lomax that I need to be focusing on my own job at the moment. Tony Villaverde has been taking on some of my load, and I really can’t—”
“Nonsense. I’ll fix it with Quayar and Hall. We need your help, Caro.”
“I’m flattered, really,” she said. “But I think Austin has things well in hand—”
“And far too much legwork to handle on his own. The media folks are watching us, and I want both of these cases given top priority. If that means extra personnel assigned to them, then so be it. I don’t want any mistakes made.” Raines was looking at Austin when he said this, but Caro was the one who winced and rubbed her stomach, like she was working on an ulcer.
“I understand,” Austin said resignedly.
The Chief turned to Caro. “What about you? Can I count on you?”
“Yes, sir,” she answered, looking just short of miserable.
Raines beamed. “Fine, fine. Keep me posted.”
Caro shrugged after Raines went on down the hall. “I tried.”
“I know. I thought you wanted to work on these cases.”
“I did. I mean, I do.” Her answer didn’t hold a lot of conviction.
“Is there a problem?”
She shook her head, crossed her arms over her breasts and avoided his gaze. “No, no problem. I’ll let you know when I get back with Scott Humphrey.” With that she turned and practically fled down the hall and away from him.
* * *
Russ Arkin had prepared Caro for the reception she was likely to get from the Humphreys, who used their money to insulate them from all unpleasantness. But she was still surprised by the garish display of wealth.
Their house, which backed up to the Las Colinas Country Club golf course, was obscenely huge and grotesquely modern in blinding white stucco and smoked glass. Tony pulled his LTD into the driveway and parked behind Scott’s black Porsche, which was next to a Rolls-Royce.
“You do the talking. I’ll just scowl,” Tony said.
“Sounds like a plan.”
The doorbell played Westminster chimes. Caro half expected a butler to answer, but the distinguished, silver-haired gentleman dressed in a silk robe who opened the door was no doubt Dr. Humphrey himself. His face was noticeably red from windburn.
He frowned and looked down his nose at them. “Yes?”
Caro flashed her shield. “I’m Corporal Carolyn Triece with the Dallas Police Department, and this is Corporal Anthony Villaverde. Is your son Scott at home?”
Dr. Humphrey immediately puffed up his chest. “What’s this about?” he demanded importantly.
“We’re investigating the disappearance of Amanda Arkin, and we would like to question Scott.”
“Amanda’s missing?” The man exhibited surprise, but not concern. “Surely you don’t think Scott knows anything. We’ve been on vacation for the past week.”
“Could you go get Scott, please?” Tony put in, using his best Sergeant Friday deadpan voice. Caro silently thanked him for his perfect timing.
“He needs to come down to the station with us so we can take his statement,” Caro added.
“This is preposterous!” Humphrey blustered. “You can’t just come barging into a private home and make demands like—do you have a warrant or anything?”
Ah, he thought he was so clever. Dr. Humphrey apparently believed that
his money and supposed intelligence placed him and his family above the law. Caro relished her next question. “Do we need a warrant? I assumed Scott would gladly cooperate in helping us find his girlfriend.”
Humphrey wavered. A woman Caro assumed was Mrs. Humphrey appeared, also dressed in a silk robe but with her blond hair perfectly coiffed. It looked as if she, also, might be windburned under her makeup, but Caro couldn’t be sure. “Roger, what’s going on?”
“Go get Scott,” the doctor barked. “We’ll get this cleared up right now.”
That’s what you think. Caro exchanged a secret look with Tony and bit her lip to keep from smiling. “May we come inside?” she asked pleasantly.
“No, you may not. Scott will be with you in a minute.” He closed the door in their faces.
“I hate this guy,” Caro said. “I hope all the neighbors are watching out their windows when we take Scotty away. Let’s try and look like cops so they’ll all know.”
Tony chuckled. “You have a mean streak, Caro.”
Moments later the door reopened and Scott himself appeared, heavy-lidded and in need of a shave. Caro did a lightning-quick assessment of his appearance, comparing him to Chucky’s description of the man who tried to sink Amanda’s car in the river. He was a big, burly guy, with a roundish face and medium brown hair. Uncombed as it was, his hair could be described as “choppy,” Chucky’s word. Unfortunately, he also had chapped lips and cheeks and a red nose. Damn.
“Tell them, Scott,” Dr. Humphrey said.
“Look, I don’t know anything about Amanda’s disappearance.”
“You didn’t know she was missing?”
“Well, yeah, I knew she’d split, but I mean, I don’t know how or why or anything.”
“And you were so concerned about her you went on a skiing vacation.”
“There was nothing I could do.”
Dr. Humphrey jumped in. “I don’t like your tone, young lady.”
She took a step forward until she was almost nose-to-chin with him. “You know what? I don’t care what you like.”
Tony placed a restraining hand on her arm. Nice touch, she thought. Tony was good.
“Lena, call Mark Glashier—now,” Dr. Humphrey said. “Scott, don’t you utter another word until our attorney gets here.” He gave Caro a penetrating look. “I know he’s allowed to have an attorney present. You didn’t bother to inform us of that fact.”
“I’m not arresting Scott...yet. I’m under no obligation to inform him of his rights. Do you think he needs an attorney?”
Dr. Humphrey didn’t answer.
“Your attorney can meet us down at the station, second floor, the old Police and Courts Building on Commerce. We’d like you to come with us, Scott.”
“Not unless you have a warrant,” Dr. Humphrey said.
“You’d like us to arrest him?” Caro asked incredulously. “Is that what you’re saying?”
“Dad,” Scott broke in, “I’m going with them. If there’s any way I can help them find Amanda, I will.” He looked at Caro. “Can I get my jacket?”
He sounded so sad and resigned, Caro had a hard time maintaining her head of steam. “Sure.”
He reached into a closet in the entry hall and came up with a blue ski jacket, which he donned as he headed out the door.
Caro opened the back door of the LTD so Scott could climb in. As he did, she noticed the handful of bits of colored paper hanging from the zipper of his jacket. “What are these?” she asked as she inspected them, although she already knew.
“Lift tickets. We just got back from Vail last night.”
She looked at the tickets one at a time. December 24. December 25. December 26. Damn, damn, damn. Unless he was awfully damn clever, he was in Colorado the night Amanda’s car was abandoned.
Chapter 8
It was Amanda’s turn to do the dishes. When dinner was through she gathered a stack of plates from the table and went obediently into the kitchen. This might be her best chance—or her only chance—to talk to Henry, as he was in charge of kitchen cleanup. Odell had taken the other girls into the den to watch a video, their reward for good behavior during the day.
Amanda didn’t really care about the movie. It was some religious film, anyway. She was just glad that Odell was safely occupied.
“The pecan pie was good,” she said in a low voice when she was sure she and Henry were out of everyone’s earshot. “Did you make it?”
Henry set a stack of dirty dishes on the counter next to the sink. “Yeah. Aunt Odell taught me to cook good. She said since I probably wouldn’t ever be married, I should learn how to do for myself.”
This was one of the longest speeches Henry had ever made in Amanda’s presence. It was almost a relief to hear someone besides Odell talking. “Why does Odell think you won’t get married?” she asked, although the answer was fairly obvious. Henry was weird. Creepy. He had odd facial tics, and sometimes he made faces and grimaces for no reason. Occasionally he muttered to himself, too.
“Because I’m different,” he said, smiling self-consciously.
As she ran hot, soapy water into the sink, Amanda pretended to be confounded by his explanation. “Different, how?”
Now he actually blushed. “You know, I don’t talk so good and I make faces. People don’t like me.”
“Just because you make faces? That’s silly. It’s what’s on the inside that matters. Whether you’re a good person.”
“That’s what Aunt Odell says. She says that because I’m helping her with her holy work, I’ll go straight to heaven.”
“What holy work is that?”
“You know, with you girls. She stops you girls from killing your babies.” He said this in a soft, almost reverent voice. “Were you going to kill your baby, Amanda?”
She thought very carefully before answering, unsure how much he already knew about her. She didn’t want to get caught in a lie at this point. “I thought about having an abortion. You know what that is, right?”
“It’s when you kill the baby inside you.”
“Yes, but some people don’t believe a baby is a baby until it’s born. So it’s not really killing.”
“They’re wrong.”
“Yes, I think maybe it is wrong. I had already decided I would let my baby be born. But of course, Odell didn’t know that when she...when she took me.”
Henry stopped scraping the plates into the garbage. He grew very still, and then a slow smile spread across his face. “I knew it. I knew you were different from the others. I tried to tell Aunt Odell that, but she said you were a sinner.”
“Everyone is a sinner at one time or another,” Amanda pointed out. For once, she was grateful for her strict Catholic upbringing. The nuns had instilled her with enough ammunition to hold her own in any discussion of this nature. “But Jesus taught forgiveness,” she continued. “The important thing is whether we learn from our mistakes, and whether we’re sorry or not. Isn’t that right?”
Henry screwed up his face, as if he was thinking hard. Then he looked at Amanda and asked, very earnestly, “Are you sorry?”
She nodded and bit the inside of her lip as hard as she could until moisture formed in her eyes. “Yes, I am. I should never have had...relations with the boy who fathered my baby. He didn’t love me, he just said he did. He’s the one who made me go to that awful clinic where Odell found me. But I couldn’t go through with it. And I don’t ever want to see that boy again.” She silently apologized to Scott.
“I’m glad,” Henry said.
They worked in silence for a while, with Amanda washing and Henry drying. Phoebe, the bloodhound, lay on the floor and watched them solemnly. Henry’s shotgun leaned against a corner of the room, reminding Amanda that this brief episode of camaraderie was only an illusion.
“Henry,” she said, breaking the quiet, “what does Odell do with the babies?”
“She gives them to parents who will love them.”
“Oh. Oh, dear.” Amanda i
njected a note of alarm in her voice as she placed a protective hand over her abdomen.
“Don’t you want that? Don’t you want your baby to have a good home?”
“Yes, but...well, I want to give it a good home. I had decided to keep the baby, you see. My father was going to help me with the money and clothes and food, so the baby would have the best of everything. And then, someday, I would meet a nice man who would love me and my child, and we could get married and make a family....” Her voice broke, and she sniffled loudly.
Henry said nothing, but his brow was pulled low as he stacked plates and put them in the cabinets.
“Do you think,” Amanda ventured, “that Odell would let me keep my baby?”
Henry shook his head. “I don’t think so. See, the babies bring in money to help run the home. We get...fees, you know, from the couples who get the babies.”
Amanda was appalled, though she did her best to hide her reaction. Not only was Odell drugging and kidnapping teenage girls, she was profiting by selling their babies! The woman was a monster.
Now Amanda began crying in earnest, amazed to find out she could summon tears at will, even without biting her lip. “But I want to keep my baby.” She paused dramatically. “Hey, I know. Maybe she could just let me go. Then she wouldn’t have to feed me or buy clothes for me. I wouldn’t tell anyone about her, I promise. Could you talk to her, Henry? Could you explain?”
Henry placed a tentative hand on Amanda’s shoulder. “Don’t cry, Amanda,” he said, looking genuinely distressed. “It’ll be okay. You can have other babies when you get married—lots of them.”
“But I want this one. I already love it. It’s part of me. Or maybe that’s something men can’t understand.”
“I understand.” He nodded energetically. “But I can’t talk to Odell. She don’t listen to me. And she won’t let you leave. No girl has ever left the home, not till after they have their babies.”
“And then what happens to them?” Amanda couldn’t help but ask.
Henry withdrew his hand, much to her relief, and shrugged. His lack of response made her shiver.