A Killer Past

by Maris Soule

  The moment Jack saw the names of the callers and their messages, he knew it would be a while before he got that beer. Allison had taken the last message just before leaving the station, so Jack chose that number to call first. ‘Mr Harrington,’ he said. ‘This is Sergeant Rossini.’

  ‘About time,’ the man on the other end of the line snapped. ‘Do you realize how many times I’ve called?’

  ‘I’m sorry, sir. What seems to be the problem?’

  ‘Problem? My daughter is missing, that’s the problem. You won’t answer my calls. The state police are giving me the runaround, and the FBI won’t do anything. That’s the problem.’

  He was nearly shouting, but Jack understood the man’s frustration … and fear. In response, Jack kept his voice level, hoping to calm the man. ‘When did you realize your daughter was missing?’

  ‘This afternoon. Hours ago. My wife has called you. So has my mother.’

  ‘Is your mother Mary Harrington?’ Jack asked, though he was sure she had to be Robert Harrington’s mother.

  ‘Yes. She told us to ask for you specifically. She said you’ve met Shannon.’

  Of course, Jack realized. The teenager from the night before, the one with the red Fusion. That they were talking about an older child, not a young one, eased some of Jack’s concern and gave a possible reason for the girl’s disappearance. ‘I have met her,’ he said. ‘She’s a lovely girl. Why do you think she ran away?’

  ‘She hasn’t run away,’ Harrington shouted. ‘She’s been kidnapped.’

  ‘And why do you think that?’

  ‘Why? Because her boyfriend … that is, one of her friends saw her get into a car, and no one’s seen her since.’

  That didn’t sound like a kidnapping, but Jack didn’t say so. ‘Have you been contacted about a ransom?’

  ‘No.’ Robert Harrington hesitated. ‘Not yet. But my mother said that car has been over by her house, was there the night Shannon helped her give out trick-or-treat candy.’

  A stalker? Jack didn’t like the sound of that. ‘Tell me everything you know,’ he said, pulling out a pen and pad of paper.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  MARY STARED AT the clock. Hours had passed since Clare’s first phone call. Hours of waiting, wondering, and fretting. She’d called Rossini’s cellphone number twice. In each case she’d ended up leaving a message. She’d called the station directly. Same result.

  She wanted to drive over to Robby’s, but she didn’t want to leave her house, just in case Shannon showed up there. Every time the phone rang, her stomach churned and her heart raced. She’d hold her breath when the voice on the other end of the line turned out to be Robby or Clare. No news became good news, at least better than some of the scenarios playing through her head.

  Was it a kidnapping? Did one of the gang members have Shannon? Were they going to use her granddaughter to punish her?

  Mary kept hoping for the best. Maybe this black car had nothing to do with the black car both she and Shannon had seen hanging around the neighborhood. Maybe this black car was driven by a friend of Shannon’s, someone Shannon hadn’t mentioned before, someone who showed up unexpectedly and suggest they go for a ride.

  At this very moment Shannon might be in Grand Rapids or Kalamazoo having a blast. Maybe she was at a movie or a concert, eating dinner, or dancing. Maybe, maybe, maybe …

  Mary didn’t want to think of other possibilities, but the thoughts kept slipping into her head. Shannon was a beautiful girl, friendly and sweet. A little naïve. No, very naïve. She could easily be duped into offering to help a stranger. Once in his car …

  The doorbell rang.

  For a moment Mary didn’t move, then slowly she pushed herself to her feet.

  Again the doorbell.

  ‘I’m coming,’ she called, her voice sounding weaker than she wanted. Older. More feeble.

  At the door she hesitated. The racing of her heart made her lightheaded, a mixture of dread and excitement stalling her hand. And then she released the chain and turned the knob.

  ‘Sergeant,’ she said the moment she realized who it was.

  ‘May I come in?’

  He looked tired, his eyes bloodshot and a stubble of beard covering his normally smooth cheeks and chin. His overcoat was unbuttoned, as if thrown on as a last thought.

  ‘My granddaughter. Is she…?’ Mary didn’t want to say the word.

  ‘I have no idea,’ he said and nodded toward her kitchen. ‘I need a coffee.’

  ‘I’ll fix one.’

  He walked by her, heading for the kitchen. She looked up and down the street, half-expecting to see a black car. Wishing she would.

  A street light illuminated the SUV parked in front of her house, otherwise the street was empty, houses mere silhouettes under the street lights.

  She closed the door and went into the kitchen.

  ‘I gather you got my message,’ she said as she placed a single-cup container into the coffee maker.

  ‘I didn’t see the ones on my cellphone until just a while ago. I’d had it on mute, so I never heard those calls, but I saw you’d called the station. Your son did, too.’

  ‘You’ve talked to him?’

  ‘I have. The other night you said you’d seen a black car hanging around here. Can you describe it?’

  She shook her head and grabbed a clean mug from the cupboard. ‘Black. Four doors. Otherwise looked like half of the cars on the road.’

  ‘Did you ever see the driver?’

  ‘Not really.’ She pushed the button to start the coffee. ‘I think it was a man, but I couldn’t be sure. Shannon said the car went by several times Halloween night, and then I thought I saw it following me another day.’

  As soon as the machine spat out the last of the coffee, she handed Rossini the mug, then sat down across from him. ‘I don’t even know if that car has anything to do with Shannon’s disappearance, but the moment Clare said someone had seen Shannon get into a black car, I thought of that one.’

  Cradling the mug in his hands, he took a sip of the coffee, then a long gulp. When he set the mug down, he gave a slight nod and a sigh before giving her his full attention. ‘Are you sure your granddaughter has actually disappeared? Maybe this black car belongs to one of her friends. Maybe she’s just off doing her own thing.’

  ‘That’s what I’m hoping,’ Mary said. ‘But Clare – my daughter-in-law – said she’s called all of Shannon’s friends. Not one knows where she is, not even her boyfriend. Besides, this isn’t like Shannon. She doesn’t just disappear without telling anyone.’

  ‘You’re sure?’ His tone expressed his disbelief. ‘We parents think we know everything our kids do, but I’ve learned that’s not always true.’

  Mary wanted to argue that Shannon wasn’t like that, but she remembered the discussion they’d had about a trip to Europe. Shannon had kept that plan a secret from her parents for a long time. Even now Clare and Robby thought Shannon had broken up with her boyfriend. Mary doubted that was true.

  ‘Besides,’ Sergeant Rossini added, ‘officially, at her age, your granddaughter is under no obligation to tell anyone where she’s going.’

  Mary had thought of that, too. An eighteen-year-old was an adult according to the law. Shannon might still be living with her mom and dad and still be in high school, but legally she was responsible for her own actions.

  ‘Does that mean you’re not going to do anything?’ Mary knew if he wasn’t, she was. She wasn’t sure what, but she couldn’t just sit around waiting.

  ‘I didn’t say that.’ He took another gulp of coffee, then pushed himself back from the table. ‘I’ll go talk to your son and daughter-in-law, see if they can give me any additional information. I’ll get a picture of your granddaughter. Maybe talk to this friend who saw your granddaughter get into the car.’

  He didn’t sound hopeful. Mostly he sounded tired, and Mary felt a measure of compassion for the man. He’d evidently had a long day, which made her ask, ‘Di
d you search that Rodriguez guy’s house?’

  ‘We did.’ He shook his head, but he also smiled. ‘After all, you told me we should.’

  ‘And?’

  Rossini’s smile was bigger, more natural. ‘If your friend planted those drugs, I don’t want to know, but if everything holds up in court, Rodriguez will be out of here for a long, long time.’

  ‘If you found a lot of drugs, they weren’t planted by David.’ That wasn’t how they worked, at least not when she was a part of the agency. ‘My guess is one of those gang members gave him all the information he needed, someone who’s now decided he doesn’t want to live in Rivershore any longer.’

  ‘You guys don’t exactly work within the law, do you?’

  She wasn’t sure how to answer. The ringing of the phone eliminated the need. ‘Let me get that,’ Mary said. ‘Maybe Shannon’s home.’

  It wasn’t Shannon on the phone. Nor Robby or Clare. Ella’s voice was high-pitched and excited. ‘There’s a man at your car, Mary.’

  ‘There’s someone at my car,’ Mary repeated for Rossini and waved her hand toward the front window.

  ‘Or maybe it’s a boy,’ Ella continued, and Mary could picture her neighbor at her living-room window, watching all this. ‘He’s wearing one of those hooded sweatshirts, so I can’t really tell. Oh, he put something in your car.’

  ‘He’s putting …’

  Mary didn’t finish. Rossini was already at her front door, pulling it open.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  JACK RAN, BUT he wasn’t fast enough to catch the man – or teenager – before the guy reached the black sedan parked behind Mary’s car, got in, and pulled away. Cursing too many beers and hamburgers, along with age, Jack went to his SUV.

  By the time he had his Durango in gear, the sedan had turned the corner at the end of the block. He keyed his radio and put out a call. Jennifer Mendoza responded first. He gave her a quick rundown on what was happening. ‘Car’s a Nissan,’ he said. ‘I only got part of the license plate. Mud covered the rest, but it starts with a ZYK. Get back with me as soon as you have something.’

  She promised she would, and he caught sight of the sedan two blocks ahead, as it turned onto Main.

  He didn’t stick his light on the roof. He hadn’t seen the girl in the car and didn’t want to panic the guy. ‘Lead me to her,’ he muttered and pulled out his cellphone.

  He punched in Mary Harrington’s number, waited through seven rings, then dropped the phone on the passenger’s seat. He could talk to her later. Right now he needed to figure out where the car ahead of him was going and what he wanted to do.

  He could pull the car over, tell the driver he was conducting a safety check, but if the car and driver were connected to Shannon Harrington’s disappearance, that might panic the guy. Better to give the driver a little leeway, see where he went.

  Again he tried Mary’s number.

  Still no answer.

  The black car left the downtown area and crossed the river, heading north. Only a few cars were on the road ahead, and Jack eased his Durango farther back. If the sedan’s driver knew he was being followed, he wasn’t in any hurry to get away.

  The ring of his cellphone interrupted his concentration. He didn’t recognize the number, but the moment he clicked ‘accept’ he recognized Mary’s voice. ‘Have you got him yet?’ she asked.

  ‘Not yet, but I’m following him. He’s just up ahead. What did he do to your car?’

  ‘He left something on the seat. A pin I gave Shannon for her birthday.’

  Which meant the bastard had the girl. ‘Any note?’

  ‘Not exactly.’

  He wasn’t in the mood for games. ‘Come on, Mary, what did he leave?’

  ‘An article. A copy of an old newspaper article. Where are you?’

  ‘North of town, near the Hill and Dale Vineyard.’ Aptly named for the rolling hills and valleys where grape vineyards flourished. ‘What’s the article about?’

  ‘Something that happened in the past.’

  ‘Your past?’

  He noticed the hesitation before she answered. ‘It was a mistake. A terrible mistake.’

  ‘What kind of a mistake?’ If this guy had left the article in her car, it had to have something to do with her.

  ‘I can’t tell you.’

  ‘Dammit, Mary, do you want to find your granddaughter or not?’ He was tired of all her secrets.

  ‘Yes, I want to find her, but you need to stop following him. Go back to the police station, or home, or wherever you would have gone after leaving my house.’

  ‘I am not going home.’

  ‘Are you near the Allegan State Forest?’

  ‘Yes.’ An occasional sign posted on the trees on his right identified the land as state-owned and open to hunting. ‘Why?’ Even as he asked the question, he knew why she’d asked. ‘Where are you, Mary?’

  ‘I’m just now turning onto Main.’

  ‘Turn around and go back home,’ he ordered. He didn’t need a civilian involved in a police chase. ‘Let us take care of this.’

  ‘This man wants me.’

  ‘All the more reason for you to go back.’

  ‘No. Once he has me, I’m sure he’ll let Shannon go.’

  ‘We’re not making any trades. Whoa!’ Jack slammed on his brakes.

  ‘What? What’s going on?’

  ‘A deer just darted out in front of my car. I nearly … Oh, damn.’

  ‘Now what?’

  Jack stared at the empty road ahead. ‘Nothing. Go back home. I’ll call you when I know more.’

  He didn’t want to tell her he’d lost the car. Hell, there was no way he could have lost the sedan. He’d been watching it while talking. There was no other traffic, coming or going. No crossroads. He would have seen if the car had turned in at one of the farmhouses they’d passed, and there was no way the rows of grapevines on his left would conceal a car. The woods on his right were the only alternative. Somehow, somewhere that black sedan had turned into those woods without him seeing it.

  He turned on his emergency flashers and kept his speed below twenty. For a half-mile he crept along, looking in all directions; nevertheless, he almost missed the two-track. He drove past it before it registered that the opening between the trees was wider than normal. He stopped the Durango, backed up, and stopped again.

  He could just barely see the rear end of the car, its dark color blending in with the shadowy tree trunks and brush. It wasn’t more than a few hundred feet off the main road.

  Jack pulled his Durango over to the side and off the road, then called Mendoza.

  ‘Get me some backup,’ he said and gave her his location. ‘State or county, I don’t care.’

  He knew he should wait for assistance, but he wasn’t sure where the two-track led. He’d thought he was hanging far enough back not to alert the guy, but maybe the driver realized he was being followed and panicked. If he had the girl with him, he may have decided it was time to get rid of her. In that case, waiting could be a fatal mistake.

  Jack grabbed the flashlight he kept in his glove compartment, and took out his Glock. He eased himself out of the warmth of the Durango, and into the cold of the night, slowly closing the SUV’s door so he didn’t make a lot of noise. From the road’s gravel shoulder, he progressed along the two-track, clumps of grass and stunted brush rubbing against his pant legs.

  Step by step he neared the car, listening for the slightest noise as he moved deeper into the woods. When he heard the snap of a branch, he quickly turned to his left.

  But not in time.

  Something solid hit the side of his head.

  Mary cussed the car in front of her. ‘The light is green,’ she growled through her windshield. ‘You go when it’s green, so move it, buddy.’

  Slowly the car in front of her moved through the intersection.

  She didn’t like that Rossini had hung up on her. Something was wrong, and she didn’t think it had anything t
o do with a deer. She needed to find him, to catch up with the man who had left the pin and article in her car. She had to catch up with Peter Dubois.

  He had Shannon, but he wanted her. Wanted Pandora Coye, the woman who murdered his mother. To make sure she understood his message, he’d underlined the end of the article where the six-year-old boy had sworn, ‘Un jour je la trouverai.’ Someday I will find her.

  Her cellphone rang just as she crossed the river and headed north out of town. ‘What did you see?’ she demanded.

  ‘Pan, where are you?’

  ‘David?’ He was the last person she’d expected to hear from.

  ‘I just heard your granddaughter’s missing.’

  ‘He’s here, David. Peter Dubois is here.’

  ‘I told you I thought he’d find you.’

  ‘He left a copy of the news article from forty-four years ago in my car … and the Pandora pin.’

  ‘Again, where are you?’

  ‘Just leaving town. Sergeant Rossini’s been following Dubois’ car. I know they were as far north as the Allegan State Park, but I haven’t talked to him for the last ten minutes.’

  ‘All right, keep me posted with what you find. By the way, nice job handling that gang leader.’

  ‘No thanks to you.’ She wasn’t about to tell him she knew he’d called the police and alerted them to the gang’s invasion.

  ‘I knew you could do it. Just like I’m sure you’ll find your granddaughter. Once an ADEC assassin, always an assassin. But if you need any help, give me a call.’

  ‘And what, you’ll fly back from D.C.?’

  He chuckled. ‘No, I’m still here in Michigan. You should’ve known I wouldn’t be able to leave until after this Dubois situation was taken care of. Just call this number back if you figure out where Dubois has taken your granddaughter.’

  ‘And what, you’ll come to my rescue? Her rescue?’