Midnight Caller

by Diane Burke

  His eyes slid over the adults. Mothers helped their children. Fathers snapped pictures. Was one of them a murderer? Experience had taught him that the most frightening serial killers were the ones who could blend easily into the normal thread of life. The neighbor waving hello as he mowed the grass. The guy delivering the morning paper. The man walking his dog. Now a killer was here in his community, kidnapping and brutally killing women. Tony was determined to find him.

  The smell of charcoaled hamburgers wafted across the lawn. His stomach growled in response. He hadn’t had more than a doughnut and coffee for breakfast. He was more than ready to relinquish his furry charge. The rabbit could go back to doing whatever rabbits do and he could grab a burger and head back to the department.

  In his peripheral vision, he caught a glimpse of movement. He turned his head. A boy, five maybe six years old, approached. Tony groaned. Just what he needed. A kid coming to see the rabbit. He watched the child push the walker with the speed and determination of a little man on a mission. Tony grinned. The boy reminded him of himself when he’d been that age. Full of curiosity and excess energy. He’d been a real handful for his single mom. To this day he never knew how she managed to raise him all on her own.

  An unruly mass of red hair sprouted from the kid’s head. He looked like a cartoon character who had stuck his finger into an electric socket. In the distance, a woman with bouncing auburn curls was in hot pursuit. Must be the mother.

  The child pushed the walker up to the table and stared into the cage.

  The boy’s serious expression intrigued Tony. “Why aren’t you hunting eggs with the other kids?”

  “He’s not real, is he?” The boy’s frown deepened.

  Tony glanced at the rabbit and shrugged. “Looks real to me.”

  “There’s no such thing as an Easter Bunny. It’s all pretend.” The boy’s shoulders slumped and his lower lip jutted out.

  “Jack, don’t bother the man.” The mother had caught up. Winded from her race to catch up with her son, her words came in short gasps. Her eyes held the remnants of fear probably from realizing he had wandered away. “Why did you leave without telling me?” She lowered her voice to a whisper meant for her son. “You know the rule about talking to strangers.”

  A blond-haired woman, her arms wrapped around a child with Down syndrome, appeared behind them. “Don’t be too hard on him, Erin. We were talking. It was probably hard to resist coming to see the Easter Bunny. Right, Jack?”

  Jack looked at Tony. “Do kids really get wishes? Or is that pretend, too?”

  “Why? Do you have a wish?” Tony asked.

  The boy nodded. “I’ve been wishing and praying every night and I didn’t know how God was going to help me. But I heard Mom and Aunt Carol talking. She said that kids get to make a wish and sometimes that wish comes true. Since you’re in charge of the Easter Bunny, I figure God wants me to ask you.”

  “Jack.” The mom placed her hand on the boy’s shoulder. “What are you talking about? What wish?”

  “Yes, Jack,” Tony said with a grin. “What is this wish that’s so big you’ve been praying about it?”

  “I need a dad.”

  “Jack!” The mother coughed and sputtered. Her friend gasped and then burst into laughter.

  “Not a real dad,” Jack spoke faster. “A pretend dad would be fine. But I need him by eight o’clock next Saturday.”

  “Eight o’clock?” Tony, just as surprised as the mother, could only echo the boy’s words.

  Jack’s head bobbed up and down. “Mrs. Meltzer at Kidz Club says it doesn’t have to be a real dad. It can be a stepdad or an uncle or a grandfather or even a big brother. That’s what you need to ride the boys’ bus to Disney World. But I don’t have any of those things. It’s just me, my mom and Aunt Tess. I really want to go on that bus.”

  The mother’s face and throat flushed with color. She was an attractive woman. Slender. Medium height. Auburn hair. Green eyes. An appealing package. The woman seemed to be struggling to find something appropriate to say. “Jack,” was the only word she managed to whisper.

  “Moms get to go. And sisters, too,” the boy continued. “But they have to ride on the second bus. Only the guys get to ride the first bus. Mom’s going with me. But if I don’t get a pretend dad, I won’t be able to ride the first bus with the rest of the guys. I don’t want to ride the girls’ bus.”

  “Jack Patrick O’Malley, you stop it right this minute.”

  A smile tugged at the edges of Tony’s mouth. Obviously, the mother had overcome her embarrassment and slid right on into mad-as-all-get-out.

  “I don’t want to be different from the other kids,” Jack said, ignoring his mother’s outburst. “My legs don’t work right. I can’t play with the other kids at recess. I have to use this stupid walker all the time. I want to go on the boys’ bus. I want to be just like everybody else even if it’s only for one day. Can you do it? Can you get me a pretend dad for Saturday?”

  Tony drew in a deep breath.

  Lord, how am I supposed to handle this? Couldn’t he have wished for a train set or an action figure? No, he had to hit me in the gut with this. Please, Father, give me the right words.

  “That’s a pretty big order.” He looked into the expectant, freckled face staring up at him and, again, saw himself as a boy. Although too young to have any real memories of his police officer father who had been killed in the line of duty, he remembered only too well the pain of growing up without a dad.

  Tony’s chest constricted when he saw the trust and hope reflected in the boy’s eyes. “Some things are tough, Jack, even for me,” he said gently. “But I’ll see what the Easter bunny and I can do. Why don’t you go with your aunt?” He pointed toward the refreshments. “I need to talk with your mom.”

  Carol, still chuckling, led Jack and Amy away.

  Erin watched the man get down from the table and stretch to his full six-foot-two height. He was tall, dark and lethally handsome. She wished the ground would open up and swallow her. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “When he said he had a wish, I thought he would ask for a new toy or a video game. I don’t know what to say.”

  Her discomfort deepened when with an athletic grace he covered the distance between them in seconds. His T-shirt strained against his muscular arms and chest. A pleasant masculine scent teased her nostrils and Erin squelched a sudden, irrational urge to move closer for a deeper whiff. But it was his eyes that moved her. Deep, dark, chocolate eyes lit with amusement and a hint of something else. Empathy?

  Empathy she appreciated. Sympathy she didn’t need from anyone.

  “Relax,” he said. “Don’t you know? I hang out with the Easter Bunny. Who knows better than me the surprising things that slip out of the mouths of kids?” He offered his hand. “I’m Tony Marino.”

  His grip was firm and strong.

  “Erin O’Malley.”

  He released her hand and gestured for her to wait. He pulled a wallet from his back pocket, withdrew a business card and handed it to her.

  “I work for the Sheriff’s Department.”

  “You’re a cop?” What else could go wrong today?

  Tony nodded. “A detective.” His eyes held a warmth and compassion that made his next words easier to hear. “I’d like to volunteer to accompany Jack on the boys’ bus.”

  This tall, muscular man with a giving heart and a voice like hot, southern honey made Erin stand up and take notice despite his bad taste in permanent employment.

  He nodded toward the business card. “You can verify my credentials before Saturday, ma’am.”

  She refrained from answering and tried to make sense of her ridiculous, and completely unexpected, attraction to him. Just the word cop usually worked like a bucket of ice-cold water. And the fact that he was a member of the untrustworthy male species normally cinched the deal.

  “Why would you want to ride the bus with my son?” she asked.

  “That’s what today is all about
, isn’t it? Granting wishes to kids?” He leaned close. His breath fanned her cheek and he whispered in her ear as if they shared a secret all their own. “I know from personal experience what it feels like to grow up without a dad. I know what it would mean to your son to ride the bus with the other boys.”

  “I…I…” A multitude of emotions bombarded Erin. Surprise. Embarrassment. Curiosity. Goose bumps danced along her arms when those chocolate eyes locked with hers. She glanced at the card in her hand and, for once, was speechless.

  “Don’t answer now,” Tony said. “Just think about it and let me know.” With a wink and a wave, he picked up the rabbit cage and left.

  Erin was touched by the man’s kindness. Helping out for the Wish for the Stars fundraiser. Volunteering to ride the bus with her son. But she had promised herself not to get involved again with any man, especially a cop. Men lie and men leave.

  After church, Tony entered the station. He had prayed hard at the service that morning that the Lord would provide a lead, a direction, something to help them find the missing woman before she became the next victim. He walked past the bull pen and headed toward the lockers. His senses heightened. Something wasn’t right. Knowing how he hated Easter duty, the guys had been ribbing him all week. Now that he had actually done the deed not a sound came from the peanut gallery.

  He nodded to Richard Spence and Brad Winters as he passed their desks. They looked up, nodded and returned to work. Thank You, Lord. It’s about time they moved on to something else. They’re good detectives, but sometimes they act like jerks.

  Tony crossed the break room and opened his locker. A flood of rocks…no, not rocks…eggs…plastic eggs bounced off his head, his shoulders and rolled over his feet. Loud, raucous laughter sounded behind him. Tony saw Spence, Winters and a half-dozen other guys squeezed into the doorway, straining to get a bird’s-eye view.

  “Funny, guys. Real funny.” Tony had to admit it was a pretty good prank. He chuckled, kicked a path through the eggs, and elbowed his way past the gawking men to his desk. His backside barely hit his chair when a loud, commanding voice caught his attention.

  “Marino, don’t get comfortable. Spence. Winters. In my office.” Sergeant Greene hollered from his office doorway. Expecting to be chastised for the egg incident, they filed into the room like guilty schoolchildren and flopped into the chairs in front of the desk.

  The sergeant slid a manila folder across the desk. “Here’s the latest information on our missing woman. Now we have a face to go with the name.”

  Tony picked up the folder, flipped it open and looked at the picture inside. She was an average, pleasant-looking woman. Brown hair. Brown eyes. Her smile warm and generous.

  “Cynthia Mayors is thirty-one, married and has two children under the age of eight,” Greene said. “Her husband was notified this morning and is making arrangements to fly home from Iraq as soon as possible. Meantime, Child Protective Services has been called in to care for the kids.”

  Frick and Frack, otherwise known as Spence and Winters, respectively, leaned sideways stealing a glance at the picture. Spence squinted his eyes and looked closer. “She probably ran off with her boyfriend.”

  “Didn’t you hear?” Winters asked. “He said she’s married, stupid.”

  “Since when does that mean anything? Just because she’s married doesn’t mean she doesn’t have a boyfriend,” insisted Spence. “Matter of fact, I’m sure of it. Look at that picture. She’s grinning from ear to ear. You only see grins like that when everything is new, exciting, and reality hasn’t hit you over the head with a cast iron pot. Don’t see married folk grinning like that as the years add up.”

  “Speak for yourself. You wouldn’t know a good marriage if you fell over it. The ink’s not even dry on your divorce papers yet. What divorce is it, anyway? Three? Four?” Winters brushed a piece of lint from his impeccably ironed trousers. “I’m married fifteen years this May and if you took a photo of me today, I’d be grinning up a storm.”

  “Really? You’re sitting there grinning? Then I’m thinking I need glasses ’cause the only thing I see when I look at you is the same old sourpuss who walks around here all day like his shoes are too tight.” Spence looked pleased with himself for the comeback.

  “Enough,” the sergeant yelled. “Can we get back to the matter at hand and leave the school yard antics outside?”

  Spence and Winters glared at each other.

  Bringing the conversation back to business, Tony said, “I didn’t see or hear anything out of the ordinary at the picnic yesterday, Sarge. I’d bet no one even knows she’s missing. When was she last seen?”

  “Friday. A couple of the nurses report she left right after the three o’clock shift change. She never arrived home. The babysitter called it in late Friday night.”

  “Has anyone mentioned anything that might help us out?” Winters asked. “Trouble at home? Trouble on the job? Anybody hanging around or bothering her?”

  “As you know, we’ve just begun the investigation,” Sarge said. “So far we know her husband’s in Iraq. She talks about her family a lot, especially her kids. Carried umpteen photos in her purse and took the time to show them every chance she had. Other than her husband being away, everything seemed good on the home front. From what I’ve heard, she’s well-liked by her peers. As far as a stalker, no one noticed anyone suspicious hanging around.”

  Sergeant Greene leaned back in his chair. A scowl twisted his features. “The particulars of her disappearance match those of the other two women we’ve lost.”

  Winters said, “How do you figure, Sarge? Both our prior victims were single. This one’s married.”

  “And both our other ladies are dead,” Spence said.

  “That’s why we’ve got to move on this pronto, gentlemen,” Sarge replied. “All three women seem to have disappeared into thin air. No witnesses. No signs of struggle. Two of the women left their jobs and never arrived home. The third woman left her home for an appointment and never arrived. That’s enough to tie them together for me.”

  The sergeant tossed his chewed yellow pencil on the table. “It’s worth a hard look. If there’s a connection between Cynthia Mayors and the other two victims, I want to know it before she becomes victim number three. This isn’t New York or Chicago. If a woman’s body shows up here, we’re probably looking at a domestic dispute, a drug overdose or a bar pickup gone bad. Two women disappear in this community and then turn up dead? That raises the hair on the back of my neck. A third woman vanishes? I gotta tell you I’m wondering if Ted Bundy’s younger brother just moved to town.”

  “We hear you, Sarge. We’ll get on it right away,” said Winters.

  Tony picked up the folder and carried it back to his desk. Yesterday’s picnic had been a waste of his time. He should have been out with the other men canvassing the neighborhood, conducting interviews.

  The image of a freckle-faced boy and a mom with auburn hair popped into his mind. He had to admit it hadn’t been a total waste of time. He might have the chance to do something special for a handicapped kid. That made him feel good.

  He loved kids but decided never to have a family of his own. Choosing to be a cop was a twenty-four-hour, seven-day-a-week, dangerous job. He didn’t want to subject a child to the possibility of growing up without a father. Been there, knew that pain. So he fed the occasional paternal urge with his sister’s kids or helped out with the church youth group.

  Besides, what kind of father would he be? He’d never had a role model. Just like that kid he’d met today. No uncles. Not even an older brother. His mom didn’t bring dates home to meet him ’til his late teens. It had been just him, his mom and his sister. What if he didn’t measure up? He saw the results of bad parenting every day on his job. Nope. No kids for him.

  Tony dragged his hand over his face. He needed to buckle down and work. But on what? They didn’t have one lead that hadn’t been investigated. As much as it sickened him, he had to acknowledge they�
�d hit a brick wall and couldn’t do another thing but retrace their steps until the killer made another move.

  He flipped open the folder and studied the picture. This woman was somebody’s wife, somebody’s mother, somebody’s friend. Experience told him she was probably already dead. Sarge was right. Three was a very unsettling number.

  TWO

  Erin tugged the business card out of her pocket.

  “I see you still haven’t thrown that away.” Tess plopped her ample girth onto a nearby kitchen chair. “Must be you are at least considering the lad’s offer.” The older woman squinted. “What are you doing in here, anyway? Cleaning the kitchen is my job.”

  “I thought I’d give you a hand.”

  “You know what they say about two cooks in a kitchen…”

  Erin smiled. Tess was notorious for spouting the first line of famous sayings and never finishing them. One of these days, she was going to put her on the spot and see if she even knew the other halves of those sayings.

  “So?” Her aunt peered across eyeglasses riding low on her nose and waited.

  “I have no intention of taking his offer seriously.”

  “Is that so?” Tess pretended to brush nonexisting crumbs off the table into her upturned palm. “Even though you went through the trouble to find out he is, indeed, an honorable law enforcement officer?”

  Erin ignored her.

  “Even though Jack has his heart set on riding the boys’ bus? Even though the gentleman was nice enough to offer to ride with him? You’re just not going to do it. Makes sense to me. Sure it does.”

  Erin sighed. “You don’t understand. I can’t ask a total stranger to play Jack’s dad. It’s humiliating.”