The FBI Thrillers Collection: Vol 11-15

by Catherine Coulter

  “Big Louie, here’s a bone for you. Think of it as your dental floss.” He started tossing kibble, a game they played every night. The cats ran their paws off to grab the treats out of the air, like kibble Frisbee. He tossed the kibble farther and farther, and watched Lula rip across the wood floor, skid, and bat at the treats, then eat them off her paws. Mackie liked to leap into the air to catch his. “Why won’t the woman talk to me, guys? I’m the law. She’s supposed to trust me. Well, I know why, now don’t I? She’s scared out of her wits. I just wish I knew what her problem was.” He sighed, threw out more treats, listened to Louie gnaw and grind down on his bone. He threw the last treat to Lula, high, six feet behind where she was crouched, and she flew to grab it out of the air. “Enough, guys,” he said, dusted his hands on his jeans, and stood up. “Do you know what? I’m going to find Autumn despite her.”

  He heard something, a slight shuffling sound that wasn’t just a house noise in the night. Ethan didn’t move a muscle, then slowly drew his Beretta and fanned it around him, eyes and ears on full alert.

  Nothing.

  He said, his voice soft and calm, “Is anyone here?”

  Nothing for a moment, then a soft, “It’s only me. I was watching you and the cats. They’re wonderful and so fast. Can I play with them?”

  He spun around to see Autumn Backman standing in the doorway, her long brown hair straggling out of a ponytail, her jeans and T-shirt rumpled. She wore orange sneakers on her small feet. In twenty years, he thought, she’d be the picture of her mom.

  “Are you all right?”

  She nodded.

  “How long have you been here?”

  She looked at him, her big blue eyes unblinking. She was afraid of him too? “If you don’t talk to me, how will I find out anything?”

  She stared down at her sneakers, frowned. He saw that one of the laces was coming undone. But she didn’t move. She said, “You’re the sheriff.”

  “Yes, I am, and I’ve been out with about fifty other people looking for you for hours and hours. I’ve been scared for you. Did someone try to take you and you got away?”

  Slowly she shook her head. She still wouldn’t look at him. Just like her mother. But at least the daughter trusted him enough to come to his house to hide out. From whom? From what?

  Ethan walked slowly to the little girl, aware that Big Louie, Mackie, and Lula were hanging back, watching. They’d known she was here and yet they hadn’t been hiding as they usually did from strangers, Big Louie included, all three under his bed, three twitching tails never quite all the way under. He came down on his knees in front of her, as careful as could be not to frighten her.

  “Why did you come here, Autumn, really?”

  “Since Uncle Tollie isn’t here, I decided to come here so you can protect me.”

  But if someone came inside while I was out looking for you, I wouldn’t be here to protect you. No, no, keep it simple. “Who would I protect you from?”

  That was too much; he saw that immediately. She shrank back, wrapped her arms around herself. She looked ready to fold in on herself. Lula meowed. The little girl looked up. Mackie meowed, Big Louie barked, all three now a line behind him.

  “They’re nice,” she said.

  “They’re varmints,” Ethan said, but with a smile and a laugh, and was pleased to see her arms drop back to her sides. “Lula is a calico. See all the black and gold splotches on white? She’s so independent, I have to make an appointment with her before she’ll give me the time of day. Now, as for Mackie, he’s the big orange-and-white tabby, so big you’d think he could go bring down his own dinner, but he’s also a wuss, lives to eat and sleep and have me rub his ears and tell him how handsome he is. As for Big Louie, he’s a black Labrador, tough and so sweet you want to hug him all the time. He and the cats get along—what a surprise, but it’s true.”

  She said, “Lula? Mackie?” Ethan watched them stop their slinking and bound toward her. Independent Lula, to his surprise, began to rub herself against Autumn’s legs. As for Mackie, he had no shame. He stretched out his full length against her, his paws on her chest. She laughed and picked him up, then staggered before Ethan could steady her.

  He said, “Why don’t you call me Ethan?”

  She shook her head. “Mama said I was to stay away from you. Far away.”

  Now that wasn’t much of a surprise. “Did she tell you why?”

  The little girl whispered, “She said no way would you believe us.”

  “But you came here anyway.”

  “Yes,” she whispered, and he saw a small white hand stretch out toward Big Louie. “He’s bigger than me.”

  “Yeah, he is, but you know, he wouldn’t hurt you unless you tried to steal his dog bone. Then it’d be close. Would you like me to call your mother, Autumn?”

  “If you do, she’ll come out here and he’ll come and she’ll try to stop him and it could be really bad.”

  She was rubbing Lula’s back as she arched against her hand, purring with lots of horsepower. Mackie swatted at Lula. Lula whipped around and hissed at him.

  Ethan said, “Come on, you guys, don’t be rude around Autumn. That’s a pretty name—Autumn.”

  “My daddy wanted to name me that. He’s dead.”

  “I’m sorry. Was he ill?”

  She shook her head. “It was bad, real bad.” Slowly she held out her hand to Mackie, who turned slinky now, twisting and turning around her, teasing her. Big Louie nudged her shoulder. Ethan said, “Listen, you guys, how can I get to know Autumn if you’re all trying to take over?”

  She laughed, a very small laugh but still a laugh, and he found himself smiling in return. “Are you hungry? This trio sure was. You watched me play kibble Frisbee with them?”

  She nodded. “They’re good.”

  She fell silent, looked profoundly worried.

  He wanted to ask her why she hadn’t come out then, but he knew why. She’d been too scared. He said, “I can make hot chocolate. I think I’ve got some Fig Newtons.”

  She licked her lips. He had her. He held out his hand. And waited. It seemed like a year, but at last she put her hand in his. He rose. She walked beside him into the kitchen. “Why don’t you sit down and play with the varmints while I work. Are you hungry?”

  She nodded.

  Ethan thought about her mother. Another five minutes, he thought, get the little girl to tell him what was going on first. And he knew to his boot heels that whatever was going on with her mother, it wasn’t good. “You know, I’m hungry too. Why don’t I see what’s in the fridge?”

  There was leftover pepperoni pizza, four big slices. The best kid food in the land. “Look what I found.”

  “I was afraid to eat it,” she said. “I didn’t want to make you mad.”

  What to say to that? “I’m glad you didn’t eat it cold. The cheese would stick to your teeth. Let’s warm it up.”

  He turned the oven on high and laid the slices on a cookie tray that was so old he imagined the first cookie was baked on it during Prohibition.

  He made hot chocolate from an old can of cocoa in the cupboard. As he stirred it into the milk on the stovetop, he said, “How did you get into my house?”

  He didn’t think she was going to answer him, then in a near whisper, she said, “Your bedroom window was up a little bit. Big Louie was barking his head off. I got stuck, and he grabbed my shirt sleeve and pulled me into your bedroom.”

  “You’re some watchdog, aren’t you, Big Louie?”

  Big Louie wagged his tail. Ethan watched him nuzzle his face into the little girl’s hands as she sat all straight and proper on a kitchen chair.

  He poured the hot chocolate into a mug. “Here, give this a try. It’s not too hot, I stuck my finger in it.”

  He watched her sip, then she smiled. A beautiful smile, he thought, no fear in it, at least for the moment. “Are you a worrier, Autumn?”

  She cocked her head to one side and stared at him. She nodded. “
I have to.”

  “Why?”

  She buried her face in the hot chocolate. Mackie meowed and jumped lightly onto her lap. Mackie was sixteen pounds of muscle covered with gold-and-white fur. If he sprawled out over her legs, his paws might have reached the floor on either side of her.

  Back off, back off. “I need to call your mama. She’s scared, Autumn. You want her to know you’re okay, don’t you?”

  The little face sported a chocolate mustache. She looked pale and frightened. “I don’t want her to die.”

  6

  HIS HEART SKIPPED a beat, but he spoke easily, not a bit of uncertainty in his voice. “She won’t die. That’s why you came to me, you knew I’d take care of you, and I’ll take care of your mom, okay? Do you believe me?”

  “You don’t know,” she said, her fingers stroking through Mackie’s thick fur. His purr went up a notch. Lula sprawled against Big Louie, who was lying on the floor on his side, tail thumping on the tile, both sets of eyes fastened on the little girl with Mackie in her lap.

  “Then you’ll have to tell me, won’t you?”

  She shook her head, rubbed Mackie harder, then buried her face in his fur.

  “Okay,” Ethan said. He rose and pulled the pizza out of the oven. “It’s perfect. Let’s eat.”

  After he watched her take a huge bite, Ethan said, “Do you like Titusville?”

  She took another bite, chewed slowly. Mackie, now on the floor, meowed up at her.

  “Take a hike, Mackie, no pizza,” Ethan said. Mackie meowed several more times, his patented “I’m starving” meow, and walked to sprawl down beside Lula, who was still leaning into Big Louie.

  “Mama said she brought me to Titusville once, but I don’t remember it. She said I was just a little kid.” She chewed. “She said she took me to three caves she’d explored, and I thought if I really tried I could remember them and find them, but I couldn’t.”

  “So you came here instead. How did you know where I live, Autumn?”

  “I heard a tourist talking to Mrs. Daily about this charming cottage he and his wife had seen. He described it real good and asked if it was for rent. Mrs. Daily told him the sheriff lived there, it had been in your family since way back before the Big War. She said your mother lived there before she went to Florida, and your older sister lived in Baltimore.”

  He nodded, gave her another slice of pizza, then took another big bite of his own, suddenly aware that he was as hungry as she was. Maggie, his twice-a-week housekeeper, had brought the pizza and forgotten to take it home with her when she left, thank the good Lord. Or maybe she’d left it for him. With Maggie, he never knew. “What about your folks, Autumn?”

  “My mama’s mother died last year because of the big C. I don’t know what that is, but it’s bad.”

  “I’m sorry.” He cleared his throat. “I’m going to call your mama now. I don’t think it’s fair for her to keep on worrying about you, do you? And here you are, stuffing my excellent pizza down your gullet.”

  She gave another little laugh. He smiled as he dialed Gerald’s Loft.

  When he had Joanna Backman on the phone, he said only, “She’s safe. She’s here with me, at my house. She’s eating pizza and playing with my pets.”

  She didn’t say a single word. The cell cut off, and he could see her running out the door, maybe remembering it was cold here in Titusville at night and running back to get her jacket and her purse. She’d be here in under five minutes, he’d bet on it. He called Faydeen, asked her to start the chain of phone calls to alert everyone that the search was over, that the little girl was safe and sound. When he closed his cell, he saw Autumn was eating the last piece of pizza, stuffing it in her mouth. One hungry kid.

  “I still don’t know a blessed thing.”

  She suddenly dropped the pizza onto the paper plate and stiffened tight all over. He realized he’d spoken out loud. “What’s the matter?”

  “You said his name,” she whispered. “How did you know his name? I only told Dillon his name.”

  I said his name? Whose name? Who’s Dillon? He simply looked at her, his head to one side in question.

  “You said his name. Why did you say his name?”

  I still don’t know a blessed thing. Blessed? No, he couldn’t have heard her right. The man was actually named Blessed? That had to be the weirdest name he’d ever heard. He said, his voice casual, easy, “Who is Blessed?”

  She was keening from deep in her throat. She shoved back her chair and slithered out of it. She would have run past him, but he managed to catch her. She fought him, tears streaming down her face, shaking, making that awful sound. Ethan didn’t think, he simply brought her up onto his lap and held her tight against him. He whispered against her hair, “It’s okay, sweetheart, I promise it’s okay.”

  He heard a car drive up. He smoothed her hair back from her face. “I bet that’s your mama. Come on, sweetheart, don’t be scared, of anybody. I’ll hurt this Blessed if he comes anywhere near you, all right?”

  “You don’t know, you just don’t know.” She was shuddering but no longer fighting him. He heard the front door open, heard Joanna Backman running, calling out, “Autumn? Autumn?”

  Well, wasn’t that bright of him? He hadn’t even locked the front door. He said, “We’re in the kitchen. Come on in, Mrs. Backman.”

  When she ran into the kitchen, she pulled up sharp. “Oh my God, what happened to her? What did you do? What’s wrong?”

  He heard the growing hysteria in her voice and said very slowly, very calmly, “It’s all right. Autumn is afraid of this man Blessed. I’m trying to convince her I can handle anyone who tries to hurt her or you.”

  “I don’t think so,” she said. She pulled her daughter out of his arms and plastered her against her chest, rocking her back and forth, kissing her hair, her small face, and kept speaking, trying not to cry with absolute relief. The animals, strangely enough, hadn’t moved much, hadn’t dashed for his bedroom as they usually did whenever a stranger invaded the house. All three of them sat on the kitchen floor, as if nothing at all were going on.

  Ethan said finally, “Would you care for some hot chocolate, Mrs. Backman?”

  “Wha-what?” She looked at him, dazed, and pulled her daughter more tightly against her.

  “I gave her hot chocolate. Autumn liked it, didn’t you, Autumn?”

  The little girl pulled back in her mother’s arms. “It’s good, Mama, real good.”

  “I used nonfat milk. To add balance, she had pepperoni pizza.”

  Autumn said, “I’m sorry, Mama, but I had to keep them away from you, and I knew this was the safest place, even though you don’t trust Ethan. He fed me, Mama, and his animals like me too.”

  “Thank you, Sheriff.”

  “You’re welcome, Mrs. Backman.”

  “I suppose you should call me Joanna.”

  Ethan nodded. “Joanna, who is Blessed?”

  She ducked her head down, her hair veiling her face. “We need to leave. I never should have come to Titusville, shouldn’t have waited for Tollie to come home. I’m an idiot.”

  Big Louie came to his feet, barked once, and stared at Joanna. Ethan grabbed him, rubbed his rich, black coat. “That took you long enough, Big Louie. Calm down. Autumn’s just saying hello to her mama, so she’s currently tied up, dude. You’ve got to stay with me a little while.”

  Autumn laughed.

  Ethan said easily, “You won my pets over, Autumn. Did you feed them until they were your slaves?”

  “Oh, no, I know better than that.”

  He heard someone knock on the cottage door. Two sharp raps, a pause, then two more, harder raps. Both Joanna and Autumn turned to stone.

  “It’s all right. I’ll be right back.”

  “No, no, Sheriff, don’t go, please—”

  “It will be all right. You two stay here.” Ethan pulled his Beretta as he left the kitchen. He called out, “Who is it?”

  No answer.


  He opened the front door—not terribly bright, he knew—but no one was there.

  He called out again, walked to the edge of the porch, and stood quietly, his eyes adjusting to the night light. He heard no other sound except the night wind whistling through the trees, the crickets, an owl, and then an answer from its mate.

  He closed and locked the door, then walked back into the kitchen to see Ox, his senior deputy, a man he’d known for three years, holding Joanna back against him, his gun jabbed against her neck.

  “Well, now, I surely do believe that’s far enough, Sheriff.” It was Ox, but Ethan had never before heard him speak in such a high, piercing voice. He felt gooseflesh rise on his arms.

  7

  AUTUMN WHISPERED, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

  What did a little girl have to be sorry about? Ethan stared at Ox, knowing what he was seeing, not willing to accept that this manic voice he was hearing, this mad voice, was from the Ox he knew. He stood very quietly. “What’s going on, Ox? What are you doing? Put down that damned gun, you hear me? Let Mrs. Backman go and tell me what’s going on. Now.”

  Ox turned his head to the side and spit on the tile kitchen floor. He pressed the muzzle of the gun harder into Joanna’s neck. “I don’t have much time, so put your gun on the floor, Sheriff, and kick it over to me. If you don’t, I’ll kill the bitch.”

  Bitch? Ethan had never heard Ox say anything like that about a woman.

  “I’m not a bitch, you monster!” Joanna shoved her elbow back into his gut so fast Ethan barely registered what she’d done. Ox grunted, and she hit him again as hard as she could with that elbow. He screamed curses as she hit him a third time. He stumbled backward, yelling all the while at her, and raised his gun.

  “Ox, look at me!” Ethan yelled, and brought up his Beretta. His heart dropped to his gut when Autumn kicked Ox in the shin, jumped up, and grabbed Ox’s flailing gun arm.

  Ethan yelled, “Autumn, let go!”

  But Autumn didn’t let go, she hung on for dear life. Ox jerked her right off the floor.