Works of Darkness (Matt Foley/Sara Bradford series Book 1)

by V. B. Tenery

  Grumbling about the loss of her cell phone, she grabbed the bag and hurried into the pastor’s office to call Matt.

  The desk sergeant picked up. “Sorry, ma’am. Chief Foley hasn’t returned to the station. May I have him call you?”

  “Yes please. I found a sleeping bag that might be of interest to him on a case he’s investigating.” She left her name and number and ended the call.

  She took the bag to the basement and tucked it away on a top shelf of the supply closet.

  Just before five o’clock, the church secretary tapped her on the shoulder. “Sara, call for you.”

  Sara took the cordless phone from the secretary. “Mrs. Bradford, this is Detective Davis. The desk sergeant gave me your message. My partner and I would very much like to look at that sleeping bag. Do you know where it came from?”

  “I assume it came in one of the boxes for a sale our church is sponsoring. You can pick it up here anytime between 9:00 a.m. and 6:00 p.m.”

  “So you don’t know who brought it in?”

  “It shouldn’t be difficult to find out, although it might take a little time. We have a list of all our donors, at least those from whom we made pickups. A few people dropped items off, but they were mostly church members so we can ask around.” Sara checked the time. “Did you want to come this evening?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’m leaving now. Will you be there?”

  Sara told him she would wait and disconnected.

  Strange that a duplicate sleeping bag turned up the same week as Penny’s body. Had someone gotten rid of the mate because Penny’s body had been found? It could just be a common style and merely coincidence. She’d leave that for the detectives to sort out.

  The church parking lot had emptied by the time the two detectives arrived. The taller and more fashionable of the two stepped forward. “Mrs. Bradford?”

  She nodded.

  “I’m Detective Davis. We spoke on the phone.” He indicated the man next to him. “This is my partner, Detective Hunter. Do you have the sleeping bag?”

  “I stored it in the basement so it wouldn’t be sold by accident. I’ll get it for you.”

  The two men followed her downstairs. She opened the door to the supply closet, switched on the light, and glanced up at the top shelf.

  The bag was gone.

  Twin Falls Baptist Church

  Next morning, Sara mulled over the disappearance of the sleeping bag, as she had done all last night. The disappointed detectives waited while she asked the workers if they’d seen it. No one had, and the two men returned to the station.

  The janitor admitted storing a shipment of cleaning supplies after lunch, but said he’d found the shelf empty when he restocked it.

  The whole scene seemed like bad television drama. Things didn’t just disappear. This wasn’t Hollywood, it was her church. She felt like a marionette in the hands of an evil puppet-master, controlling her life.

  Before lunch, Sara checked the messages on the new iPhone she’d bought. Matt Foley’s name appeared on the screen. She pulled up the message.

  Matt’s voice sounded in her ear. “I wanted to let you know we found your missing kids. The family moved in with Diane Morgan’s parents, Mr. and Mrs. Walter Campbell. The address is 440 Harcourt Lane, in Twin Falls. A much better neighborhood for those two. Call if you have any questions.”

  Sara whispered a silent prayer of thanks.

  At lunchtime, she left the church sale to check on Danny and Poppy.

  The Campbell Home

  With the help of the car’s GPS system, Sara had no difficulty locating the address. The house sat on a quiet, tree-lined street in a modest neighborhood of single-story brick homes with well-tended lawns.

  She pulled the car to the curb in front of a white brick structure with dark green shutters and made her way to the front door. A smiling elderly woman answered the knock.

  “Hi, I’m Sara Bradford. Your grandchildren used to attend my church. I wondered if they would like to continue to do so since they moved. The church bus would pick them up.”

  The woman opened the screen door. “I’m Dolly Campbell. The children are in the backyard. Won’t you come in?”

  Dolly was a life-size Norman Rockwell painting, with her tidy gray hair pulled into a neat bun on top of her head. She wore a blue checked dress with a ruffled white apron she must have sewed herself.

  Sara followed her inside. “Do the children live with you now?”

  Dolly’s eyes brightened. “Yes, my husband and I finally convinced Diane to come back home. We persuaded her to let us take care of the children while she returned to school. Working entry-level jobs, she simply couldn’t provide for herself and the kids. We’re so happy to have them here. I appreciate your offer, but the children attend church with us now.”

  The older woman led the way into a spotless kitchen where three plates sat on a tablecloth printed with yellow daisies and black checks. “Would you care to join us for lunch? I was just about to call the children. They would love to have you stay.”

  Sara couldn’t keep the smile off her face. She could stop worrying about the kids’ welfare. The Campbell home was a thousand percent better than the children’s last dwelling, and their grandmother seemed an ideal caregiver. “I don’t want to impose, Mrs. Campbell. I’m glad they’re in church. I’ll just say hello, and let you get on with your lunch.”

  “Please call me Dolly...everyone does. It will be no imposition at all. It’s humble fare, but we would be happy to share it with you.”

  The sincerity in Dolly’s voice made Sara’s decision. “In that case, I would love to, thank you for asking.”

  Dolly selected another plate from the china cabinet then set it on the table. Lunch resided on the stove in covered dishes.

  “May I help?” Sara asked.

  “Of course. Why don’t you put the food on the table while I get the tea?”

  Sara moved bowls of golden fried okra and fresh black-eyed peas from the stove to the table, then returned for a platter of fried yellow squash and a plate of cornbread.

  Dolly followed with the tea, a plate of sliced tomatoes, and red onions. “Looks like we’re ready,” she said with a satisfied nod. “I’ll call the children.”

  Danny and Poppy bounded into the kitchen, accompanied by ear-piercing squeals when they saw Sara. They rushed forward, and grabbed her around the waist, almost knocking her over. The kids looked healthier and happier than she’d ever seen them.

  Dolly sent the two off to wash their hands. “My grandchildren are rare for their age. They like vegetables. My husband, Walter, is a meat-and-potatoes man. Whenever he’s away, I go to the market and we gorge ourselves on good old fried comfort food.”

  Sara drew in a deep breath. “It smells wonderful.”

  After seeming to inhale their lunch, Poppy grabbed Sara’s hand. “Come play with us, Sara.”

  “I would love to, but I’m working at the church today.” Sara knelt to give her a hug. “Maybe next time.”

  “At least stay for coffee.” Dolly filled two cups and handed one to Sara. They stood at the kitchen window and watched the kids play on an apple green swing set.

  Sara took a sip from her cup. “I became very attached to your grandchildren. When they disappeared from the trailer park, I became concerned. I’m so happy to find them here, well and thriving.”

  The older woman nodded. “I understand. Knowing they lived in that horrible place broke my heart. You can’t imagine how many sleepless nights I spent worrying about them.”

  Sara empathized with her. The only time she’d been inside the mobile home, concern for their safety overwhelmed her. The living room furniture consisted of four wooden spools grouped around a plywood crate, the room heated by a space heater. A firetrap in the making.

  “Walter and I didn’t get along with Diane’s husband. Grady became an addict soon after their marriage. He never took care of her and the children. When he went to prison, Diane was too prou
d to come home. Thank God she came to her senses.”

  Sara finished her coffee and placed the cup in the sink. “I brought some clothes for the children. I hope you don’t mind. If it’s a problem, I’ll take them back.”

  Dolly touched Sara’s hand. “It’s no problem at all. We would love to have them. Growing children can always use clothes.”

  Sara gathered up the dishes and took them to the sink. “I’ll rinse these off and put them in the dishwasher for you.”

  “I absolutely won’t hear of it. You were our guest,” Dolly said.

  Sara glanced at her watch. “If you won’t let me help, I need to get back to the church sale.”

  She retrieved the shopping bags from her car then went into the backyard to give Danny and Poppy goodbye hugs. As she reached out to shake the older woman’s hand, Sara found herself in a long, motherly embrace.

  Before pulling away from the Campbell residence, Sara sat in her car for a moment, remembering where these kids had come from. Where they were now.

  Finally, some good news to offset a very bad week.

  CHAPTER 15

  North Dallas

  Weeks ago, Sara agreed to accompany Jeffery Hayden to Blain Stanton’s dinner party, a political gathering of who’s-who in Texas political circles. Jeff’s marketing firm handled public relations for a number of politicians who would be present.

  She leaned back against the headrest, as Jeff’s Ferrari weaved through the narrow streets of North Dallas’ most affluent neighborhood. The sun set early in October and city lights sparkled like jewels against the velvet night sky.

  Jeff cruised with the traffic, finally stopping the car before an iron gate. He handed the guard the invitation. After scrutinizing it closely, the guard pushed a button and the gate swung open. The sleek vehicle moved up the tree-lined driveway to the two-story mansion ahead. The Stanton estate was the most imposing residence on a street of elegant, discreet homes.

  Jeff pulled into the queue behind a limousine. At the front entrance, a valet sprang from the shadows to open their doors.

  Jeff handed the kid a twenty-dollar bill. “If my car comes back without scratches, I’ll give you another twenty.”

  The attendant almost bowed then spirited the car away.

  Men and their expensive toys.

  Inside, the marble entryway flowed into a great room already crowded with guests. The privileged class enjoying fine food, expensive wines, and intellectual conversation. She scanned the gathering, congratulating herself on selecting the gray silk suit for the affair. It had been the right choice.

  Jeff took Sara’s arm and guided her to the bar where they joined the line waiting for drinks. Muted voices and laughter almost drowned out the music of a three-piece string group nearby. When they reached the front, Jeff ordered ginger ale, with lime on ice, for both of them. Drinks in hand, they pushed through the throng to stand near the dining room entrance. Minutes later, one of Jeff’s clients waved him over. Jeff excused himself and joined the group.

  Feeling somewhat conspicuous, alone in her corner, Sara strolled onto the veranda. Mature oak trees blocked the north wind, leaving a pleasant calm around her. The property covered about six acres, but she could still feel the city’s presence. She moved across the stone deck and stood against the rock banister. She found a prime people-watching vantage point through the open French doors. Soon bored, she turned to look out over the pool, admiring the landscape.

  “It’s good to see a friendly face.”

  Recognizing the voice, she turned around. Matthew Foley grinned down at her. He stood tall and intimidating. Perhaps intimidating wasn’t the word, although he could certainly be that at times. But after two near misses on her life, his presence lent a measure of security. He looked casually elegant in a dark suit with a gray turtleneck.

  His inside joke wasn’t lost on her. She laughed. “What brings you to the circus?”

  “Blain asked me. He never tires of trying to lure me into politics. Governor Ferrell will be here. I think he wants to pick my brain about his niece’s case. What’s your excuse?”

  “Temporary insanity. Actually, I wanted to see the Stantons. I haven’t seen them since Mary’s...I’m sorry, Matt, I didn’t mean to bring that up.”

  “No need to apologize. It’s been a long time.” But his smile had disappeared. “Glad to hear you took my advice and let the squad car follow you home last night.”

  “After Sunday, I’ll take all the protection I can get.”

  Jeff joined them on the terrace. He raised a quizzical eyebrow, before casting a frown at Matt. Jeff’s possessiveness irked her. He knew her feelings about him so why he felt threatened didn’t compute. Sara introduced the two men, just as Dina Lambert appeared.

  She slipped her arm through Jeff’s. Her silky voice rose above the noise. “Trying to keep all the handsome men to yourself, Sara?”

  Sara ignored the jibe. “Dina, have you met Matthew Foley? He’s Twin Falls Chief—”

  “We’ve met,” Dina said. The icy glare she cast at Matt said there was a story there, somewhere.

  Dina took a firm hold on Jeff’s arm. “I have some people I want you to meet, Jeff.” She gave Sara a smug look. “I’ll bring him back later.”

  Matt inclined his head towards Dina. “I hear her husband has presidential aspirations, but so does our governor. Between the two, I know who’d get my vote.”

  Sara nodded then gave a slight shudder. “I can see Dina with her eye on becoming First Lady. Her platform would probably be the benefits of plastic surgery.”

  Matt chuckled and lifted his glass. “Hear, hear.”

  “Sorry, that sounded mean spirited, didn’t it?”

  “Yes, but truthful.”

  Matt excused himself to go find Blain. He’d only been gone a few minutes when Grace Stanton joined Sara. She’d forgotten how much Mary resembled her mother.

  Grace moved closer and gave Sara a one-armed hug. “It’s nice out here, isn’t it?”

  Sara returned the hug with a smile. “Yes, I was enjoying the view. How are you?”

  Grace took a sip from her cocktail glass and shrugged. “I still have some bad days where I miss Mary terribly. I guess I always will. Our son, Lee, made us grandparents for the second time last year. They named the baby Mary. She has been a godsend to me. I babysit as often as they’ll let me.”

  “I hadn’t heard about the baby. How wonderful for you. Congratulations.”

  “Lee asked Matt to be her godfather. We love Matt. How could we not after he cared for Mary through ...”? She bit her lower lip. “Did you come with Matt tonight?”

  “No. I’m with Jeffery Hayden. Dina Lambert spirited him away. Matt kindly kept me company.”

  Sara’s old boss at Global, Adam Elliot, and his wife, Lindsey, joined them. Lindsey and Grace talked babies, and Adam turned to Sara. “Tell me about the accident at Global. Any real damage?”

  “Only smoke and water, plus the loss of one high-rise lift. But we were back in business Monday morning.”

  His gaze gave her a professional once-over. “Obviously, you weren’t seriously injured.” The comment more statement than question.

  The explosion had been the least of her trials. Best not to go there. “I had an angel on my shoulder.”

  “Any chance we can have lunch Thursday? We haven’t done that in a while. I meant to call you earlier, but things are popping at the office.” He’d left Global to start his own business five years ago. “I’ll ask Lindsey to join us.”

  “I would love to. I’ve wanted to talk to you about the buyout. I’m sure you’ve heard about it.”

  “Hasn’t everyone?” A blank expression crossed his face. “Have you heard who made the purchase?”

  “Millennium Ventures, according to Roger, although I know very little about it. I’ve been on vacation this week.”

  ****

  At the dinner table, Matt found himself seated between Sara Bradford on his right, with Charles Edwards
’s reed-thin wife, Marnie, on his left. Sara’s escort sat across the table from her, with Dina Lambert on one side, and Pepper Parker, a large redheaded woman Matt had been introduced to earlier, on the other. Parker was a reporter for a local magazine.

  The Edwards were engaging during dinner. Still affectionate with each other, Charles often smiled into his wife’s eyes and she touched his hand as they spoke.

  Although she consumed a mixed drink, and three glasses of wine with dinner, Marnie Edwards showed none of the effects of intoxication when she excused herself and left the table. Charles, apparently the designated driver for the evening, drank only iced tea. Matt noticed the alcohol consumption of those around him, having witnessed firsthand the carnage caused by drunk drivers.

  As dessert arrived, the redhead began to tell Dina Lambert about an interview earlier that day with the leader of a national women’s organization who vehemently opposed the war. “I felt fortunate to get time with her. She’s very much in demand. I found her to be intelligent and well informed. We’re featuring her on the cover of the Tattler’s December issue.”

  Unaware his facial expression had morphed his inner thoughts, the woman surprised Matt when she narrowed her eyes and stared at him over the centerpiece. “You have a problem with the organization, Chief Foley?”

  It would be rude to start a political debate in Blain’s home. Matt shook his head.

  The columnist leaned forward. “Don’t be shy, Chief. I’m sure we would all be interested in your opinion.”

  Matt shook his head again. “I’m not sure everyone would be.”

  “Yes, Matt,” Dina chimed in. “We’d be very interested.”

  Matt exchanged a glance with Blain at the head of the table. Matt didn’t want to engage this pushy woman in an argument at his father-in-law’s dinner table. Blain must have overheard the conversation. He gave Matt a go-ahead nod.