“Claims?” Caitlin said through a mouthful of red peppers and cucumbers.
Sally snorted. “In this business I don’t trust anyone. The mother has a history of drug arrests but no convictions on her adult record, and nothing within the past three years, so she’s either cleaned up or—”
“Hasn’t been caught.” Caitlin sipped her glass of water. “It’s a sad world when a child can’t sleep safely in her own bed.”
“Sad indeed.”
They were silent a moment as they both took another bite of their food, Caitlin washing hers down with water, and Sally with her usual soft drink.
“I heard about the knife they found,” Sally said. “Tough luck for your client.”
Caitlin shrugged. “They’ve tacked on attempted murder to the charges, but the DA offered a plea deal this morning. Twenty years. Apparently they fear I’ll drag the case on for weeks, which I refuse to do because it absolutely won’t change the outcome. My client has until three o’clock this afternoon to agree. Or his trial will resume tomorrow as originally scheduled.” Against her gut feeling, she’d advised Belstead to take the deal.
“And if he doesn’t take it?”
“He’ll serve twenty-five to life instead. If convicted, of course. Which he will be.”
“I know what you hope he’ll do.” Sally gave her another lopsided smile.
“Either way, the trial will be over tomorrow. Then that stress at least will be gone. And I’ll never have to see that creep again. Well, except at the sentencing.” Caitlin massaged her temple where she had the beginnings of a terrible headache.
“You know what you need? A man. Preferably one with a little muscle. Dating does wonders for stress.”
Caitlin choked on her water, sending it spraying over the table. “You’d know.” Sally’s husband, Tony, was a building contractor who had more muscles in one arm than most men possessed in their entire bodies. His animal magnetism was palpable.
“Oh, yeah, I know.” Sally grinned. “So, anyone interesting on the horizon?” She looked around the restaurant, as though scoping out potential dates. Her voice lowered. “What about the infamous deputy DA with the girlfriend in California? Any news on that front?”
Caitlin groaned. “I can’t believe I told you about Mace.”
“We all have weak moments. And he’s worth having one over. I got a glimpse of him this week when he came to the precinct. He is something else. Hot.”
“And as untouchable as ever,” Caitlin said. “But I do have a date for Saturday.” Better to change the subject before anyone in the restaurant overheard Mace’s name. It was bound to get back to the circles she traveled in if she wasn’t careful.
“Who?” Sally leaned toward her. “Tell me right now, or I’m going to arrest you.”
Caitlin laughed and held out her wrists. “Take me away. I need a break.”
“I know you’re overworked if sitting in jail with a bunch of drunks and druggies sounds restful.”
“Really, it’s nothing. Just another deputy DA.” After the arson trial dismissed for lunch, she and Wyman had agreed on Saturday night. He’d wanted Friday, but Caitlin liked to keep Friday night clear so she didn’t spend the entire day away from Amy. She worked late far too many nights as it was.
“Good-looking?” Sally prompted. She scooped up a fork of mashed potatoes, eating them with undisguised relish.
Caitlin rolled her eyes. “Look, this guy is handsome, sort of, but it’s not like that between us.” She didn’t want to admit she suspected Wyman’s motive was blackmail. That would get Sally’s investigative nose going overtime, and Sally was one woman she didn’t want on the case. “He’s separated from his wife, maybe even divorced already, but I don’t plan to get involved until I make sure where he stands. It’s more of a business dinner than anything.” Actually, she didn’t plan on getting involved at all, but she didn’t want Sally digging around or feeling sorry for her.
“Let me know if you need me to order a background check.”
“What?” Another laugh burst from Caitlin. “I can’t believe you just said that.”
“Hey, it’s for a good cause.” Sally shoveled in a few more bites as they waited for their check. “I’d better get on my way to Manti. I’ll drop you somewhere if you’d like.”
“The courthouse. I have a meeting with a judge before I talk to my arson client about the plea deal.”
“No problem.”
A few minutes later, Sally pulled to the curb to let Caitlin out at the tall white building with its six tall pillars and many windows that reflected the weak afternoon sun. “See you next week,” Caitlin told her. “Good luck finding that little girl.”
“If she’s still alive.” Sally’s reply was grim, and Caitlin knew she was thinking about another little girl who’d gone missing in Salt Lake two weeks before. The seven-year-old had been raped and killed within an hour of leaving her home, her body found days later in the basement of a neighboring apartment. Vicious, violent crimes that targeted the most helpless were what they dealt with on a regular basis. Most people had no idea.
Sally lifted her chin. “I’ll find the guy who did this, and when I do, you’d better not get him off.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Caitlin watched her drive away, feeling a sense of something she couldn’t put her finger on.
Across the street stood the county building, looking old and picturesque, peeking behind the bare trees. She liked the view better in the summer when green leaves filled the trees and the blue sky overhead held nothing but warmth.
“Caitlin!”
She lowered her gaze from the building and saw Mace Keeley coming across the street toward her. He smiled and motioned her to wait, and she checked her watch surreptitiously before nodding, pleased to see she had plenty of time for a chat.
“Needed some records,” he said casually, tossing his head in the direction of the county building.
“Convenient, isn’t it?” She herself had gone across the street more times than she could count to confer with one county employee or another.
“I heard you gave Wyman a run for his money this morning.”
She grinned. “He offered a deal. Arson and manslaughter.”
Mace whistled. “Your client is lucky.”
“There wasn’t a lot of proof.”
“He going to take it?”
“If I have any say. I’ll find out within the hour.”
“Good. One more client through the system.”
“Yep.” They stood silently for brief seconds, their breath making white puffs in the cold air. Caitlin’s heart was thudding so furiously, she thought it a miracle he couldn’t hear the barrage.
Be calm, she told herself. She angled toward the courthouse and he turned with her. Together they started up the stairs, joining the half-dozen other people who were heading inside. Mace held the door open for her, and she passed close enough to feel the warmth emanating from him and to smell the faint aroma of his aftershave.
In the building, he touched her arm, guiding her to the side so they wouldn’t be overheard by the passersby. His skin felt hot to the touch. “I was wondering if you’d like to have dinner with me sometime.”
Caitlin tried not to show shock, grateful she’d inherited a poker face from her English mother. Usually at work the proper English part of her was more prominent than the Irish. At least so far. Yet inside she was shouting, Yes, yes! I’ll go out to dinner with you. Kiss me now!
“Well, that depends,” she said casually.
“Depends on what?” He gave her a lazy smile, completely confident of his charms. Her insides responded with a rush of warmth.
Concentrate, she told herself. “Well, rumor has it that you might be moving to California. It’s very hard to have dinner from so far away.”
“Ah, I see.” He regarded her quietly a moment, his blue eyes glinting with amusement. “Well, I’m sorry to have to quell that particular rumor, but between you and me, I never di
d plan on moving there.”
Caitlin hoped he meant what she thought he did. At the very least, she’d let him know she was going into their dinner with open eyes. “In that case, dinner sounds fun.”
“What about Saturday? I’d say Friday, but I have a case that’s going to keep me late.”
She opened her mouth to agree but then remembered her plans with Wyman. “Oh, I can’t Saturday.” She let a hint of disappointment tinge her voice. “I have plans already.” She wished she’d told Wyman to shove off.
“Maybe another time.”
“If you get off early Friday, call me. I’ll be working late myself.” Did I just say that? she thought. She hoped it sounded natural. Only thirty-two years old, and she’d been out of the game too long.
“I’ll do that.” He seemed sincere enough that she wondered fleetingly how she would explain it to Amy if he followed through. Maybe Sally would agree to let her go over for the evening to play with Randi.
With a nod and another breathtaking smile, Mace started away from her, and though she needed to go that same way, she busied herself by walking in the opposite direction to give him a head start. No sense in starting the rumors flying already. She’d worked hard to keep her professional life separate from her personal, and just because Mace made her pulse race was no reason to give that up now. She might be secretly wishing she had a man in her life, but chasing off all the womanizing young attorneys who thought nothing of working their way through any and all willing females was not on her list of things she most wanted to do. Better that they think her a hard woman with no interest in a relationship.
Reaching the end of the hall, she checked her watch once again and headed toward the judge’s office.
“Hey, Caitlin.”
She’d been so intent on her thoughts that she hadn’t noticed Wyman before she nearly ran into him. “Oh, hi.”
“Talk to your arsonist about the deal?”
“In a bit. I’ve got a meeting first with one of the judges.”
“Well, I’ll let you go then.” He reached out and touched her arm in a gesture that seemed too intimate. “I’m really looking forward to Saturday night. I think you’ll find we have a lot in common.”
Inwardly, Caitlin shuddered. “I’m sure it’ll be interesting.” She glanced at her watch pointedly. “Oops, gotta run. Don’t want to keep the judge waiting.” She moved around him and continued on, aware of his eyes following her down the hall.
Chapter 4
Parker Hathaway had been tense all morning, even before Dakota called in tears about Madeline. Her tears hadn’t moved him, though his ex-wife apparently thought he’d drop everything and go running up to Salt Lake. Instead, he’d told her to call the police. This was part of the plan, that she’d call the police and they would find evidence to convict her.
He didn’t receive a call from the police until two hours later, and that told him Dakota had cleaned up the house before reporting Madeline’s absence, or at least made sure there was nothing lying around that would reflect badly upon her. The house had been searched top to bottom. Nothing. Officers were beginning to comb the neighborhoods, and volunteers were gathering to form search parties. Since Parker hadn’t deigned to show up, the detective was coming to him. He’d have to explain himself somehow; he hoped it would be enough because he wasn’t leaving town. Not unless they made him.
The detective came to the building site at three, wearing an ordinary suit on her large frame and driving an unmarked car. She was alone, which he thought odd, but perhaps that meant they didn’t really consider him a suspect.
One could hope.
She stopped and talked to the foreman, who pointed him out. Parker ignored them and kept working, using his crane to lift timbers to the men up on the scaffolding. The office space they were building was making good headway, even in the cold, though they needed to get the roof on before the next snowfall.
“Mr. Hathaway?” she called up to him over the roar of the engine.
He held up his finger, finished positioning his load, and then cut the motor. “I’m Parker Hathaway,” he said, climbing down from the cab.
“I’m Sally Crumb. We spoke on the phone this morning.”
“You find my daughter? Is she okay?” He felt his heart rate speeding up, as though she could see into his lie.
“No. I’m sorry. I do need to ask you some questions, and I think it’s only fair to tell you we have a squad car at your apartment right now. The building manager let them in.”
He shrugged. “I have nothing to hide. But you’re barking up the wrong tree. Madeline was with her mother last night, and I was at my apartment. My roommates can attest to that. I went to bed when they did and one of them was still there when I got up this morning.”
“Yes, we know.” She gave him a flat smile that did little to lighten the somber expression on her attractive face. She had blonde hair much like Madeline’s had been before this morning, though the locks were shorter and probably dyed.
He followed her to the trailer the foreman used as his office, abandoned now for their use. “I don’t understand,” he said, unzipping his coat. “Shouldn’t you be out there searching for my daughter? I mean, if she really is missing?”
“Oh, she’s missing all right.” Her eyes narrowed.
Parker scratched his unshaved face. “Her mother has problems with drugs. I’ve been worried for years that something would happen to Madeline.”
“And you did nothing?”
“Except for right after Dakota left me and I didn’t know where she was staying, I’ve kept every single visit with my daughter since the divorce. I call her every day. Check the phone records. What more could I do when the law says my daughter has to live with her mother?”
Detective Crumb tilted her head to study him, her pen tapping on the notebook in her lap. “Our records show that your wife was the one who filed for divorce.”
“We’d be married if she hadn’t.”
“You still love her?”
Likely the detective thought love was a motive for kidnapping, and she was right. But it hadn’t been for love of Dakota.
“Dakota and I didn’t have a marriage since before Madeline was born, and the only reason I stayed at all was for Madeline. That’s the truth.” Parker stood. “Look, if you’re going to charge me with something, then do it. Otherwise, I’m going back to work.”
“You’re not joining the search for your daughter?” Surprise registered in the detective’s eyes.
He stared at her, knowing he had to make this good. “Madeline isn’t lost. Dakota’s stashed her somewhere—probably to punish me for not giving her even more money than I already do. She disappeared with her once before, you know. For months I didn’t know where my daughter was. Dakota’s the one who needs to be investigated. Find her friends, and I’ll bet one of them has Madeline. Meanwhile, I have to work to make sure that when you do find my daughter, she’ll have food to put in her stomach and a roof over her head.”
“Then give me a list of Dakota’s friends.” She arose, extending her notebook and pen to him.
He strode to the desk, leaning over it, and began scribbling names. “These are the friends she used to have when I knew her. Like I said, even when we were together, we had separate lives.” His script was large and deep and angry, but he’d let her draw what conclusions she wanted from that.
The detective stood mutely near him as he wrote, and when he was finished and returned the notebook, she asked quietly, “What happened between you? If you don’t mind my asking.”
Parker did mind, but this was also part of the plan. “I was tired of living that life. I want what every other normal man wants—the American Dream. But Dakota wasn’t ready to grow up. I don’t think she ever will be. Look, Detective, when I went to pick up my daughter last week, I saw a plastic bag of drugs sitting in plain view on the television set. If my daughter had gotten hold of that . . .” He shook his head. “That’s what I’m up against.�
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“Why didn’t you call the police?”
“I don’t know. I was too stunned, I guess. She’d promised me she wasn’t using anymore. I’ve cursed myself every day since then for not calling.” The reality was far worse than the words. Every night he awoke in a sweat, fearing that day would be the one he’d get the call telling him that his precious daughter had paid the price for his past.
Detective Crumb nodded, something akin to pity crossing her broad face. “Thank you, Mr. Hathaway. We’ll keep in touch.”
He nodded and watched her leave the trailer. If he’d played his cards right, she wouldn’t suspect him for not jumping into his truck and driving to Salt Lake.
Or maybe she could see right through him.
He sat back down in one of the chairs near the desk, feeling as though he hadn’t slept in weeks. Leaning forward, he propped his elbows on his knees and let his head fall into his hands.
“Everything all right?” Bob Jenkins, the sturdy, muscled foreman, entered the trailer.
Parker shook his head. “My daughter’s missing.”
Bob’s jaw dropped. “You’re kidding. That’s terrible!” He looked over his shoulder and only then did Parker notice that Jason Rosen, the thin, gray-haired contractor who employed them both, had come in after Bob. Like Bob and many of the guys at the site, Rosen was a Mormon, and Parker had a lot of respect for the way he ran his business.
Rosen took a few steps toward Parker. “When did it happen?”
“Last night. They’re not sure.”
“Geez, I don’t know what to say,” muttered Bob. Parker wondered if he was thinking about his own five daughters, all of them under ten years old.
“We can help search the area,” Rosen said. “Pull in hundreds of people within the hour.”
Parker felt a stab of guilt, though he wasn’t surprised at the offer. From what he’d observed all his life, the Mormons were always ready to help. “I don’t know what the police want. They don’t seem to think she just wandered off.”
“I’ll follow up with them,” Rosen said, and Parker admired how sure he was.
Saving Madeline Page 4