Saving Madeline

by Rachel Ann Nunes

  There was an uncomfortable silence and then Rosen spoke again. “I know this is a bad time, but actually I came to offer you a job as a foreman on a new office complex we’re building in Salt Lake.”

  Salt Lake now meant leaving Madeline. He shook his head. “I appreciate the offer, I really do, but I can’t take it on right now. I wouldn’t want to do any less than my best.”

  “I understand.” The look in Rosen’s eyes told him he respected Parker for rejecting the offer on those grounds. Parker felt ill at the deception.

  “Do you need time off?” Bob asked.

  “No. The police are doing everything they can. I have to believe that’s enough. In fact, I really believe she’s not missing at all, that this is just one more trick up my ex-wife’s sleeve.”

  The men alternately nodded and shook their heads. Parker didn’t think either really understood. They had never seen their wives strung out on meth. They probably thought he was a negligent father for not running up to Salt Lake. He should have thought this through better.

  “I would like a few minutes to stop by my mother’s,” he said. “She’s got to be worried.” The detective would probably visit her, too, and Parker hoped she was up to it.

  “Sure, knock off early today,” Bob said. “The guys can

  handle it.”

  “And let us know if we can help,” Rosen added.

  Parker nodded, though neither of the men could hold his gaze for long. No doubt they were remembering the child who had been found murdered only weeks ago in a Salt Lake neighborhood.

  Madeline wouldn’t be a statistic. He’d made sure of that. Now if only he could manage to keep her safe until enough evidence was found to make sure she’d be safe forever.

  • • •

  Sally Crumb drove away from the construction site, all her nerves humming with warning. Parker Hathaway was lying. For a man to hold on to a loveless marriage for years to protect a young child was believable but to think that same man would remain at work while his daughter was missing wasn’t. The situation reeked of deception.

  Still, there was something inherently endearing about the man, and she had the feeling he might be a person one would be lucky to call a friend. Loyal to the extreme. Of course that didn’t mean he wasn’t responsible for his daughter’s disappearance. In fact, it could mean he was very much involved.

  The accusations about his ex-wife would have to be checked out. He seemed sincere on that account and so certain the child’s mother was responsible for Madeline’s disappearance. His story seemed to explain why Dakota Allen had waited hours to report Madeline’s disappearance. Of course she could have been calling friends and driving around the neighborhood.

  Maybe.

  Sally shook her head and called the team who was at Parker’s apartment with the local authorities. “Find anything?”

  “Nothing. No sign of the little girl or anything belonging to her. Just a few pictures. We’ve been very thorough. Roommates say they’ve only seen the child once a few months ago.”

  That was odd. Hathaway said he never missed a weekend. Was that part of the lie? “Talk to the neighbors,” she said, “and then head on back. The locals can take it from there.”

  So had he meant by weekends that he’d gone to see Madeline, or that she actually spent time with him elsewhere? Had he taken her to a hotel in Salt Lake? To his mother’s? The more she thought about it, the more likely this last idea seemed. A responsible man would want his daughter to spend time with her grandmother, and a normal home environment would be a better choice than an apartment with single men whose lives might not be conducive to the needs of a small child.

  Pulling over to the side of the road, Sally thumbed through the file she’d begun gathering on the kidnapping. It was less than half an inch thick so far, but that would quadruple before the day was over and all the feelers she had out came in. There it was. Norma Hathaway’s address in Mt. Pleasant. She’d called the woman this morning, but no one answered. Someone from the local police had been by to chat with her earlier this afternoon, but Sally hadn’t seen a report. Certainly wouldn’t hurt to stop by since it was directly on her way home.

  As she drove, Sally entertained herself with visions of miraculously finding Madeline at her grandmother’s. Maybe the whole thing was a mistake. Maybe tonight she could go to sleep without nightmares of the scene Salt Lake police had found two weeks ago: a strangled seven-year-old whose body showed obvious signs of sexual violation.

  Yet the very intuition that made her a good detective also made it impossible for her to believe in this fantasy. Something was wrong. Everything in her gut screamed it. From her negative impression of the child’s mother to the certainty that Parker Hathaway was lying. Where did Madeline fit into all this?

  Maybe the grandmother would be the key to unraveling the puzzle.

  Norma Hathaway turned out to be a short, sturdy, neatly dressed woman with stylish brown hair. She looked at Sally’s badge with brown eyes that were red from crying, her expression solemn and unsurprised.

  “I’m Detective Crumb,” Sally said. “Your son might have called to let you know I was in town. Could I come in for a few minutes?”

  Neither confirming nor denying the phone call, Norma opened the screen door to let her in. “I’ve already talked to the police.” She led the way to the living room, seating herself in an armchair while indicating that Sally should take the couch.

  “I know you’ve talked to local authorities, but I have a few more questions. I just came from talking to your son.”

  “He hasn’t done anything wrong. He’s a good dad.”

  “As opposed to Madeline’s mother?”

  Norma lifted her shoulders. “Dakota’s always been self-centered. I know she’s using drugs, and that means she’s not good for Madeline.”

  “Apparently the custody judge didn’t agree.”

  Norma opened her mouth as though to protest, then changed her mind. “Look, shouldn’t you be out there trying to find my granddaughter?”

  “We have a great many people working on that. But in every kidnapping case, talking to relatives is vital. Most children are taken by relatives or someone familiar to them.”

  Norma nodded. “What do you want to know?”

  “Do you see your granddaughter a lot?”

  “Every other weekend. She’s the light of my life.” For the first time, a faint smile touched her lips. “Parker and I tried to make things good for her when she was here, so she could see what a regular life is like.”

  Sally felt some satisfaction knowing her hunch had been correct.

  “At her mother’s, everything is always fluid,” Norma continued. “Dakota doesn’t have a steady job, and Madeline’s shuffled around a lot to neighbors and friends. Parker volunteers to take her, but Dakota’s afraid she’ll lose child support if she lets him take her too much. Dakota has another child, too. A little boy. He spends most of his time with his dad’s relatives.”

  “You obviously have no love for your ex-daughter-in-law.”

  “Not one bit. She was a horrible wife. She nearly destroyed my son.”

  “Can you think of anyone who would take Madeline?”

  There was a flash of something in Norma’s eyes, but she shook her head, her lips pursed tightly, and Sally knew she wouldn’t be able to get anything more from the woman. Yet Sally could tell Norma felt deeply guilty about something, and that told her far more than the woman herself would.

  “I would like your permission to send a team here to your house.”

  “My house? Why?”

  “Since Madeline stayed here so much, there might be clues.”

  “She was taken from her mother’s, not from here.”

  “We’ve been through Ms. Allen’s house very thoroughly, I assure you. But you wouldn’t want us to overlook anything. Would it be all right?”

  “Yes. I have nothing to hide.”

  Sally wasn’t so sure about that, but she kept her pea
ce. “Thank you, Mrs. Hathaway,” she said, rising. At the door, Sally turned to her. “I have just one more question. Do you know where your granddaughter is?”

  Norma blinked in surprise at her question, but there was a ring of sincerity when she responded. “I don’t know where my granddaughter is right now, but I can say with all truthfulness that even if she was home with her mother, she’d still be in terrible danger. Dakota’s the one you need to look into, Detective Crumb.”

  “That may be so, Mrs. Hathaway. Let’s just hope Madeline is safe, or all the looking in the world won’t make a difference.” Turning on her heel, Sally stalked to her unmarked squad car.

  She didn’t leave right away but grabbed her cell phone. “I want a team to go over Norma Hathaway’s house,” she barked. “No warrant necessary. She’s agreed to let us in. And I’ve changed my mind about sending you home. I want surveillance on both Parker and Norma Hathaway. I’ll coordinate things with the local authorities. Call it a gut feeling, or whatever, but I think the Hathaways are hiding something.”

  Clicking the phone shut, she looked up at the small, well-kept rambler for several minutes before driving away. Though she wished she could follow up on her feelings herself, there was more information she needed to sift through first. And once in a while, even she was wrong.

  Chapter 5

  For two days now, Parker Hathaway had been forced to sneak out of his own apartment through a window under the cover of darkness and use a fire escape to get to the ground. Then he’d had to jog five miles to the rented house on the edge of town. He didn’t know why the police had staked out his truck and apartment, but he couldn’t take the risk of leading them to Madeline.

  When he arrived on Friday night, Madeline was waiting for him in the front room of the house. He could see her framed in the light from the window as she watched for him. “Daddy,” she called through the window. Faster than he could climb the four cement steps framed by a wobbling wrought iron railing, she was out the door and climbing into his arms.

  “Careful, babe. I’m a little sweaty.”

  “Why?”

  “’Cuz I just ran all the way here.” He’d showered off all the dirt from the construction site at the apartment, but now he’d have to shower again.

  “Did your truck break?” she asked with concern.

  “Something like that. Is Carla here?”

  “She’s making dinner.”

  “Did you have fun with her today?”

  Madeline nodded eagerly, her now-brown locks flowing in stray wisps around her face. “We played hide and seek, and she helped me build a tent, and she was teaching me Spanish. I can say table and chair and a whole bunch of other stuff.” She demonstrated as they walked inside, and Parker was impressed.

  “That’s great! Just so you don’t forget how to speak English. I don’t know Spanish.”

  Madeline giggled. “That would be funny if I was saying stuff and if you didn’t know what I was saying. And then I would have to tell you and you would say, ‘Oh, that’s what Madeline is saying.’” Parker laughed. Madeline always made up imaginary scenarios that amused both of them.

  Carla had paused in the kitchen as they came in. She smiled. “I feeneesh deener for Madeleen. Then I go.”

  “Thank you,” he said, marveling at how quickly she was learning the language. He’d been in Mexico once for a week and hadn’t understood a thing. Apparently Carla was more adaptable. He’d felt from first meeting her that she was intelligent, and it was one of the reasons he’d hired her. That and he knew she wasn’t likely to run to the police. “Is there anything I should know about? Did everything go okay?”

  Carla nodded. “Ees fine. She ees a good geerl.”

  “I’m glad. You can always call me if you need something.” The owner of the house had agreed to leave in a phone under his name—long distance blocked—so Carla and Madeline had access to a phone. He’d given her the number of the new cell phone he’d recently bought, the one that didn’t use his real name. It was possible the police had some way of hearing or tracing his conversations on his official cell phone.

  Carla nodded, but Parker suspected that her limited English would prevent her from ever calling. He’d have to teach Madeline how to dial tonight in case she needed him. He went into the bathroom and removed his shirt.

  “Are you going to take a bath?” Madeline asked, watching him from the doorway with interest. He could tell she was disappointed.

  “Nope. Just cleaning up a bit.” He leaned over the sink, splashing water on his face, over his head, neck, and under his arms. Then he rubbed himself dry with a towel, pulling on a new shirt from the duffle bag he’d carried through the streets. After Madeline was in bed, he’d shower properly and leave the dirty clothes here for a spare, since Carla had agreed to do the laundry. That beat jogging over here carrying an extra set of clothes.

  He hadn’t found time to shave in nearly a week, and he stared into the mirror at a face he barely recognized. How long would he be able to keep up this duplicity? Though tomorrow was Saturday, he still had to work, and that meant another five-mile jog back to his apartment in the morning after Carla arrived, and another five miles after a grueling day at work. Yet he couldn’t afford to quit working. Two months earlier he’d opened his apartment to roommates to lower the costs he’d known were pending, but he still had his child care payments to Dakota, the apartment rent, the truck payment, the rent on the house for Dakota and Madeline, and few savings to tide him over.

  How long before he made a serious mistake? How long before the police figured out what he’d done? They would have followed him here already if Donald, one of his roommates, hadn’t recognized the officers in the unmarked car parked in front of their apartment. Fortunately for Parker they’d been the same men who’d interviewed Donald earlier, and he had noticed them shortly before Parker had come home from work.

  Worry bit at Parker’s mind. What if the police couldn’t find anything on Dakota? What if they didn’t even try? What if they stayed on his tail for a month? A year? More? How could he give Madeline any semblance of a normal life?

  “Daddy?”

  Parker was startled from his thoughts by Madeline’s voice. He took his unseeing gaze from the mirror. “All finished, honey. Let’s go get some dinner, and then we’ll play. I missed you so much today.”

  “Can we go outside?” Madeline asked. “Carla said no.”

  Parker smiled past his exhaustion. “If we bundle you up really well, we can go outside for a bit. But Carla was right about not going outside during the day.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s not safe here unless I’m home.”

  She nodded solemnly, easily accepting his explanation. “Can we make a snowman? A really big one?”

  “The snow’s too old and crunchy to pack, but as soon as it snows again, we’ll make the biggest and bestest snowman ever.”

  Madeline hugged him. “Yay!”

  He lifted her into his arms and started for the door.

  “Daddy?” she asked. “When am I going back to Mommy’s?”

  “Do you miss her?”

  She shook her head. “Not yet. I been here only one, two days.” She held up two fingers as she counted them. “I don’t want to go away yet.”

  “Okay. Then you can stay.”

  She put her arms around his neck, squeezing him tightly and bringing tears to his eyes. “I wish Reese was here,” she whispered in her ear. “He would like to have fun with you, too.”

  Reese, the little boy who’d been in the crib—Madeline’s half brother—was now in as much danger as Madeline had been. “He’ll be fine,” Parker said, despite the pit of cold settling in his stomach. “He has a daddy, too.” From what Madeline had told him, Reese spent a lot of time with his father. With luck, maybe Dakota would allow the man to take custody while the police investigated Madeline’s disappearance.

  “Come on,” he said, moving Madeline around to his back. “I’ll give you a
horsey ride to the kitchen.”

  Madeline’s laughter filled the tiny house.

  • • •

  At eight o’clock on Friday night, Caitlin was lying in bed in her pajamas watching TV, Amy sprawled next to her. There were dolls and stuffed animals and an array of picture books as well, since Amy always liked to stave off boredom.

  The day had been long and torturous. Chet Belstead had refused the plea deal and they had continued the trial. Contrary to Caitlin’s expectation, Wyman hadn’t retaken his case. In fact, he hadn’t even shown up. Only Mace Keeley was there, as smooth-talking and flamboyant as ever. And as gorgeous. The jury loved him. After final arguments, the jury was out less than an hour before Belstead was found guilty. He went crazy at the verdict, cursing the jurors and judge, and finally lunging for Caitlin, but the bailiff, Mace, and several other men in the courtroom had managed to drag him out before there was any damage. Caitlin knew his final sentence would likely be a lot stiffer for his stupidity.

  She hadn’t seen Mace after he’d left with the bailiff and her client, not that she had expected to, though that fact didn’t stop her hopes from rising as her cell phone rang. Her exhaustion vanished when she saw it was Mace. “Hello?” She hoped she didn’t sound as eager and breathless as she felt.

  “Hi, Caitlin. It’s Mace. I think I’m going to be finished a bit early after all. You still up for dinner in, say, an hour?”

  An hour gave her thirty-five minutes to change, throw on a bit of makeup, and find a sitter for Amy, and then twenty-five more minutes to make the restaurant and find parking. In attorney time, that was eons. “Sure. But I’ve got a few things to wrap up myself. Can we meet somewhere?”

  “How about at Caffe Molise?” He obviously assumed she was still at her office. “They’re open at least until ten, I believe.”

  “I’ll be there.” Caffe Molise was a popular Italian restaurant, and to get a reservation this quickly in the winter when there wasn’t outdoor dining was no small feat. Mace must know someone to have organized this date so quickly—unless he’d anticipated that he would be able to get free and had made reservations earlier, just in case. Or maybe working late had been a lie all along, and instead he’d had a date that evening who’d canceled on him, leaving Caitlin his second choice.