Thread of Hope jt-1

by Jeff Shelby

I stood, slamming my fist on his desk so hard the floor rattled. “Then why didn’t you say that?”

  The paper had quoted Bazer as saying in direct response to a reporter’s question regarding my status: “The investigation is ongoing and no one has been ruled out as a suspect.” The article reiterated that I was an officer in the Coronado PD and that Bazer, when pressed, declined further comment.

  “You know how it works,” Bazer said, nudging the paper in my direction.

  “Yeah, I do know how it works,” I said. “And you didn’t clear me when you had the chance. So what the hell is going on?”

  Bazer rubbed at his chin, eyeing me. “Sit down, Joe.”

  “No.”

  “That’s an order, Officer Tyler,” he said, his face icing over. “Sit.”

  I did.

  “Have you given any more thought to what we talked about a couple of days ago?” he asked.

  My mind was like a blender, a million things running through it at once and I couldn’t sort any of them. “Any more thought to what?”

  “To stepping down while we look for Elizabeth.”

  “No.”

  “I need you to think about it, Joe, because…”

  “I meant, no, I’m not taking a leave of absence, Lieutenant.” I was adamant.

  He’d approached me a week earlier, suggesting that I take some time off. I’d immediately rejected the idea. I’d gone ten straight days without working from the moment Elizabeth disappeared and I quickly learned that every free moment was an invitation to drag a razor across my wrists. I’d flooded my mind with theories, second thoughts and nightmares and the last thing I needed was more idle time.

  “Joe, I really think…”

  “I’m fine, Lieutenant. I don’t want time off. I’m fine.”

  “You know that I can make the decision myself, don’t you?” Bazer said, tilting his head, squinting at me like I was difficult to see. “I can send you home right now and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.”

  “I’m fine.” I knew I sounded like a broken record.

  “If I suspend you, do you know what that will look like?” Bazer continued. “Do you understand how that will look for you?”

  I shifted in the chair, placing my hands on my thighs, willing them to stop shaking. “I am fine, Lieutenant.”

  “I’m trying to help you, Joe.”

  I didn’t want to keep repeating myself, so I didn’t say anything.

  Bazer blinked several times and rubbed harder at his chin. “I saw you arguing with Elizabeth.”

  The ticking clock on the wall suddenly intensified, sounding like a jackhammer. “What?”

  “Two weeks before she disappeared,” he said, watching me. “At the beach. I was driving by. Early evening.”

  I thought hard, mentally flipping through recent images of Elizabeth like there was a rolodex in my head. I stopped on one and the muscles in my stomach clenched.

  She and I had gone down to the beach for a walk, waiting for Lauren to get home for dinner. Elizabeth had run ahead of me, a little further than normal, then detoured into the surf. I didn’t mind her stepping into the water, even in the colder months. Like me, she loved the water and had a high tolerance for low temperatures.

  What I did mind was that she went out further than she was allowed and had been immediately taken off her feet by a strong rip current.

  I sprinted down the beach, bounded into the water and fished her out before the current yanked her out into the bay. I carried her up the sand to the sidewalk. She was a shivering, crying mess and I should’ve waited to reprimand her. But seeing her go down in the water had scared the shit out of me. My adrenaline was up and I was mad at her for being so reckless.

  I stood her up on the sidewalk and unloaded my anger, the water and her tears forming a puddle on the concrete.

  One more moment that I wished I could have back.

  I pulled myself back to the present. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Papers get hold of that,” he said slowly. “It’ll spin the focus toward you and the department and it’ll take the focus off of finding Elizabeth.”

  My fingertips tingled and my body felt light, like I might float out of the chair. “What the hell are you saying?”

  “I’m saying I want you to take some time off. It’ll be good for everyone.”

  The ticking clock became a jet engine as I replayed our conversation in my head. Then, the lightbulb went off. “This isn’t about me, is it? It’s about the department.”

  He hesitated. “I didn’t say that.”

  “Yeah, you did,” I said, nodding. “You don’t like the attention my daughter’s disappearance is bringing to your department.”

  Bazer stayed quiet.

  “And you tried to leverage me into stepping away by pointedly not clearing me as a suspect.” My gut rolled and my fingers dug into thighs. “And now you’re threatening me, not even fucking around. I don’t leave, you tell some reporter that ‘an anonymous’ source saw me having it out with Elizabeth shortly before she disappeared. Maybe spice it up a little, too? Maybe I hit her? Maybe throw that out there?”

  If Bazer was moved by anything I’d said, he didn’t show it. Just knotted his hands on top of his desk. “I think a leave would be good for everyone.”

  I unclipped the badge from my shirt and dropped it on the desk. I unbuckled my belt and let it and my weapon fall to the floor. “Fuck you, Lieutenant.”

  I walked out of his office.

  And the story about me screaming at my daughter before she vanished showed up in the next morning’s paper, anyway.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Bazer was right.

  I probably had come to fight, the anger that I’d had toward him only building over the years since I’d dropped my badge and gun in his office. Seeing him in person was like adding gasoline to the fire.

  But if I wanted to truly help Chuck, I needed to smother the flames.

  “Chuck was jumped on the beach?”

  Bazer nodded. “Far as we can tell.”

  “You’re connecting it to the Jordan case?”

  “Not yet. Keeping them separate as for right now.”

  “They’re connected.”

  Bazer shrugged. “We’ll see. We’ll do the legwork and we’ll see.”

  Do the legwork. It was an expression he used often. He was methodical and he expected his department to be. It was something I learned from him. It was part of the reason I was a good cop and why I had become a good investigator.

  But now the words sounded hollow and fake.

  “Can I see your case files?” I asked, choking down my anger.

  Bazer studied me for a long moment, his eyes hard and still. “Where are you staying?”

  I told him.

  “I’ll have both files sent over this afternoon.”

  There was no reason he couldn’t just photocopy and give them to me right then, but he was letting me know he would control what came my way. And he could deny that he was paying me back in some minimal way for hanging me out to dry, but I knew better. There was absolutely zero chance he would’ve let me near those case files unless some part of him still felt guilty for what he’d done.

  “Fine,” I said and stood.

  “Stay out of the way, Joe,” Bazer warned. “I mean it. You aren’t a cop here anymore. Don’t try acting like one.”

  A smile that nearly hurt curled my lips. “So I shouldn’t tell bullshit lies to reporters? Isn’t that what cops around here do?”

  He stiffened but didn’t say anything.

  “That was out of line,” I said, holding up a hand. “That’s not what cops around here do.” I stared at him, the smile falling away from my face. “That’s just what you do.”

  TWENTY-NINE

  I was back at the hotel, picking at lunch in a cafe downstairs and waiting for the case files to show up when two familiar faces approached my table.

  Meg, wearing a purple T-shi
rt and a denim skirt, slid into the seat across from me. Matt, in a polo shirt and shorts long enough to be pants, loomed behind her, looking just as uncomfortable as he had when I’d caught him following me.

  “Hi,” Meg said, smiling.

  “Shouldn’t you be in school?” I asked, running a napkin across my mouth. I glanced at Matt. “Both of you?”

  “We’re off this period,” Meg said. “It’s an open campus.”

  “Right,” I said. “And you knew I was here how?”

  She glanced at Matt.

  He shrugged. “Word gets around.”

  Apparently so. I just wondered who was spreading the word.

  “What’s up?” I asked, leaning back in my chair.

  “I think there’s something you should know,” Meg said.

  I glanced at Matt, then back to her. “Okay.”

  She twisted the silver bracelet circling her wrist, being careful not to look at me. “Things aren’t right with Meredith and her dad, okay?”

  I looked at Matt again. He was staring down at Meg’s back.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  She brought her gaze back to mine and sucked on her upper lip for a moment. “I think he might’ve been the one that hit her.”

  Finally. Someone not afraid to call out Jon Jordan.

  “Why do you think that?” I asked.

  “Things she’s said to me.” She moved her hands to her hair and pulled it back. “He’s not a good guy.”

  No kidding. “What has she said to you?”

  She dropped her hands and her hair fanned out on her shoulders. “Just stuff.”

  I shook my head. “That isn’t gonna get it done for me, Meg. You want me to believe you? I need more than that.”

  She glanced up at Matt, who finally moved his eyes to me.

  “He’s hit her before,” he said, his voice low, almost like he was tired. “I was there when it happened.”

  “You were there?”

  He gave a short nod. “Yeah. She goes out with my friend.”

  “Derek?” I asked.

  Surprise started to cross his face, but he put it together quickly. “Yeah. We were at her house. She and her dad were arguing out in the pool house. He came storming out, totally pissed off. Derek went in as soon as her dad left. They came out and Meredith’s face was totally swollen. He’d slapped the hell out of her.”

  I looked down at my hand. It was clenched into a fist. I unclenched it and looked at Matt. “What did she say about it?”

  “Nothing, to me,” Matt said, resting his hands on the back of Meg’s chair. “Derek told me later that night. She told him that it wasn’t the first time her father hit her.”

  “You ever seen anything else?” I asked. “Either of you?”

  Matt shook his head.

  “A bruise on her back,” Meg said, wincing at the memory. “Like the size of a football, right in the middle of her back. We were changing after practice at the end of last season. I didn’t say anything because I figured it was just from practice or something. She’s always driving, getting knocked down and hitting the floor, getting pretty banged up. But after they told me about the thing with her dad, I don’t know. I’ve just assumed it wasn’t from practice.”

  My fingers folded back into my palm. “What about her mom? You guys ever see anything weird with her?”

  “She’s hardly ever around,” Meg said, shaking her head. “Never comes to games or stuff like that. She’s nice when I do see her at the house sometimes, but I’ve never seen anything.”

  Matt nodded in agreement.

  Maybe Jordan was hiding his wife to hide the bruises. I was making a leap but it made sense to me.

  “So why would she blame Chuck?” I asked them. “Why him?”

  Meg shook her head again, a perplexed look on her face. “I don’t know. I thought she really liked him. Because we all did.”

  “She’s probably afraid of him,” Matt said. “Her dad. Everybody else is.”

  “Then why would they even file a report?” I asked, thinking more out loud than expecting an answer. “Why even acknowledge it?”

  “Her face was pretty messed up,” Meg said, wincing again. “I don’t know how they could’ve hidden it.”

  That seemed reasonable and possible, but it still felt odd to me.

  Meg turned and glanced up at Matt. I couldn’t see her face, but I could see his. He was frowning at her, shaking his head.

  “What?” I asked.

  They held each other’s gaze for a moment longer, then Matt shrugged and looked away.

  Meg turned back to me. “There’s something else…but it’s kind of weird.”

  I didn’t say anything.

  “There’s always been this…rumor,” Meg said.

  “What kind of rumor?”

  “About Meredith,” she continued, choosing her words carefully. “I’ve never believed it and I’ve never seen anything to make me believe it. And I never asked her about it because I just figured it was jealous bullshit from other kids who didn’t like her.”

  “What’s the rumor?” I asked, trying to keep a handle on my patience.

  “It’s stupid,” Matt muttered, turning around, like he couldn’t bear to watch.

  Meg took a deep breath, then let it out, her words tumbling out in a rush. “That Meredith was a hooker.”

  THIRTY

  “Excuse me?” I said, wondering if she was using some sort of teenager lingo I wasn’t familiar with.

  Matt turned back around. “Told you it was stupid.”

  Meg was the one to frown now. “I know it’s stupid, Matt. But I just thought I should tell him.”

  “People say she’s a hooker?” I asked. “A prostitute?”

  “Not people,” Matt said, a disgusted smirk on his face. “Dumbass chicks at school. Fucking useless.”

  “I’m not saying I believe it,” Meg said, defensive now. “I’m just saying people have been saying it about her for a long time now.”

  “She ever say anything to you about it?” I asked.

  “No. Not once. I’ve never believed it,” she said, her cheeks flushing slightly with embarrassment. “I just…I’m worried about her. She’s my best friend. I thought you should know.”

  The thought of an eighteen-year-old hooker wasn’t that far out of the realm. But one that was a star athlete and came from a wealthy family pushed pretty close to the limits of believability. I remembered high school. If rumors weren’t flying, it meant the day hadn’t started yet.

  “It’s okay,” I said, not wanting Meg to feel stupid for having told me. “You were right to say something.”

  She sat up a little straighter and tried to smile. Her concern for Meredith seemed genuine.

  “Come on,” Matt said, tapping Meg on the shoulder. “We need to get back.”

  Meg stood and slid her hand into Matt’s before looking at me. “You coming to practice today?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. Is Meredith?”

  “I saw her this morning,” she said. “Told me she’d be there, that she was ready to go.”

  I nodded. I’d be ready to go, as well.

  THIRTY-ONE

  My first inclination was to find Jon Jordan, throw him out in the street and drive over him a couple of times.

  But aside from making me feel better, I wasn’t sure what that would accomplish. It would ultimately take Meredith to straighten everything out. I was better off going to her. My main goal was to get Chuck off the hook and I didn’t want to lose sight of that.

  I found the hotel’s business center and went to work on the Internet, checking out Jordan.

  What I found left me frustrated.

  Jordan, by all accounts, was a model citizen. Not only was he richer than rich, but the man gave a lot of money away to multiple charitable organizations. He also gave his time, serving as a board member for several of those groups. The irony that both he and his wife served as board chairs for a local battered women’s shelter did
not escape me. But there wasn’t anything that made me think less of Jordan. If anything, it muddled even further who he was.

  After two hours of finding nothing incriminating, I gave up and, after changing into gym shorts, headed to Coronado for basketball practice.

  The team was already in the gym when I got there. I spotted Meredith shooting with Megan at the far end of the gym as I walked in. Meredith glanced in my direction, said something to Megan, then went back to dribbling the ball.

  “You made it,” Kelly Rundles said, coming up the sideline to meet me.

  “We had a deal.”

  She nodded. “Yes, we did.”

  “To be fair, though, you should know you may take some heat for having me here.”

  She didn’t appear surprised by that. “I’ll be fine, but thanks for the warning. I've got some paperwork I'll need you to fill out after practice. Just background check stuff. You ready?”

  I eyed Meredith at the opposite end as she spun to the basket. “Sure.”

  Kelly followed my eyes to Meredith. “You wanna talk to her afterward, that’s fine. But not during practice. Clear?”

  “Crystal.”

  She blew the whistle and the girls hustled to the middle of the floor. She gave them some preliminary instructions and then the girls broke into lines at the far end of the floor.

  “Can you run this?” she asked, referring to the drill they were about to start.

  “Yeah.”

  “Good. Get in line and run with them.”

  I thought she meant run as in supervise, not run as in run, but I jogged down to the end of the floor, aware of the girls giggling and whispering as I took my place at the end of the middle line. Meredith avoided my eyes, bending down and messing with her shoelaces.

  The drill required a player in each of the three lines to sprint to the other end where two other players waited as defenders. The shooter from the original three then backpedaled on defense, facing the two defenders as they came back down and attempted to score. It simulated the fast break and having to get back on defense. A fantastic drill.

  If you’re in shape to run it.