Flora smothered the sound of a sob with her hand. “She’s so afraid of the dark.”
“He leaves a light on for her.”
“Oh, thank you, God, thank you, God.”
Such small consolation. “Mrs. Burns—Flora, I’m not working with the police. I’m a suspect, actually. You should know that.”
“Why? What could you have possibly had to do with her disappearance?”
“I knew she was abducted before anyone else did. Before you even knew.”
Another sob erupted, though Flora regained control again. “I told her to stay close, but I kept talking. I didn’t make sure she stayed nearby.”
Olivia reached out and touched her arm. “Please don’t blame yourself. It only takes a few seconds. They wait for the slightest opportunity.”
Flora wrapped her fingers around Olivia’s hand. “We’re suspects, too, Pat and I. The police said it’s usually a family member who’s involved. And…well, Pat took out an insurance policy on Phaedra. Five hundred thousand dollars. The police think that’s a large amount to take out on a child. I don’t know why he even did it. It’s like he was investing…betting on her death.” She stifled another sob. “Our restaurants are on shaky ground financially. The police will eventually find out, and they’ll think he arranged this horrible act for the money. But I know he couldn’t hurt our daughter. I know that.”
Olivia thought she might be trying to convince herself. Unfortunately, she couldn’t say anything to quell the woman’s doubts.
Flora loosened her grip on Olivia’s arm. “You’ll keep trying to see where she is, won’t you?”
Olivia’s voice was thick with conviction. “I’ll never give up.”
“I’m sorry I barged in on you. I just had to speak with you.”
“Please don’t give up. Detective Callahan is doing the best that he can. He’ll do anything within his power to bring your little girl home.” Somehow she knew that was true.
Flora stood. “May I come to see you again? I feel closer to Phaedra when I’m with you.”
Olivia touched her hand. “Come anytime.”
A few minutes after she locked the door behind Flora Burns, Stasia growled. The hairs on Olivia’s neck sprang to attention, and she tuned in with all of the senses she had.
Breathing. She could hear someone breathing. Her chest felt tight, making it hard to draw a breath. She could smell cologne—the same cheap stuff she’d smelled before someone pushed her into traffic!
“Terry?” she whispered.
She’d changed her locks after he’d moved out, but she supposed he could find a way to break in. Taking deep breaths to calm her heart, she unlocked the door and stepped into the hallway. “Flora? Hello? Is anyone out here?” Only one of the apartments was occupied full time, and she rarely ran into her neighbors.
Stasia growled again as she pressed close to Olivia. Soft footsteps came closer. A scream froze in her throat. Someone was standing in front of her. She had never felt so vulnerable since…since her own abduction.
Then he walked past her and down the hallway. She sagged against the wall. The door to the stairwell opened and closed. He made no attempt to rush or to mask the sound of his departure. That arrogance sent a shiver through her.
She pushed away from the wall and was about to slam the door shut when she heard faint music coming from the apartment across from hers. She knocked on the door. “Hello? Is anyone there?”
She wiped a shaky hand across her damp forehead and knocked again. No answer. She wobbled back to her apartment and locked the door behind her. With the adrenaline draining from her body, she dropped into the chair in the living room. Stasia jumped up into her lap. She held her dog close and fought the nausea rumbling through her stomach. Someone had been in here waiting for her. Listening to her conversation with Flora Burns.
Should she call the police? And tell them what, that she thought someone was in her apartment but couldn’t prove it? And that that someone could be Terry Carlton? They’d probably still think his persistence was a romantic gesture and wonder why he was wasting it on a cold fish like her.
The phone rang, jarring her. She made her way on shaky legs to the nearest phone.
“Olivia, it’s Terry. I’m just checking on you, making sure you’re all right.” He was on a cell phone.
“Why?”
“It’s our connection, sweetheart. I felt distress just now.”
He was full of it. She wrapped her fingers around her throat. “I’m fine. Goodbye, Terry.”
How far would he go to prove that she needed him?
CHAPTER 9
Friday, December 22
Ah, there was his Rose, huddled in the corner of the cage. He came by in the pre-dawn hour before most of the world got started. In the dim light, he saw her wide eyes watching him as he approached the cage. She was trembling, and her small hands were wrapped around the bars. There were no windows down here, no natural light at all. The air was thick, only what came in through sophisticated ventilation systems.
“I’m a good father, leaving that light on for you, aren’t I?”
She wasn’t looking at him.
“That’s all I ever wanted, you know, to be a good father. To make you into a good person and keep you in line. You can’t blame me for that, can you? Can you, Rose?”
She wouldn’t answer. That’s how she’d always been. Wouldn’t listen to him, wouldn’t answer. They had been adversaries since the beginning.
He walked around to the other side of the cage. “You don’t care what I do for you. It’s never enough. You think you’re entitled, don’t you, Rose?”
He set a large cola next to the cage and collected the wrappers from the sandwich he’d left the night before. Not a thank you or a please to be found. “Drink the soda. All of it, right now.” He also set a gallon jug of spring water within her reach.
She picked up the cup and finished the soda through the straw. “I’m hungry,” her raspy voice said. She sounded breathless when she looked up at him and said, “I’m hungry, please.”
That was better. He held up the bag of food. “What have you done to deserve food? Did you scream after I left?”
She vigorously shook her head. No one would hear her anyway, not through four feet of concrete. He should have brought a tape recorder to see if she had. She was always lying to him. Just last month she’d looked him right in the eye and told him she hadn’t left her bike out by the road. Two months before that she’d lied about leaving the carton of Rocky Road ice cream on the counter to melt.
“You’re lying, Rose.”
“I’m not.”
He shook the cage, and the little bit of bravado she’d mustered shrank away. She huddled into a ball again. He couldn’t move the cage much. It was made of heavy steel. He’d fashioned it from a storage bin, working with a blowtorch. The bars went around three of the sides; it was solid in the back.
“You’re always lying to me, Rose, from the moment you could talk. You learned ‘mama,’ ‘milk,’ ‘hi,’ and ‘bye,’ before you learned to say ‘father.’ That hurt me, Rose. You never loved me, did you?”
“I’m not Rose.” Her voice was stronger this time, even though she was saying it into the crack between her knees.
He let out a long sigh. “And still you deny me. I want you to call me ‘father’ again.”
She shook her head, her face still pressed to her knees.
“Say it!”
She didn’t move this time, didn’t respond at all.
“Your mother and I don’t know what to do with you anymore, Rose.”
She let out a gasping sob at the word mother
“You’ve made her very upset. You know that, don’t you, Rose? She cries in frustration. Do you know what that does to me to see her crying?” He slammed his fist to his chest and his voice cracked when he said, “It kills me. You won’t be a bad girl ever again. After Christmas night, you won’t ever make your mother cry again.”
&n
bsp; Max and Sam spent the morning checking out local costume stores, all the while dogging the phone companies and credit card company for their records.
“That was a waste of time,” Max said as they headed to their car after the last shop.
“He could have bought it out of town.”
“Or at a garage sale, for that matter.”
“Or ordered it from out of state.” Sam settled into the driver’s seat and expelled a long breath. “Maybe Pat ran into financial trouble and hired Mike to get rid of the kid for the money. Olivia could be involved with Pat or Mike, though no one seems to think Pat is having an affair. Kinda strange when a father puts a big life insurance on his own kid. Unless…”
“He’s planning to cash in,” Max finished for him. “We’ve seen it before. But Pat took out the policy three years ago.”
“That’s what insurance policies are for, in case you need them in the future.”
Mike was their prime suspect, with Pat Burns as a secondary, but Max’s gut feeling told him neither was involved. Sam, on the other hand, would not let go of the only leads they had: Olivia and the Burns men.
“We’re going to nail them,” Sam said, determination burning in his voice. “One way or another. Don’t get too interested in Olivia Howe, Max. She’s going to go down with them. I wonder who’ll squeal on who first.”
“I’m not interested in her.” But his stomach rebelled every time he thought of her as a suspect.
“Because the way you looked at her last night when she walked by—”
“She’s nice looking, and that’s the end of it. If I wanted sex, I could probably scare up someone to oblige.”
It was more than sexual appeal that drew him to Olivia, though she certainly had appeal. It didn’t take much to conjure an image of running his fingers through her hair—he loved long hair—or opening that cynical mouth of hers with his tongue…no effort at all. He couldn’t afford to explore what the draw might be exactly.
“What about that blonde who was after you?” Max asked, steering both their thoughts away from Olivia. “The neighbor who was always needing a man to help her fix or move something. Didn’t she have a boyfriend who was stalking her?”
“Helene?” Sam shrugged. “Not a thing. The boyfriend’s out of the picture now. I told her to stop bothering me.”
Max’s phone chirped, and he took the call. “Great, thanks.” He disconnected and turned to Sam. “Credit card records are on their way. Let’s grab some lunch and take it back to the station.”
They both looked up when a Cadillac sped past them.
“Isn’t that Pat Burns’s car?” Sam asked.
“Yeah. He’s in a big hurry. Let’s see where he goes.”
“Whoa, take a look at this,” Sam said as Burns’s car pulled into the Waterfront apartment parking lot a few minutes later. He jumped out of his car and barreled toward the buildings.
Max said, “He’s checking out the numbers like he doesn’t know where he’s going exactly.”
“Maybe Olivia usually met him somewhere else. Now that we’re moving in on them, they’re getting panicked.”
They followed Pat Burns at a distance as he walked into Olivia’s building. Raised voices filled the third floor hallway.
“I had a feeling you were coming here. Dammit, Flora, she’s a fraud! How much money did you give her?”
“Nothing!” Flora said. “I just wanted to talk to her. She didn’t ask for a dime.”
Olivia said, “I don’t want your money.”
Max and Sam rounded the corner to find the three of them at Olivia’s doorway. Pat stalked over when he spotted them.
“I hear that you’re employing psychics to find my daughter. Is that the best you can do? People aren’t going to take this case seriously when they hear about this.”
“She’s not working the case, Mr. Burns. She came to us with some crazy story, that’s all. The woman’s a suspect.” Sam looked at Flora. “I’ll bet she didn’t tell you that.”
“Yes, she did, right up front.”
“Oh.”
“How’d you know she was involved in the case?” Max asked Pat, thinking that was the obvious question here.
“I don’t want her anywhere near my daughter’s case.” Pat turned on his wife. “And you, stay away from her! She might not be asking for money now, but she will be. That’s how they all work. She doesn’t know anything. If she did, we’d have our girl home by now.”
“Amen to that,” Sam muttered.
“Flora, go home. I’ll meet you there.” Pat started to leave, but paused and looked at Max. “If you botch this, I’ll have your badge, your home, and your car.”
“Where are you getting your information?” Max asked again.
“I don’t know. Someone’s been leaving messages at my office.”
Pat left, followed quickly by his wife after she’d whispered an apology to Olivia.
“I want to know where the hell he’s getting his information,” Max said to Sam before walking toward Olivia. “You all right?”
She gave a noncommittal shrug. “A little yelling and deriding never hurt anyone.”
“You didn’t contact Mrs. Burns?” Sam asked.
“No. I never contact the family, only the police.”
Sam put his cynicism into full gear. “Oh, that’s right, all those cases you’ve solved over the years.”
She faced Sam. “I did help once. I described the man who had taken the boy. If they’d used the sketch publicly, they would have caught him much sooner. Over the years I’ve given the police a bit here and there.”
“And was it enough to catch the perps?”
She shored up her shoulders. “No.” And she hated herself for it. Max knew that feeling too well. “And sometimes the connection…stops before I can get any clues.”
“Why?” Sam jumped in.
Her mouth tightened. “Why else?”
“Your so-called psychic power peters out? Runs out of juice? Needs another quarter?”
Her fists clenched tighter with each word. She didn’t want to say it. Max could see the reluctance and pain on her face. He was about to say Lay off, but she answered before he could.
“They die, dammit! I can’t see through their eyes when they’re dead!” She sank against the closed door, her voice and anger draining. “They die, and I couldn’t help them.”
Max was clenching his own hands now. “That’s enough, Sam.”
“Let’s get out of here,” Sam said, heading toward the stairs. Once they were outside, he said, “If Pat and Olivia are working together—maybe even involved—the last thing he wants to hear is that his wife is visiting his cohort. So he calls her a fraud and orders his wife to stay away from her. Convenient. I want Pat’s phone records, too. I’m getting closer—we’re getting closer. I hope you’re with me on this.”
“Sure.” But Max wasn’t sure at all.
A couple of hours later, Max and Sam had gone through the credit card listings and were finishing up with the phone records. So far, they had zip to connect Mike and Olivia.
Sam surveyed the mess on the conference table. “It doesn’t prove anything. Maybe they use payphones. Maybe Pat Burns made all the calls.” He wasn’t able to persuade the judge to give him warrants for Pat’s phones.
“It was a waste of time.” And warrants, Max didn’t say. “Maybe the answer isn’t here.”
He slumped in his chair, feeling a mixture of relief and frustration: relief that it wasn’t looking like Olivia and Mike were working together; frustration because he should be hoping for a connection.
Sam studied Max from across the table. “You’re glad we can’t pin it on Olivia, aren’t you? I know she’s a pretty blind girl and kinda tugs at your heartstrings. Add the dog, and it’s sap city.”
“No one’s tugging at my heartstrings.”
“A woman can have a way of appearing all soft and sweet and innocent and be the devil inside. Don’t lose sight of that.”
>
Max narrowed his eyes. “Are things are all right between you and Annie? That’s the third time you’ve said something like that.”
Sam’s expression shuttered. “Annie and I are fine.” He pushed to his feet and grabbed Max’s mug. “I’ll get us some coffee.”
When Max’s cell phone rang, Sam paused.
“Callahan. Oh, yes, thanks for calling. Can I call you right back? My partner will want to hear you, too.” He hung up and redialed on the speakerphone. “Captain Jack Richards, from Columbus, Ohio,” he told Sam as it rang. “I appreciate your calling me, Captain. I’m here with Detective Sam O’Reilly. We’re working on a child abduction case, and Olivia Howe has become…well, involved. She says she’s psychically connected to the girl we’re looking for and claims that she’s worked with you in the past.”
“Yes, she has,” said the voice on the other end of the phone. “To tell you the truth, I didn’t believe in that psychic stuff.”
“Didn’t?” Sam asked.
“Let me put it this way: I don’t scoff at anything anymore. She was pretty right on with some things. We received a couple of anonymous tips in years past, giving us information that, along with our own leads, led us to our man. Then, two years ago, she walked in claiming to know what the guy who had just abducted a young girl looked like. She wanted to work with a sketch artist. We had no leads at the time, so we indulged her. Unfortunately, we didn’t circulate the sketch. I didn’t want it to get out that we’d used a psychic.”
“You caught the guy?”
“Eventually. The thing was, he looked almost exactly like the sketch. It was enough to convince me to at least explore the possibility that she was real. A few months later a boy was abducted by his abusive, non-custodial father, so I called her in. It was a tough case. She did connect to the kid, told us she saw a barn. We tracked down the barn, but they were already gone. They had been there, though; hair samples proved that. Then she saw an isolated house, which was harder to track down. The problem was, by the time we could make use of what she was telling us, they were gone. It was rough on her, though she held up as best as she could. But afterward…when we found the boy beaten to death…she took it hard. Real hard. I know she blamed herself for not finding him in time. Soon after that, she told us she was moving down to Florida. Said her father had finally moved into a health care facility down there. That’s the last I heard from her.”
Blindsight [Now You See Me] (Romantic Suspense) Page 11