But who was he? He thought of the guys in the right age range: Holland, Graham, Mathers…Sam. Sam, who’d been acting strangely lately. No, not Sam. Max couldn’t afford to discount anyone. He picked up the cell phone and called Annie O’Reilly.
“Hello,” she answered in a dismal voice.
“Merry Christmas,” he said, not achieving much cheer either. “It’s Max. How’re you doing?”
She let out a humorless laugh. “I guess you know I kicked him out. Petey doesn’t know yet,” she said in a lower voice. “He thinks his dad is just working on the case. I know the timing sucks, but his timing sucked, too.”
“You think he’s seeing someone.”
“Max, tell me the truth. Do you know about it? Is it the woman down the street? I swear she had the hots for Sam, always calling. But it’s been a while since her last call.”
He hoped Sam was seeing someone. Any other explanation made the hairs on the back of his neck stand. “Why did you kick him out?” He hated even thinking it. Sam? “Do you have proof?”
“First it was the woman’s intuition thing. Then his stories start to conflict. He’s with you, he’s not with you. He’s got guilt written all over his face when he comes home late. When he came home last night, he had a scratch on his shoulder. A fingernail scratch. He couldn’t explain it, and I knew, Max. I knew.” Tears filled her voice.
He felt even worse for what he was thinking. For what it would do to them if it was true. “How long has it been going on?”
“He started being preoccupied a few weeks ago. But then it changed, and he started getting…strange. Dark. He never laughs, doesn’t really talk to me or Petey. He obviously didn’t have a lie planned for the scratch, because he just looked at me with the saddest expression I’ve ever seen. But he wouldn’t talk to me. Max, why won’t men talk?”
Because they’re hiding something. “Has this ever happened before? Your intuition, him being preoccupied…dark.”
“Not that I remember. I never looked for it, not with Sam.”
Max knew that they’d been married for about twelve years. He didn’t want to tip her off, but he needed to know more. He couldn’t use police resources. What did he know about Sam’s past? He had family in Ireland. His parents were afraid to fly. “Have you ever met Sam’s parents? Any of his family?”
“No. We’re waiting until Petey’s old enough to appreciate his heritage.”
“Ever talked to them on the phone?”
“A couple of times. They call to talk to Petey. Why are you asking me these questions?”
“I thought if you knew them, maybe you could call and see if they had any sense of trouble.”
Sam could have paid people to call as his family. He could have had plastic surgery to alter his appearance. Bobby could have “borrowed” someone’s family along with their identity. If he mimicked the guy’s voice, and never saw them, he could probably pull it off.
What was he thinking? This was Sam. Sam who’d been like a father to him.
“Oh, no, I couldn’t call them up for that,” she said. “You’re probably the person closest to him. I’ve been wanting to call you and afraid to call at the same time. I’m strong enough to handle the truth, you know.”
“I know, Annie—”
She forced cheer into her voice. “Here, Petey wants to talk to you.”
“Uncle Max? Are you coming by today?”
His chest tightened “I’m sure going to try, but I’m really wrapped up in this case right now.”
“I know, so’s my dad. It’s not fair, you guys having to work on Christmas. Everyone should get the day off.”
If only crime would take the day off. If kidnapped girls were returned in time for the holidays. “I agree. You cheer your mom up. If I see your dad, I’ll tell him to call in, okay?”
“Thanks, Uncle Max.”
“Sure thing, tiger. I’ll be by as soon as I can with your present.”
Even his “Cool,” didn’t ring with much enthusiasm.
After Max hung up, he set the phone beside him. He wanted that. A son, daughter…wife. Another shot at having a family. He was sick of his empty, dark house. Of his empty, dark life.
He pulled into the employee’s parking lot and found a spot near the front. He killed the engine, but didn’t open his door. Instead, he picked up the phone and wondered if he should be relieved or worried that his ache lessened at the sound of Olivia’s voice. “You’re right. I have a hero complex.”
At first, his confession was met with silence. “Okay,” she said at last.
“That’s it? ‘Okay’?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“I thought maybe you’d come out and admit something, too.”
“Like what?” she asked warily.
“That you’re in denial of your fear. Like toxic waste, if you bury it, it doesn’t just go away. It seeps into the soil and water, poisoning everything. It keeps things from growing there, like happiness…love.”
“How do you know so much about it? Where’s your psychiatry degree?”
“I don’t know how I know. I just do.”
“Max…” It was an agonized plea.
“Livvy.” He mirrored her plea.
“Please don’t call me that.”
“Why?”
“Livvy was a scared girl who tried so damn hard to live up to everyone’s roles. Who was afraid no one would love her if she didn’t,” she added in a whisper. “I’m not her anymore,” she said in a stronger voice. “I don’t want you to see me as that girl.”
His fingers tightened on the phone. But she was, somewhere deep inside her. That was the part of her that responded to his hero complex. If she’d admit that she was still afraid of some things, she’d have to acknowledge the part of her that had reached out to him when they’d made love. And oh, yeah, it was lovemaking. Not something he could walk away from so they could remain in their safe little worlds.
“When I look at you, I don’t see a scared little girl. I see a woman hiding behind her false bravado.”
“And you want to save me, I suppose?”
“Of course. I do want to save the day. And you know what? I want the girl, too.”
He stepped out of the car and headed inside.
CHAPTER 24
Sam couldn’t stop sweating. He hoped no one at the station noticed. Especially Huntington, who’d called him into his office and demanded to know what was going on with Max. Now he was going through the last of the case files, but he had to keep backtracking. His mind wasn’t on the files. It was on what had happened late last night. He’d almost killed her. He’d wrapped his hands around her small neck and pressed against her windpipe. She’d looked at him with fear and disbelief, clutching at his hands, trying to pry them off.
It was all he could do to make himself let her go. She’d gasped and choked and moved away from him. He just sat there, unable to speak. When he’d finally been able to look at her, her brown eyes had accused him. He’d almost lost it, right there.
Yes, he’d wanted to kill her, but there was a time and a place. Strangling her in a fit of rage wasn’t the way.
Then he’d gone home, and Annie had accused him of seeing another woman. He’d lied to her as he’d done before. It wasn’t what she was thinking, but Annie wouldn’t understand. He had to take care of things in his usual calm manner. Then it would be over, and he’d never slide into that dark place again.
Everyone looked up when Max walked in. When he glanced Sam’s way, he averted his gaze to the files on his desk, sure that guilt shined like a beacon.
Max walked into the detective’s area and scanned those who were working that day. It wasn’t a big shift. Not a lot of crime happened on Christmas day. Usually the atmosphere was lighter during the holidays. Not this year. Maybe it was Phaedra’s disappearance bringing them all down, reminding them that a little girl wasn’t home with her family today. But it seemed to be something else. They looked at him and quickly
glanced away.
He couldn’t forget that someone had left that note, someone who had been inside the station and had not drawn attention. Bobby had once been a cop, but Max couldn’t place his face among his colleagues. Change in hair, weight, and time could make an amazing difference, especially with any deliberate alterations.
Sam had glanced up and looked down again. Mathers and Holland were on call, along with a couple of other detectives who were working critical cases.
Huntington was on the phone, so Max walked over to Sam. “Any word on the envelope?”
“They just called: no prints, not even a partial. The pen used was your standard cheap ballpoint issue.”
That’s what Max had expected, but he’d still hoped something would turn up. He couldn’t help glance at Sam’s desk, covered in files and paperwork and two pens—cheap ballpoints. The same kind Max used. The same kind everyone here used.
“Have you talked to Annie yet? Seen Petey?”
“I’m heading over in a bit.”.
There were shadows in Sam’s eyes he’d never seen before. A hopelessness Max didn’t like. “Look, if you need to talk or…whatever...”
Sam’s nod was noncommittal.
“What does the lieutenant want me for?” Max glanced at his office and caught his gaze.
Sam tossed a folder on top of the stack and stood. “You’ll have to take that up with him.”
“Callahan, I’m ready for you,” Huntington’s ominous voice said a minute later. He was standing in the doorway. He’d put on a red tie with a bell at the bottom point; it looked out of place with his grim expression.
Max closed the door and sat down. The lieutenant stared at him for a full minute without saying a word. Max resisted the urge to shift under that perusal. Five mangled pencils littered the desk, and he was working on the sixth.
Finally, Huntington spoke around the pencil in his mouth. “I’ve got a real problem when one of my men takes on an investigation on his own, doesn’t tell his partner what’s going on, and conceals evidence. Evidence that’s damning to a suspect that the detective appears to be screwing.”
Max rubbed his face, preparing for battle. “I guess you’re getting this from O’Reilly.”
“And others. You’re acting unbalanced. That doesn’t go unnoticed in a place like this.”
“I know it sounds a little crazy—”
“A little crazy? First, our leading suspect claims she’s psychically connected to the missing girl and you believe her. I’d call that more than a little crazy.”
“If it wasn’t for Olivia, we wouldn’t have connected this case to the other ones.”
“Lucky guess. But it still hasn’t gotten us the girl.” He leaned back in his chair, and it squeaked like a mangled mouse. “Second, I hear you’re out saving old men in the middle of the night—and accusing a local football hero of luring the guy out. Come on, Callahan.”
“That’s related to the case, and if you’ll let me explain—”
He shook the pencil at him. “I really didn’t think this case would drive you over the edge. I thought you’d come out on top. I was wrong, and I’ll take responsibility for that. What convinced me is you thinking the guy who took the Burns girl is your father. Your dead father.”
“He’s not dead.”
“And you can prove that?”
“I can prove that his death wasn’t proven.” Max stood up and braced his hands on the desk. “You think I want to believe this guy is my father? That he’s still alive? I’ve never wanted a man more dead. He brought me nothing but shame and pain as a child. Now I find out that the sick son of a bitch has been abducting girls every leap year since 1976. He’s going to kill Phaedra at midnight, drown her like the rest of the girls. She won’t be the last if we don’t find him. Bobby Callahan is a cop—”
“You’re off the case.”
“Did you hear me? Phaedra’s abductor is someone in our station.”
“Did you hear me? You’re off the case. I’m sending you to the shrink. You’re officially off-duty pending evaluation.”
“You can’t do that, sir.”
“I just did. You’ve been wasting our resources from the beginning of this case. This Howe woman is probably involved, and instead of finding the truth, you got involved with her. I can’t tolerate the kind of insubordination you’ve displayed. Talk about shame, I’ll give you shame. I thought I put my best detective on a very important case, and he failed. I put my faith in you, and you failed not only me but that girl and her family. Give me your badge and gun.”
Max’s insides were caving in. He knew it sounded crazy. That’s why he’d withheld information. Now it had backfired when he needed support the most. He set his badge and gun on the desk, hoping the lieutenant didn’t catch the tremble of his hand.
Huntington nodded toward the glass door behind him. “See those two uniforms? They’re going to escort you to the Smallwood building.” That was where the contracted shrink worked across the street from their building.
“Now?”
Huntington looked as though he were trying to rub the strain from his face. “I pushed you to this, and that’s not something I’m proud of. I’m not going to let you go over the edge. I know you, Callahan. You’re a hothead. I can’t take a chance that you’ll either hurt yourself or do something irrational that will jeopardize the case and the department’s reputation. I’m going to make sure you talk to the shrink now, before you can do any more damage. It’s either that or I lock you away until after the holidays.”
Max didn’t like this, not at all. He forced a hollow laugh. “I’m fine, sir. I’ll talk to him tomorrow.”
“Now, and there’s no arguing about it.”
“Are you bringing me in under the Baker Act? I haven’t threatened to commit suicide.”
The lieutenant held up the phone. “You want to call the captain and complain? Ask him what we should do, given all the facts. He’s having dinner with his daughter and grandkids. Be sure to wish him Merry Christmas before dumping all this on him. You know how sentimental he gets around the holidays.” He hung up the phone when Max didn’t take it. “Look, Callahan, I’m trying to keep this low key. For your sake. For your job’s sake.”
Max recognized the subtle threat: cooperate or lose his job. “What about the case, sir?”
“I’m putting Graham on it, but we’re not holding out much hope at this point. Maybe it was a losing case either way. We’ll never know, will we?”
Max walked out. He knew the two uniforms, young, strong guys gunning to move up to detective. They were uncomfortable with this particular duty, but they were going to do their job. Everyone was looking at him but averted their gazes when he met theirs. They all thought he was crazy, and the bitch of it was, he couldn’t blame them. Sam wasn’t at his desk. He hoped he’d gone home.
“Detective Callahan?” one of the uniforms said. “You ready to go?”
“I need to make a call first.” He walked over to the water fountain away from nosy ears. “Olivia, it’s me. I’m going to be tied up here for a while. I’ve been suspended.”
“Oh, no, Max.”
“I don’t blame them for thinking I’m nuts,” he said on a long exhale.
“Is that what they think?”
“Yeah. I’m getting sent to the shrink. Huntington’s insisting I go now, either that or I get thrown in the slammer. He’s afraid I’m going to off myself. So I’ll talk to the shrink and get out of here. I want you to call Judy and have her stay with you until I get back.”
“Max, are you all right?”
“I’ll be fine. I’m more worried about you. Keep yourself safe.” He hung up before he said anything more. “Okay,” he said to the uniforms hovering nearby.
“You’ll need to leave the phone here. Doctor doesn’t allow phones in his sessions.”
He issued an expletive and set the phone on his desk. “This better not take long.”
Olivia pulled a Baby Ruth from the f
reezer and sat on the counter waiting for the coffee to brew. She knew getting suspended wouldn’t stop Max from trying to find Phaedra. He might be worried about her, but she was more worried about him.
His words floated through her mind. I do want the girl. He wanted her.
As much as her body stirred at the thought, it was how her heart reacted that worried her. He couldn’t help being the way he was: protective, commanding…tender. He thought he knew so much. Sure, their lovemaking had been spectacular. Release wasn’t exactly the word she’d meant to use when describing it, but words like moving, shattering, or soul shaking would lead him in the wrong direction.
She poured a cup and walked out onto the balcony. The air was damp and cool, and no sun warmed her skin. The holiday music played on regardless, contrasting the tension gripping her. A gust of apprehension washed through her. She set the coffee on the table and dropped into the chair. The sound of breathing overrode the sounds of people talking below and a boat passing along the waterway.
Phaedra’s breathing. Small hands worked an old, black padlock. She kept inserting a thin piece of metal into the lock hole.
She was trying to escape.
Her gaze shifted to that heavy door, then back to the lock. Nothing to lose. “Come on, come on, I know this is how Tommy did it.”
Something clicked. She jerked on the lock, but it still wouldn’t give. She jammed the metal inside again and twisted it. Another click. Then another. The lock popped open.
Adrenaline surged through her as she stepped out of the cage. She ran on wobbly legs to the door first, pulling on it. It wouldn’t budge. She turned and ran back through the kitchen area and down the hall with the bathroom at the end. To the right of the bathroom was a closed door. She pushed it open. Beyond the low light, though, the place was pitch dark.
Blindsight [Now You See Me] (Romantic Suspense) Page 29