“She deserves a chance. But we can wait until Ron has another opening. Of course, we might lose her to another department if we hold her back too long.”
“Yeah. She’s smart,” Harvey conceded.
“Not as brilliant as Winfield or as street-smart as Eddie.” Mike chewed thoughtfully for a moment. “I know it’s tough bringing a woman into an all-male unit. But we all need to grow up a little and figure it out. I was probably wrong not to take a woman into Priority when I was the captain.”
“You had the squad you wanted, and we did good work.” Harvey eyed the photo of Sarah clipped to her test results.
“Do you think she’ll understand if you don’t pick her?” Mike asked.
“Does that matter?”
Harvey didn’t like the thought of sitting down to explain that to Sarah, though, and she would deserve an explanation. “Let me look at these two profiles you’ve got from outside. It could be one of them is more qualified.” He flipped through the file again. “I notice you didn’t put Farington in here.”
“To be honest, I weeded him out with about ten other outside applications. He barely passed the test, and I didn’t think he was the best choice. There were several from other departments with very high scores, and one of those candidates has detective experience but wants a change of venue.”
“Hmm. Okay.”
“I can give you a couple more of the top profiles if you want, or is three enough?”
“Give me your next highest two.”
Mike opened the drawer and selected the files.
“Take those home.” Mike slid the additions across the desk. “It’s after five o’clock. Send your boys home, too. You rounded up a good batch of suspects today, and Cape Elizabeth will work with you on Talbot and his crew.”
“But we haven’t found Peter.”
Mike threw his hands in the air. “I can’t help you. I wish I could.”
“Me too.”
“Do you think he’s still in the city?” Mike asked.
“We haven’t found anything that makes us think he was in Cape Elizabeth, or that Talbot knew anything about the kidnapping. I think he’s being square with us on that.”
“Still,” Mike said, “if they got out of Portland, Peter could be anywhere.”
“Yeah.” Harvey tried not to think of Peter starving to death in some old barn or his friend’s body being dumped in a rural location. “Well, I’ll be over at the hospital by seven. I sure hope McCafferty is awake and able to talk by then.”
*****
Peter rested on the sleeping bag for a while before attempting the stairs again. He hadn’t found any more exits to the basement. He’d tried twice to work his way up to the window, but it needed more strength than he had left. He considered wrapping his shirt around his hand and trying to break the glass, but he could barely reach the window. Would he be able to attract attention if he shattered it?
After much thought, he decided to try the stairway door again. He wasn’t sure he was thinking clearly, but it seemed his best chance. He wouldn’t be able to pick the locks without a locksmith’s tool kit. But he had to try.
What did he have that he could use? If he had the right implements, he might be able to do it, or at least he imagined he might. He couldn’t lose all hope now.
He put the padlock key Mack had left him in his pocket without much faith that it would help, but he had to try every possibility.
Slowly, he stood and took one step at a time, staying close to the wall. When he reached the stairs, he took hold of the railing and painfully inched up the steps. When he reached the top, he went to his knees on the uppermost tread.
He took the padlock key from his pocket, but it wouldn’t fit into the slot, no matter how he tried. His pockets were empty now, except for the Matchbox car Andy had given him on Wednesday morning. It seemed years ago. Peter drew out the little toy, careful not to drop it. The only thing that might possibly help him was the axle. Even his swollen fingers told him it was the wrong shape and too thick, but after some work he had the axle free of the chassis, with the second wheel still attached. He shoved the car back in his pocket, but the tiny wheel fell, bouncing off a step and onto the concrete floor below.
Peter pulled himself higher, feeling the deadbolt lock in the dimness. He tried to put the end of the axle into the key slit on the lock. No way.
Now what? He stuck the tiny axle in his pocket and studied the door. It was a plain, flush panel made of plywood. Of course it would open inward. The hinges showed on this side, but he would need tools and steady hands to take them apart. They were on the side of the stairway that had no railing, and the brass seemed to taunt him. He couldn’t take them apart, and he knew he couldn’t break the door in from this side.
Peter closed his eyes and rested his head against the door, summoning courage to try a hopeless task. Mack had disappeared and apparently had no plans to reveal his whereabouts to anyone. The other kidnapper was dead. No one could help him.
The light was fading. He looked down the stairs and toward the window. Which was more likely to give him his freedom—the door or the window? He was more likely able to break the window than the door. But then what? If he could somehow crack the door, he could get out. He knew he could.
And he had climbed to the door. He reminded himself of his futile attempts to hoist himself up to the window. He was up here, and he needed to try.
Peter’s stomach rumbled, and he knew he had to act soon. Each minute that passed drained more of his energy. Holding on to the railing, he pulled himself up. On TV, they kicked the door, but he was on the wrong side for that and standing a step below the threshold. Still, the door wasn’t all that sturdy. Maybe he could crack the plywood on this side.
He clung to the railing and braced for a kick. His attempt was almost laughable. The angle was wrong, and he was exhausted. Even so, the effort would have thrown him down the stairs backward if he hadn’t held to the railing so desperately. His forearms and hands felt almost useless now. He wasn’t sure he could hang on through another kick.
Shoulder? He wasn’t sure a healthy man could force the door from this side, and he was weak and in pain. But his boys and Abigail were out there. He couldn’t die here without knowing he’d tried everything.
He drew back, pulled in a deep breath, and shoved against the door with his left shoulder. The door rattled.
Well, that did a lot of good.
He let go of the railing and grabbed the knob with his right hand. All or nothing. He pulled back and launched himself. He hit the panel and fell back. Unable to keep his hold on the doorknob, he sprawled backward, clutching for anything and grasping only air. His hip hit the edge of the stairway halfway down, and he did an awkward back somersault over the side.
He lay on the concrete, gasping. He couldn’t have hit his head too badly, or he’d be unconscious. Wouldn’t he? The side of his head hurt, but the pain seemed worse in his limbs. What hurt most, his leg or his elbow? The slightest twitch of either his left arm or leg caused excruciating pain. It wasn’t just his raw ankle. He must have broken some bones.
Dear Lord, I’m going to die here. Comfort my boys and Abigail.
Chapter 16
Going home was a good decision. Harvey greeted his in-laws and took off his jacket, tie, and shoulder holster. It felt good to sit around the table with Jennifer’s extended family, even though a few were missing.
Abby’s eyes looked hollow, and dark half-circles had formed under them. She hadn’t bothered with makeup today, and if he hadn’t known better, he’d have thought she was the oldest of the three sisters.
“You caught the guy, right?” Her voice cracked. “Eddie said you have him in custody.”
“We’ve got McCafferty, yes, and we’re ninety-percent sure he’s the second kidnapper. But he’s recovering from his surgery, and I haven’t been able to question him yet. His girlfriend insists she knows nothing about a kidnapping.”
Eddie sat down the
table a couple of places, where he was eating with one hand while the other arm stayed around Leeanne’s shoulders. “She knew he was on the run, but she didn’t know why. She thought he was on the outs with Davey Talbot.”
“Which he is,” Harvey noted. “If we hadn’t gotten to him, Talbot probably would have had him taken out.” He looked around the table, self-conscious suddenly of his harsh words in front of several children. “Sorry. I should have left business at the office.”
“It’s okay,” Jennifer’s father said. “You’re carrying a big load.”
“I’ll go over to the hospital with you after we eat,” Eddie said.
“You don’t have to. You’ve already put in a lot of hours this week. I’ll call in one of the other guys. Tony, maybe. He’s the only one without a family.”
“I can go,” Eddie said.
“No, you stay with Leeanne. You two are still newlyweds.”
Leeanne nodded to him. “Thank you, Harvey.”
He smiled. “So, how’s the new book coming?”
“Okay.”
“Are you ready for the book signing on Monday?” Marilyn asked.
“Well, I’m nervous, but I guess I’ll live through it.” Leeanne made a face at her mother.
“Do you have to take the books?” Beth asked.
“No, the bookstore ordered them.”
Marilyn said, “Well, your father will have to work Monday, and Randy has school, but I thought I might stay over.”
Leeanne smiled. “I’d like that.”
“Yeah, Mom, that would be terrific.” Jennifer stood. “I’m going to take out the next round of biscuits. Anyone need anything while I’m up?”
George held up his water glass, and Jennifer walked over and took it from his hand with a smile.
Harvey looked toward the boys. Gary had begged to sit beside Randy, and his younger brother claimed their uncle’s other side. Gary looked a little droopy now. Randy was buttering a biscuit for him.
“Gary, how’s the arm?” Harvey asked.
“It hurts all the time.”
“He just had his pain meds about fifteen minutes ago,” Abby said. “It should kick in soon. But I don’t want to stay late. He needs to get to bed early tonight.”
Beth turned her head toward the living room. “Oh, there’s Anna. I’d better go get her.”
The baby’s wails increased while Beth hurried from the room, then they stopped abruptly.
“Mommy solves the problem,” Leeanne said.
When Jennifer offered dessert and coffee all around, Harvey pushed back his chair.
“I’d better get going.”
“So soon?” Jennifer asked.
He looked longingly at the family. “I hate to.” He’d only held Connor for a few minutes before the meal began, and he hadn’t even seen Anna. Beth and Jeff’s baby was napping when he arrived. “I just feel guilty wasting even a minute when I could be looking for Peter.”
“It’s not wasted time,” Jennifer said softly.
“I’m sorry.”
Her wistful expression tugged at him, and he stooped to kiss her. Jennifer hugged him for a moment, then let him go.
“I know how you feel,” she said, “and we all want you to find him. But we’ll miss you.”
“I know. Thanks.” He stepped back and met her father’s gaze. “George, Marilyn, thanks for coming down. I’ll see you later—or tomorrow, depending on what happens.”
Eddie set down his fork. “Don’t you want me to go, Harv?”
“No, but you can call Tony for me and tell him to meet me there.”
On the way to the garage, He keyed in Charlie Doran. “Hey, Charlie. How’s the hotline going?”
“Busy,” Charlie said. “We’ve had a hundred and fifty calls.”
“Really?” That surprised Harvey in a way, and then again, it didn’t. “Anything helpful?”
“Anything that seems pertinent, Sergeant O’Heir is sending a unit out to check on it. The chief had him call in two extra teams tonight.”
“Great.”
“Yeah. So far, we’ve turned up a break-in, an assault, and two cases of vandalism. That’s in addition to everything else the front desk has been dealing with. But nothing yet that seems related to the Hobart case.”
“Okay, call me if you get something.”
Harvey got in the Explorer and started the engine. Was this only the third day? It seemed like Peter had been gone a year.
*****
Eddie sat and chatted with Leeanne and the folks for a few minutes after Harvey left, but he was restless. Randy took his dish of pie and ice cream into the study, and after a couple minutes, Eddie excused himself and followed him.
“So, Randall, my man, you’re going to spend the summer down here?”
“Looks like it.” Randy was sitting at Harvey’s desk holding his bowl and spoon, but he wasn’t looking at the computer screen. He was frowning at a small sheet of paper on the desk.
“What have you got there?” Eddie leaned in to look over his shoulder.
“Jennifer said it was something Harvey was working on. Do you know what it is?”
Eddie hesitated. A couple of the names jumped out at him. Leah Viniard and Harvey Alan Larson.
“Jennifer started to tell me about it earlier,” Randy said, “but then she put it in the drawer. I was just looking for a pencil, and I saw it again.”
“Uh, those are names off a birth certificate someone brought Harvey the other day.” Eddie wondered if he should have hedged.
Randy looked up at him, his eyebrows lowered. “Birth certificate? Which one’s the baby?”
“I believe it’s Leah Viniard. That’s her name now. She was adopted, though.”
Randy puzzled over it for a few more seconds.
“She’s a kid about your age,” Eddie said. “I met her.”
“So Tara Ervin is her mother?”
“Yeah.”
“Is Dr. Joseph Menard the father?”
“No.”
Silence hung between them as Randy stared at the names. At last he met Eddie’s gaze. “So, why is Harvey’s name on this list?”
Eddie pulled over Jennifer’s chair and sat down. “That’s a funny story. I probably shouldn’t be telling you, but you probably shouldn’t be asking, either.”
Randy gritted his teeth and cringed, definitely an admission of guilt.
“Well, we’ve gotten this far,” Eddie said.
*****
At the hospital, Harvey went up to the surgical ward, where he stopped at the nurses’ desk and showed his badge.
“I’m Captain Larson. I’m here to see Chad McCafferty.”
“Oh, yes, they’re expecting you. Room 312.”
So he was out of the recovery room, at least. Harvey walked briskly down the hall and found Allison Crocker, in uniform, seated outside the door. She rose as he approached.
“The doctor said you can talk to him, Captain, but he’s still kind of groggy.”
“Thanks.”
“His girlfriend’s in there,” she added. “She came about an hour ago.”
Harvey nodded. “Okay. You stay alert. We arrested his boss and several of his flunkies, but you never know who’s still out there with a grudge.”
Allison nodded gravely. “I’ll be on my toes.” Her eyes flickered at something beyond him, and she smiled. “Oh, there’s Detective Winfield.”
Harvey turned and nodded to Tony.
“Hey, Captain. Hi, Allison.” Tony gave her a friendly nod.
“Let’s do this,” Harvey said, and he and Tony went into the room.
The bed nearest the door was empty, and McCafferty lay on the one near the window with his eyes closed. His left arm and shoulder were heavily bandaged.
Emma Skerritt’s eyes widened when she saw them, and she jumped up. “They said I could sit with him.”
“Yeah, that’s fine,” Harvey said, “but we need to ask him a few questions. Has he been talking?”
“Not much. Just, ‘What happened? Where am I?’ That sort of thing.”
“He knew who you were?”
“Yeah. I didn’t say much about the stuff you asked me. He’s still dopey, you know? The doctor said it’s just a flesh wound in his leg, but the other business is serious stuff.”
Harvey took that to mean Marston’s shot had affected Mack’s lung. “Well, if you don’t mind, we need a few minutes. You can wait right outside the door.”
She hesitated. “You’re not going to hurt him again, are you?”
Harvey sighed. “No, Emma, we won’t hurt him. He wouldn’t have been hurt in the first place if he hadn’t tried to shoot our police officers.”
She looked down. “I guess.”
“It’s the truth. In fact, he already had the leg wound when we caught up to him.”
Her eyes flared. “What do you mean?”
“I mean someone else shot him first. He bled all over the rug in that duplex you were staying at.”
“Who did it?” she asked.
“We don’t know yet, but it wasn’t us. Did you know he had a gun with him?”
Her lips twitched. “I’ll be right outside.”
Harvey watched her go. Tony stepped over and shut the door behind her.
“Wake up, Mack,” Harvey said, bumping the side of the bed intentionally.
McCafferty flinched and his eyes flew open. “Who. . .”
“I’m Captain Larson, and this is Detective Winfield. Where is Peter Hobart?”
“Who?”
“The guy you and Holden kidnapped.”
McCafferty blinked. “Uh. . .”
Harvey gave him five seconds. “You’d better start talking Mack. You’re already looking at murder one on Carter Ulrich. You don’t want to add Peter Hobart to the list.”
“What? No!”
“Yes,” Harvey said.
“Hobart’s not dead.”
Harvey smiled. “Now you’re talking my lingo. Where is he?”
“I—wait! Is Web Holden dead? Because I heard it on the news, that he was dead. Is it true?”
“Was he your friend?” Harvey asked.
“No. Not really. But—”
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