Daddy's Home

by A. K. Alexander

  Enough! What was this medium, or whatever she called herself, trying to tell her anyway? For God’s sake! What nonsense. She faced her. “My husband died in that fire. That’s it, end of story.” She walked briskly to the car. She heard Brooke apologizing and calling good-bye over her shoulder as she followed Holly.

  They were silent for a few moments, until Holly got onto the freeway and accelerated, driving at a high speed. This hadn’t gone the way she’d thought. She figured maybe she’d get some kind of answer, but what she’d gotten was pure bullshit. And the kind that stirred emotions in her that didn’t need stirring. She longed to call Brendan.

  “Holly, I am so sorry.” Brooke broke the silence. “I don’t know what that was about.”

  “You don’t? You and Chad been sharing bedtime stories? What are you up to, Brooke? Are you trying to play me for some strange reason? You and Chad in cahoots to get me off this case? You afraid I’m going to go tell Greenfield that you two are getting it on? So you conjure up this weird psychic scenario, to what . . . ? Get me thrown off the case? Make it look like I’m losing my mind?”

  “Holly, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Whatever. Let’s forget this whole thing happened. I’ve got to get back to work. I’ve got a case to solve, without you and Madame See-the-Future, much less your boyfriend.”

  “Holly, I am sorry, really.”

  Holly gripped the steering wheel. “Save it, Brooke. Just save it. I still have no clue as to what you’re up to, and frankly I don’t really care. But let me say this,” Holly began. “Don’t get in the way of me and this case. I’m not going to spill your secret. In fact, I could give less than a rat’s ass about who you screw. Screw the entire department for all I care. But leave me out of it.”

  Moments later they pulled into the station parking lot. Brooke quietly got out and walked away.

  Holly checked her watch. Chloe would be in aftercare by now. She decided to go and check on Kristy then pick Chloe up early. She wanted to get as far away from this place as possible right now. Maybe she could clear her head and try to figure out what in hell was going on. Truthfully, she wanted to go to see Brendan, have him put his strong arms around her, have him hold her tight, protecting her from everything and everyone around her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Gunter couldn’t find the stupid bitch anywhere. She wasn’t answering his pages, and he couldn’t go by the place where she lived for fear the cops might be watching for him to do just that. He knew she had other friends. That was just the way she was. No use fighting it. He didn’t want to marry her anyway. Couldn’t marry her.

  It was still early, so he decided to grab a cup of coffee and sit down and read the newspaper, see if there was anything new about him and his families.

  He ordered his usual espresso and sat down outside the Starbucks store, glancing up occasionally to see if any new prospects were headed his way. He was always on the lookout—you never knew what or who might turn up, or when and where. But there was a sour note about a pick up in a Starbuck’s after the past weekend’s fiasco. He needed to be really careful in choosing the next one.

  Damned if he could find anything new about his case inside the local paper. There was a small article about the ongoing investigation, but that was it. The lead investigator, Holly Jennings, was mentioned several times. Ah, dear Holly. She had her work cut out for her, now didn’t she? Gunter would have to meet her one day.

  Finishing the story about the lead cop, his eye caught another article—corner page. What was this? Local dating service owner shot to death in his Mission Hills Home. Gunter read and reread the article. My God, this was unbelievable. But now at least he knew what had happened to the broad, and he was so pissed off he couldn’t see straight.

  “Don’t worry,” she’d said. “It will all be all right. I know what you did. I won’t tell anyone. I love you, Gunter, blah, blah, blah . . . I’ll even help you, baby. I know how important it is for you to have a family, and I want that for you. I’ll help you find the perfect ones. I’ll make it all better for you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

  Yeah, that had turned out just great, hadn’t it? But she had found him Shannon and her kid, and he had liked them really well until everything went down hill. He wished he had never confided in her about what it was he needed. He wished she had never found out. Well, she’d obviously axed the pervert. Gunter hated that guy. It wasn’t as if they’d ever met, but she’d told him all about the freak who liked naked little children. He deserved to die. But after the first family turned sour, and the bitch put two and two together, she said that she’d help him and that it would all work out. Ha!

  “We’ll set him up. He’ll go down for life with all that kiddie porn he’s got lying around. No one will believe that he didn’t do it. I’ll make sure of it, baby. And by the time they do, you’ll have found yourself the perfect family. And me? Well, let’s just say that I’ll get what I want too.”

  What the hell did she want? To have the pervert locked away? Why hadn’t Gunter asked her straight out if that was all she wanted out of this? Had she played him for an idiot? He was pretty sure she had.

  Now with James dead, it would probably be next week before he could get any idea of what the cops were looking into, or even who they were looking at for the murders. He had to get next to that detective. Holly Jennings. He’d have to figure out a way to get to Holly Jennings and find out what she knew.

  He swallowed his coffee and headed over to the internet café, where he had another cup and started researching where this detective lived. It took all of thirty-five minutes before he had it narrowed down.

  He still had a couple of minutes before he had to get going to work, so he hopped in his car and drove past the first address. He could not believe his eyes! The detective whose pictures were in the newspaper was just getting out of a car parked in the driveway, and hopping out of the passenger side door was a little girl. Not over eight! Oh, boy, oh boy! Maybe he’d have to get to know Detective Jennings in more than one way! He hadn’t seen a man’s name on the title to the house on the net when he located her address. So no husband.

  This was too damn good to be true.

  Gunter Drake smiled.

  The perfect family was right under his nose.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Karen Whitley looked disgusted at the plate of greasy food she set out in front of one of her regulars. She hated her job, hated her looks, and pretty much didn’t care for anyone she knew. However, she didn’t really know all that many people, and Karen wasn’t her real name. She would never, ever utter her real name out loud. Occasionally she thought about that other woman. The one who’d been forty pounds thinner, the one who’d purposely gained all that weight, chopped off all her hair, colored it a mousy brown and kept her television on all night long. She wanted no one and nothing in her life. At least that was the lie she told herself.

  She had to believe that, because she knew that if she didn’t, she’d wind up dead.

  Stay alone, don’t let anyone in or know the truth, because the truth was so evil and frightening that if anyone ever knew it they’d run from her. She was a part of something sinister and demented, and she’d left all of that behind when she was a kid, but it never really left her mind. That kind of evil, the kind she knew ran through generations of bloodlines, how could she not be tainted with it?

  “So Karen, how you doing?”

  “Same old same,” she said glancing at the large balding man on the other side of the counter.

  She’d worked at this diner in the middle of Brooklyn for four years now. The food sucked, the people were sad sacks, all depressed and dragging, and she barely made enough money to pay her rent. But she felt safe here. She’d done it. She’d won. She had been able to escape death and disappear on another coast into a city of millions where no one cared what her real name was or where she came from.

  She’d even left behind people who had
cared for her, and she’d done that to protect them, because Karen knew that at some point in her life the evil would track her down, find her, and swallow her up. It was only a matter of time. She’d been expecting it for a while now. But who knew? Maybe it wasn’t coming for her after all. Maybe she had truly escaped it.

  “You know, Karen, you really are a pretty lady.”

  “Gee, thanks, Hank. Yeah right, with my folds hanging over the sides of my apron,” she laughed. She knew he wasn’t coming on to her. Hank was one of those people who was always trying to make others feel better about themselves. She really kind of liked him. He was as close to being a friend as anyone she knew, except for her cat, Livvie, who was really more of a pain than a friend.

  “Nah, you look fine. And I know you’re a smart lady. I see the way you handle folks coming in here. Why do you stay? Don’t you want something more for yourself? You’re a young gal.”

  “And what would that something more be?” She picked up the carafe of coffee. This kind of talk made her nervous, but Hank was harmless.

  “I don’t know, maybe a family or a career?”

  She stared outside for a brief moment, watching people pass by. Probably on their way home from work or going to work the night shift. She liked the night shift. It meant not having to sleep, not having to dream. She didn’t dream when she slept during the day, but the nights . . . Filled with dreams. If they could be even called dreams. “I’m pretty happy where I am, Hank.”

  Hank shrugged his shoulders and went back to scarfing down his food. “You could do better, Karen. You really could,” he said in between chewing mouthfuls.

  “Sure, like maybe the French Riviera or something.” She laughed again at her own silliness. Her on the Riviera! What a hoot!

  “Why not? You don’t have a husband. You don’t have kids. Who’s to stop you from going to France or Italy or wherever you want to? Me?” He spread his arms out wide. “I’d love to live in one of those exotic places, but I’ve got a wife and four kids, with two leaving for college in a couple of years and one heading out in a year. I’m tied down. You’re not.”

  “I can’t even hardly pay my rent.”

  “If there’s a will, there’s a way.” He smiled.

  “Right.” She filled his coffee cup. “Maybe someday.”

  “So, the wife and I are getting a vacation in a week, taking our oldest out to check out schools on the west coast, if you can call touring our seventeen-year-old around listening to her complain about what dorks and idiots we are a vacation.” He laughed. “If we can ditch the kid for a while, maybe we’ll have some fun. Teenage girls can be a real pain in the old buttocks, you know. Love the kid, but I am sort of happy to see her moving out and moving on. It’s just gonna cost me an arm and a leg! So we’re gonna start in Santa Barbara and head on down to San Diego. The kid’s got a brain. If I could go anywhere, it’d be where the sun always shines. I’m hoping she chooses San Diego, ‘cause I got a sister out there. We’re gonna take some time to visit her. That should be nice, although she’s kind of a pain in the old buttocks too though. Reminds me of my daughter with that stubborn streak of hers. I suppose that’s from my grandpa.”

  Karen drowned him out some. That was Hank—long winded and filled with all sorts of stories and such.

  “Tell you what, though, they better solve their serial killer thing out there in sunny San Diego before I let her go.”

  Karen spun on her heels and faced him. “What are you talking about?” The word “killing” always got her attention.

  “Don’t you watch the news?”

  “I hate the news. I don’t want to hear any of that negative crap. I keep it on Comedy Central or The Discovery Channel. I like jokes and animals.”

  “They got them a mess out there. Some bastard is kidnapping single moms and their kids. They’re calling him The Family Man or something like that. Theory is he wants to live out his perfect family life with them. Sick stuff.”

  “I guess.” A prickly, cold sensation slid across the back of her neck and down her arms.

  “The disgusting thing is, this guy cuts the ring finger off of the mom after he’s killed them. Makes for a real crime book, huh?”

  Karen didn’t know what to say. Her body went completely cold, and she nearly dropped the coffee pot. Her hands shook.

  “Karen, what is it? You’re as pale as a sheet, hon. What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” she stammered as she set the pot back on the counter. “Nothing at all.” She rubbed her ring finger. She closed her eyes and steadied herself against the counter, her back to Hank. She didn’t want him any more alarmed at her behavior than he already was.

  What if it was him? What if he was out there? Could it be? Could he be the one killing women and children in San Diego, as Hank said? Oh please, no! Please don’t let it be him.

  As these disturbing thoughts raced around in her head, she suddenly thought about what Hank had said to her before he’d relayed the happenings on the west coast. Maybe she should think about another place, even farther away, another place across the ocean. Another new name, new job, new life. Maybe if she did that, she could revive old dreams. France would be nice. But what about those women? Could she go halfway around the world knowing that maybe he was out there torturing and killing them? Or should she get the hell out of here and pretend none of it had ever happened, that she never worked in this diner, never knew Hank or anything about the story he’d told her? She might be able to forget those things, but could she forget what had happened to her? The things that she’d lived through? No, she didn’t think anyone could ever forget.

  The evil she thought she had escaped had found her again.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Holly invited Brendan and the girls to an early dinner with her and Chloe. She was relieved to have the company and to have someone help take the edge off of her truly startling day. She was still waiting for news from Robb Carpenter regarding what he’d discovered about one Miss Darla Monroe and all of her other aliases.

  “You’re distracted,” Brendan said. He tossed the salad, while she poured them each a glass of red wine.

  “I am. I’m sorry. It’s this case. Please don’t take it personally.”

  “We can go, if you’d like.”

  “God, no. That’s the last thing I want. Actually, you know what I really want, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since I left the office this afternoon . . . ?” Wow, she was going out on a limb here.

  “I don’t know, my dear, but I must say I kind of like the sound of whatever it is you’re hinting at.”

  She socked him lightly on the shoulder. He grabbed her around the waist and squeezed. “No, silly, I wasn’t thinking what I’m sure you’re probably thinking. Besides, we do have little girls in the next room.”

  “Okay, guess I got my hopes up.”

  “Don’t give up on that hope, though. I think maybe, eventually, if you play your cards right, you might get lucky. In time that is.” Was this stuff really coming out of her mouth? This did not sound like the Holly she knew, or at least the Holly she wanted people to see. But maybe this was the long-lost Holly after all this time. This was the woman she’d been missing. The one who loved to play, flirt, and be a woman—not just a coldhearted cop. That was the woman she’d grown used to, and now to hear this side of her personality coming to life again felt strange, but in a wonderful way.

  “So what is it? What have you been thinking about this afternoon?” Brendan asked.

  “This. Simply this. Spending time with you and hearing about your day, having you and Maddie here. I wish Meg could’ve joined us, too.”

  “I know. But you know teenagers. She has her own agenda. Something about a three-way phone conversation that I believe has something to do with the god-forsaken word ‘boys.’”

  Holly laughed. “Yes, yes, that bad word. But boys grow into men, and you know there’s nothing wrong with a good man.”

  “You know one
, do you?”

  “I think I do.”

  He put his arms around her and gave her a gentle kiss on the lips. They were both guarded, afraid that Maddie and Chloe might pop in at any moment. But it was a sweet kiss, and though not a passionate one, it still sent feelings into territories that hadn’t been visited in a long time. Brendan pulled away from her and said, “Well, if you know a chap like that, I certainly hope he doesn’t get in my way.”

  The glow continued over the next couple of hours, and as the girls joined them, chatter and laughter filled the house. Family laughter, familiar, full of fun and intimacy. The more Holly watched Brendan play with the girls, telling jokes and revealing more of himself as he did, the more she knew that she was falling in love with him. However, her mind wandered at one point, allowing thoughts of what the screwy psychic had told her.

  That Jack might still be alive.

  She quickly shut out all such thoughts and went back to enjoying the evening. She would not allow anything to spoil this moment, not even the unsettling possibility that Jack . . .

  What nonsense! As the evening wound down, Brendan and Holly knew they each had responsibilities to their children, and giving in to their growing desire and falling into bed together would not be responsible behavior. It was just too soon in their relationship; besides, the girls needed to be tucked into their own beds.

  Saying their goodnights at the door, they gave each other a simple hug. Brendan turned back around as he walked down her front path and smiled at her. “Maybe we’ll see you tomorrow?”

  “That would be nice. I’ll call you.”

  “Good night.”

  “Mommy.” Chloe was pulling on Holly’s oversized sweater.

  “What baby?”

  “I don’t feel so good.”

  Holly bent down. “What is it?”

  “I don’t know. My tummy kind of hurts.”