Ruthless: The Faces of Evil Series: Book 6

by Debra Webb

  “I think Chester likes me and I’m very pleased about that,” Lori added. Was Sherry not going to say anything? “Is… that an issue for you?”

  “Chester is my son. Why would how he feels about Chet’s newest girlfriend matter to me?”

  Wow. Talk about cutting deep. Stay cool. No cat fighting allowed. “I think I’m a little more than just his newest girlfriend. We’re fully committed to each other and we’re planning our future together.”

  “Great. Anything else you want to enlighten me about? I’d like to enjoy a quiet Saturday morning with my family.”

  The woman was really trying hard to piss her off. “So we don’t have a problem? You’re not upset with Chester liking me or anything related to my relationship with Chet?”

  “Look, Lori.” The icy tone in Sherry’s voice warned the claws were fully extended now. “I couldn’t care less where your relationship with Chet is going. Who he chooses to spend his time with is irrelevant to me. But Chester is our son. Chester may get a little attached to you but you’ll never be his mother. Why would I have a problem with a nonissue?”

  Well, shit. “I told you I’m not trying to be his mother. I just want you not to feel threatened by the idea that he likes me.”

  “Nothing about you threatens me.”

  “Really? That’s not the way it looks from here.” Lori couldn’t help herself. She looked the woman up and down and let her own slender figure speak for itself. Sherry was a little short and frumpy—that was a place Lori would never have gone if the woman hadn’t pushed her there.

  Sherry’s face reddened with her own fresh burst of anger. “So you and Chet are talking about your future, are you?”

  “Yes, we are. We may buy a house later this year.” So there!

  Sherry held up her left hand and wiggled her finger. “I don’t see a ring yet.”

  “That’s only because I’ve been holding back,” Lori confessed with a big dramatic sigh. “But any reservations I had are behind me now. I’m absolutely ready for the next step. Kids, the white picket fence, the works.”

  Maybe she’d overstated her confidence and readiness in a couple of areas, but what the hell.

  “Kids?” Sherry echoed. “You and Chet want to have kids?”

  “Chet loves Chester and he wants more children. We’ll be taking that step in time. Of course our children will never lessen Chester’s place in our lives. So don’t even try to throw that up. We would never hurt Chester.”

  “I’m confident you won’t.” Sherry gloated as if she knew something Lori didn’t.

  “What does that mean?”

  “He hasn’t told you, has he?”

  Lori’s composure started to slip. “Chet and I have no secrets.”

  “Really? Did he tell you about the vasectomy he had after Chester was born? Sounds to me as if he might have kept that one tiny little detail from you.”

  “What’re you talking about?” The woman was grasping at straws. Trying to make this about something Chet had done wrong rather than what she was doing.

  Sherry made a scissoring motion with her fingers. “Snip, snip. A vasectomy. He’s shooting blanks. How does that play into your future plans for that white picket fence and kids?”

  Lori did an about-face and walked as calmly as the waves of anger battering her would allow. She climbed into her Mustang and drove away.

  This case was too important for her to be caught up in this kind of ridiculous pettiness.

  Sherry had to be lying… Chet wouldn’t keep something like that from her.

  Lori trusted him completely. She shared everything with him—her deepest, darkest secrets. He knew opening up like that had been really difficult for her.

  He wouldn’t have kept secrets of his own.

  Yet, on a level she was far from ready to acknowledge, she knew he had.

  Birmingham Police Department, 11:15 a.m.

  Jess tacked the crime scene photos from Cagle’s basement across the bottom of the case board. She studied the faces of the little girls who had spent time in that playroom.

  She’d gone back there this morning and read every word, studied every drawing the girls had made. It was clear he had kept the girls for months, perhaps the better part of the year between harvest moons.

  Lastly, she tacked a photo of Cagle on the board. “Where the hell are you?”

  Harper and Detective Roark, still on loan from Crimes Against Persons, were knocking on doors. Talking to Cagle’s neighbors again as well as his superiors at Alabama Power. How could no one know this man on a personal level?

  “I got her!”

  Jess turned to Lori, held her breath. “The daughter?” She and Cook had been searching databases—some official, some not—and social networks.

  “Lucy Cagle, born on September 20, forty years ago, in Cooper Green Mercy Hospital.”

  But God only knew where the woman lived now. She could be anywhere.

  “Hmm. That’s interesting,” Lori went on.

  “Tell me it’s an address,” Jess said, hoping against hope.

  “The night Lucy was born was a harvest moon.”

  And the pieces began to fall into place.

  “Shut the front door,” Cook piped up.

  Certain that meant the young man had something with his search of social networks, Jess walked over to his desk. Lori was already moving around to Harper’s chair, since his desk was next to Cook’s.

  Cook had his screen open to Facebook. “Meet Lucy Cagle Neely. Birthday September 20.” He held up his arms in victory like a boxer who’d just defeated his opponent.

  “She has a son named Dennis.” Lori pointed to the boy’s image in Lucy’s friends box.

  Cook clicked the son’s image. “Sophomore at Hoover High School. One sister, Brittany, who goes to the middle school. Go Buccaneers.”

  Jess resisted the urge to tap her foot. She needed an address. Now. “Lori, check for Lucy Neely in the DMV database. Locate me a home address. Cook, see if you can drum up a phone number for any of the three.”

  With anticipation burning in her veins, Jess returned to the case board and studied the images of the little girls there. “I will find you. All of you, ” she promised.

  “Here we go!” Lori was on her feet reaching for her purse. “You aren’t going to believe this, but the daughter lives on the same street as the Higginbothams.”

  Dear God, he’d gone hunting on his own daughter’s street.

  120 Boxwood Drive, Hoover, 12:45 p.m.

  Two more BPD cruisers were at the scene by the time Jess and her posse showed up. She had new uniforms following her around today. Yesterday had apparently been too much for poor Officer Mitchell and his partner.

  “Forensics is five minutes out,” Lori advised, as they emerged from her car. “I ordered a bus, just in case.”

  Jess closed the door, vest on and weapon in hand. “Good thinking.” The daughter or her children could be injured. Having paramedics en route was a good move.

  The neighborhood was quiet, thankfully with no one on the streets. With school about to start next week, families were enjoying the final weekend of freedom from the hectic schedule coming.

  That was another thing about kids. When they were infants and toddlers, life pretty much revolved around the parents’ work schedule. But once school started, life changed for at least eighteen or so years. Car pools, homework, teachers’ meetings, volunteer activities, sports… her stomach roiled at the idea.

  She might never be ready to be a parent.

  Some people just weren’t made out of the right stuff. She hadn’t gotten that juggling gene working mothers required. She had no patience. What kid wanted a mother who had no time or patience for him or her?

  That was exactly why her body needed to cooperate. As well as solving this case today, she wanted her period.

  Once the uniforms were in place, Jess waited on one side of the front door. Lori assumed a position on the other side. Jess gave her a nod and she
pounded on the door.

  The silence inside the house didn’t jibe with the concept that two teenagers lived here.

  Another firm round of knocking. “Ms. Neely, this is Detective Wells of the Birmingham Police Department. We need to speak with you, ma’am.”

  One last knock and they were going in. No need to wait for the warrant. With Cagle missing and what they’d found in his home, exigent circumstances permitted entry without an inked warrant.

  Two of the officers stepped up and took care of the door with the “big key.” The battering ram made quick work of getting into the house.

  Uniforms poured in and spread out in the house. Jess was scarcely in the door when reports of “Clear!” started to fill the air.

  No one was home.

  Lori cancelled the bus.

  Jess wandered through the bedrooms and noticed the beds were unmade. With the rest of the house in such perfect order, it seemed strange that even the mother’s bed was tousled as if she’d been roused from sleep.

  A framed photo of Lucy with a man Jess suspected was the woman’s husband and her two children stood on the bedside table. She surveyed the pictures of the daughter, in various dance costumes, that lined the walls of her bedroom.

  “Where are you?”

  “Chief!”

  Jess took one last look around and went in search of Lori.

  “It’s one of those charging centers.” She pointed to the dock where two cell phones waited on the kitchen counter.

  “There’s one missing.” With gloved hands, Jess checked the pink phone. “This is the daughter’s.”

  “This one belongs to Lucy.” Lori turned the screen to Jess so she could see the phone’s wallpaper image—a photo of the kids.

  “Definitely the mother’s,” Jess agreed.

  “She has twelve missed calls and three voice mails. All from a contact listed as hubster.”

  Jess moved closer to Lori as she attempted to play the voice mails from the husband. Thankfully there was no password required. A woman after her own heart. Jess hated passwords and codes. She could never remember what she’d selected.

  The time and date stamp indicated the first message was left Thursday evening. A male voice filled the air. “Hey, baby, the first day of negotiations went well. I am pumped! Call me when you get home.”

  The next came Friday morning. “Hey, where are you? You didn’t call me back last night. Today’s going to be a long one. I don’t know when I’ll get to call again. Text me or something. Love you. Hug the kids.”

  The third had come at eleven last night. “Seriously, Lucy. What’s going on? You’re not answering your phone. The kids aren’t answering theirs. I need to hear from you. Love you. Hug the kids.”

  The cell phone rang.

  Jess jumped. Lori did the same.

  “It’s the husband.” Lori looked to her for the go-ahead.

  “Put it on speaker. Maybe he has some idea where Cagle would go and where his family is.”

  Lori tapped the screen a couple of times.

  “Lucy, Jesus Christ, you had me worried sick. Why haven’t you answered my calls?”

  Informing a family member in this manner was never Jess’s first choice but they were desperate. There was no time to waste. “Mr. Neely?”

  A moment of silence. “Who is this? Where’s my wife?”

  “Mr. Neely, this is Deputy Chief Jess Harris of the Birmingham Police Department.”

  “Oh my God. What’s happened? Where’s my wife? Are my children okay?”

  “Mr. Neely, we don’t know where your family is. I’m in your home and there is no indication of foul play. But we need to find them. What I need is for you to stay calm and listen very carefully to my questions. Can you do that for me, sir?”

  Stifled sobs echoed across the line. “Yes.” The word was too high-pitched and permeated with anguish.

  “Where are you, sir?”

  “I’m…” He cleared his throat. “I’m in Los Angeles. My company is merging with one here and I’ve… what’s happened to my wife… the kids? What’s going on?”

  “Sir, I can’t answer those questions just yet but we are doing everything we can to find your family, so please work with me. Okay?”

  “I’m sorry.” He cleared his throat. “What do you need me to do?”

  “When was the last time you spoke with your wife?”

  “Thursday morning. She wished me luck.”

  “Are you acquainted with your wife’s father?”

  “Fergus? Yes. I even tried to call him and he’s not answering. Is he all right?”

  “Does your father-in-law have any property other than the farm where he lives? A place he vacations or just a little getaway?”

  “I don’t understand,” Neely protested. “What’s going on down there?”

  Obviously the Man in the Moon wasn’t big news in LA. “Sir, you have to trust me. I can’t help your family if you don’t help me.”

  “Okay.” He moaned a tormented sound that tore at Jess’s heart. “Please, ask me whatever you need to.”

  “Does Mr. Cagle own any properties besides his home place that you’re aware of?”

  “I don’t believe so.”

  “When did you first meet your father-in-law?”

  Neely explained that his wife’s mother had taken her away from Alabama when she was only seven years old. She never allowed Lucy to see her father for reasons Lucy still didn’t know. But after she passed, Lucy wanted to find her father. By then the kids had been born and she had no other family. After their reunion, Neely’s company agreed to relocate him to Birmingham. That was thirteen years ago.

  The same year the children of Birmingham stopped disappearing during the harvest moon.

  “Mr. Neely”—this was where things would get hairy—“have you ever heard of the Man in the Moon case?”

  “I heard something about that just before I left. Lucy and I talked about it. Neither of us could imagine what kind of person commits such despicable acts.” He drew in a big breath as adrenaline obviously fired through him, sending his fear to the back burner. “It makes you wonder why no one was paying attention. It’s like all those mass shootings. If people would just pay attention to their families and friends and neighbors, a lot of these tragedies might never happen. Seems like the world is blind to…” Silence thickened across the line. “Why do you ask me about that case?”

  The fear in his voice was unmistakable. The adrenaline rush was fading. The naïveté in his philosophy was unfortunately commonplace. Thing was, sometimes the face of evil looked as normal as your own reflection.

  “Mr. Neely, we believe Fergus Cagle is the man who took all those children.”

  “That’s impossible. No. He… he’s a doting grandfather. There has to be a mistake.”

  “We found the room in his basement of his home where he kept the children, Mr. Neely. There is no mistake. Now a coworker of his is dead and Mr. Cagle is missing. Along with your family and another little girl, seven-year-old Janey Higginbotham.”

  “The little girl down the street? Oh my God!”

  “Mr. Neely, we need to find your father-in-law. We need to find him now.”

  A moment or two more was needed for the husband to gather his wits once more. “He never takes a vacation. The kids usually go to his farm for a weekend and he takes them shopping, but never out of town for more than the day. He’s always been funny about staying close to home. Dear God… this can’t be happening.”

  Before she lost him to the shock of this news, Jess pressed the question. “Think hard, Mr. Neely. Have you ever heard him speak of a getaway he hoped to visit one day?”

  “No. Nothing comes to mind. Nothing at all… wait. He works with a man who has a cabin on the lake or a river. He mentioned he liked the idea of a place like that, but he never did anything about it as far as I know.”

  “Can you remember this man’s name?” The pressure was pounding in Jess’s skull. She needed some place to
start. If he could just give her something.

  “Bulton or Bullot… something like that.”

  “Bullock?” Goose bumps spilled over Jess’s skin. “Jerry Bullock?”

  “That’s it! Bullock.”

  Jess nodded for Lori to take over as she fished for her cell and put through a call to Cook. “We need the location of all properties listed to Jerry Bullock. Cagle may have taken his hostages to a place near the water that belongs to Bullock.”

  It was a long shot, but it was all they had.

  “I’m on it,” Cook assured her.

  “Also,” Jess added before letting him go, “see if you can get the phone company to triangulate a number.” She went back to the charging dock and checked the little pink phone. She gave Cook the number listed for the brother. “His cell phone isn’t in the house. I’m hoping maybe he has it on him.”

  The fact that he hadn’t answered the father’s calls or tried to text him back suggested the phone was either not with him or inoperable. But it was worth a shot.

  “I’ll call as soon as I have anything.”

  Before she could put it away her cell clanged. Harper. She hoped he had something more concrete than the news here. “Harris.”

  “Ma’am, I just got a call from dispatch. Fergus Cagle’s truck was found on the side of the road on Oak Mountain Lake Road. Detective Roark and I are headed that way.”

  Jess got a beep that she had another incoming call. Cook. “Keep me posted, Sergeant.” She tapped the screen to take Cook’s call. “Harris.”

  “Bullock has a little house on about ten acres right on the lake practically in the park. I’m texting you the address so you can GPS it. I’ll meet you there.”

  “What park?” The wheels in her head were turning and Jess wasn’t liking where it was taking her.

  “Oak Mountain State Park. The only properties out there are mansions and a few holdovers from back in the day. Looks like Bullock inherited one of the holdovers. The land alone is worth a fortune.”

  As he spoke, Jess checked the address. “The place is on John Findlay Drive as in f-i-n-d?”

  “That’s it.”

  Find me.

  He’d already told her where he would be… she just hadn’t figured out the clue. Bullock’s address was near where Cagle’s truck had been found… he had to be there.