by Vella Day
Brad didn’t blink when Hunter showed his credentials, which implied he might not have anything to hide?
“What can I do for you, officers?” He sounded smooth, educated and in control.
Hunter didn’t correct his misconception about Kerry’s identity or give away who she was, thank goodness. Since Brad didn’t recognize her, it was obvious Susan had never shown him her picture.
“Mr. Stafford,” Hunter began. “Ms. Susan Nottingham came to us claiming you and she had a child together.”
Stafford froze, his gaze flicking to his left. The clacking of the computer keyboard and the nearby phone conversations dimmed. His shoulders relaxed, and he wiped invisible moisture off his brow. “Wow, that name came out of no where. She was pregnant when we broke up, but I haven’t heard from her in over two years.”
“That’s not what Susan claims,” Hunter said.
Brad ran a finger around his buttoned collared shirt. “Can we, ah, go someplace more private? There’s a conference room at the end of the hall.” He glanced around at the many pairs of eyes staring back.
“Sure.”
The officemates returned their chairs to the recesses of their cubicles. Brad moved toward the end of the hall looking like he was on a death march. He swiped a badge to open the door, and the activity behind them returned to normal.
She and Hunter entered. The place had a high-end designer look, all tan and black leather chairs, large mahogany table and wall art of computer components. Interesting.
“Please sit.”
He maneuvered around the table and sat opposite them. The aroma of warm coffee lingered in the air. What she wouldn’t give for a cup right now. Her throat was bone dry—no pun intended.
“So what’s this all about? Is Susan pressing charges or something?” His lower lip trembled. “She said she didn’t want help with child support, and I believed her.”
“Nothing like that. Ms. Nottingham is interested in laying claim to her child. She says you kidnapped the baby, and then disappeared back to Ohio.”
Kerry held her breath. The bastard better own up to what he’d done with Teresa or she wasn’t sure what she’d do to him.
He leaned forward and then slapped the desk. “I never left Florida. As you can see I’m here.” He grinned and opened his arms wide.
“What can you tell me about your daughter?” Hunter said.
“Bonnie?”
Kerry touched Hunter’s arm. “You have two daughters?”
“No.”
“What are you trying to pull? Tell me about Teresa,” Kerry demanded.
Brad’s half-smile melted into a frown as his gaze shot to the ceiling. “Fuck. We have a problem. Or should I say, I have a problem?” Slack jawed, he shook his head.
She’d had enough of this guy. “What kind of problem?” She didn’t bother to keep the frost from her voice.
“You see... Bonnie is...um, dead.” His gaze clung to the ceiling tiles.
“Bonnie? I’m talking about Teresa.” Teresa couldn’t be dead.
He cleared his throat. “Susan named her Teresa. I changed her name to Bonnie.”
Sirens sounded in Kerry’s head and traveled down to her stomach as vomit rolled up to her mouth, forcing her to swallow hard. “She’s dead?” Blood pounded in her ears.
“Yes.”
Kerry didn’t want to believe him. Something wasn’t right. “Why did you change her name? Was it so your child’s mother couldn’t find her, or because you didn’t want anyone finding out what you’d done to her?” It didn’t matter she had no proof Brad had harmed the child, abusers often didn’t stop at adults.”
Hunter grabbed her hand and squeezed. His comfort meant the world to her, but nothing could contain the black, evil thoughts that swirled inside her.
“It wasn’t like that.”
Hunter leaned forward. “Tell us what happened.” His tone came out cold and forceful, but not nearly as angry as she would have sounded had she been able to speak.
Brad stabbed a hand through his neatly groomed hair. “We were living in Ohio when Susan gave birth. In the hospital, I asked Susan to marry me, but she said no.”
If Brad didn’t bring up the abuse, she sure as hell would. “Go on,” she spit out, not knowing how she formed the words through her grief.
“About three months after the baby was born, Susan and I had this fight about my job taking up too much time.” He pressed his lips together so hard they turned white. “She complained she had to spend all her time nursing the baby and taking care of our child. She said I wasn’t pulling my weight.” He clasped a hand over his mouth, and then dragged his fingers to his chin. “I’m not proud of the way I handled things. I slapped her.” His gaze shot downward.
Kerry sucked in a breath. These were all lies. As if some monster took hold of her mind, Kerry leapt from her chair. Before she could reach across the table to get at Brad, Hunter grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back down.
“I’ll handle this, Kerry. Continue, Mr. Stafford.”
Her foot tapped out a beat and her hands knotted at her sides. She bit the inside of her cheek until blood tinged her mouth.
“I wanted Susan to understand how much I helped around the house, so I stayed away for as long as I could, hoping she’d call and say she forgave me. Only she never did.” He stretched his hands out to her. “When I couldn’t take it anymore, I went back to the house to beg her forgiveness, but Susan and the baby had moved—disappeared without a trace.” His cheeks sagged. “I couldn’t blame them. But dammit, the baby was mine too. I wanted visitation rights, wanted to be part of my child’s life, only I couldn’t find them.”
“My sister told me you followed her to Florida and kidnapped the baby.”
Brad’s eyes widened. “You’re... you’re, Kerry?” He leaned his head back against his chair, defeat written on his face.
Hunter’s jaw clenched.
“Yes. Now tell my how my niece died.”
Brad looked around the room as if some spirit from above would whisk him away. No such luck for him.
“I haven’t been able to sleep much since she passed. The baby was my life. The guilt of what I’d done has eaten away at me. My work has suffered big time. I’ve lost weight.” As if to prove his point, he stood and pulled out the waist of his pants, exposing a good two inches. He then dropped into his seat. Brad squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and held up two hands, palms facing outward. “I admit I took our child. I wanted to share custody, but Susan wouldn’t hear of it. I begged her to return to Ohio with me, to marry me, but she refused. So I stayed here, hoping she’d change her mind.”
“It’s no wonder she wanted nothing to do with you. Susan was smart enough to stay away from an abusive man.”
Brad glared at her. “It wasn’t like that. You wouldn’t understand. I loved Susan. I loved our baby.” He swiped a hand over his eyes. “I admit I got drunk a few times. That was when she said she wanted to leave me. The baby was three months and four days old. I hit Susan—once. It was not my finest moment.”
Liar. “Why would you steal a child away from her mother? That’s sick.” Spittle flew from her mouth.
“Mr. Stafford,” Hunter said, before Brad could answer. “Do you have a copy of the death certificate?”
Kerry narrowed her eyes at Hunter. What was he trying to do? Hunter’s face remained even. Wait. Did he think Brad was lying about Teresa’s death?
“I don’t have one.” Brad tugged on his already opened collar.
“And why is that?”
“I gave my daughter everything. She was my life. I showered her with toys. When I came into feed her one morning, she was dead.” Brad’s face contorted in pain as a stream of tears streaked down his cheeks.
Something inside Kerry snapped. She wanted to hate this man, but she couldn’t. Perhaps he was telling the truth.
Kerry touched Hunter’s arm and tried to show him she’d calmed down. He blinked slowly once, and then K
erry turned back to Brad. “Why didn’t you call Susan to let her know Teresa had died? She had every right.”
“Her number was out of service. I swear to you.”
Damn. Susan changed phones all the time, fearing Brad would find her. “Did you at least alert the authorities?”
“And be arrested for kidnapping? I couldn’t go to jail. It would kill me. Calling them wouldn’t have brought Bonn-I mean Teresa back to life.”
He dropped his hands into his head and wept, as giant sobs wracked his body. When he finally looked up, his stained cheeks and red-rimmed eyes confirmed he wasn’t acting.
Hunter took out his notepad. “Where did you bury the body?”
Brad described the isolated area near Braham University. Hunter shot a glance to Kerry, and her heart sank to her stomach. It’s where they’d found Baby Doe. She shut her eyes for a moment to gather her composure.
“We found a small body in that vicinity clad in a jacket. Did you bury Teresa in clothes?” Kerry said.
“God, yes. What do take me for? A monster?”
Yes. “What color was her jacket?”
“Pink, I think. Yes, pink with green trim. I also buried her with a teddy bear. I wanted my daughter to have a friend when she went to heaven.”
A giant sob lodged in her throat. Hunter covered her hand with his. Poor Susan. She wasn’t sure how she was going to tell her sister that her years of hiding and searching were over. Closure wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Crushing Susan’s hope of ever finding her child alive would send her into a spiraling pit of depression.
“Mr. Stafford, did Susan have a restraining order against you?” Hunter asked.
“A restraining order? No. She disappeared without filing one.” His Adam’s apple bobbed hard. “Why?”
“Because if that’s the case, you didn’t kidnap your child.”
He looked confused. “But—”
“A father has a right to see his own child, unless Susan had a court order to stop you.”
“You mean if I’d called the authorities when Bonnie died, I’d be okay?”
“That’s right. By not reporting her death, however, you will go the prison.”
Brad’s face crumbled. Betrayal snapped at her. Susan should have mentioned she hadn’t taken any legal action against the man. Then again, why hadn’t she thought to ask her sister?
26
After Hunter dropped Kerry off at work, he escorted Brad Stafford to the sheriff’s department. She had insisted on returning to the lab to identify Jane Doe #4. Her lips had quivered, and her voice had been thick with emotion. It tore his heart up real bad. Hunter wasn’t good with women, but he knew people. Arguing with her wouldn’t have earned him any bonus points.
As much as he wanted to comfort Kerry, and tell her everything would work out in the end, but shit, why lie? Her relationship with Susan would never be the same.
His heart ached knowing the anguish and turmoil Kerry’s sister was in for. A pain that cut so deep, the wound might never heal—like his continuing ache over Amy.
Amy.
His wife’s usual fresh face had been less distinct, and less real of late. Kerry’s smiling image had crowded his dreams, not Amy’s. Caring, bright, passionate Kerry. Though he was guilt ridden to admit it, Kerry was more of a mate than Amy had ever been. Kerry listened to his theories, and even saw through any illogical conclusions he might draw. Amy’s life was all about her climb in the banking world. Even Melissa came second, he third.
Kerry understood why he had to search for the criminal, whereas Amy wanted him home to take care of the lawn and the house.
Kerry understood death and what it did to the soul—like he did.
“Detective? Are we getting out?” Brad said.
Drowning in his thoughts had made him forget Brad Stafford in the back seat. “Sure.”
Hunter slid from the car and opened the back door and led the man into custody. As he turned back toward the desk area, Brad called to him. Hunter turned. The man’s eyes looked hollow. “Do you want me to give you a DNA sample? If you find my daughter, you’ll see I didn’t harm her. She died of SIDS, I promise.”
Maybe the guy did have a heart after all, or else he didn’t want to face a murder charge too. “The sergeant will take care of you.” Kerry believed Baby Doe was Teresa, but it wouldn’t hurt to have Brad’s DNA in the system.
Hunter headed back to his cluttered desk. He’d pulled out his chair when his cell rang.
Phil. “What’s up?”
“Ahern just called. The bullet that killed Chanel Carlitta didn’t come from the same gun that killed Nancy Donnello-Sanchez.”
“Damn.”
“But there is good news.”
“Tell me.” He wanted to strangle his partner right now.
“Here’s the interesting part. I ran the ballistics on the bullet that killed Willie Wyble.”
“And?”
“Same caliber as Chanel’s.”
“You shitting me?” The results might throw Kerry’s theory down the drain.
“Nope. We won’t know if it came from the same gun until after the lab finishes processing it.”
“That’s an interesting twist. Thanks.” He hung up.
What did Chanel and Willie Wyble have in common? Kerry had been so sure Nancy Donello-Sanchez was a victim of the serial killer. She’d been abused, pregnant, and had plastic surgery. But Willie Wyble? He didn’t have any of those characteristics. Shit. They must have been looking down the wrong barrel—or else they were faced with two different killers.
His phone trilled again and he snatched it off its cradle. “Yeah?”
“Detective Markum?” The woman’s voice wobbled, sounding old, frail, and scared.
“Yes?”
“I’m Helen Szemansky. I’ve been afraid to call, but when I saw you and that pretty woman on TV the other night, you both looked so kind and nice I thought what harm could come from checking.”
“Excuse me?”
“The bust of the missing woman your woman friend showed?”
“Yes?”
“I think the woman might be my granddaughter. Bea, that’s my daughter, didn’t want me to call.”
“I’m glad you did.”
She coughed several times. “Sorry.”
“Would you like to come in and take another look?” He thought her breath hitched. Poor woman. “Up close?” Perhaps it’d give her closure and them a positive identification.
“I’m afraid I can’t walk, and it’s too much for me to get my daughter to take me. She hasn’t been the same since Deidre left us.”
His mind raced. “I could come to your place, if that would be easier.” Her sigh of relief made him smile. “I have a good quality photograph of the model.”
“That would be wonderful. And bring that nice woman with you.”
The time had come to face Susan. Conflict tore Kerry up. Denying the father the right to see his daughter was wrong—unless Susan believed he’d harm the baby. Kerry was determined to find out what really happened in Ohio—and Florida.
Regardless of the outcome, she would finish the facial reconstruction of Teresa, if only to give her niece the respect she deserved. Having found no evidence of any stress fractions or damage to the bones, the autopsy had concluded the baby could have died of SIDS as Brad claimed. For that, she was grateful. For now, Brad seemed to be telling the truth.
She checked her watch. Hunter had called and said he was on his way to pick her up. ETA about fifteen minutes. She cleaned up her area, and then trashed the paper gown and booties. As she headed out to the front, Steven burst through the door, a serious look on his face. He stopped, his eyes widening.
“Hey,” he said. “You still here?” He wiped his palms on his lab coat.
Quarter to six wasn’t exactly overtime material. “I’m about the leave. Cutting the clay strips for my new reconstruction took longer than expected.” Total babble. Until she spoke to her sister, Kerry wo
uldn’t discuss the identity of Teresa. “And you?”
“Thought I’d clean out the vans while Dr. A’s not here. I can’t clean while he’s ordering me around.” Steven smiled, his teeth perfectly white and straightened.
Money. He must have been raised on the stuff. She wondered why she never noticed before. “I’m sure Dr. A will be pleased.”
“I hope so. But I’m doing it for selfish reasons. Last time I rode in the white van, I thought I’d puke, and I have a cast iron stomach when it comes to smells.”
She agreed the seats in that vehicle smelled like vomit and death. “Sounds like fun. I wasn’t aware Dr. A had left.”
Hunter was not going to be pleased Dr. Ahern cut out of his babysitting gig early.
“He took off about an hour ago, saying he was coming down with a cold.”
Good reason. “Well, goodnight.”
“Kerry?”
“Yes?”
He shook his head. “Nothing.” Steven smiled again and moved past her down the hall.
Yikes. Maybe the young man had a crush on her, though she hoped not. He wasn’t her type. Hunter’s face appeared in her mind and her pulse quickened.
“Are you okay?” Hunter asked the moment Kerry slipped into the car.
It might be hot and humid outside, but the heat couldn’t be the only cause for her blotchy face.
“Just a lot on my mind.” She faced the side window.
“Have you figured out what you’re going to say to Susan?” Hunter pulled into traffic.
“Not yet.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I was thinking about Steven.”
“John Ahern’s assistant?” He’d only run into the kid a few times, but he seemed nice enough.
“I can’t put my finger on it. He kind of creeps me out.”
Hunter stopped at a light and turned toward her. “What did he do?”
“Nothing, really. He smiled at me.”
“Oh, okay.” Hunter laughed. “I think with so much going on, you’re understandably seeing something that’s not there.” He reached over and squeezed her hand wishing he could do more to bring her comfort.