Nathan pulled his sport coat tighter over his shoulders. “Well, if it brings any comfort to you, Lucy’s not the only one who may have been changing her mind about such things.”
“I’ll show you where her office is if you’d like to look through her things.”
Lee stood up. “Yes, let’s definitely get those files off your hands.”
Could it be possible Lucent had been real all along?
If he hadn’t been real, then how could he be now?
Chapter 11
PARKED IN HER DRIVEWAY, Keelyn looked behind her at Sophia safely secured in the backseat. A new pacifier gripped between her lips. Two diaper bags sat on the seat beside her. One containing twenty diapers, three packages of baby wipes, three changes of clothes, and an extra snowsuit. The second with assorted toddler snacks and five sippy cups full of various kinds of juice: one apple, two grape, and two white peach. All pasteurized and non-expired. There was also a small medicine bag waiting to be stocked with Tylenol, Motrin, and Benadryl. After reading for several hours about taking care of toddlers, Keelyn had noted those three medicines were mentioned most often. She’d printed off sheets that included the correct dosing based on children’s weight.
Had she left the thermometer in the bathroom? Would an adult thermometer work on a child?
That was another problem. Keelyn didn’t know how much the child weighed. She’d tossed her broken scale in the trash years ago and never replaced it. If she had to dose Sophia with medicine, it would be a shot in the dark.
One issue to be solved by the pediatrician later today. Another—what to do about her diaper rash?
Keelyn was sure it was too much stuff for a trip to the police station. Her ability to self-edit baby items, however, was in its infancy.
Better safe than sorry.
She let her heavy eyelids close, and the thought of the padded headrest pulled her back. The night was never-ending. Before Lee left, he’d convinced himself a trustworthy neighbor feeling sympathetic had left the bag of diapers on her porch. Keelyn played back the conversation in her mind, and a nagging pessimism began to tug at her sense of security.
Could she trust Lee—this man she loved and had chosen to spend her life with?
It was as if Lee had tried to convince her of something he didn’t quite believe himself, just to lessen her anxiety. Something akin to telling a cancer patient there was always hope when the doctor knew full well there was nothing modern medicine could do anymore. That the only hope was heavenly intervention.
Was it better to live with false hope or with the reality of a situation? Keelyn’s and Lee’s opposing feelings about Raven highlighted the difference between how they approached their respective relationships with God. Her faith led her to believe there was always hope: Raven could be found and redeemed. Lee leaned toward the intellectual aspects of the Bible and logically deducted his way through life’s problems: Raven had given up Sophia and had involved herself with a man who would likely lead her to her death. Problems always exploded when hope collided with logic.
These thoughts and the child’s restless night had kept her up. Sophia cried for hours. Keelyn’s heart broke at every whimpered plea. Close to three o’clock in the morning, both had drifted into a fitful sleep. Keelyn felt the indentations of the carpet nubs that dimpled her skin in the morning.
The child’s voice brought her eyes open. Keelyn’s vision blurred, and she blinked several times to clear the sleepy haze. How long had she been asleep? Her watch verified ten minutes had passed. Cool air drifted through the interior compartment, fanning the right side of her face. At first, she relished the breeze as it cleared the shadow of cobwebs that fuzzed her thoughts, but then her mind questioned its source. She glanced back and right and noticed the rear passenger door was open.
Had she been so careless as to leave the child’s door open?
Then she noticed it, a stuffed rabbit sat next to Sophia on the seat. A note pinned to its chest. Sophia caressed the animal as she pulled the gray-and-pink stuffed ears through her small, chubby hand.
Keelyn quickly glanced in all directions. No one in sight.
“Hey, sweet girl.” Keelyn let a few seconds pass to ease the high pitch of her voice. “Where’d you get that bunny rabbit?”
Sophia plucked the pacifier from her mouth, held it between saliva-coated fingers, and pointed outside.
“Mama.”
It felt like fire shot through Keelyn’s veins. She fumbled at the clasp of her seatbelt, the red plastic button stubborn against her efforts to release it. After several frantic attempts, it gave way. She whipped the nylon strap aside. A sharp crack pierced her ear as the metal buckle flung into the window. Pulling the handle, she shoved the door open, her knees so weakened by her trembling they buckled beneath her. She steadied herself on the door frame and took several deep breaths to calm her racing heart. She straightened up and walked to Sophia’s side of the car, scanning the houses surrounding hers for any sign of Raven.
She stood for a few moments, seeing nothing. “Raven!”
A garage door opened several houses down, a red Corvette pulled from the open mouth. Keelyn watched it drive by. The tinted windows hindered her view of the driver. She hated not being able to see inside. Just another form of deception that seemed to mock her as it passed by.
She leaned into the car and took the animal from Sophia. Brown dirt caked the fur, and it reeked of cigarette smoke. Tufts of cotton batting peeked from where its button nose should be. The safety pin dug into her thumb as she unclasped it, and the wind lapped at its edges as she opened it.
In heavy black scrawl were the words: “Stay away!”
Breakfast curdled in her stomach, and she shook. Sophia began to cry for the toy.
Was it a favored toy, as she suspected, or a nefarious sign of something else? Keelyn wanted it gone. Alligator tears welled up and slipped down Sophia’s cheeks. She whipped her head side to side, brown locks slapped at her face.
“Whiskers!”
Keelyn handed it back and Sophia clutched it to her chest. “Shhh, okay, okay. You can keep it.”
For now.
She eased the child’s door closed.
Should she lock the child in the car and look for her sister? Or was that the plan—to draw her away from the child so Raven could take her back? Her mind ached to call Lee, for him to come and offer his sure and steady calm. She craved the feel of his arms around her body. Would he believe her or chalk it up to the hysterical musings of a worried aunt?
She pulled her hair behind her and held it clasped in her hand to keep the playful breeze at bay. She returned to the driver’s seat, buckled, and backed out, scanning the houses as she drove by.
No signs of a solitary figure anywhere.
District 2 Station was in the center of Arapahoe County in an older part of Aurora. Keelyn parked near the municipal building and walked the narrow sidewalk with Sophia on one hip. The two diaper bags pinched her skin under their weight as Sophia still clutched the acrid Easter toy. She struggled at the door until a young, olive-skinned man, each finger tattooed with an acronym she didn’t understand, reached forward to hold the door open for her. She proceeded through and walked the tile hallway to the glass-encased, she assumed bulletproof, phone center.
“I’m here to see Officer Brentwood.”
The man looked up. His tin-like voice cracked through the speaker. “You moving in?”
She smirked. “Is he here?”
“Yes, Keelyn. He’s been waiting for you. Any more trouble from that crazy man from Monday?”
“Not yet, but you haven’t found him, have you?”
“Just keep your eyes open.”
He walked around to let her through and motioned her to follow. After several twists and turns, they came to a small room. The officer at the desk stood and took the heavy bags from her shoulder.
She settled into the cozy desk chair, turned the child around in her lap, and set out a coloring book
and crayons for her to doodle with.
It took hours to get the composite right. The image that stared back from the computer screen was close but not perfect.
“He has a mark, maybe a mole, that sits just outside his left eye.”
“How does this look?”
Keelyn’s neck was slick where sweat had collected between the sleeping child’s cheek and her chest at the open V of her pink sweater.
“Good. I think that’s as close as I’m going to get.”
Keelyn could hear Lee’s voice at the door. Two quick knocks and he pushed through, Nathan a few steps behind. She swiveled the chair but remained seated. His dimpled smile warmed her tired spirit.
“I didn’t expect to see you here,” Keelyn said.
“We just got back from interviewing Lucy Freeman’s mother.”
“Anything interesting?”
“Just that you might be psychic.”
“What do you mean?”
Lee pointed at the sleeping child. “Her name . . . is really Sophia.”
Keelyn instinctively huddled her close. Maybe she understood Raven more than she thought.
“By the way, I thought you were going to leave her at the shelter.”
Her joy iced over. “I didn’t feel right doing that. Her life is unsettled enough right now.”
Lee walked around and neared the computer. “This is Lucent?”
Keelyn nodded. “At least the person who calls himself that.”
Nathan fingered the mole on the composite. “You recognize this person, Lee?”
As he leaned toward the screen, Keelyn studied his reaction to Nathan’s question. It was there. She couldn’t deny it. A slight lift of the eyebrows as his breath stilled. His tell when he would withhold information from her. Typically, she noticed it when she would ask him about SWAT calls. Her stomach cramped at the thought he could already know this person who’d been involved in murder. Someone he’d arrested? Someone he’d helped convict in the past?
He shook his head and stood up. “No one I know.”
“You sure?” Nathan pressed.
Keelyn eyed Nathan. His gaze fixed on Lee. Unwavering.
He sees it, too.
“I told you, I don’t know who he is.”
Nathan looked back at Keelyn and shrugged it off. “Lee, we best be off. It’s late, and we have to meet with Dr. Donnely. Thanks for coming into the station, Keelyn.”
Lee leaned down and kissed Keelyn on the cheek. He placed a protective hand on Sophia’s head. The little girl stirred under his touch.
“I’ll stop by later.”
She bit her lower lip as he left. There was something disingenuous in his demeanor. Keelyn was sensitive to the disparity between what a man said and what he did. Lee’s statements were far from what his body language portrayed.
He was lying.
He knew the man in the sketch.
Chapter 12
THE SCENERY PASSED unregistered as Lee’s mind whirled at the implications of keeping the information from Keelyn, from Nathan, from the chief of police. The remnant of the man he used to be still haunted him. The one he’d tried to bury more than twelve years ago threatened to breach its crypt. He imagined the deception materializing like fingers wrought with decaying flesh as they broke through the dirt that kept them hidden.
He wanted to vomit.
“How’s your brother been?” Nathan asked as they sped toward Gavin Donnely’s office.
Lee swallowed hard. “Why do you ask?”
Nathan flipped the turn signal and positioned the vehicle in the left turn lane. “I seem to remember he was in some trouble a few years back.”
“You know”—Lee’s voice cracked and he cleared his throat—“we don’t talk anymore.”
From his peripheral vision, Lee saw a nod of contemplation. “Do you know where he’s living?”
“No idea.”
A cool stalemate remained between them. Nathan seemed resigned to the fact that Lee was sticking around and at least worked to be pleasant. The building was a short distance after the left turn. Nathan parked and laid his hand on Lee’s shoulder.
“I’m sure in SWAT, trust is primary. Am I right?”
Lee’s ability to act nonchalant during this conversation was fading fast.
“Truth first,” Lee confirmed.
“It’s the same thing for me. If I can’t trust you, we won’t be working together. This has nothing to do with what you told me yesterday. Can we agree?”
“Yes, absolutely.”
Nathan eased his hand off and opened his door. “Just want to make sure we’re on the same page.”
The building was a short, three-story brick structure. The offices of Freeman and Donnely were on the third floor. Dim hallway lights guided their way to 307, through the door, into a cozy waiting room void of patients. The receptionist’s desk sat empty.
“Dr. Donnely?” Lee called, his voice small in the large space.
Nathan fanned out a pile of magazines. People, US, Oprah’s flagship publication. Missing from the stack were Field and Stream or magazines for cars and trucks. “Let’s head to the back.”
Light spilled from a cracked office door. Lee neared the door and pushed it open a few more inches. “Dr. Donnely?”
Still no answer.
A lamp at the desk provided solemn light. Large shadows cast into the center of the room resembled gargoyles waiting to pounce. Lee stepped into the office with Nathan close behind. There was a small hallway to the back left corner of the desk. Lee motioned for Nathan, his hand on the hilt of his service revolver.
Another door, open slightly. Lee snuck up and peered through.
He couldn’t fathom what he was seeing. Donnely, he assumed, was bent at the waist spraying something with what appeared to be a can of compressed air. Next, he grabbed a small probe, a small blue spark appeared, electricity arcing. A scene from Young Frankenstein played in his mind. Lee knocked louder at the door.
Donnely stood up and turned around. “Detectives! Come on in. Sorry, I get concentrating on my hobby and it’s hard for me to hear people enter the office.”
Lee walked in. “Thank you, Doctor, for agreeing to see us today. I’m Captain Lee Watson. This is Detective Nathan Long.”
Donnely’s hair was brown and his eyes, a shade lighter than his hair, were set deeply into his skull. His cheekbones would be the envy of any male model, and the strong jawline added to his tough exterior.
A faint smell of burned flesh hovered in the room. Lee neared the doctor’s work station. In a small vice was a shiny, eight-legged spider. Donnely returned to his prisoner and sucked venom from the microscopic fangs into a glass pipette. A prickled heat rose on Lee’s arms.
“What are you doing?” Nathan asked as he took position on the other side.
“Harvesting this little guy’s venom. Latrodectus mactans.”
“The black widow spider.”
Nathan eyed Lee quizzically. “How would you know something like that?”
“Science nerd. I loved bugs growing up.”
Lee’s heartbeat touched up a notch at the ease from which the lie slipped off his tongue. How far down this muddy slope had he slipped back into his old ways? Could he climb back up?
In truth, he struggled to cover the fine tremble in his hands. An ache smoldered from the scar in his right side where the venom from a brown recluse had necrotized his skin into the muscle. Since that junior high summer day when the fangs of a fiddler bit into his skin, any sight of the eight-legged fiends caused his knees to weaken with dread. His knowledge of their ways was a defense mechanism for control.
He studied them like one would study an adversary.
“Why are you collecting the venom?” Nathan asked.
“I’ve been researching different types of neurotoxins. After all, botulism is a neurotoxin, and we doctors use it for cosmetic purposes, among other things. It is also used for certain medical conditions.” Donnely winked and sniffed ha
rd. “Small doses may be beneficial. That’s what I’m trying to figure out. If I could come up with an application like Botox, I’d be so rich I could retire at fifty.”
“Isn’t your background psychiatry?” Nathan stepped back.
“Of course, but I am a medical doctor first and foremost. These creatures have always fascinated me.” He turned to Lee. “We would have been great childhood friends. Let me put this one back, and I’ll meet you in my office.”
Nathan seemed thankful for the excuse to leave. Lee struggled to stay as he watched the doctor place the anesthetized spider back in its case and thought back to Donnely’s last statement.
We would have been great childhood friends.
Forced teaming.
It was a technique he learned as part of his SWAT training. Subtle clues a stalker might give early in a relationship to build rapport with the victim. When he interviewed women, he would often evaluate for these types of interactions. This particular strategy on the part of the criminal involved using the word we to establish premature trust.
Had the psychological game begun? If so, why?
Lee hung back to examine the piled myriad of specimens. He felt the tiny ends of eight spider feet climbing up his arm to his shoulder, and he swiped at the bug, meeting nothing but air.
“You’re sure you’re a fan?” Donnely’s voice was low, insulting.
“Absolutely.” Lee swallowed hard.
Clear plastic cases, at least one hundred, were stacked on the wood shelves. Each contained an arachnid variant. Most of them black widows.
“You use these for any other purpose?” Lee asked.
The doctor latched the lid in place. “I use them with people who have a paralyzing fear of spiders.”
“Exposure therapy. Isn’t it outside the norm to use actual, poisonous specimens?” His mind raced back to one doctor’s visit as he sat stock-still while holding a photo of a large tarantula. The pain in his chest so overwhelming he thought he’d had a heart attack. He couldn’t fathom the real thing crawling up his leg.
“You’re familiar with the concept?”
Lee crossed his arms over his chest at the mild upswelling of pressure. “We cops aren’t as dumb as we look.”
Poison Page 9