Thread of Innocence (Joe Tyler Mystery #4)

by Jeff Shelby

  “Yep, I went early,” I said. “Didn't sleep great, so I took off as soon as I got up. It was colder than usual. And I didn't have you to pace me.”

  She laughed. “I just usually try to keep up.”

  “Baloney. I just don't let you see how hard I'm breathing.”

  “Whatever.”

  I smiled. It felt like a normal father-daughter conversation, one that I hadn't had in maybe forever.

  “What else did you do?” she asked.

  “Just running around,” I lied. “Stuff I had to get done.”

  “Are you gonna get a job?”

  For the third time in the conversation, she stopped me cold. I felt like I was talking to someone I'd never met.

  “Uh, I'm not sure what I'm doing yet,” I said. “Why?”

  “I was just wondering. If you were gonna be traveling and stuff or whatever.”

  “No,” I said quickly. “Whatever I end up doing, I won't be traveling. I'll be staying home. I won't be leaving.”

  “Okay.”

  I hesitated, then asked “Is that alright?”

  “Yeah,” she said, sounding surprised. “Why wouldn't it be?”

  “I don't know,” I said. “I just...I don't know.”

  “Yeah,” she said. “And...I...I don't know. I just would rather you were going to be around when we get back.”

  The frustration and sting I'd felt at her not returning my text the previous night was replaced with my heart hammering against the inside of my chest and tears welling at the corners of my eyes. “I'll be here. I promise.”

  “Okay,” she said. “Here's Mom.”

  My breath caught while I waited for Lauren to come on the line.

  I heard her muffled voice saying something and then she was there. “Hi.”

  “Hey.”

  “How are you?”

  “A bit overwhelmed.”

  “Yeah,” she said. “Hang on a sec.”

  I waited and her voice disappeared into a tunnel again.

  “Okay, sorry,” she said. “She was getting in the shower.”

  “That's alright.”

  “Yeah. Overwhelming,” she said, lowering her voice. “Like a new kid today.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  “I'm not exactly sure,” she said. “She woke up in a decent mood. I didn't. And she asked me what was wrong. So I just laid it out for her. Everything. How frustrated I was, how confused I was. I told her how hard it was when she was gone. I told her how we went to shit and how you basically gave up your entire life to look for her. I don't know.” She paused. “I just told her everything and I didn't filter it and I didn't worry about how she was going to react because I felt like she didn't care, anyway.”

  I took a deep breath and wiped at my eyes.

  “And she listened,” Lauren said. “She sat there and she didn't interrupt. She asked me what was wrong and I just didn't even think. I just told her everything that was on my mind. And I was crying when I was done, just a mess. And then she leaned over and hugged me and told me she was sorry.”

  Lauren coughed and I knew she was crying.

  She worked hard to clear her throat. “I told her none of it was her fault and that I was sorry that it was hard and probably a bunch of other things that didn't make any sense.” She paused. “And then I told her I was pregnant.”

  I wasn't sure why, but I laughed. “You did? Why?”

  Lauren laughed, too. “I don't know. I was just on a roll, I guess. She laughed, too.”

  “What did she say?”

  “I honestly don't even remember,” she said. “But she was happy. She was still hugging me. And then she was apologizing for getting angry with me about the Corzines and that it was just hard and she didn't really want to stay, but she felt like she was letting everyone down and she didn't want to do that. She just kind of let it all out and I just hugged her. And then we were okay.”

  I wiped at my eyes again. It was as happy as I'd felt in a long, long time. Everything else fell away. It felt like we were a family.

  “So she asked if she could call you tonight,” she said. “That's why she called.”

  “I was shocked to hear her voice.”

  “I thought you would be. And I heard what she was asking you.”

  “About staying?”

  “Yeah.”

  She didn't say anything.

  “I told her I didn't know what I was doing, Lauren, but that I'm not going anywhere.”

  “I figured,” she said. “By her reaction, I mean. She smiled.”

  “I hope that's okay.”

  “It is, Joe. It is.”

  I still didn't know what that meant for us, but I was glad she was saying it was okay. I wasn't certain that we could put all of the pieces of our old life back together, but maybe there was a chance for a new life. A brand new start that would leave the past squarely in the past.

  “And I don't mean to cut this short, but I'm absolutely exhausted,” Lauren said. “I forgot how tiring it is being pregnant.”

  “You feeling okay?”

  “Yeah, just tired,” she said. “Nothing to worry about. I'll get with the doctor when we get back and figure out where we're going.”

  “She said you made reservations?”

  “No, I was just looking at flights. But probably day after tomorrow,” she said. “I'll work on the flights in the morning and then let you know. But that gives her another day here tomorrow and we can ship back whatever she wants to ship.”

  “Okay.”

  She paused for a moment. “Joe.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I think we're gonna be okay.”

  “Me too.”

  We said goodbye and hung up.

  I plugged my phone into the charger on the counter and walked out front for a minute, needing some air. The evening breeze was weak, barely reaching the front yard from the ocean, but the salt hung heavy in the air. The yard still looked neat and trim after the work I'd done on it. I went and stood where Elizabeth had been standing the day she was taken.

  I took a deep breath.

  I was going to give myself two days.

  Two days to find out what happened to her. And if I could, then I'd deal with it. I'd give myself whatever closure I could.

  But after that?

  I was going to let it go. For Elizabeth. For Lauren. And for me. I was going to leave that part of our lives behind. We had Elizabeth back. We were never going to be a family if I kept bringing the past into our current lives. We had to move forward in order to heal.

  I took another deep breath, inhaling the scent of the ocean.

  Two days.

  THIRTY THREE

  I was awake nearly the entire night, trying to figure out what I could do with my remaining two days. Everything that came to mind ran back to the initial bust in Imperial Beach. I'd talked to one side of that deal, but I hadn't talked to the other side.

  The cartel.

  I wasn't sure how to get to them, though. I thought about asking Lasko, but I was already feeling guilty about how far I'd dragged him into the entire mess. I appreciated his help and I knew I'd owe him, though I doubted he'd ever ask for repayment. But I didn't want to push him so far into the abyss that his career imploded.

  So as I dragged myself out of bed at daybreak, I turned to the one person I knew could get things done.

  “Mr. Tyler,” John Anchor said on the other end of the line after one ring. “Good morning.”

  I poured coffee from the pot into my mug. “Good morning. I hope I'm not calling too early.”

  “It's never too early.”

  I wondered if he ever slept. Or if he was some sort of robot.

  “How was Phoenix?” he asked.

  “Phoenix was good, I guess,” I said. “I spoke to the woman. Thank you again for that.”

  “My pleasure.”

  “And I'm wondering if you might be able to put me in contact with someone else.”

  “In Phoen
ix?”

  “No,” I said and I laid out for him what I was looking for.

  “It's the Tijuana organization?” Anchor asked when I was done.

  “Yes.”

  “Can I put you on hold for just a moment?”

  “Sure.”

  The line buzzed quietly and I imagined Anchor paging through his contacts, seeing if he had a phone number for the leader of one of the most violent drug cartels in the world. I wasn't sure which would be better – if he had it or if he didn't.

  He was back on the line within a minute. “I apologize for the delay, Mr. Tyler. I had to check on something.”

  “No problem.”

  “I'll see what I can do,” Anchor said. “Setting up a meeting like this requires some...coordination.”

  “I understand.”

  “It also might be at a moment's notice,” he said. “There might be a short window of time.”

  “That's fine.”

  “And, again, Mr. Tyler. I want to be clear that...”

  “I know, John,” I said, cutting him off. “I appreciate the favors I'm asking for here and I will be happy to return them in kind.”

  “Forgive me,” Anchor said. “I don't mean to be insensitive. I just want to make sure we're clear that it's business.”

  “Completely understand.”

  And I did. I knew that I was selling my soul to the proverbial devil. I had no idea when Anchor might come calling for repayment or what he'd need me to do. But I knew the stakes. It wouldn't be a surprise. It was a trade-off I was willing to make if it got me what I wanted.

  “Thank you,” Anchor said. “For your professionalism.”

  I wasn't sure that's what it was, but he could call it what he wanted.

  “I need to make a few calls,” Anchor said. “I also think it may require having someone from our organization accompany you. Trust can be an issue sometimes with these kind of things. I assume you have no objection to that?”

  “None,” I said. “I'll do whatever's needed.”

  “Excellent. I'll be in touch as soon as I can.”

  We hung up and I set the phone back on the counter. I stared at it for a moment.

  It was going to ring at some point in the future and it was going to be Anchor. And he was going to ask me to do something I most likely wouldn't want to do and I wasn't going to be able to say anything but yes. It wouldn't be a choice. It wouldn't matter that I wouldn't like it or feel comfortable doing it. I'd already agreed to do whatever was asked. A dangerous way to do business.

  I looked at the phone again.

  I hoped I knew what I was doing.

  THIRTY FOUR

  I opted for my run instead of breakfast and did a slow thirty minutes along the water, the ocean shrouded in fog, my legs just as tired as the rest of my body. The fog made the air feel wet, almost like running through a cold shower, and as I turned up my street, I couldn't tell what was sweat and what was morning dew on my face and neck. I crossed the pavement and wiped my shirt sleeve across my face, rubbing at my eyes.

  A dark red sedan was parked in my driveway and I could see a figure through the tinted driver's side window. As I approached, the car door opened and Agent Blundell got out, pushing sunglasses off her face and looking my way.

  I didn't rush to reach the driveway and she closed the door just as I got there. “Mr. Tyler.”

  I nodded, but didn't say anything.

  “Nice morning for a run,” she said.

  “Not really.”

  “Cool, at least,” she said. “I can't stand running in the heat.”

  I shrugged.

  “How's your daughter?”

  “Fine.”

  “Yeah?”

  “We're figuring it out.”

  Her hands were clasped in front of her. “Your wife, too?”

  “Yep.”

  “Why didn't you go to Minnesota with them?”

  I smiled. “Keeping tabs?”

  She leaned back against her car. “My job.”

  “Is it?”

  “Investigation is still open,” she said. “You'd know that better than anyone.”

  “How's that?”

  “You're still looking.”

  “Am I?”

  She finally returned my smile. “You are.”

  “Why are you here?” I asked.

  She looked around the neighborhood. “You wanna go inside?”

  “Not really.”

  She unclasped her hands and folded her arms across her chest. “What do you know?”

  “I know that I don't why you're here.”

  “I'm still working Elizabeth's disappearance,” she said, shifting her weight from one foot to another. “And I know you are, too. I thought we agreed to share information.”

  “I don't think we ever agreed on anything. But do you have something to tell me?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “Not really. But I hear you're knocking on all kinds of doors.”

  “Where'd you hear that?”

  “In my ear,” she said, frowning, tired of the cat and mouse conversation. “What do you know?”

  “So much for sharing,” I said. I reached down, unlaced my running shoes and pulled on the tongues, loosening the shoes. I stood up. “Pretty sure it was from inside my old department.”

  “Coronado?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Highly doubt that,” she said, shaking her head. “I would've gotten wind of that a long time ago. Even a rumor, I would've heard it.”

  I shrugged. “Okay.”

  We stood there looking at one another.

  “That's it?” she said, holding her hands out like she couldn't believe it.

  Of course that wasn't it, but I was irritated that she would just show up and expect me to share what I knew when she wasn't sharing a damn thing. And part of me was seriously pissed off that, for years, I hadn't seen a single agent show up at the house to talk to me or to Lauren. Elizabeth's case may have been open, but they hadn't treated it like it was. But now that she was back and the media had brought the case back to the forefront, Blundell and her colleagues were all hot and bothered to supposedly figured it out.

  Yet they seemed to want me to do all the work.

  “I need a shower,” I said. “I'm going inside, Agent Blundell.”

  She dropped her hands. “You know, I don't get why we can't find a way to work together.”

  “Me either, actually.”

  “So why are you being so stubborn?”

  I stared at her. “Tell me exactly what you or your agency has done, besides piggy back on all the work I've done here. I tracked her for years. I found her. And I'm gonna find out what happened to her. I'm really close. But that's me.” I gestured at her. “Tell me exactly what the hell you've done.”

  She looked away from me and took a deep breath. She rubbed her hands together, almost like she was cold, then shoved them into her pockets and looked at me again.

  “You know what happens when a case like this actually turns out like yours?” she asked. “I mean, when a kid is actually found and returned to whomever she belongs to?”

  I wasn't sure if it was a real question or a rhetorical one, so I didn't say anything.

  “Fingers get pointed,” she said. “Everybody's doing everything they can to make sure it wasn't their fault, that it didn't happen on their watch. No one wants to take the blame. So while everyone's sure happy that the kid gets found, no one wants to dig in because they don't want anyone looking at them like it was their fault. No one want to raise their hand and say 'Yep. I was the one who fucked up.'”

  I knew how vital politics were to surviving in any profession, but especially in law enforcement. She was telling the truth.

  “Everyone slowly backs away,” she continued. “Paperwork gets filled out, but unless it's clear cut, everyone chooses to focus on the happy reunion rather than backtracking the case. Because somewhere, sometime, someone's going to get hammered for missing something. So reso
urces get cut, requests get denied and you get assigned something else to keep you from finding out what happened. Not always. But a lot of the time. And this is one of those times.” She shook her head. “People are slowly backing away because they're afraid of what they might find. I don't have the freedom to go do what I want to do.” She paused. “So I need some help here.”

  I looked up at the sky. The fog was beginning to burn off, strips of blue visible through the gray. I didn't think she was playing me, but I also wasn't willing to just jump into the investigative bed with her. I didn't give a crap who got credit for finding out the truth or how it happened. I just wanted the truth.

  But I believed her more than I didn't.

  I looked at Blundell. “Give me a day or two. I'll give you what I have then.”

  “That's not what I was hoping for,” she said.

  I rolled my eyes. “Don't give me the sob story about your investigative obstacles and then bitch at me, alright? I said a couple of days and I meant it.”

  “You find anything in Phoenix?” she asked.

  I hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah, I did.”

  “What?”

  I shook my head and walked up the driveway. “I'll call you in a couple of days.”

  “You aren't a cop anymore, Mr. Tyler,” she said behind me. “Don't forget that. There are boundaries.”

  I stopped and turned around. “So maybe I should just stop then? And then no one can do anything and we'll just all let it go as one of those unlucky things that happens in life? That what you want?”

  She didn't say anything.

  “I didn't think so,” I said. “So don't tell me what I'm not. Because right now, I'm more of a cop than you are.”

  I turned and left her in the driveway, slamming the front door behind me.

  THIRTY FIVE

  The doorbell was ringing before I was out of the shower.

  I heard it the first time and ignored it, letting the hot water sting my neck and back, trying to roll the tension that had gathered in both places. The ringing stopped and I took longer than normal working the shampoo into my scalp, again trying to rid myself of the anxiety and anger that Blundell's visit seemed to have brought me. I was rinsing it out when I heard the bell again. I shut off the water, toweled off, pulled on a T-shirt and jeans and stalked to the door as the bell chimed again. I was irritated and ready to take the head off whatever solicitor was wearing out my doorbell.