Speed Trap

by Patricia Davids

  Stepping into the living room, he set the carrier on the sofa and extracted Colin. Lifting the baby to settle him in his arms, Garrett was swamped with emotions deeper than he ever dreamed of. The feel of his son’s small body, the sweet baby smell of his skin, the light in his bright eyes, wrapped a band around Garrett’s heart and squeezed tight enough to bring tears of joy to his eyes.

  “I love you, son. I’m never going to let a day go by without saying that.”

  Tenderly laying the baby in his crib, Garrett allowed his hand to linger on Colin’s soft curls. “It’s great to be home.”

  Home. A true home, the old house would become one at last.

  Wiley’s excited barking suddenly erupted from the kitchen. Leaving Colin happily batting at his moon and stars mobile, Garrett entered the kitchen, expecting Wiley to be sitting beside his dish demanding food, but instead the dog was at the front door.

  When Garrett looked outside, he saw two squad cars parked in front of his house. Mandy, along with several of her deputies, stood on his porch.

  Garrett opened the door. Mandy came forward and handed him a folded packet of papers. Her expression was cool and remote, but in her eyes he saw regret.

  She said, “This is a warrant to search these premises.”

  “For what?” he demanded.

  “It’s all in the warrant.”

  She turned back to her men. “Fred, you and I will take the house and cellar. The rest of you take the barn and outbuildings.”

  Garrett had no idea what they were looking for, but with a sick, sinking sensation, he realized they would go upstairs.

  Mandy didn’t believe Garrett was trafficking in illegal drugs, but she knew he was hiding something. He was afraid of something. He sat quietly at the kitchen table, his copy of the search warrant in his hands, but his eyes darted to the doors at the back of the kitchen.

  He’d seemed nervous when she was looking around the day Shari Compton made her home visit. At the time, Mandy had assumed Garrett was worried that Wiley’s exuberance would spoil the social worker’s report. Now, she wasn’t so sure.

  She said, “Fred, check the basement.”

  He nodded, opened the door and proceeded down the steps with caution. Garrett didn’t so much as flinch, until she added, “I’ll check upstairs.”

  His lips pressed into a tight white line and his eyes pleaded with her, but he didn’t say a word.

  The hinges squealed in protest as she pulled the door. Garrett made as if to rise, but Benny stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “Wait right here, Mr. Bowen.”

  Mandy looked up the stairs. It was plain they hadn’t been used in some time. A coat of dust covered everything except for a single set of boot prints and accompanying paw prints.

  She looked over her shoulder. Garrett sat bent forward in the kitchen chair with his elbows resting on his knees. He wasn’t watching her anymore. His face was turned away and resignation slumped his shoulders. What was he afraid of?

  Walking up the steps, Mandy followed the path of the prints in the dust. They led first to the door on the right, but had made a circuit to each room and returned to this room before going back downstairs.

  She opened the first room and stepped inside. Someone, she assumed it was Garrett, had walked to the closet. Looking down, she saw where the dog had sat beside Garrett. His tail had swept a small space clean.

  She opened the door. It was empty except for some old clothing. That didn’t make sense.

  Pulling out her flashlight she made a careful check of the interior. Nothing.

  She bit her lip as she pondered what he’d been doing staring into a nearly empty closet. She couldn’t figure it out.

  Rising on tiptoe, she patted along the shelf where she couldn’t see. Suddenly, her fingers touched something metal. Pulling down the object, she saw it was an old-fashioned key.

  A key to what?

  Leaving the empty bedroom, she followed the footprints to the next room and again they stopped in front of the closet. When she tried to open it, she found it was locked.

  She inserted the key. It turned over with a grating click that made her flinch. Pulling open the door, Mandy stared into the empty space.

  Two wire hangers on a dowel rod were the only evidence that the wardrobe had ever been used.

  She stared into the narrow confines. Why keep an empty closet locked? This one didn’t even have a shelf. Shining her light downward, she saw a dusty blue carpet square covering the floor. One corner was curled up slightly.

  Leaning down she lifted the pad. The floor was covered with gouged out words, but the writing was upside-down.

  Tipping her head, she read them and her blood ran cold.

  Let me out. Make Dad stop hitting Mom. Help me, God. I hate him. Make him stop. Make him stop. Make him stop. G. B.

  G. B. Garrett Bowen. Mandy stepped into the closet and sank to her knees. What had gone on here? Was this what Garrett wanted so badly to keep hidden?

  Although the words had been scratched into the wood, Mandy knew it was his writing. Garrett had been locked in the closet.

  She reached out and pulled the door closed. In the darkness, the only light was a thin band that shone from beneath the door, highlighting the words etched in that small rectangle of illumination.

  Sympathy for Garrett gripped her heart until it ached with actual pain. Closing her eyes, she prayed for wisdom.

  At least now she understood.

  Rising to her feet, she pushed open the door and replaced the square of carpet covering his words. When Garrett was ready to talk about this, she would be there to listen.

  After checking the rest of the rooms and finding nothing out of the ordinary, she replaced the key where she had found it and walked down the stairs. She closed the door to the stairwell and turned around to face Garrett.

  She knew.

  As soon as Garrett saw her face, he knew that she’d seen his writing on the floor.

  Shame burned like acid in his throat. He dropped his head onto his hands and struggled not to be sick.

  He should have torn those boards out years ago instead of leaving them locked away. As hard as he had tried, he’d never been able to lock away the memories or the anger or his shame.

  Fred emerged from the basement, huffing slightly. “I didn’t find anything. You?”

  Garrett felt Mandy’s eyes on him, but he couldn’t look at her. He steeled himself to face the humiliation of having his terrible secret exposed.

  “There’s nothing related to this case upstairs. Looks like our tip was wrong.”

  Garrett’s gaze shot to meet hers. He was grateful for her silence, but he saw the pity he dreaded as much as his exposure.

  Fred scowled. “Maybe he had time to move the stuff?”

  Mandy said, “Either way, we’re done in here. Go help Benny search the outbuildings.”

  When Fred was gone, Mandy sat at the table with Garrett. “I’m sorry. I hope you realize I’m just doing my job.”

  He turned his face away. “Sure, I get it. How can you trust a guy like me?”

  “I do trust you, Garrett.”

  “You have a funny way of showing it.”

  “Why don’t you tell me about the closet.”

  He stared down at his hands. “I was just a kid when I wrote that stuff. I don’t know why I left it all these years.”

  “You must have been very scared.”

  Rubbing a hand along his jaw, he shot to his feet. He paced the length of the room and back. “My dad was a hard man, but when he drank, he got real mean. Mom and I never knew what would set him off.”

  “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “I tried so hard to be invisible, but it didn’t matter. If I so much as laid my fork down wrong at the dinner table, he’d start hitting me. When Mom tried to stop him, he’d drag me to the closet and lock me in, then he’d haul her to their bedroom and beat her senseless.”

  “And you heard it all.”

  “
Every time. And every time I did nothing to help her.”

  “You were a child. There was nothing you could have done.”

  He whirled to face her and shouted, “I could have done something!”

  “What happened to your mother, Garrett?”

  The anger in his eyes faded. “I came home from school one day and she was gone. I can’t really blame her for leaving him.”

  “She shouldn’t have left you in that terrible situation.”

  “Why not? I left her in a worse situation every day of my life.”

  Turning away from Mandy, he said, “You should leave now.”

  He was shutting her out. She could feel his retreat and didn’t know how to stop it. “If you need someone to talk to—”

  “I don’t.”

  Mandy rose and laid a hand on his arm. He shrugged it off and stepped away. She had no choice but to leave, but her heart was breaking for him.

  To Fred’s disgust, the search of Garrett’s outbuildings turned up nothing. He was in a sour mood as they drove back to town. Mandy didn’t care. Spike had tried to implicate Garrett to save his own hide and it hadn’t worked. Garrett was innocent.

  When they walked into the station, Donna looked up expectantly. “I thought you were going to arrest Bowen? What happened?”

  Mandy said, “Spike was lying.”

  “Maybe,” Fred countered.

  Shaking her head at his stubborn refusal to accept Garrett’s innocence, Mandy entered her office and dropped into her chair. She stared at the phone. Should she call Garrett or should she give him more time? She simply didn’t know what to do.

  Like all law enforcement officers, Mandy understood that dealing with victims of abuse took special handling. She wasn’t objective enough. She was too close to Garrett. She needed help, too.

  Picking up the phone, she dialed Shari Compton’s number. For the first time since Mandy had known the social worker, she picked up on the first ring.

  “Hello, Shari, this is Sheriff Scott. I need some information.”

  “About what?”

  “About adult survivors of child abuse. I know someone—I just found out. What do I do?”

  “If this person was willing to share that information with you, that is a huge step.”

  “I uncovered it on my own.”

  “I see. Well, many survivors feel threatened and humiliated when the abuse becomes known. Be supportive of that person’s feelings. Don’t pressure them to reveal things they aren’t ready to talk about.”

  Oh, like don’t accuse him of murder? Don’t search his house for illegal drugs.

  Mandy said, “Is it true that they have a higher risk of becoming an abuser themselves?”

  “That is true, but each case is different. Most survivors suffer from terrible guilt and deep, deep anger. They feel they should have done more to protect themselves or other family members. They also have a higher risk of suicide, depression, posttraumatic stress disorder and anger management issues.”

  They were all things Mandy knew from her training, but it helped to have someone else reinforce her meager knowledge.

  Shari said, “I’m going to fax you some information about support groups.”

  “That would be wonderful.” Mandy knew that she and Garrett were going to need all the support they could get. If he’d allow her to help. In her mind, it was a big if.

  After hanging up from her call to the social worker, Mandy tried calling Garrett. She wasn’t surprised when he didn’t answer, but she was disappointed and worried.

  A few minutes later, Donna came in with the fax and handed it to Mandy. “Were you waiting for this list of domestic and child abuse support groups, Sheriff?”

  “Thank you, Donna.”

  “Do we have a new case I don’t know about?”

  Mandy shook her head. “This is for a friend.”

  “I know a thing or two about domestic abuse. My first husband used to beat me when he got drunk and that was every night. My second husband was almost as bad.”

  “I’m so sorry, Donna. I had no idea.”

  “It was a long time ago. Men—who needs them? A girl is better off with a fabulous bag any day. Especially if it has money in it.”

  Donna turned and left, leaving Mandy to read over the letter Shari had sent. As she scanned it, she saw a name she recognized. Pastor Spencer, the man Judy had worked for, was the third name on the list.

  Mandy had forgotten that he ran a shelter for abused women and their children. She circled the name. Maybe Garrett would feel more like talking to someone he’d already met rather than a stranger? Because Pastor Spencer had helped Judy get her life back on track that might carry some weight with Garrett.

  After making a copy for herself, Mandy folded one page and tucked it into an envelope with Garrett’s name and address on the outside. She could offer him this small amount of help, but she wanted it to be so much more.

  Garrett opened his mail and found a letter from Mandy two days after the search of his property. His first reaction had been to toss it in the trash, but he didn’t. He had avoided Mandy’s phone calls, but that didn’t keep him from thinking about her nearly every waking minute. And there had been a lot of waking minutes because he barely slept since he ordered her out of his house.

  If only he could have told her in his own way. If only she hadn’t seen the writing on the floor. He couldn’t face the humiliation.

  Mandy had circled one name in particular on the list. Judy’s friend, Pastor Spencer.

  Colin began crying again. The baby had been fussy for the past two days, and it was wearing on Garrett’s nerves. Garrett carried the bottle he’d warmed into the living room and picked up his son.

  Colin had no interest in it. He simply kept crying and trying to stuff his slobbery fist into his mouth. He didn’t have a fever. All the things Garrett had learned to check didn’t explain why his son kept crying.

  Wiley pawed at Garrett’s knee and whined, then barked sharply. Garrett pushed the dog aside.

  “I don’t know what he wants. Give me a break!” he shouted.

  Wiley hunkered down in fright. Colin cried louder.

  Guilt stabbed Garrett at the sight of Wiley’s cowed expression. “I’m sorry, buddy. I didn’t mean to yell.”

  It felt as if his control were slipping away. “Please, God, help me. Don’t let me become my father.” It was Garrett’s worst fear.

  After laying Colin back in the crib, Garrett walked into the kitchen, picked up the letter Mandy had sent and dialed Pastor Spencer’s number.

  THIRTEEN

  As the days went by, Mandy continued to investigate J. J. and Spike’s ties to the meth ring she felt certain was still operating in her area. There’d been no further reports of robberies, but Benny and Fred had arrested several teenagers for possession when they crashed a party that had gotten too loud for the neighbors.

  Three of the teens had been dangerously high, but neither they nor their friends would give up the name of their dealer.

  After interviewing numerous teenagers at the high school and coming up empty-handed, Mandy stopped by the main office hoping to have a word with Mr. Dobbs. If anyone had insight into who the kids were protecting it would be Cedric.

  He wasn’t in.

  Mandy looked at his secretary in surprise. “I thought he was expecting me when I finished interviewing the kids.”

  “Oh, he was, but he got a call and said he had to leave. I think it was his wife. I don’t think she’s doing well. I do hope they get to take the cruise he’s been planning for her.”

  “Then I guess I’ll speak to him tomorrow.”

  “Oh, that’s just it. He won’t be in tomorrow. They’re leaving on their cruise. Can you imagine sailing around the Bahamas? I think it’s the most romantic gesture.”

  The secretary reached toward her phone. “Would you like to speak to our vice principal? He’ll be taking over Mr. Dobbs’s duties.”

  “No. Thank you.” Mand
y left the school with her mind in a whirl. A cruise was a big expense for a man who’d had to sell his house to afford his wife’s cancer treatment. Mandy didn’t go back to the office. Instead, she drove to the apartment complex where Cedric and his wife lived and parked across the street.

  She didn’t want to believe the man responsible for the education of the town’s teenagers could be involved in something as deadly as selling meth, but she had to be sure. Desperate people sometimes did desperate things.

  Crossing the street, she knocked on his apartment door. When he answered, she could see at once that he was nervous.

  “Mr. Dobbs, can I have a word with you?”

  “I’m busy right now. Can it wait?”

  “No, it can’t. I’m investigating some suspicious activity in this complex.”

  He stepped outside with her and pulled the door closed. “What kind of activity?”

  “An abnormally high number of parcel deliveries are being made here.”

  His shoulders slumped as the breath whooshed out of him. “So you know?”

  Mandy didn’t know anything for certain, but she knew how to bluff. “I wanted to hear your side of the story before I did anything…official.”

  “Martha will die without these treatments. I know the drug isn’t FDA-approved and therefore illegal to import from Mexico, but it’s the only way I can afford it. It’s helping. I know it is.”

  “But you can afford a cruise to the Bahamas?”

  “I sold my car and the teachers at the school chipped in the rest. Martha has always wanted to go there. This is her last chance.”

  Mandy faced a quandary unlike anything she’d faced before. Cedric loved his wife. They had so little time left to spend together. What if it were she and Garrett? Wouldn’t she treasure each second with him? Try anything to save him?

  “Please, Sheriff,” Cedric pleaded. “Let me take her on this one last trip. When we get back…I’ll turn myself in. I promise.”