Save Her Child

by CJ Lyons

  “Good, good.” Of course, she knew the first rule of any initial scene response was ensuring that the scene was safe. “What did you see?”

  “I think she was tortured.” For the first time her voice sounded shaky. As if, now that the emergency was over, she’d allowed her emotions to finally creep in. “I could barely recognize her. Luka, what they did to that poor woman—”

  “Ray isn’t far, he’s at Tassi’s house. I’m sending him to meet you at the ranger’s station and I’m on my way as well.” Why torture Tassi? What did the killer want from her? The missing money? And then there was Beth; he couldn’t forget Beth. She’d told Leah someone was after her, but the only intersection between the two cases that Luka could see was Matthew Harper’s involvement with both women. Given his role as a pastoral counselor, there might be a straightforward explanation—if they could get the man to talk.

  “I found Beth’s phone,” Leah interrupted his rampaging thoughts. “It’s dead, though. But maybe once it’s charged—”

  “No. Hold on to it, the forensics guys will take care of it. We can’t risk losing any data.”

  “Okay.” Her breath was ragged. “Okay.”

  “Hang tight, we’re on our way. I need to call Ray, get things rolling.”

  “Right. See you soon.” She hung up.

  He alerted Ray and Krichek and had patrol contact the state police—technically, the forest was outside of Luka’s jurisdiction, but the staties were even farther away and they often cooperated on cases—as well as the forest ranger on duty. Even as he grabbed his coat, keys, and the damn crutches, and started out to his car, Luka couldn’t help but feel as if somehow he’d lost control of this case. Things were spiraling in random, unexpected directions.

  How did Tassi know about Beth’s cabin? Why was she there? Was the killer looking for Beth and tortured Tassi to learn where she was? Or was Tassi the main target, taken there?

  Tassi was last seen with Larry Hansen. Which immediately sent the tennis-loving chiropractor to the top of Luka’s suspect list. Maybe he’d been the one faking all along—convincing Luka that he was a harmless fool, pretending to be in love with Tassi so he could stick close to her. All to get his hands on Spencer’s money.

  And then there was Foster Dean—if the former DEA agent really was working for the Zapata family, then torture would not be beyond the realm of imagination.

  Luka made another call from the car: an attempt-to-locate alert for Foster Dean and his rented Tahoe. And he added a court order to the car rental agency for GPS tracking of Dean’s Tahoe to Krichek’s list of assignments. Odds were a judge would want more probable cause before granting it, but it was worth a shot.

  If this was about Spencer’s stolen money, the missing gold, then Tassi as a victim made sense. That kind of money was enough to motivate either Hansen or Dean into forcing her to talk. But why at Beth’s cabin? And what did Beth and her baby have to do with any of it?

  Too many questions with no damned answers. Time was running out for Beth’s baby—he needed treatment quickly. Public service announcements and news stories were already filling the airwaves, asking the public for their help in locating mother and child. All featuring photos of Beth, broadcasting her image to the world.

  But if a killer was also hunting for her, then had Luka just placed a bright flashing neon target on Beth and her baby?

  Forty

  Harper jogged up the steps to her parents’ front door, but not even her fury and sense of betrayal could break habits ingrained by years of scolding. She paused to wipe her feet, then paused again to slide her paddle holster from her hip, where it was easily visible, to the small of her back. Partly because of her mother’s rules against handguns, but also because she wanted Rachel to feel relaxed, hopefully enough to tell her daughter the truth instead of thinking she was being interrogated by a cop—as a suspect. Rachel’s van being parked at a crime scene was no coincidence. And the Reverend hadn’t said a word, apart from all his holier than thou talk of God’s law being greater than man’s. He’d willfully obstructed justice.

  She unclipped her badge, dropped it into her jacket pocket, then went inside without knocking—because family shouldn’t need to knock on their own front door. Voices sounded from the family room at the end of the hall, beside the kitchen. In the few seconds it took Harper to reach the rear of the house, she replayed the conversations she’d had with her mother over the past two days. What a fool she’d been, thinking Rachel was finally interested in her daughter’s life. All those pleas for Harper to tell Rachel about her cases were merely an attempt to gain insider information on the Standish case. No wonder Rachel kept dismissing her every time she brought up Lily Nolan. All Rachel cared about was Spencer Standish’s murder.

  But why? There was no way Rachel could have killed Standish… was there? No. Her mother’s faith was as strong as the Reverend’s. Maybe he’d sent her to Standish’s office while he’d been with Luka? But why? What were they hiding? If only she could understand why they were involved and what exactly they were involved in, then she could try to help them before it was too late.

  She reached the family room. It was open-plan, with the kitchen to the left, a small breakfast nook, then the larger living area with a fireplace, sofa, love seat and the Reverend’s recliner. But the Reverend wasn’t sitting in his favorite chair, not tonight. Tonight he stood in front of the fireplace, face florid, back rigid, glaring at his wife and youngest son. John and Rachel were also standing, Rachel nearest the kitchen—the center of her domestic universe—while John paced in front of the sofa.

  Rachel caught a glimpse of Harper and made a tutting noise like a startled chick. John whirled on Harper while the Reverend simply seemed irritated by her arrival.

  “Naomi, what are you doing here?” John said, stepping toward her as if hoping to shoo her back down the hall and out the door. “We’re busy. Church business.”

  Everything fell into place. John, who always took the easy way out, even if it meant condemning his sister. John, always ready with a shortcut or excuse to get out of chores. John, who always won every game because he cheated—and was proud that he did it so well, nobody could ever prove it.

  John, who would make the perfect mark for a conman like Standish.

  “You were at Standish’s office,” Harper told him. “Why? No, wait. Let me guess. You invested the church’s money in Spencer Standish’s fund, didn’t you? I mean, who could resist those double-digit returns, right?”

  A rage of color crept up John’s neck at her words. “How was I to know he was a crook?” He turned to the Reverend. “It wasn’t my fault. I was going to tell you.”

  “What did you do, John?” the Reverend said in a low voice, his eyes boring into his youngest son’s face. “Tell me. What did you do?”

  “John only wanted what was best for the church,” Rachel defended her youngest son.

  “Think of all the people we could have helped if Spencer had come through with his promises,” John added.

  The Reverend’s shoulders sagged as he turned away from his son. “How much is gone? How much did you lose?”

  Harper held her ground, listening hard. The daughter in her was frantically trying to think of ways to save her father and his church, the little girl in her was seething at John’s betrayal and cheering his fall from grace, while the hardened cop was wondering exactly how far a man in John’s position might go to get his money back. Could John have murdered Standish?

  “All of it,” John admitted in a grudging tone. He jerked his chin up as if refusing to accept any blame. “But then, Mom overheard you and Spencer talking about the gold he’d hidden. And how if anything happened to him, you were to make sure his mistress got it.”

  That caught Harper’s attention. “Mistress? What mistress? Who is she?”

  John ignored her, his focus on the Reverend. “Why should some adulteress get the money when we could use it for the church and do so much good?”

  �
��You knew about the missing gold?” Harper stepped between the two men so that John was forced to face her. “John, if you had anything to do with Spencer Standish’s death, you need to tell me. Now. I can’t help you unless you tell me everything.”

  John’s haughty glare shot across the space between them, even as his lips tightened in defiance.

  Rachel stepped into the fray, waving her hands like a schoolteacher asking for silence. And it worked. “Let’s all calm down. I’ll make some tea, and we’ll discuss this.”

  Everyone went quiet and stared at each other.

  “I think it best if John comes with me down to the station. We can discuss it there.” Harper broke the silence. She’d never get anything out of John with Rachel there for him to hide behind her skirts. “Please, you all need to let me help you. This is more serious than you know.”

  “It’s not what you think, Naomi,” Rachel told her in an admonishing voice. “There’s no need for anyone to go anywhere. Now, come sit down like civilized adults.”

  As if Harper was the uncivilized lout barging in on the family gathering. How could Rachel be so calm, acting as if John had done nothing wrong? He’d admitted to losing the church’s funds—and might be involved in much, much worse.

  But that was Rachel, always overlooking her youngest son’s faults.

  The thought brought Harper up short and she turned her attention from John to Rachel. How far would Rachel go to protect her family? “The police know your van was at Standish’s office,” she said, watching Rachel for a reaction. She wanted to see shock or surprise, anything to suggest that she had no idea what Harper was talking about.

  Instead, Rachel’s face was an emotionless mask, her only giveaway the knowing glance she shot at John.

  Before Harper could ask anything more, the doorbell rang. Rachel started, then rushed to the front of the house to answer it, the clack of her heels echoing against the hardwood floors.

  Harper whirled on John. “What have you done?”

  “Naomi,” her father admonished. “Hush.”

  The sound of Rachel’s heels came once more. This time moving more slowly. Harper backed away from both men, running through her options. She didn’t want them to dig themselves in deeper, but she also couldn’t ignore that they were involved in a homicide. She needed to know exactly what they’d done so she could minimize any further damage—to the case as well as to her family.

  A few seconds later Rachel returned. With Foster Dean. Who held a gun to her head.

  Forty-One

  Ray and Leah were waiting for Luka on the cabin’s front porch. He’d stopped to get directions from the ranger, who he’d left at the entrance to ensure that only the state police and their evidence recovery team were allowed access.

  “Leah, why didn’t you wait at the ranger’s station?” Luka asked as he fumbled his way across the uneven dirt road to the porch steps.

  “I wanted to talk to you,” she answered.

  “And I wanted her to show me anything she touched,” Ray added.

  “I ran out so fast when I found her. I had to come back, make sure she was dead.” She focused on Luka. “I think Beth and her baby might be with Reverend Harper—he’s the only link between Tassi and Beth. So I’m headed over there—”

  “No,” Luka told her. “I’ll call Krichek.”

  “He’s at the Standish place,” Ray reminded him.

  Luka was already dialing, thankful that he had any service this far up the mountain. “I’ll have Harper relieve him there.” That would keep Harper far away from anything connected with Matthew—and any potential conflict of interest.

  “Boss,” Krichek answered. “I was just gonna call you.” His voice was tight with excitement. “I found Hansen.”

  “Great, where is he?”

  “Here. Never left. We were sweeping the property and found him. Dead. In the pool house. It’s bad. He’s been sliced and diced and beaten and looks like a blow torch was used on him.”

  “Tortured.” Luka swore under his breath. “Stay there. Did the judge come through on the warrants for Dean’s rental car’s GPS?”

  “Haven’t heard back yet.”

  “Call him, let him know Dean is now our number one suspect in two homicides. Add his phone and financials to the warrant.” Luka hung up. Dean was trained too well, would dump both his phone and vehicle. But the GPS data was still valuable evidence and might give them an idea of where he was going. Did he have Beth and the baby with him? Or was Leah right and Matthew Harper was hiding them? Either way, they were running out of time.

  “I’ll go to the church if Krichek can’t,” Ray volunteered.

  “No. I’ve got it. Ahearn will have a fit if we don’t handle the reverend with kid gloves.”

  “I’m coming,” Leah said, hoisting her knapsack higher on her shoulder. “If the baby’s there, I have antibiotics, I can start treatment right away.”

  Ray frowned. “We don’t know how involved the reverend is. Plus, if Dean tied Tassi to Beth, he might be headed there as well. You’ll need back-up.”

  “I know. I’ll call ERT.” The Emergency Response Team was Cambria City’s equivalent of SWAT. Luka turned on his crutches and headed back to the car, Leah walking alongside him, her stride and posture closing off any arguments about her joining him.

  “You can’t send ERT in, not with a baby there,” she said as they reached the Impala. “Those guys are trigger-happy.” During her six months working with the police with the Crisis Intervention Team, Leah had had a few run-ins with the ERT’s commander, who hadn’t embraced the department’s new progressive stance on de-escalation tactics.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure they know about Beth and the baby.” His left foot hit a rock, sending pain shooting up his leg.

  “Want me to drive?” she offered.

  He was tempted to take her up on it but driving helped him focus. “Against the rules.”

  Luka couldn’t see in the dark, but he was certain she rolled her eyes at his response. She got into the passenger seat, waited for him to stow his crutches and lower himself behind the wheel.

  “There’s a faster way out, here, look.” She held out a map, tracing a route that eventually came out on the two-lane road that led to Holy Redeemer. “Cuts our travel almost in half. The ranger said the gate is locked at nine p.m., so it should still be open.”

  “She’s manning the front gate; I’m sure she hasn’t gotten over there.” He reversed the car and followed Leah’s directions. Sure enough the gate was still open, allowing them to access the secondary road that cut across to their destination. He had her call Ray and tell him to remind the state police to close the gate and secure it.

  Finally, they left the gravel track for a narrow two-lane paved road, Luka’s leg sending a prayer of thanksgiving for the end of the jostling, bouncy ride. Luka’s phone rang and he put it on the car’s speaker. “Jericho.”

  “It’s Sanchez. I ran the data on the GPS tracker found on Spencer Standish’s SUV. He’s been visiting a cabin out in Craven’s Peak almost daily for two weeks. Other than that, it’s all work and home. Oh, and a trip Saturday night, the night before he died.”

  Which tied Spencer with Beth. He was their missing link between the two women. “Where?”

  “A church. Holy Redeemer. Then straight home and never left again. Does that help?”

  “Sure does. Any idea who was tracking him?”

  “Traced the serial number to the vendor. The tracker was purchased by the wife, Tassi Standish.”

  Tassi must have suspected Spencer was up to something, whether having an affair, stealing her share of the proceeds from the Ponzi scheme, or both. “Thanks, Sanchez.”

  Leah turned in her seat to face him. “I’ve got it,” she said. “I know why Beth was so scared that she ran—she thought it was the only way to keep her baby safe.”

  “The missing gold,” Luka replied. “The killer thinks Spencer gave it to Beth and she knows where it is.”


  “Exactly.” Then she frowned. “Six million dollars’ worth of gold—that’s got to be pretty bulky and heavy. There definitely wasn’t anything like that at the cabin. And Beth had nothing with her at the fair.”

  “She wouldn’t need to. You can buy gold and have it held for you at a secure depository. If Spencer was planning to fake his death and leave with Beth, I’ll bet he arranged for an offshore bank to hold either the physical gold or bearer bonds backed in gold.”

  “Then why go after Beth?”

  “Some of those places don’t need a physical key—a special code will do. Spencer probably has fake IDs for himself and Beth, along with anything needed to access the six million waiting at wherever he and Beth were headed. If I were him, I’d go south to a Florida port city, take a boat over to the Caymans or someplace like that.”

  “So Spencer hid Beth in the cabin until he was ready to make their escape. Tassi tracked him with the GPS but before she could confront him, he was killed—” She stopped. “You’re sure it wasn’t her?”

  Luka shook his head, concentrating on the road ahead. “Her alibi checked out.”

  “Okay, Tassi didn’t kill him. At least not herself—maybe she asked Larry to, promised to run away with him or something. And tonight, when Foster Dean caught up to them both, he tortured Larry and Tassi told him about Beth and the cabin. So Dean took Tassi with him and when he didn’t find Beth and Tassi couldn’t tell him any more, he killed her.”

  Luka frowned. The only good thing about the scenario Leah proposed was it meant that Dean didn’t have Beth and the baby. Yet. “And now he’s after Beth.”

  “But Beth might not even know what Spencer’s plan was—she was hidden in the cabin for the past few weeks.”

  “If Dean’s the killer, then he’s desperate,” Luka said grimly. “He can’t go back to the Zapata family empty-handed, and he knows we’re closing in. He’ll do whatever it takes.”