Maternal Harbor

by Marie F. Martin

  Horror-stricken and disbelieving tenants stared at him from the vestibule, hoping he might quell their fears, and tell them why their safe building wasn’t immune to violence. They parted ranks without comment, and he strode to the stairwell where Hal waited.

  “Hauled you out of bed, too?” Lute asked.

  “I’ve been here from the get go. The crime scene’s already processed, but I decided you’d better take a look before they clean it up. Female victim was with Teagan O’Riley the night we took the Sanders baby.”

  “Doretta Johnson? Who ID’d her?”

  “Neighbor. Said he met her once. A guy would remember that gal.”

  Lute scanned the crowd. “Where’s Ms. O’Riley?”

  “Don’t know. Her place is empty. Door was wide open and no signs of anyone.”

  “Cause of death?”

  “Initial report is cut jugular. Footprint in the blood was tracked down the stairs and outside. Lost the trail in the grass. Looks like some kind of slipper. Lab boys are ready to transport when you are.”

  Lute mentally prepared while he climbed the beige tile stairs. Even after years of witnessing what people did to one another, surveying a crime scene required discipline. Lute slowly exhaled to deaden his sensibilities and sharpen his awareness.

  The wide, standard green stairwell smelled like all brick buildings with enclosed passageways: stale tobacco, dust, and mildew. Then the odors turned to the sickly stench of death, the confirmation of a body. A few more steps and he saw the vibrant young woman he’d met a few days before sprawled across the stairs. Blood flow stained her chest and pooled along one side. A footprint made by a slipper smeared in the middle of it and tracked to other steps. The killer’s?

  Doretta Johnson’s face appeared angelic in stark contrast to the slashed throat and bloody chest. She showed signs of a struggle. Bruises blemished her graceful hands and forearms. Black heel marks streaked on four of the tile steps. This gal fought. Enough to mark the killer? Forensics would answer that by swabbing teeth and scraping under nails. Her black waitress uniform was twisted and torn. Had someone followed her from work? Panties intact. Didn’t appeared to be rape.

  Lute’s brow furled into a thoughtful frown. The murder happened shortly after he left Teagan’s condo. A longer visit might’ve prevented this. He shook away the unearned guilt. Who could change the passing of moments?

  Hal cleared his throat. “I figure we have a serial.”

  Lute stepped around the body and hustled up the stairs. Before opening the door to the third floor, he glanced back down at Hal. “Put out an Attempt to Apprehend on Miss O’Riley.”

  Inside the condo, he methodically scrutinized the living room, noting the shoes he noticed earlier were still by the door. She hadn’t changed from her slippers before going out. The same blanket lay on the floor with baby rattles and a bottle scattered in the middle. He lifted a portrait of two elderly, pleasant-looking people from the mantel. Teagan’s parents he guessed when he sat in the wing-backed chair the first time. “What happened to your daughter?” he asked softly. He sensed nothing. How tired he was of dead young women.

  Teagan’s bedroom was tidy. The nursery held a crib, baby clothes, toys and a fish tank. And everything brand new, fixed up by a mother for her first baby. The father was clearly absent. Lute listened to the gurgle of the aquarium and couldn’t picture Teagan as a criminal, especially the kidnapping kind. But two women had been brutally murdered while she cared for their newborn sons. A movement at the door caught his eye.

  Hal walked inside. “I bet the woman who lived here stole the babies to sell.”

  Hal’s sureness irritated Lute. “Any evidence of that?”

  Counting off on his fingers, Hal recited, “Two women dead, two babies gone, one woman involved with both. Evidence? No. But I’d like to hear Teagan O’Riley tell her story. Besides I think her record is too clean.”

  “Shouldn’t take the troopers long to locate her.”

  Hal’s brows rose in doubt. “You think she ran? Not holed up somewhere?”

  “If I was protecting babies, I’d run like hell.”

  “Protect? From what? Why? We have dead women, not babies.” Hal picked up a stuffed bear from the corner of the crib. “Some little guy is going to sleep without his teddy.”

  Lute nodded at the fish tank. “What does that gurgle tell you?”

  “She keeps a clean fish bowl?”

  “I think it’s a watery lullaby. Pretty soft for a baby stealer.”

  “Give me a break,” Hal snorted. “That woman loves her son all right, but maybe too much. Maybe she needs things for him.”

  “We’d better get a search warrant and see what the techs turn up. For now, seal it off.” Lute leaned down and counted fish in the tank while he waited for Hal to walk out.

  In the stairwell, the body of the beautiful young lady no longer lay privy for all to stare and comment over. She was loaded and on the way to the morgue. Lute slowly descended the stairs. The smell of strong chemical cleaner mixed with the pervasive odor of death.

  “I hate this,” said the man who scrubbed away the blood as Lute walked around the wet disinfectant.

  “Folks need these stairs,” Lute snapped. Outside, the reporter held a mic at him. “Talk to media relations in the morning,” he barked and strode to his car. He flipped off his bubble light and dialed dispatch. By the time they answered, his voice returned to normal, and he asked for the address of Teagan’s parents.

  Erica just missed hitting the back of her garage with the front bumper of the Mercedes, slammed out of the front seat and dragged the pillowcase filled with Levi’s baby clothes and teddy bear from the backseat. Derek needed playmates, not their things.

  You dare not leave the sweet boy without his friends.

  Of course not! He’d never learn the art of controlling. She hid in the shadows until the garage light turned off. Then, in the black, rain-drenched night, she stumbled around the side of the house and climbed the ladder. The claw hammer was still on the sill. She pulled the two nails, worked the window open, and pitched the pillowcase inside. It fell with a thud on the hardwood floor. There, she was going to just leave it.

  Derek needs order.

  Swearing under her breath, she crawled inside and stuffed the things under the crib.

  The boards across the doorway should be removed.

  “Iska, I know someone might see me crawling through that stupid window, but I can’t have the door open. What if Derek leaves? What if Mother’s man comes?”

  Erica’s arm throbbed from Doretta’s deep bite, and her left thigh felt bruised to the bone. Her mind grasped only that she’d failed to bring Charlie, Levi, and Jimmy.

  How come Teagan knew to run?

  Erica held the sides of her head and moaned. She crumpled to the floor and beat her fists against the hardwood until she slipped into a state of numbness.

  The memories came then. Like they always did, like she knew they would; tonight the strength to fight failed her. Images floated . . . Daddy packing and leaving for a week at the academy . . . Mother laughing, putting on her pretty dress . . . Grandma pleading for mother to stay home. The scarring words came back, loud and harsh like they were then.

  “Don’t threaten me,” Mother snarled after applying another coat of crimson lipstick. “This is the only fun I have.”

  Grandma reached out to restrain her. “You have a husband and child.”

  “What good are they?” Mother dodged the hand and slammed the door behind her.

  That was the first night a man came home with her.

  Erica listened to them enter her mother’s bedroom, heard their bumping noise until she finally fell asleep.

  “This time I’m telling Erik.” Grandma’s voice shook. “You can’t bring strange men into his home and screw them. You have a daughter. It is not right.”

  “If you do,” Mother said, “I’m locking you out. What will you do? Live on the streets? You’ve never earned a
damned dime.”

  Grandma ran to her room, holding her hands over her ears.

  Erica remembered screaming at her mother, “Father will find out and then what?”

  She pointed her finger. “Just wait, your little vagina will grow and then you’ll understand. I showed you how to use it and have fun with it. Why can’t I have fun with mine? But no, you just sit in judgment over everything I do and make it impossible to love you. Your father doesn’t either. Nobody does.” She bumped Erica out of the way. Her bedroom door slammed.

  The hardwood floor of Derek’s nursery felt as hurtful and cold as her mother’s words that had always sounded so reasonable, and yet were so deadly wrong. Erica pulled from the ghastly images, forced them to retreat inside where they couldn’t hurt.

  “Grandma should’ve told.”

  Chapter 23

  The headlights flashed against a blue sign. Next Rest Stop 18 Miles. Teagan rubbed her eyes with her thumb and forefinger, pinching hard on the bridge of her nose. When she focused again on the pavement, she realized night had submitted to the first grays of dawn.

  Lulled by the tires’ hum, her lids drooped and her head jerked up. Horrified that she could’ve fallen asleep, she slapped her cheek. The sting still smarted as she slowed for the exit and entered a curving downhill ramp. Two plastic bottles of spring water she had stuffed close to the heater rolled across the floorboard.

  The Idaho rest stop sat back from I-90 under a stand of ponderosa pines. Teagan followed the curving road and parked near a secluded table away from a couple reading a historical board and two truckers smoking cigarettes by their idling semis.

  Everything appeared cold and lonely, but safe. Finally, she dug a container of Simalac from a grocery bag, dumped equal scoops of powder into baby bottles and added the heater-warmed spring water. The label on the drinking water didn’t say sterile, but it was the best she could do for Levi and Jimmy. She hoped her slack breasts would fill with milk once she relaxed a little and ate an apple, or had Erica killed that, too?

  Teagan lugged three fussy babies, diaper bag, and a blanket across a stretch of dew-filled grass. Her breath clouded in the nippy, pine-scented air. Was it too chilly for the cranky babies? They slurped their fists, caring nothing about the surroundings, or her tiredness, or her ineptness at handling three infants at one time. Fishing the Bering Sea was a simple matter of hard work, same as her fish shop was. Whatever made her think that staying afloat on choppy surf or above water with a small business would help her to know what babies needed? Business had ups and downs; babies were a rollercoaster upheaval.

  She dropped the bag from her numb fingertips onto the table and bent to gently ease Jimmy from her right arm onto the hard surface. She laid a kicking, screaming Levi beside him. They needed their mother’s warm breasts, not this cold cement table and bottles.

  “Shush, shush, I know you want your mommies.” Teagan spread the blanket and transferred them to the warmth of the cloth. They squalled harder while she changed their diapers. She propped the bottles. Levi and Jimmy quieted and greedily suckled.

  Blessing the end of their crying, she transferred Charlie from the sling to the blanket and quickly fastened a fresh diaper. She sat down on the unfriendly cement bench. Doubting her milk would flow, she uncovered her breast. Charlie greedily latched on. Suddenly her breasts tightened and milk streamed through to Charlie. She sighed and closed her eyes for a moment’s rest. Unbidden despair for her two friends stole in; she cried inside. They desired only to raise their sons. Pai’s last words that awful day echoed, “Before Jimmy, my life was a time of limbo, waiting for the joy he brings.”

  Pai was so right, Teagan thought. She and Doretta also taught me about kindred sisters, taught what a family could be.

  Charlie squirmed, and Teagan rocked back and forth, gazing at his tender newborn face. The wrinkles in his forehead and the curve of his brows were faint but promised a strong determined face. “Oh Wee One, a dreadful woman wants to end that promise. I should’ve known, should’ve done something.”

  Teagan slumped, wishing she could go back in time to her simple worries about Mac needing a helper, or more orders for fish. Protecting three babies left her weak with doubt. One thing she knew for certain, she would seek revenge against Erica. Hanging was too good for her, lethal injection too humane. Erica would fry. The surging anger kept sleep at bay.

  “You certainly have your hands full.” The voice was female.

  Teagan jerked awake.

  A tall, plainly-dressed woman, cradling a black schnauzer, stood beside the table. “I thought at first you had triplets, but I can see they aren’t.” The dog jumped free and ran across the grass to a large boulder.

  Quickly, Teagan detached her suckling child.

  The woman turned away and watched her dog until Teagan covered herself and rose. “You shouldn’t be napping out here where anyone could come up to you.”

  The accusatory tone rankled Teagan. “Your dog should be leashed.”

  “Touché. But Peppy’s a little fraidy-cat and won’t wander far.” The woman drew her bulky cardigan closed at the neck. “It’s chilly out here for babies.”

  “The blanket helps.” Teagan slipped Charlie into the sling. Both hands free, she faced the woman square on.

  The woman’s brows arched. “Are you offended?”

  “You’re the stranger who came too close.” Teagan waited for her to leave.

  “My name is Ruth Spencer. I only mean to help.” Her brown eyes conveyed the same message as her words.

  Levi spit out his bottle and blew milk bubbles. Jimmy did the same.

  “I’ll burp one for you,” Ruth offered.

  Teagan’s first instinct was to grab the boys and flee; instead, she surveyed the rest stop. The couple was gone and the two semis rumbled for the Interstate. Only Mac’s Buick and a tan Corsica remained.

  Teagan’s hands stayed by her sides for a moment, then she re-tucked Levi’s receiving blanket and placed him into the stranger’s outstretched arms. A light smile touched the woman’s eyes. She gently lifted him to her shoulder, making sure the blanket stayed up around his head. Her hand rubbed Levi’s back in a practiced way. “It’s been a long time since I held a baby, but the feel of it doesn’t go away.”

  “I can tell you’ve raised children.” Teagan lifted Jimmy to her shoulder and patted, waiting for air bubbles to pass.

  Greedy light-eyed blackbirds darted near the garbage cans, squabbling in sharp cries. Teagan chuckled. “Those birds and baby boys are alike. They both squall for food at the top of their lungs.”

  “They have full tummies now. Are they yours?”

  After the peaceful burping of the boys, the sudden curiosity set Teagan on edge again. She struggled for a reason to explain why she was at a rest stop on a chilly morning with three infants of different race. Something near the truth? “I’m keeping them safe for their mothers.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Who can understand why men abuse women?” Teagan held her breath.

  An expression of concern registered across Ruth’s face. “I’ll help you load them.”

  “I’m going to stay here a little longer.” Teagan met her gaze levelly, waiting for her to go. But Ruth continued to sway gently, holding Levi against her shoulder and leaning her cheek against his head, her expression soft and faraway, like remembering a dream from long ago. Teagan was at the point of asking her to leave when Ruth sighed and laid Levi on the blanket.

  “Come on, Peppy. We have to go.” At her Corsica, Ruth hesitated and looked back for a long moment. Her head tilted toward Peppy like he knew an answer she didn’t. She quickly slipped behind the wheel and drove away, a cell phone at her ear.

  “Shit, Charlie, she’s calling the flippin’ cops.” Teagan adjusted Jimmy against her hip, slung the diaper bag onto her shoulder, and scooped up Levi. She wanted to pick up the blanket, but her hands were too full. Hating to leave it, she rushed to the Buick, loaded up, and
sped onto I-90. After a few tense miles of alternating between cursing herself and praying, she exited north.

  The narrow two-lane road wound through foothills and cut into forested mountains. In their shelter, the desperate fear of discovery lessened, and after a few more miles, she felt safe enough to ease her grip on the steering wheel. She must relax, or she’d never make the next two-hundred miles through these humpbacks to Bryan’s jagged Rockies.

  Weakness flooded into her shoulders and arms at the unexpected thought of him. Sadly, she recalled his possessiveness of the rugged heights where they hiked; how his eyes echoed the wildness of the crest, how his kiss conveyed the windy, rocky ledge where they stood. He shared his soul in the place he loved; she shared hers on the ocean beaches; they were so different, yet the same. Maybe that’s why their love ended. Her independence was as untamed as his mountains. And his claim on her nature swelled in ever stronger waves, until all that remained were the spaces between sea level and mountain tops, and their love didn’t understand the ordinary places.

  Teagan bit her bottom lip and refused to sink any deeper into memories. He no longer shared her life, and he would be purged from her thoughts.

  But the memory of his hand on her shoulder as they gazed across the valley remained, never completely banished, never could be.

  A hundred and fifty miles to the east of Teagan, Bryan yielded to Fiona’s insistence on cooking breakfast herself. Soon bacon sizzled in a cast-iron pan and filled the cabin with tempting odors. Mitzi sat on her haunches, front paws tucked close to her chest, watching Fiona’s move until a bite of bacon was flipped her way.

  Fiona cracked eggs into a bowl. “Wonder how TJ’s doing with that bar of soap and the cold river. Breakfast is almost ready.”

  “You’re the one who banished him before we ate.” Bryan didn’t care if TJ ate cold eggs or if he ate at all. One evening spent skirting any talk of why TJ ran from the cops rubbed against Bryan. As far as he was concerned, everything should be discussed openly and honestly.