Unassisted, TJ slid into the backseat and relaxed. His eyes met Bryan’s. They simmered with something other than a docile prisoner. The trooper read him his rights in a firm, impartial way and closed the door.
“Is there any information about what happened?” Bryan asked.
“According to the report, his twin brother and two others shot up a high school in Oklahoma.” Garvey’s jaw tightened. “Six students died.”
“Better finish that weapons check,” Volker said, and the trooper quickly disappeared through the door.
“I’m going inside too. Grandma needs--”
“Stay put!” The sheriff snapped; he exhaled loudly. “I have a felony warrant for a woman involved with taking infants and now a school shooting? What the hell is going on?”
The crying babies answered.
Volker pointed to the steps. “Mr. Winslow, take a seat while I talk with Mr. Cavalier.” Scowling worse than an overworked schoolteacher, he left Bryan on the porch, crossed the few steps to the cruiser, and opened the door. The interior light flicked on. He leaned down eye level with TJ. “You’re under arrest on charges in Oklahoma. Do you understand?”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“It’ll go a lot easier if you tell me what happened.”
TJ pressed his lips together and stared at the floorboard.
Hard put to remain seated, Bryan wanted to jump up, drag the boy from the backseat, and choke him. “You’d better talk,” he said harshly.
“I had no part of it,” TJ yelled back. “I left before . . .” He clamped his mouth shut and his eyes remained downcast, like something might show that must not.
A dreadful feeling wormed up from Bryan’s bowels. Was TJ playing the innocent? The opposite of the truth? The thought was abhorrent. “Sheriff, I don’t know what he’s done. I gave him a ride, then a place to stay.”
Bryan reeled from the thought of harboring anyone involved with a school shooting. Was that the hidden letter? He suddenly recalled hearing the name Cavalier on the radio the morning he left Oklahoma. He should’ve known. “Sheriff, in the time I’ve spent with TJ, I’ve never seen any sign he could be involved in a shooting.”
“You wouldn’t be the first to be fooled by this generation.”
Garvey returned from inside. “The place is free of weapons. I’ll go ahead and transport the fugitive.” The cruiser eased through the ruts in the driveway. Only the outline of TJ’s head showed through its rear window.
“What will happen to him?” Bryan asked.
“We’ll hold him for extradition. Mr. Cavalier is Oklahoma’s problem.”
“Is there something I can do to help?”
“I’m afraid you have problems of your own. I have to take you and your grandmother in for questioning.”
“The babies were left in Teagan’s care. We’re only helping.” Bryan sat on the cold porch step with his shoulders back and met Volker’s eyes, refusing to slump like he needed to. Hiding in a hole would be better. How had he gotten into a mess like this? He was a simple guy who just needed solitude.
Volker studied him for a moment. “Even if I believe you, I have to take you in. Those babies belong in Washington with their families.”
“That’s the whole point. Their mother’s are dead. They were killed by a police officer.”
“Child Protection in Seattle will make sure they are where they belong.”
“My grandmother has cancer.”
“This keeps getting harder, doesn’t it? We’ll see that she’s taken care of.”
“I need to call a lawyer.”
“I’ll give you a few names at the station.”
Fiona strutted through the cabin door dressed in many layers of black and carrying Mitzi. “Douglas Sheigman is the best I know,” she announced. “Of course he’s the only one I know, but he handles all my criminal affairs.” She zinged a scowl at the sheriff. “You expect that deputy to carry three babies in infant seats or are you going to help?”
“Grandma, it’ll be all right.”
She harrumphed and trooped down the steps like she was leading a parade. The deputy carried two infant seats with Levi and Jimmy bundled warmly inside. He loaded them into the backseat and strapped them securely.
Bryan stood. “There is one more baby and they need bottles.” The absurdity of the situation struck him and all he could do was let it happen. He put three bottles on the stove to warm while Volker carried Charlie from the bedroom.
“I need a shirt and boots,” Bryan said.
Volker nodded and waited by the door.
Bryan finished dressing, grabbed the bottles from the pan of hot water, took one last look around the cabin, and turned off the generator. The dead bolt snapped shut. The routine act of leaving the cabin was so normal, he mourned for its shattered safety.
He helped Fiona into the deputy’s car and handed the bottles inside to her.
“Stop with the long face,” she said. “This beats a deathbed any old day.”
Bryan winked at her. “I was going to bring you pine cones and spring water.”
“There’s time.”
His grip on the open car door tightened. “Teagan was afraid the babies would be easy prey in custody. I didn’t keep them safe even for one day.” His grandmother patted his forearm, and he closed the door. The deputy backed around and drove away. A few raucous caws from circling ravens attacked the silence of early morning and freed Bryan’s numb disbelief enough for him to mutter. “I hate to leave the Buick.”
Sheriff Volker nodded. “Don’t have to. Just don’t do anything stupid. By the way, what is Teagan driving?”
Dread clamped the back of Bryan’s neck. “My Jeep.”
“License number?”
Bryan recited a number−his ex-wife’s car number. He owed Teagan that much.
Chapter 30
“Sarge?” asked an officer who was sitting at the back of the crowded squad room. “Any news about the missing babies?”
By sheer willpower, Erica Thorburn pretended to scan the clipboard in her hands. “Here’s something. A sheriff’s department in Montana has located them. They’re fine and on their way home.” As smattering of hand claps and cheers circled the room full of uniformed officers, she inwardly blessed her chest protector. It held her erect and no one could see how her body sagged with relief. She hid her thoughts behind the chiseled expression she had practiced for hours after the night her mother started bringing home men. Mother had soon cowered from the look. Now, it was underlings and felons who cringed from her stare of pure predator adrenalin.
However, for the last thirty-six hours, it was Erica who suffered in an endless limbo; the aggression necessary to be a good cop was lost to over-powering fear for Derek. He could not be alone so long. The chapel of her mind was chaotic; the tranquil space destroyed by a splitting pain behind her eyes.
Get a grip. The babies are on their way home.
Erica acknowledged Iska only in her heart.
After the last officer pushed through the door, she collapsed on a chair, staring at the wall clock. Only 8:00 a.m. She couldn’t wait much longer. Her sore arm ached under her standard blue sleeve, and she cursed Doretta’s bite. The throbbing wound was a constant reminder of her failure to bring the boys to Derek.
She reread the bulletin on the babies. CPS sent a caseworker on the first available flight. Before long, Jimmy and Levi would be here and in foster care where they should have been in the first place. Damn that red-haired witch.
Get up and do something!
Erica slowly rose. By the time, she left the squad room, her slip into weakness was forgotten and her emotions were under tight control. Wouldn’t hurt to find out which flight the babies were on, and to have a peek when they arrived, see how much growth had developed, how much advancement.
Derek would have surpassed it.
Erica abruptly stopped. Her eyes narrowed. On the far side of the lobby, Detective Lute was deep in conversation with anothe
r man. What the hell was he doing here? Who’s he talking to? She regarded the look of the man: short, husky, tattooed, confident.
Duffy Sanders?
Erica quickly retreated to the squad room and leaned against the wall, struggling to grasp this unexpected development. She was sure it was Sanders. Pai introduced them only once at the clinic, but once was enough. He wasn’t supposed to be back yet.
But why not? You should’ve known.
“I’m sick of your yammering, Iska.”
“Sarge?”
Erica jerked upright and glared at the officer standing in the doorway. “What is it, Sheehan?” she asked and didn’t give a rip about his answer. She just wanted to be alone.
“Why are you hiding? I’ve been looking all over. Detective Lutavosky wants to see you, and says he’s short on time.”
“Detectives are always in a hurry,” Erica snapped. “It’s good for them to wait once in awhile.”
“It’s your neck.” Sheehan ducked back through the door.
Erica wanted to lace him with a stern lecture about more respect; however, she dismissed the thought and focused on Derek until an inner joy leaped and cart wheeled. The capable Montana Police found the boys. Now she’d simply wait. Removal of Levi from his gullible grandmother posed no problem. Jimmy from his navel-trained father did, but with a little planning, she’d outsmart Duffy. Charlie in foster care was a simple matter of learning the address. The time was closer now. Soon Derek would lead a race through seaweed under sun-drenched waves. Her boy now demanded the Pacific, and the more he asked, the more she liked the deep as the perfect place.
Detective Lute would not spoil it.
Erica strode from the room. Her boots struck the tile. Heel-toe. Heel-toe. The familiar cadence relaxed her enough to hold out a steady hand to Duffy and say, “I’m sorry about Pai.” He nodded; his watery eyes spoke his emotion, a pitiful runt of a man. It won’t be so hard to take Jimmy from him. “I understand your son has been located and is coming home.”
“I’m on my way to the airport.”
Erica smiled. “Want some company? I have time.”
Lute straightened to his towering height. “Erica, I’ve been trying to get you on the phone.”
“Hi, Lute.” She batted at his shoulder with the side of her fist. “You’re a far cry from homicide. I’ve left you messages, but you’re hard to reach.”
“I understand you became friendly with both the victims and Ms. O’Riley at the clinic. Do you recall anything that might help us sort this out?”
His direct question rattled her for a moment. “I’ve racked my brain. All I could come up with is Teagan devised a plan for us to help one another.” Erica forced her voice to catch and blinked a few times.
“This must be hard for you,” Lute said.
Erica moistened her lips and nodded. “Any word about Teagan?” she asked softly.
“She’s still at large.”
“Thank God, we got the boys. Stupid of her to flip out. I offered to help, but she turned me down.” Lute’s eyes shadowed with doubt or was it disbelief? Erica didn’t like whichever it was. Had she gone too far?
Duffy stepped away. “Are you coming? The babies are due at SeaTac at 9:30.”
Erica glanced at Lute. “Case worker knows you and Duffy are meeting her?”
Lute took a moment before answering, “CPS said they’d handle it. I have an appointment.”
“Duffy, let’s go see your son. I met him at the hospital right after he was born. He’s the cutest little guy you ever saw.” They passed rapidly down the hall.
At the end, Erica glanced back. Lute still watched. She screamed silent curses. Lute had noticed her slight limp.
Chapter 31
Bryan Winslow shifted in the uncomfortable metal chair at the Flathead County Justice Center. He was sick of the wasted hours spent talking to people, especially the self-important assistant county attorney who sat across the table. The man’s inflexible expression showed no hint of understanding.
Once more Bryan swallowed to moisten his throat. “I don’t know what else I can say, except don’t send the babies back to Seattle until you’ve talked with a Detective Lutavosky. Teagan has contacted him by now.”
“That’s quite a story spun by a woman you haven’t seen for ten years.” The assistant shoved away from the table, straightened his trendy tie and buttoned his severe jacket. “And it’s hard to believe.”
“Teagan is trying to prove it. She figures it’s the only way any of you will believe her.”
“Well, she is only making her life harder.” He shut the door behind him.
Worried and helpless, Bryan watched while the second hand on a wall clock swept repeatedly by the twelve, adding more minutes to the hours since he last seen Teagan. He finally quit drumming his fingers on the table and slid down in the chair, sinking into ever deeper anxiety.
The door finally opened. Fiona stormed into the interview room and lowered herself onto one of the hard chairs with all the precision of a dethroned queen. She perched with her chin high, jaw locked, and eyes furious. No wonder they brought her to him.
“Are you in pain, Grandma?”
She looked down her nose at him. “I just know those clowns put Mitzi in the animal shelter. She’ll never forgive me. And what if the babies are flying to their deaths?”
Bryan worked his fingers along his hairline, trying to stop the throbbing that had began with the smart-tongued lawyer and elevated at the sight of Fiona. He peered at her from under his hand. “They’ll release us,” he said more to himself than her.
“You can bet your booty, they will. I called Sheigman. He and Mr. Wanna-be County Big Shot were having a nice chat when they kicked me out and brought me here.”
“I have to go to Teagan.”
“Go quickly.” Her firm words held a tremor.
“I hate to leave you to. . . .”
“Die alone? Old ladies are supposed to go to their maker. Babies aren’t. If anything happens to them, I know a couple fools who will pay dearly.” She sighed. Her watery eyes bored inside him. “Bryan, I managed before you arrived and will after you’re gone. I know people at the nursing home by the hospital. They’ll help me if I need it.”
The door opened and Sheriff Volker entered. “You may go on home for now, but charges may be filed later.”
The unexpected release sent Bryan into limbo for a moment.
Fiona rose quickly. “Let’s go, Bryan.”
He understood her hurry, but asked the sheriff, “Did you contact Detective Lutavosky?”
“We’ve been in touch with Seattle.”
The vague answer didn’t set well, but what the heck, Bryan tried another. “When can I talk to TJ?”
Volker scowled at him. “He has agreed to extradition. He’ll be on his way to Oklahoma in a few hours.”
“I’d like one last shot at making peace with him.”
“He’s angry at you?”
“I am with him.”
The sheriff sighed. “The best I can do is give you a few names in Oklahoma to contact. I don’t believe he’s in too much trouble if he co-operates. Maybe some time in juvenile detention and probation. Now take your grandmother home.”
Sturdy and stiff Fiona turned back at the doorway. “If you put my poodle in the dog pound, she’ll be frightened silly. There’s an odor of death about that place.”
“She’s in my office. We’re not the enemy everyone thinks we are.”
“You just sent three babies into the arms of a killer.”
“Grandma.” Bryan tugged at her elbow.
Fiona tipped a precise nod at Volker and stalked out.
Mitzi jumped into Bryan’s arms the moment Volker’s office door opened. Carrying the dog, he ushered Fiona outside. He glanced back at the modern Justice Center and pictured TJ crestfallen and alone in the bowels of the building. He drove Fiona home, feeling as if he had left something behind.
Once inside her house, Fiona imme
diately shuffled past Bryan and climbed the stairs. She hadn’t spoken since they were freed. He listened to her feet pad down the hardwood hallway. Her door closed with a slam. Her total disappointment remained with him at the bottom of the stairs.
Bryan exhaled. “Okay, Grandma. I should’ve done something to keep the babies here.” She didn’t hear his words, but he was glad he mumbled them. Detective Lutavosky would be the one to hear what he had to say.
Bryan reserved a seat on the next flight to Seattle and climbed the stairs to say goodbye to his grandmother.
Fiona nestled in her bed with Mitzi beside her. Weakness shaded the deep hollows of her dear face. Her chest barely rose with breathing.
This might be the last time I see her alive, Bryan thought. Unexpected tears stung his eyes and a lump choked his throat.
“I’m flat tired of you looking at me like I’m dead,” Fiona muttered. “I have a friend who’ll stay with me until you return. His number is by the phone in the kitchen. Call him.”
“Him?”
“Just make the call.”
Bryan sat down on the edge of the bed.
“Go,” Fiona said with authority. “You’re all Teagan and those babies have.”
He kissed her bloodless cheek and rose.
At the door, her voice stopped him. “I won’t die before you come back with Teagan and Charlie.”
Chapter 32
Erica and Duffy trotted through the cavernous parking tower at SeaTac Airport, and then hoofed it rapidly over a sky bridge and long stepped onto an escalator, descending to the ticketing area. “Which concourse?” she asked, scanning the directional letters painted above the different arteries which fed from the heart of the terminal.
“Horizon B1.”
Erica spied the letters first. Duffy quickly caught up, and they hurried abreast down the corridor. A little out of breath, they finally reached the Horizon gate fifteen minutes before arrival time. Neither chose to sit while they waited and both kept their eyes glued to the door where Duffy’s son would arrive.
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