“Iska! The bitch is back!”
Let her come.
Erica’s high band radio crackled and her call numbers came through. She picked up the mic. “Unit 307.”
“Sergeant Thorburn, Captain Schroeder says Morgan down at Violent Crimes is sending a detective over to West Precinct to interview you about a missing person’s case. Schroder wants to know how soon you can come in.”
Erica’s hand tightened on the mic. “En route to back up that domestic at Darvus and 34th. I’ll report in after that.” She clicked off.
Detective wants to see you.
“Teagan!”
What lies has she told them? The implications stabbed Erica one at a time: prison for me, boys with the bitch, Derek alone forever. Her skin crawled like a hundred accusatory fingers were directed at her. She rapidly scanned through her windshield, rear view mirror, and both side. No one on the sidewalks paid any attention to her. But soon her fellow officers would be on the lookout for her squad car.
They’ll send cops to your house. Make your move.
The urgency in Iska’s voice spurred Erica, and her thoughts gelled. Go get Derek, and his things. There’s time to come back for Jimmy.
The Mercedes was fueled and ready; the trunk loaded with extra T-shirts, jeans, diapers, and formula, the key to her parents’ oceanfront cottage hidden inside the glove compartment, and an extra can of pepper spray plus a stun gun stuffed into an old gym bag.
Erica left the garage door open and hurried to the nursery window. She grabbed the stepladder. A gush of rainwater splashed from the rungs. She jumped back and shook her leg. The soaked fabric stuck like wet fur. Tears blurred her vision “Why didn’t I un-barricade the damn door?”
You failed to bring the boys.
“Shut up. Shut up!” Erica wiped her eyes with her shirt sleeve and noticed a footprint at the edge of the border garden.
The ladder is out of place.
The bitch was here.
Erica spread the ladder, snatched the claw hammer from a basement window well, and scurried upward.
The nails pried free. She shoved the window open and dropped to the floor.
She lifted the urn from the crib. The pewter spoke through her fingers; and her desperate haste stilled. She caressed the surface with her thumbs until she felt its energy. “Derek, I promise, you’ll have your boys.”
I’ll train them right. The Peaceful Place needs perfect officers.
Her heart lurched. His first words sounded solid, filled with character. His plan pleased her as she scooped up the bags of baby clothes, the three teddy bears; also pleased her when she backed through the window and climbed down the ladder.
“Erica!” Naddie called across the fence.
She ignored her neighbor and hurried for the garage.
“A woman looked inside your window.”
Erica halted and slowly turned toward the nosey gossip. “Who?”
“I promised not to tell, but I knew it was wrong and played along so I could tell you. Your friend, Teagan, climbed the ladder and looked in the baby’s room.” Naddie’s look traveled to the urn in the crook of Erica’s arm and back up to her face. “What are you doing?”
Erica stepped forward. Her glare bore deep into Naddie. “Go inside your house.”
Naddie spluttered. “Don’t talk to me with that tone of voice.”
“Dead neighbors don’t cause problems.”
Naddie ran, skirt held high, fat pink legs pumping. At her door, she yelled back, “You’re nuts! I’m signing a complaint against you!” She disappeared inside.
Damn, Naddie and her big yap.
There isn’t time to change clothes.
Erica rushed to the garage. As she backed out, Naddie’s nose was pressed against the glass of her kitchen window, phone pressed to her ear. “Iska, she knows I’m driving the Mercedes! I can only take Jimmy. Not enough time for Levi and Charlie! They’ll spot this car!”
Fetch Jimmy, then change cars.
When Erica turned into the apartment village, the tires hit the speed bumps too hard. The Mercedes bounced and the oil pan scraped, but she slammed over the next ones, too. Duffy’s car was still parked in his spot, and she breathed easier.
Barely aware of slicker-clad children playing on swings and mothers staring from under umbrellas, she raced the stairs to the second level and pounded on Duffy’s door.
When he opened it, she said, pleasantly. “Got to thinking you might need to go buy formula and things. Figured the least I could do is stay with Jimmy.”
He smiled gratefully. “We were just about to leave, but it’d be great if you’d watch him for a little while.”
Erica stepped inside Pai’s apartment, knowing she could kill Duffy with one well placed blow, but even the slightest miss and a battle would erupt, far easier to just get rid of him. “Go do your thing.”
“I’m not even sure what to buy. The nursery looks like a f-ing hurricane hit it. They better catch the f-er before I get my hands on the bastard. He’ll beg to die.” Duffy glanced at her. “Is something wrong?”
Erica moistened her lips. “I just need a drink of water.”
He drew her one. “I’d better show you around the nursery. You might need to change a diaper.”
“We’ll manage. You go ahead and . . .”
Duffy was already moving down the hallway.
Pushed to the killing point, Erica followed him to the nursery.
Light filtered through tan gauze curtains, giving everything a golden hue, bathing the crib with a soft ethereal light. At the sight of Jimmy sleeping in the center of it, ecstasy centered in Erica’s chest, and she floated with it, like a buoy in swollen surf.
Duffy pointed to a bag of diapers near the changing table. She touched his arm and put her forefinger to her lips. They tiptoed out. She followed him down the hall on feet barely touching the carpet.
Suddenly, three raps sounded on the front door and a voice called, “Duffy.”
“Who is that,” Erica whispered harshly.
“Sounds like the neighbor boy.”
“Shh, keep it down. He’ll wake Jimmy. Get rid of him.” Erica pushed Duffy.
“I don’t like it either,” Duffy growled as he opened the door.
Erica stood ready.
A lanky boy looking like he just came from some Bible thumping school, announced, “Mr. Sanders, my little sister wants to know if you’ll buy some Girl Scout cookies.”
Duffy took the brochure and scanned it. “I’ll take a package of Thin Mints and one of Tagalongs.”
The boy opened an order form and checked a couple of boxes. “You have to pay now,” he said.
Duffy pulled out his wallet.
Erica couldn’t damned believe it. She covered her mouth with one hand and squeezed the other hand under her bicep to stop the urge to break both their necks.
Duffy counted out the money, closed the door, slipped the wallet in his hip pocket and glanced around the apartment like he was forgetting something.
Erica refrained from shoving him through the doorway. “The faster you go to the store, the sooner you get home. I promise Jimmy will be okay.” She watched through the sliding doors while he drove away. The instant he disappeared, she turned.
She jerked and then froze, staring horrified at Pai’s body lying between her and the hallway to Jimmy. Erica’s hands needed to touch the shiny black hair that fanned out around the broken neck. It wasn’t real, couldn’t be real.
Jimmy.
“Get out of the way. He’s mine.” Erica stepped over the hallucination and ran down the hall.
Jimmy lay so innocent in his bassinet. She reached to pick him up. No! Those mothers by the playground will see the baby. What? What? She filled a laundry basket with towels and placed him on top, pulling the towels up around his warm tiny body.
This time Pai’s body wasn’t in the way. Erica raced to the door and down the stairway. She passed the park. The sting of eyes pricked and she decid
ed to meet them with a smile. A few mothers nodded in her direction. Good little baby didn’t even cry when she put the basket onto the front seat. Derek will be so happy that Jimmy slept peacefully among the towels and he’d never be jealous. Wasn’t Jimmy’s fault that she was acting like a mooning calf over a baby that wasn’t hers.
“Iska, I have Jimmy!”
An officer in a uniform in a Mercedes will draw attention.
“Iska, you’re so selfish. I can’t even be happy for two seconds.” Erica stiffened behind the wheel, wanting only to slump enough to rest her cheek on Jimmy in the basket and soak up the warmth of him. She was cold and had been for so long, even when it was hot and she sweated under her chest protector, nothing thawed her rigid shoulders, long stiffened in self defense.
Derek is cold too.
Erica drove until she spotted a gas station off Aurora and North 50th. She wheeled around to the back and parked between a dumpster and a pickup.
Jimmy tried to look at her with un-focused eyes. His fingers curled around the edge of his receiving blanket. She feather touched them with her fingertips. “I must change clothes. Will you wait here nice and quiet?” She chuckled, a sound of pure amusement. “Don’t cry. I won’t leave you. Besides Derek would have a fit if someone found you. He has waited too long.” She touched Jimmy’s darling nose, no bigger than the tip of her little finger.
Erica stood by the Mercedes until she felt safe enough to open the trunk and dig out an old baggy sweatshirt and jeans. She stuffed them into a blue canvas diaper bag. She held it up. Baby ducks and butterflies danced along the sides. Her duty belt would never fit inside a bag with ducks and moths. The insanity of it tickled her. For the first time in so long she loved life; Jimmy waited in the front seat, going to visit Derek; yes, life was good.
Erica unbuckled and carefully rolled the belt to keep the holster on top, and placed it next to a suitcase. The loaded Glock slipped easily into the diaper bag.
A kitten cried. It was close by and in distress. Erica stiffened. Damn people who hurt tiny cats should be horsewhipped. She cocked her head. The mewling was from inside the car. Jimmy!
Erica shoved down the trunk until it locked and rushed to Jimmy, lifted him to her shoulder and patted until he was still, and her heart quit racing. She was never going to survive these damned babies. How could Derek want the little shits? Unable to see if anyone stood by the side entrance, she rounded the corner of the station, humming a lullaby about rocking in a stupid treetop.
A bushy-bearded man shoved the door open with his shoulder, balancing an espresso in one hand, a stack of sandwiches in the other. He did a double take. “You find a baby in the trash bin?”
“Not this time.”
Inside, five customers clustered around the register. Erica ducked between the first and second row of groceries and hurried down a narrow aisle lined with shelves of bread, chips, and candy.
Pinsol disinfectant reeked inside the John strong enough to gag. Her heel slipped on the wet tile when she spun to punch the lock. She squeezed Jimmy until she calmed. A baby station was already lowered on the left wall, and she laid him carefully down on it, making sure he couldn’t fall.
Such a sweet boy.
Erica dug the Glock from the bag and placed it near Jimmy, then stripped off the wet uniform and put on levis. Her father’s sweatshirt hung fine over the chest protector.
Jimmy whimpered and sucked on his fist. She glanced around for something. What?
A paper towel.
Erica ripped one from the holder, soaked it, and dripped water into his mouth. He spluttered, but drank some. “That’s a good boy. I’ll warm a bottle at the cottage.”
The doorknob rattled.
She grabbed the Glock.
Footfalls receded.
Relaxing her hand on the weapon, she tucked it inside Jimmy’s blanket. She picked him up and rocked back and forth, her Glock hard between them. The doorknob jiggled several more times. She ignored it and waited long enough for the customers to be replaced by ones that hadn’t seen an officer carrying a baby into the restroom.
Finally, Erica drew the strap of the duck-covered bag over her shoulder and glanced into the mirror. A typical mother loaded down with a child reflected back at her. A bubble of pleasure touched her – then it burst.
Chapter 35
Again, neither the front nor the back of Erica’s modest house showed signs of life. It looked as empty as Teagan felt. She’d give anything to have Charlie nestled in her arms right now. Rain spotted on the windshield of the jeep. The squiggly droplets on the curve of the glass pooled together to trickle lazily downward. The drab day lay heavy. A spot of midday sun would help, but even that was too much of a miracle. The big miracle would be Charlie, Levi, and Jimmy safe with her.
The heavy Mauser’s stock dented her thighs, and she put it on the floor, angling the barrel toward the door. She wiggled and resettled. Her fingertips shimmed back and forth along the surface of the steering wheel. Suddenly she squeezed where Bryan’s hands had held it. How could he not protect Charlie? What possessed him to give the boys to the authorities? He would answer for it. She snatched up the phone and punched in his numbers. After one ring, she snapped it shut. He could rot in hell. Her priority was finding Charlie, not worrying about what Bryan failed to do.
Mac would help. She punched in his number, again no answer.
Ideas popped in and out, but none seemed feasible without knowing Erica’s location. She thought back to the four of them at the clinic, how they planned to help one another, how pleased they were about all carrying sons, and how they loved the matching teddy bears she had bought. The only thing spoiling the fun when she carried the fuzzy bears into the clinic for her friends was an annoyed look from Tracy behind the receptionist’s counter.
Teagan’s breath caught. “Tracy knows about the bears!” She grabbed the phone and left Detective Lute a message to contact Tracy at the clinic. In a surprisingly calm voice, she explained about the bears and that they were in Erica’s nursery.
Knuckle raps on the side window!
Teagan whirled.
Naddie rapped again, leaning down to look inside. A smile, wide enough to show her dentures, wrinkled the pudgy cheeks, eyes eager, friendly, curious.
Teagan twisted in front of the Mauser to block it from view and pushed the window button. The glass lowered.
“I saw you waiting,” Naddie said. “And thought you should know that Erica came home, took stuff from the baby’s room, and left in her mother’s black Mercedes. She scared the heck out of me.”
“Do you have any idea where she went?”
“How could I?”
“Relative? Friend? Someone she mentioned?”
“One time I overheard Erica and her mother talking about a cottage somewh--” Naddie’s eyes widened. She tried to look around Teagan at the rifle. Her umbrella banged against the Jeep and one of its wires buckled. Ashen, she backed away and splashed to her house, fat pink legs pumping, broad butt bouncing, the lopsided umbrella carried high.
Teagan jerked the gear shift into drive and tromped on the gas pedal. “Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.”
The side streets wound, climbed and descended through block after block of residential homes. Sick dread rode with Teagan. Finally, she parked by a curb in front of a redbrick church, hoping to appear innocent, blend with a sane, lovely congregation. She wanted to escape inside and hide under a pew. Foolish woman, she thought. The only way to stop Erica is head on. “Come on, what would she do next?”
Teagan placed a sweaty palm on her sweatier forehead and let her mind run with the craziness of Erica. It was all about the babies. Erica wanted the boys and would not stop until someone stopped her. Find them and she will be somewhere nearby. The social workers would have given Jimmy to his father, Levi to Doretta’s mom and place Charlie in foster care.
Teagan fingered through business cards in the back of her wallet and pulled one out. As soon as a real voice answered, Tea
gan said, “Patch me through to Linda Clark.”
“Do you have her extension?”
“No.”
“One moment please.”
Teagan tugged on a curl behind her earlobe and let her thumb and forefinger slide down the strand. Fingers did it again, pulling harder this time.
“You have reached Linda Clark’s voice mail. Please leave a message and I’ll return your call as soon as possible.”
Teagan shook the useless instrument, but stopped herself from pitching it out of the window. “Okay girl. You’re on your own.” With the admission came a surge of acknowledgment. This was nothing new. She’d been alone for a long time, even as a child. Fresh moist air swept through the open window and brushed her cheeks. She’d check Pai’s apartment. Duffy might already be home with Jimmy. “If so, Erica will show.”
Detective Lute knuckle-rapped the captain’s closed door before opening it. “Linda Clark says the O’Riley baby is in foster care. Mrs. Johnson has her grandson, and Mr. Sanders left SeaTac with his son.”
Captain Morgan leaned back in his chair. “Why the hang-dog face?”
“It’s been twenty minutes since Thorburn was told to report in, but according to West Precinct she hasn’t shown up.”
“I called Schroeder. Thorburn is backing up a messy domestic. She’ll report in after they wrap it up.” He tossed his pen on a pile of papers. “You know, I’d have him pull her right in if there was a shred of evidence.”
Lute considered for a moment. “Right now proof doesn’t matter. Three babies do. We’d better place them in a secure environment and get a search warrant for Thorburn’s residence. If Erica gets her pride stepped on for nothing, we’ll apologize. I need to check out both Teagan’s truck and Erica’s house.” Lute chose not to mention Tracy at the clinic. He needed to talk to her first.
Morgan studied Lute like he better damn well know what he was doing. “Shit, Lute. Schroeder’s going to defend his officer. He’s damn sure going to demand proof. Call him and have him put officers with Johnson and Sanders.”
Maternal Harbor Page 25