Except Erica.
The cops had to be after her by now. Duffy would’ve raised a ruckus that spread throughout the Homicide Department and CPS like a rampaging virus, afflicting every doubting son-of-a-sea-serpent with guilt for putting Charlie, Jimmy, and Levi in danger. She hated every one of the bastards. Teagan grabbed hold of the anger, used it to sharpen her senses. No longer drowsy, she saw every slight movement of wind in the trees and yards.
Erica kept her eyes peeled in the worn area of lower Rainier Avenue: ratty pawn shops, immoral tattoo parlors, decaying apartment buildings, vermin-infested hotels and beleaguered churches. Street people stared at her swank Mercedes like they did her cruiser whenever she patrolled the neighborhood. This time she felt exposed at the rake of their eyes instead of secure inside a SPD squad car.
Fortine Fatty wallowed in one of the narrow bars spawned by the area, and she meant to find him. He’d provide for her now. The poor helpless souls he lent money were merely trying to stretch their miserable paychecks to feed too many children or their own habits with a cheap bottle of whiskey or a syringe. They could wait. She couldn’t.
Erica parked at the curb in front of Fortine’s favorite hangout and got out. A few mangy teenagers on the corner appraised her hub caps. She scorched them with a fierce glare, and they quickly concentrated on anything except Erica or her car. She strode inside. The place stank of cigarettes and booze; her nose wrinkled.
In the last table at the rear of the murky room, Fortine Fatty sat alone, reading a sports page. His immense rolls of belly reached upwards to his chest and squished more rolls up to a neck hidden by rolls dropping from his chin. His obesity was a marvel. People trusted him because he seemed so helpless behind his wall of fat.
Erica knew better. Like a viper, he choked everything of value from anyone who didn’t pay up when due.
“Out of uniform, Officer Thorburn?” He laid the paper on the table and steepled his bloated fingers.
“Go to hell.”
Mounds of flesh jiggled as Fatty chuckled. “You have time to tell me what the SPD is doing these days, or are you in the perpetual hurry?”
“I’ll trade the Mercedes parked out front straight across for your car or one you know about.”
“Have a title?”
“Can you set up a quick trade?”
“What do I get?”
“Peace for your dirty little business.”
He blessed her with a snide smile. “I already have that.”
Erica grinned back. “Not after a few words to cops like Joey or Vince.”
“Officer Thorburn, threats won’t get you a trade.”
“What will?”
Fatty hooded his eyes and pondered a moment. “We’ll worry about payment later. I have a niece with a beater she uses for college. I’ll call her.” Fortine pulled a cell phone from his shirt pocket and punched numbers. He glanced at Erica. “A little privacy?”
Erica rose and leaned on the bar. Lack of time pressed heavily. She trembled with the need to race straight to Cathy Barnhart and Dahlia Johnson’s.
Fortine finally motioned her back and slipped his phone away. “My niece will meet you at Green Lake. Parking lot near Aurora.”
“How will I know her?”
“She’ll know you. Couldn’t possibly miss the chest protector under your sweatshirt. You need to do a better job of concealing it.” His smirk showed his gray bottom teeth.
Erica stared deep into his pupils. “I’ve hidden other things better.” She itched to pull the knife from her boot and check how far the blade would sink into blubber before finding something worth cutting.
His forehead beaded with sweat and his stare dropped to his hands.
“No need to worry now, you miserable piece of scum. Save it for a day when I have more time.”
Chapter 37
The Space Needle towered behind Bryan. To his left, hundreds of moored sailboats bobbed at every view of Puget Sound. Their bare, white masts pointed heavenward, petitioning for sure winds and clear skies.
And that Teagan would be all right. Bryan wiped the palm of his right hand on his jeans, then rubbed his thumb across his fingers, a nervous habit, checking for leftover moisture. His hands sweated under stress. Why was unknown. Maybe to remind him to remain sensitive, some decisions could not be guessed at, like now. He had to be swift and sure to locate Teagan.
After Ballard Bridge, he was pretty sure 15th Avenue was the most direct artery to 85th Street. The lush profusion of trees and bushes surprised him. He’d forgotten their density. By the time he reached Holman Road, his memory took over and he drove to 104th Street without a wrong turn.
He followed the street until he came to Alness’s block and pulled over at the corner. A few autos were parked in front of a brick ranch-style home on the otherwise empty street. He checked the numbers on the nearest house and counted down. The brick should be the right one. Teagan would be hiding somewhere nearby, waiting for Erica to come for Levi. It was risky, but she’d be here somewhere. He really couldn’t blame her for not trusting the police to handle Erica. He didn’t either.
No sign of the Jeep. He drove down the alley behind Alness’s house. Nothing. He drove back around and noticed a For Sale sign in the front yard of a split-level across the street on the far corner. He studied the front window. Maybe? Could she see him? He hoped so. He was here and she better get used to it. He hung a left and circled the block, coming up the alley from the opposite direction. Yes! His Jeep hid in the last carport.
Drained with relief, he slipped up to the driver’s side. The Mauser lay on the front floorboard beneath his grandmother’s jacket. Puzzled that she hadn’t armed herself, Bryan sauntered to the house, whistling. No sense in frightening her. Shards of broken windowpane sprinkled the floor. He sidestepped them and softly called, “Teagan.” He called twice more.
“Stop right there,” Teagan said. Double-handed, she pointed a chrome revolver at him. Dark circles hollowed her eyes and hardness tightened her chin. She wore the same white T-shirt, but the green plaid shirt was tied around her waist. Her jeans were a size too big.
Bryan didn’t move. “It’s me, Teagan.”
She waved the pistol at him. “Turn around and go back to Montana.”
“Point that at the floor!”
“You turned in the babies!”
“The sheriff came to the cabin and took them.”
“Liar, I left no trail.”
“You can’t honestly believe that. All the cops had to do was check your past. I’m part of it. They had Grandma’s address in no time.”
“Part of my past says it all. Keep it that way.” Again, Teagan pointed the gun at the door. “I don’t know how you found me.”
“You did what I would’ve. And how can you watch for Erica and keep pointing that gun at me?”
Her determination faltered. The break in her resolve bared the soul of a desperate mother. She was capable of anything.
“For God’s sake,” he said firmly. “Lower the damned pistol. I only want to help.”
She spun, strode back to the front of the house and dropped to the floor near the picture window, focusing on the house across the street, pistol on the floor by her knee. She hunched, legs crossed Indian style, spine sharply outlined under her T-shirt; her hair, a mass of tangled reddish curls. Her thumbs twitched nervously against her thighs in a rhythm – come on, come on. He couldn’t see her features, but knew they were hard like granite.
He wanted to drop beside her, but held back unsure of the reaction.
She didn’t look at him when she spoke, “The water’s connected in the bathroom if you need it.”
“Teagan, we’d better call the police.”
She moved only enough to look up. “Just so we get this straight. No one, I don’t care who, gets between me and my Charlie.”
“Detective Lute has a policeman guarding your baby at a foster home.”
“Did you get the address?”
&nbs
p; “No.” He felt like the idiot she thought he was.
Teagan watched Bryan’s expression sadden with his inadequacy, watched him turn and walk down the hall. She scrubbed a hand across her mouth, deliberately slid fingers down her chin, dropped her hand into her lap, and sat squinting though the window, shaking her head. She wanted to knock him over and stomp on him for giving up Charlie, yet the longing to curl up in his arms, bury her face, and let him take over was undeniable. She blinked and strained to see the alley. Nothing, but she could’ve sworn there had been movement. Damn him, she needed to stay focused.
His strong, sure steps returned down the hall. He would help. Did she dare rely on the man who broke her heart? Yes, she would do anything for Charlie.
Bryan knelt beside her, close but not touching. Unshaven, eyes bloodshot, rumpled. He was damned tired, same as she was. She detected concern in the set of his mouth and the tilt of his head. “How is Fiona?” she asked softly.
“She’s very pale and tired, talking about a nursing home.”
“I hate that.”
“So do I. For some reason, she’s disgusted with me.” His eyes saddened, same as a puzzled boy who couldn’t understand why he was yelled at.
Teagan’s cheeks grew hot. “How can you be so flippin’ dense?”
“Dense?”
“Fiona is upset because you turn your back on everything that matters.”
“What?”
“First you turned away from becoming a teacher because you were afraid to face students day in and day out. Afraid you couldn’t measure up. The same thing happened with me. As soon as we ran into a real problem, you took the easy way out. Instead of tackling our separation, you married someone else, for God’s sake. Apparently you didn’t stick around long enough to work out that relationship either.”
“Now just a minute. She divorced me!”
Teagan digested that, but let it go for now. “You even abandoned Fiona sick in bed.” She expected him to be angry, to defend himself with cutting words, but he said nothing.
“You should’ve stayed with her,” she added.
“And shouldn’t you be watching that house?”
The house across the street blurred. Teagan blinked several times. She would not cry, not in front of him. A brief thought wormed beneath her disgust – she was used to coping alone, had grown to prefer it. Is that why his presence upset her so?
Bryan spoke behind her, “Teagan, this isn’t the time to set the record straight, but you’re at fault, too. In fact, your lack of trust is what broke us. We weren’t enough. You had to have your independence. Not relying on anyone is an obsession. What hurt you that much?”
“I’m watching a house, remember?”
Some moments passed before Bryan cleared his throat and said, “We have to warn the Johnsons about Erica.”
“Levi will draw her. It’s the only way to find Jimmy and she’ll know where Charlie is.” Teagan again wiped her hand across her mouth, only this time it was pensive instead of agitated. “When I first knelt by this window, I wanted to dash across the street and join forces with Florene, but one thought stopped me. Only by following Erica will I find the boys.”
“Lute knows about Erica now. I was with him when Duffy reported Jimmy missing.”
“I can’t trust anyone but myself.”
“We’re putting Levi at risk. Can you choose between him and Charlie?”
“I gotta do what I gotta do. You don’t like it, the door’s that way.” She pointed with her thumb and focused outside again.
A squad car entered the block, drove slowly up it, and parked near Alness’s. The officer got out and went to the door. He disappeared inside.
“Looks like the Marines have landed,” Bryan said.
“He’ll scare Erica off.”
“It’s time to let the police do their job.”
“Shut up! I’ve have to think!”
Chapter 38
Erica Thorburn waited miserable minutes in the parking area of Green Lake, leaning against the front fender of the Mercedes, watching pigeons beg food from a welfare mother and two snotty kids. An old geezer ambled up a path and sprinkled popcorn for the greedy, wretched birds that defiled the world with their leavings. She glanced at her Timex. Ten after one already. Fatty’s niece better show.
At the bottom of the surrounding knolls, a green algae-rimed lake looked disgusting. Scattered wooden tables nestled under bald cypress, weeping poplars, and red maples. Snickering girls and hormonal couples sat at or sprawled on the tables.
A bench, set apart near overgrown bushes, caught Erica’s attention. A dainty girl dangled a ribbon for a tabby kitten to swat while her mother watched over them. Erica’s eyes followed the paws. The scene wavered, and she saw herself playing with Tabitha.
Her mother’s words still rang clearly. “It’s a good thing you heard the kitten.”
“Will Daddy let me keep it?”
“I just climbed into a garbage bin to get her and that’s the end of it.”
Mother was boss. Daddy thought he was, but secrets were kept from Daddy, but Erica knew. Of course, the kitten was hers to keep. Power swelled in her childish heart.
The same pride now stirred in Erica. “Very soon, I’ll pass that power to Derek.” She pulled her gaze from the kitten.
Near the polluted lake, a couple cleared away their lunch. The man crumpled a brown paper sack and tossed it at a refuse can. As it floated through the air, Erica saw it change to black and rubbery with a zipper – a bag big enough for Mother.
Erica squeezed her eyes shut, willing the image to fade, trying to keep control, but her mind transported back to that rainy night seventeen years ago. She’d been patrolling near Newton Park for keggers when a call came over her high-band radio that a body was caught below some pilings in Lake Union. She flipped on her overheads and pressed hard to be first on the personal injury scene. After dawdling once, she would never be ribbed again. This time she was out of her vehicle and running yellow tape around the area before the coroner’s van screeched to a stop, lights flashing and siren howling. The crew gave her thumbs up, and she stood with her arms crossed waiting instructions when the brass arrived.
Captain Erik Thorburn approached, tall and splendid in his police blues, not a wrinkle or flattened crease. His tanned skin contrasted sharply with sky blue eyes and silver hair. “What do we have?” he asked his daughter without looking at her.
“Floater stuck in the pilings, Sir. They’re about to bring him up, Sir.”
“Him? Identity known already?”
“My mistake, Sir. Nothing is known yet.”
Her father stepped out onto the pier as the Medic One boys hoisted the water-streaming body from the lake and rolled it over. He nodded and said something to the assistant coroner. He stoically brushed by Erica without a word, eyes glazed in pure anger. And something more.
“What?” she cried
His pace quickened and his voice drifted over his shoulder, “The bitch finally drowned herself.”
Speechless, Erica stared at the retreating back. Mother? It can’t be. She mashed down fear and moved out onto the pier, shoulders back, chin up, eyes focused on the men surrounding the corpse.
A white nylon slip had sucked to the clammy, cold body. The ghostly face wasn’t Mother.
What the hell was Father talking about?
Erica peered closer. Water dripped from the bleached hair and clung to blackened lashes. Droplets ran down concave cheeks to the purplish shrunken lips. The flattened, blue-veined breasts visible under the wet slip belonged to someone else. She bent and checked a spot below the right collarbone – a tiny splotched birthmark.
And Erica knew.
Mother ended it in the water, alone and cold. The crew unrolled a body bag. They zipped Mother inside – the bag fit fine.
A motor, loud and uneven, interrupted Erica’s uncontrolled flashback. She staggered; confused that she was no longer beside the Mercedes, but standing in marshy cat
tails near the water. She rushed back up the incline as a rattletrap Nissan jerked to a halt in the parking area.
A maroon-haired girl dressed in tight leather slithered out and slammed the door shut. She ambled up to Erica and held out an ignition key.
Erica plucked it from the black-painted nails and dropped the Mercedes keys into the outstretched palm.
“Title.”
Erica handed it over.
The girl beamed and strutted to the luxury auto.
Erica didn’t waste time asking for papers. She grabbed her gym bag from the bench, jumped into the rust and tan Nissan. She hung onto the vibrating steering wheel for the time-devouring miles to Charlie.
Charlie must be in the last house.
“I know, Iska, I know.”
Squad car!
Erica’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel, and she squinted, trying to make out the identification number on the car parked in the driveway. It belonged to Renzo, a rookie out of North Precinct. She’d run into him a couple of times, and he was as green as they came. Erica relaxed. The simple plan of knocking on the door and removing Charlie wasn’t ruined.
She parked around the corner and slipped out of the Nissan. No sign of Renzo. Erica smiled. He must be inside. “Iska, this will be a piece of cake.”
Carrying the Glock low and a little behind, she boldly stalked to the back door and checked through the kitchen window. Nothing. The doorknob didn’t budge. The lock was a simple punch and turn. Hoping a dead bolt wasn’t set, she holstered the Glock and slipped a credit card between doorjamb and door until the lock popped open. She turned the knob, pulled her gun, and stole inside.
Laughter carried from another room. Stupid kids. Everything a joke. She flattened against a wall, edged to the doorway, and peeked. Renzo filled a small wingback chair, appearing strong and virile in blue uniform, a goofy grin pasted on a swarthy face. Cathy was pouring him a glass of iced tea. Her fawn hair was caught up in a twist and her face alive with pleasure.
Maternal Harbor Page 27