Line of Fire

by Rachel Ann Nunes

  Car keys were a great imprint holder, as they were used so often, especially by men, who often are more attached to their cars than most women are. I was rewarded immediately with an imprint from less than an hour ago.

  Worry. Hurry home to protect Gail. She was too fragile these days.

  The imprint faded, followed by one several days ago. Searching, driving up and down all the streets. Jenny had to be somewhere. I will find her and bring her back to Gail. Love for both the women in his life. This imprint was echoed by several others spanning the entire two weeks Jenny had been missing.

  The last imprint was a much fainter one earlier in the year when Kenyon had bought the new car. Pride, excitement. Gail will go in the style she deserves. Again the love for his wife.

  Swallowing with difficulty, I handed back the keys. “You’ve searched for her. Days, hours.”

  Kenyon nodded. “Please, if you can do anything to find our girl.”

  “We’ll do all we can,” Shannon said.

  I was glad he replied because I wasn’t sure I could. The FBI and the sheriff’s office had turned up nothing, not even enough evidence to arrest Cody, their prime suspect. Even if we found leads the others missed, we had probably come too late to save Jenny.

  “Mr. Vandyke didn’t do it,” I told Shannon as we left the house. “No way. The imprints on the keys proved that.”

  “Good. One less suspect.”

  I didn’t reply.

  “What is it?” Shannon asked. “You’re glowering.”

  “We should have come sooner.”

  “There was that little thing about you recovering from a gunshot wound.”

  “Just a scratch.”

  Shannon grinned at our standard joke, but I was halfway serious. A flesh wound in my upper arm wouldn’t normally have kept me away. No, the reason I hadn’t come was that I didn’t want to face Cody Beckett.

  Shannon opened the passenger door to his truck so I could climb inside. “Look, Autumn, you are not responsible for solving every crime you hear about. You can’t. You just do what you can. One after the other. It’s hard to lose, hard to not make it in time, but it happens, as you already know. You can’t dwell on it. You go on to the next case and pray it will turn out differently.”

  “Is that what you do?”

  He nodded and shut the door.

  I waited until he was seated beside me to ask, “What are we going to be able to do that the FBI can’t?”

  He laughed, throwing back his head in genuine amusement.

  “What?” I scowled.

  “Since when did you ever trust anyone else to do a better job than you? Huh? I seem to remember pleading with you multiple times to let me do my job, only to have you beat me to it. Look, you’ve been here one day, and already you’ve eliminated the father as a suspect. That’s more than the FBI and the deputies have been able to do in two weeks.”

  A smile tugged at my lips. “Okay, so get going already. That boot is waiting for me.”

  Chapter 5

  More than the boot was awaiting us at the Marion County sheriff’s office in Salem. Not only were Detectives Greeley and Levine there but also the commander of the enforcement division himself. Greeley led us directly to his office. “Here they are. Finally.”

  “Thank you.” With a nod, the commander dismissed Greeley, who gave us a hard look before retreating.

  “I’m Matt Huish,” the commander said, coming around his large oak desk and extending his hand. He was about Shannon’s height, though at least a decade older than Shannon’s thirty-five. His brown hair had receded to the point where it was a thick half ring around the back of his head. He had a stern face, a solid build, and a stomach that showed perhaps a few too many good meals.

  “I’m Detective Shannon Martin from the Portland Police Bureau,” Shannon said, taking his hand. “This is Autumn Rain. She works as a consultant for my department.”

  “I heard you’ve been doing some investigating.”

  “For a private party,” Shannon clarified. “But we will, of course, share any information we learn with you.”

  Since I’d put my gloves back on, I didn’t mind shaking the commander’s hand. Let him wonder why I kept them on. I hoped the subtle difference in the color of my eyes, despite the hazel contact, wasn’t noticeable because I didn’t want them contemplating my ulterior motives. All I wanted was the truth.

  “Hello, Miss Rain.” Commander Huish had brown eyes that reminded me of Kenyon Vandyke, though Huish’s expression was one of business and tight control. Unlike Kenyon, he wouldn’t willingly show us his softer side.

  Huish released my hand as quickly as he’d offered it. “Information,” he said, going back around his desk, letting the silence drag out.

  Uh-oh, I thought. He knows something.

  From the disgruntled expression on Shannon’s face, I knew he’d reached the same conclusion. I normally celebrated when anyone put that look on his face, especially me, but I wasn’t looking forward to what the commander would say now.

  He had brown eyes. Why did I keep thinking about brown eyes?

  “The interesting thing about information,” Huish continued, his eyes on Shannon, “is that you find it everywhere. I, for instance, just had a nice chat with your police captain.”

  “Oh? What did he have to say?” Without being asked, Shannon sat in one of the padded chairs in front of the desk, now appearing unconcerned. “He knew I was coming down here to help Autumn with this case.”

  Huish indicated the other chair to me before seating himself. “He didn’t say much except that you’re his best detective and that you solve more cases than anyone else. Apparently, he’d trust you with his life.”

  Shannon’s mouth curled in a half grin, half grimace. “That’s not saying much?”

  Huish smiled. “Even more interesting is what I learned about Ms. Rain.” The commander shifted his gaze to me, falling briefly to my gloved hands. “If what they say is true, maybe you can help us. The thing is, the Vandykes are relatives of the mayor here in Salem, and he wants this case solved by any means possible. In fact, I’d no sooner hung up with your captain when the mayor himself called and asked me to cooperate with you. I’m willing to do so, as long as you keep me in the loop and as long as this doesn’t turn into a media fest. ”

  Reading between the lines, this meant he knew about me and my so-called talent and was willing to suspend disbelief to please the mayor.

  I could live with that. “Thank you,” I said. “When can we see the evidence? The boot, in particular.”

  Huish’s gaze dropped to a framed photograph near his computer monitor, his attention appearing to wander. A second later he was staring intently at me again, as though the lapse had never happened. “First,” he said, “I’d like to know what, if anything, you’ve learned.”

  Shannon nodded at me, so I uncrossed my legs and began. “We know that Cody Beckett had nothing to do with the wounded man we found at his house. Or rather, he didn’t stab the man, and he didn’t know he was there. However, I can’t verify whether he had dealings with the man before today. I asked Mr. Beckett if he knew him, and all he said was he seemed familiar.”

  “How do you know Beckett didn’t stab the man and then stash him when you two appeared?”

  I smiled, bracing myself. “From a towel. Usually soft goods don’t have good imprints, except if you touch them during or directly after a traumatic event. Even then cloth simply doesn’t retain imprints well.” I was about to go on, as I tend to ramble uncontrollably when I’m nervous, but the amusement on Shannon’s face stopped me.

  “A towel.” Huish’s doubt was plain on his face. His gaze fell to the picture again, and I found myself curious to know who could bring that look of distraction to his stern face.

  “We can’t rule out Beckett for the kidnaping,” Shannon added, “but we didn’t find anything that confirms his involvement.”

  Except his self-loathing, feelings of guilt, and his prior c
onnection with Mrs. Vandyke—not to mention the fury he’d shown upon discovering me in his room. His heated reaction could simply be driven by the weight of suspicion, but there was always the possibility it might have root in Jenny’s disappearance.

  “There is something you should know,” I said. “Gail Vandyke has met Beckett at least twice during fundraising efforts. She says he didn’t meet or know about her daughter, but she could be wrong.”

  Commander Huish steepled his hands on his desk. They were stubby hands, made for hard, no-nonsense work. “We are aware of this connection, which is why Mr. Beckett continues to be our main suspect. Unfortunately, he escaped while being brought in today for questioning.”

  Maybe that explained Greeley’s foul mood.

  “What happened?” Shannon asked.

  “Apparently he went to lock his cellar and then went around the back of it and into the woods before Detective Levine could stop him. We’ve got an arrest warrant out for him now.”

  My hands tightened on the arms of the chair. “Well, he didn’t stab the man, but I do want to ask him more questions.”

  “We have a few questions for him ourselves.” Huish’s eyes drifted again to the photograph on his desk.

  Shannon nodded. “Is he your only suspect?”

  “We’ll let you look at the file, but in a nutshell, yes, Cody Beckett is our main suspect. Mr. Vandyke is also a person of interest, but since we haven’t found any solid evidence to support the idea, we haven’t made that public.”

  “Kenyon Vandyke had nothing to do with the disappearance of his daughter.” I couldn’t help the frustration that crept into my voice.

  Huish blinked. “What?”

  “He’s not responsible.” Shannon leaned forward in his chair. “But that’s all we know. We can’t even clear the wife.”

  “It wasn’t Gail.” For the first time, irritation showed in Huish’s voice, which I suppose was fair since I’d let my own frustration show. “I’ve known her for years. Or of her. Her life is her children and her charity work. The fact is, I don’t even know for sure if Jenny was taken or if she took off by herself. While it doesn’t seem Jenny would do something like this, there is no evidence of foul play, either.”

  “I doubt a child would plan to leave everything in her room,” Shannon said.

  Huish shrugged. “She could have met someone on the Internet who promised to take care of her. It’s happened before.”

  “Maybe we could rule that out,” Shannon said grimly, “if Autumn looked at the computer.”

  Huish sighed, fingering the photo frame. “She could tell us about that computer, you mean. Assuming I believe this whole imprint thing. But what about Jenny’s friends’ computers or those at the school and the library?” Discouragement radiated from him, and for the first time I felt pity at the pressure he was under. Caught between the mayor, the parents, and the public, and he had nothing to offer any of them.

  “The boot might tell us more,” I said. “It really would save us time if we could see the write-ups of the interviews with her friends, too, and if you could call the school and clear us to look at her locker.”

  “We can do that.” Huish opened a drawer and handed me a file from his desk. “This is a copy of all the information our department has gathered as well as everything the FBI has shared with us. You can take it with you, though I’ll want it back.” He pushed the intercom button on his desk. “Stacy? Have Greeley bring in the evidence from the Vandyke case.”

  “Sure thing,” came a crisp voice.

  “Thank you.”

  Minutes ticked by as we sat in silence. Feeling hot in the stuffy room, I handed Shannon the police file and removed my gloves and coat, setting them over the back of my chair. Looked like we were going to be here awhile. Before I could retrieve the file from Shannon, his phone vibrated loud enough for all of us to hear.

  He checked the caller ID. “If you’ll excuse me. It’s my partner.”

  Huish nodded as Shannon rose to his feet and took several steps to the other side of the small office. “So,” Huish said to me as if we couldn’t hear Shannon’s every word, “how long have you been consulting with the police?”

  “Just this year. It’s been very … interesting.”

  “And dangerous, according to Detective Martin’s captain.”

  “Sometimes.” As he looked at the photograph again, I asked. “Your family?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “In the photograph.”

  “Oh, yes.” He lifted it and turned it in my direction. “My wife and kids. It was taken about six months ago. My boys are in high school.”

  A laughing woman with long dark hair nestled against Huish’s arms amidst a pile of fall leaves, a teenage boy on either side of them, one a few years older than the other. Huish was significantly thinner in the middle and quite handsome without the stern expression, though he had nowhere near his wife’s beauty.

  “You all look so happy.”

  He nodded. “It was a good day.”

  His fascination with the photo told me there was more he wasn’t saying. Had his wife left him? Died? Well, it didn’t have anything to do with my case.

  What was taking Detective Sergeant Greeley so long? He was probably trying to show us who was boss, while every second that passed meant less chance we would find Jenny alive. I clenched my jaw.

  “So were you able to ID the stabbing victim?” I asked Huish. “Is he from around here?”

  “Unfortunately, not yet. He had no wallet or ID on him. We’re running his fingerprints now. We can’t rule out the fact that maybe he was Beckett’s partner in Jenny’s kidnaping. They may have had a falling out.”

  “Cody didn’t stab him. I promise you, there’s someone else involved.”

  Huish studied me, as though trying to see inside my head. “Maybe,” he said. “We’ll know more once we process the evidence. Hopefully we’ll find the weapon.”

  Greeley had still not appeared. This was beginning to go beyond ridiculous. He wouldn’t drag his feet if his daughter were involved.

  “Well, thanks, Tracy,” Shannon said across the room. “That might help. Sure, keep looking, if you have the time.”

  “Well?” I asked as he hung up.

  “Nothing on Vandyke, but she did learn that this is Gail’s second marriage.”

  Commander Huish folded his arms across his chest. “That’s true. Gail was married before, right out of high school, but it turned out he was abusive, and she left him after only a few months. Got an annulment. We heard from the people we interviewed that no one was surprised when she later married Kenyon. Apparently, he always had a thing for her, even when they were in school.”

  “Wait a minute,” I said. “How long had Gail’s marriage been annulled before she married Vandyke?”

  Huish opened a file on his desk. “Looks like about six months, but she’d left him long before. Takes months to annul a marriage. I’m not sure of the exact timeline, but they were living in Portland then. By the time they moved back here, Jenny was already five or six years old.”

  All at once my fascination with brown eyes, coupled with the imprints on the picture in Gail’s living room, made perfect sense. “Better get them down here,” I said.

  Huish’s brow furrowed, his irritation back. He arose stiffly from his desk. “Why? We’ve asked them enough questions. They can’t tell us anything else.”

  “They can tell us why they didn’t feel it important to tell us Kenyon isn’t Jenny’s biological father.”

  “Why would you say that?” Huish asked, his voice becoming icy.

  “Jenny has blue eyes, but both her parents and her brother have brown. Do you know the probability of two brown-eyed parents having a blue-eyed child?” Being curious about my own strange eyes, I’d researched eye color somewhat obsessively in my teens. “Brown eyes are dominant, and the odds aren’t good.”

  Huish snorted. “It does happen, depending on what color the grandparents had. Thi
s isn’t proof. I’m sure the Vandykes would have told us if there was any chance it might help find Jenny.”

  “That’s not the only thing,” I said. “There was an imprint on a photograph at the Vandyke home. Gail was worried about raising a baby alone. If Kenyon had been in her life then, there would have been some pictures with him and Gail and the baby. But those pictures don’t start until somewhat later. Kenyon’s rather obsessive about taking photos.”

  “Maybe he wasn’t into photography then.” Huish stopped short of rolling his eyes. “Look, I’m playing along with this whole imprint thing, but I’ll tell you right now I think it’s a bunch of baloney. I don’t know what you pulled to get their cooperation in Portland, but you are definitely barking up the wrong tree here, and I won’t have you upsetting people for attention. Maybe it’s best if you two leave town.”

  My emotions always showed in my face, and now was no exception. Shannon’s jaw worked, and it was only a question of which of us would blow first, though doing so solved little.

  Leaning forward, I grabbed the photograph of Huish’s family, determined to prove myself. For Jenny’s sake. The imprint came within seconds.

  Wrenching sadness. Unending, all-consuming despair. When we’d taken this photograph we’d thought it was all behind us. Five years should have meant a cure, but a week later everything changed. After all we’d been through, the cancer was back and this time wasn’t responding to treatment. Janine had begun preparing to die. To leave me. I didn’t know how I would go on without her. I couldn’t even bring myself to tell the boys. Not that Mack would even care, with his head so full of drugs. If I didn’t find a way to pay for a treatment program, he might be the one we lost first. But we had nothing left after the cancer treatments. I was losing everything I loved.

  The photograph was pulled from my tightened grasp, and I could breathe again, could recognize that it wasn’t me mourning Janine and Mack, but Commander Huish.

  “Autumn?” Shannon bent to look into my eyes, the picture in his hands. “You okay?”

  I’d meant to find something to prove my ability to the commander or at least to alleviate his hostility, but using this kind of pain went against all my instincts. I fell back in my chair. If I hadn’t already been sitting, I might have fallen.