Line of Fire

by Rachel Ann Nunes

  I nodded. “But on the whole I think I’d rather be shot than knifed.” Knifing is up close and personal. More frightening.

  Shadow flared in Shannon’s eyes. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

  I lowered my lashes so he couldn’t see how terrifying the experience had been. “If it’d really been me, I think I could have gotten away.” The right kick would have done a lot.

  “Probably.”

  “Lots harder to escape a gun.”

  “So?” he prompted.

  I wanted to hit him over the head, but he was right. We had to go on with the case. “I don’t know who John Doe is, but I know who knifed him.”

  Chapter 8

  There were no imprints on John Doe’s shoes or socks. Shannon used the plastic gloves he seemed to carry in bulk to search all the pockets, but there were no personal items except a short shopping list—yogurt, juice, chocolate bars, a comb. No wallet or keys, and I wondered if his attacker had taken both.

  We’d have to tell Commander Huish, and he was either going to be excited about the break in one of his cases or he was going to put me in jail for tampering with evidence. It was a chance I had to take.

  Shannon started the engine. We found Greeley waiting for us at the entrance. Motioning impatiently for us to follow him, he jumped inside his patrol car and drove off.

  “Not very trusting, is he?” I reached for Jenny’s file, but before I could open it, my phone rang. “Hi, sis,” I said. “How’s Destiny?”

  “She seems to be feeling a bit better. She finally let me put her down for a nap. I was hoping to get my project finished—I mean, if I can’t get this done at home, they’ll start making me come in—but instead I drew something else. Something weird.”

  “What?” I hoped it wasn’t a shoot-out in a hospital parking garage.

  “A woman and a man sitting around a table with another man, a balding guy, and she’s thinking of a woman in bed holding a baby. You know, it’s like a cartoon thought bubble. Nothing like I usually draw. So I got to thinking it was probably the one clue you needed and if I didn’t get it to you, you’d end up locked in a crate in the middle of the ocean somewhere, and Bret and I would lose our jobs trying to find you, and we’d have to sell the house and go live with my parents in Kansas, and Emma would miss you so much she’d end up in the hospital even sicker.”

  “Tawnia,” I said. She sometimes went off on outlandish fantasies like this, though usually they were more humorous.

  “I know. It’s because I haven’t slept. Anyway, I’m going to e-mail it to your phone. I’ll scan it in and send it so you’ll get better detail. Maybe it has something to do with your case.”

  Her strange drawings usually did. “The bald man could be the commander here.”

  “He is wearing a uniform.”

  The description of her picture made perfect sense to me. The Vandykes were talking to Commander Huish, and Gail was thinking about having Jenny and how she raised her alone before Kenyon came into the picture. I didn’t think it would help the case, but I was too grateful Tawnia hadn’t drawn me dodging bullets or in that hospital room with a gun in my back to tell her I didn’t need it.

  “Thanks,” I said. “And kiss the baby for me when she wakes.”

  I related the conversation to Shannon, who nodded thoughtfully. “Her drawings usually give us some clue, but the imprint on that picture at the Vandykes’ was ahead of her on this.”

  “Hopefully, the Vandykes have come clean with the commander.”

  “Then what does he want us for?”

  “Maybe he’s found the boot.” I ran my finger along the edge of Jenny’s photograph in the file on my lap. The file told me nothing new except for the friend’s comment about Jenny’s frustration at being treated like a little kid. But had Jenny been frustrated enough to run away? Maybe her computer and her boot would tell me.

  “What if they can’t find the boot?”

  Shannon took his eyes off the road, meeting mine briefly. “That would mean we have a dirty cop.”

  “My bet’s on Greeley. He rubs me the wrong way.”

  Shannon laughed. “Me too, but I doubt he’s dirty. He’s too dedicated.”

  “Could be show.”

  “Could be. My bet’s on Levine. Now that’s one annoying guy.”

  I grinned. “Aw, I think he’s kind of cute. Well, in an awkward, pitiful sort of way.”

  “You always did like the underdog.”

  “So what does that say about you?” We both laughed.

  We were coming up on the sheriff’s office, so I flipped to the last page in Jenny’s file to reread the last few paragraphs. Nothing screamed out at me.

  “Here,” I said, placing the file next to him. “I just don’t see anything that helps. Maybe you can find something I’ve missed.”

  “I doubt it, or they would have found her by now. I mainly wanted the file to see if there were any gaps.”

  “Like the gap about Jenny’s biological father.”

  “Yeah. Like that.”

  He killed the engine and picked up the file. “Well, here we go again. Are you going to take in the clothes, or should I?”

  “You do it.” I didn’t want to explain to Commander Huish how they came into my possession. I’d have enough on my hands defending my reasoning for touching them. Was it too much to hope that he’d be grateful for my information?

  Inside, we were checked through security, and Detective Greeley led us to a large room where half a dozen officers sat at their desks. Commander Huish was inside his office at the far end, but when Greeley knocked, he hurriedly stood and met us outside, his eyes going briefly to my bare hands.

  I understood as clearly as if he’d spoken: he didn’t want me near any of his personal belongings. I didn’t blame him.

  “Good. You’re here,” he said. “Come with me.”

  He hurried across the open desk area to stand outside a room with one-way glass. Inside, the Vandykes sat at a table, soft drinks in front of them. Kenyon had his arm around Gail, comforting her.

  “They admit Kenyon isn’t Jenny’s father,” Huish said, “but they don’t see what it has to do with her going missing.”

  “They don’t think the father might have taken her?” Shannon asked.

  “Gail says that’s impossible.”

  “Did she tell you who the father is?” I asked.

  Huish blinked slowly. “I assumed it was her ex-husband.”

  “You said he was long out of the picture by the time the marriage was annulled, so maybe there’s someone else.” I studied the couple. Gail had recovered her composure and was sipping her soda, Kenyon eyeing her watchfully.

  Huish shook his head. “Gail doesn’t strike me as a woman who would have a child with a man she wasn’t committed to.” His eyes met mine. “Still, she does seem to be hiding something, and it could be the identity of Jenny’s father. We talked about you, and they seem to have some measure of trust for you. I’d like you to talk to them.”

  “Maybe they left imprints on the soda cans,” Shannon said.

  I shrugged. “I can try. But she’s only touched it once that I’ve seen, and she’s calm now, so unless she really values the can or is really good at hiding her emotion, I doubt it will have an imprint.”

  Huish frowned at the couple through the glass. “Anything you can tell us would be helpful.” He reached for the doorknob.

  “Before we go in there, I need to give you this.” Shannon reached under his coat where he’d stashed the bag of clothes. “These were dropped by the perp who stole them from the hospital when he tried to off your John Doe. We thought it best to bring them back here.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you had them?” Greeley growled, his mean little eyes glittering.

  “Must have slipped my mind.” Shannon gave him an empty smile.

  Huish took the bag and motioned to a man at the nearest desk. “Collins, these belong to John Doe, the stabbing victim from Beckett�
�s house. You and your partner see that they get to processing.”

  “Will do.” The deputy jumped up, grabbed the bag, and strode from the room, followed by another man.

  “Autumn discovered something interesting on one of the items,” Shannon added a bit belatedly.

  Huish stared at us, his eyes widening. “You opened the bag? You contaminated my evidence?”

  “We didn’t contaminate anything. I’m a detective, and I wouldn’t allow that. But she discovered some very important information.”

  “What?” Greeley shot. “John Doe’s identity?”

  I shook my head. “No, but that man at the gas station this morning, the guy who shot the clerk? He’s the one who stabbed the man at the hospital.”

  Huish blinked. “You’re sure? The two crimes seem in no way related.”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Where did it happen? If we could find the crime scene, we could gather more evidence. Maybe retrieve the knife.”

  “A house, I think. Maybe the victim’s. I didn’t recognize the place.” Not saying much since I’d been here less than a day.

  Huish sighed. “Well, we have identified him. Unlike our John Doe, his prints are in the system.” He looked at Greeley, indicating for him to fill us in.

  “Name’s David Bremer,” Greeley said, less disagreeably than normal. “He has a record of violence—robbery, domestic abuse, that sort of thing. Been in and out of prison.”

  “What about the gun he used?” Shannon asked.

  “Probably stolen. We’re tracing it now. We’re also comparing the gun to see if it was used in any other crimes in the county.”

  Detective Levine took that moment to appear, and he hurried across the room toward us, slightly out of breath when he arrived. “Did I miss anything?”

  “You find Beckett yet?” Huish asked.

  “Not yet. I was getting the clothes at the hospital, but they’re not—”

  “We got them.” Greeley cut him off. “I’ll explain later.”

  “You two better go have a chat with David Bremer,” Huish said. “Tell him we have a witness that places him near the stabbing victim. See what he’ll tell you.” Huish turned back to us and stepped toward the door. “Come on, let’s get this over with.” He stopped, hand on the knob, and looked at me. “But don’t you ever again touch evidence without my permission, or I’ll throw you in jail myself.”

  So much for hoping he’d be grateful.

  Feeling suddenly too warm, I slung my coat on a coat hanger near one of the desks before following Huish inside the room.

  The Vandykes looked up anxiously. “Did you find any leads?” Kenyon asked, directing his question to me, not to the commander. I guess in their view he’d had his chance.

  “Maybe,” I said, sitting across from Gail. “First we need to ask you a few more questions.”

  They nodded. “Whatever we can do to help find Jenny,” Kenyon said.

  “To begin with, we need to know who her biological father is.” I started to put my hands on the table but thought the better of it. The many perps who’d been interviewed here might have left powerful imprints behind, negative ones. Instead, I placed my hands in my lap.

  Kenyon looked at Gail, waiting. Whatever secrets they had, he wasn’t going to say anything without her permission. Gail stared down at the table, fingering her wedding ring, turning it around and around.

  “I’m sure the commander’s told you that most children are abducted by relatives or people they know,” Shannon said into the silence. “Right now that makes your ex-husband the primary suspect. We should know if there is some reason we shouldn’t bring him in for questioning. Because that’s what the commander has to do. He’s probably already sent someone to pick him up.”

  I glanced at Huish and knew it wasn’t true, which irritated me. From the moment he suspected Kenyon wasn’t the father, he should have acted.

  “Eric’s not the father,” Gail blurted out. “Jenny was born at least a year after we separated.”

  Huish rubbed a hand over his receding hairline. “Could he have found out later about the baby and thought it might be his?”

  Gail dragged in a breath of air, her eyes flying to her husband. “You don’t think he would think something like that, do you?” Her fingers rubbed harder at her ring, as though trying to rub the idea away.

  “He’d have to be a total idiot not to know how biology works,” Kenyon said.

  Gail’s lip curled. “Or drunk.”

  “To imagine that Jenny is his—that’s crazy. Isn’t it?” Kenyon tore his gaze from Gail, directing his question to Shannon.

  Huish answered. “I’ve seen worse, especially in control freaks with an alcohol problem. Any idea where Eric is now?”

  “Portland, last I knew.” Gail shifted uneasily in her chair. “But that was at the time of the annulment. He could be anywhere.”

  “That’s out of our county. I’ll contact the FBI and the police there. We’ll find him. Last name was Perridew, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes, Eric Perridew,” Gail said. “At least he wouldn’t hurt her. I mean, he’d be awful and controlling, but he’d also be trying to win her over.”

  Kenyon shook his head. “Jenny’s smart. She would have found a way to call us by now if she was with him and had any kind of freedom. We’ve talked to the kids over and over about what to do if they were ever taken. She would play along and then run away the first chance she got.”

  Gail’s tears began again.

  “Your ex-husband could have changed a lot over the years,” Huish said. “There’s no telling what he’s become.”

  That made Gail cry harder. Huish made a sympathetic noise in his throat as Kenyon pulled his wife into his arms. “I’ll go make those phone calls,” Huish said. “Be right back.”

  I exchanged a glance with Shannon, who nodded at me. I took that to mean he’d come to the same conclusion I had: we had to dig deeper. With Huish out of the room, we had the perfect opportunity.

  Stifling my pity for Gail, I opened my mouth. “That brings us back to the original question. Who is Jenny’s biological father? Power-hungry drunks aside, he would still be my main suspect.”

  Gail gulped, the tears coming faster. “I don’t know! I don’t know who the father is.” Then, as if realizing how that sounded, she added, “I mean, I didn’t know him well. It was just a … a mistake. I …” She came to a slow stop and looked around at our faces, including Kenyon’s.

  “Gail,” I said as gently as possible, “Jenny is missing, and she needs your help. Tell us what you haven’t been telling Commander Huish.”

  “It’s not important! He doesn’t know. No one needs to know.” She rubbed the ring on her finger.

  I stood up and walked around the table, squatting beside her chair. Slowly, I reached for her hand, the one with the wedding ring, squeezing her fingers in comfort. “You know who he is, Gail, and it’s a sure bet someone else does, too.”

  “No. It’s irrelevant. I can’t tell you who the father is.”

  “Gail, please,” came Kenyon’s agonized voice. “If it’s someone important, they’ll protect his identity.” The way he said this told me the subject had been a sore one between them at least at one point in their marriage.

  “No.” Her voice was final. “He has nothing to do with it. It’s just some pervert. Someone probably related to drugs. That’s what you should be focusing on. We need to find whoever it is so my daughter will be safe!”

  I squeezed her fingers again, purposely allowing my finger to fall on her ring. The way she’d been rubbing it during this emotion-filled interview had to mean an imprint. It was a dirty trick, but Jenny’s life was at stake and Gail was withholding information. I took a deep breath as the images came.

  Can’t tell them. No one can ever know. Jenny is mine. Mine! A flashback to two women, one in a bed. “Take her,” the woman said. “Pretend she’s yours. I can’t ever let him know about her. She wouldn’t be safe.”
/>   “We’ll raise her together,” I promised. “We’ll tell her when she’s older.”

  The woman in the bed fell into a coughing fit. “I can never repay you for this.”

  “Who was there for me and helped me get away from Eric? Of course I’d do this for you. You’re my best friend.” I looked down at the baby in my arms. I’d already been taking care of her for weeks while Cindy recuperated, and I loved her more than I’d loved anyone in my entire life.

  I won’t let them know. I can’t. Jenny’s mine.

  Another imprint began, but this one came from several months ago when she’d had an argument with Kenyon about whether her aging parents should come to live with them. Weak enough now that I could pull away.

  I rocked back on my heels, breathing faster, trying to make sense of what I’d seen. The image reminded me of something. My brain sifted through my memories for the answer.

  Finally I had it. Not one but two things: the gold heart bracelet on Jenny’s shelf, which had first belonged to a woman named Cindy, and the drawing Tawnia had described to me over the phone.

  “Autumn?” Shannon had come around the table.

  I arose a bit unsteadily, drawing my phone from my pocket and pulling up my e-mail.

  “What is it?” Kenyon asked.

  “Just a minute, please. I need to see something.” Tawnia’s was the sixth message. I clicked on the attachment link.

  There it was, a drawing of the Vandykes being interviewed by Commander Huish. A thought bubble had Gail thinking of a woman in bed with a baby and her younger self standing nearby. With the imprint I’d experienced, it was all clear to me now. Or some of it.

  Gail was not Jenny’s mother.

  The idea blew me away. I understood now her reluctance to tell the truth. Gail didn’t know the father of the child well because she hadn’t shared any kind of a relationship with him.

  My thoughts ran at high speed, struggling for focus. Okay, Gail was not Jenny’s mother, but what I didn’t know was what had happened to the woman who gave birth to Jenny, or why she wasn’t in Jenny’s life now as she and Gail had planned.

  The Vandykes were watching me, Kenyon with hope, Gail strangled by fear.