Patrick had left and waited outside the door until they’d closed it with the security lock to prevent anyone from coming in. He had said he had an errand to run, but the way he said it let Alecia know that it was more likely he was going out to track Brian down.
Alecia grabbed another pillow and propped it up behind her. The sofa squeaked.
“Alecia,” her mother called from the bedroom, “I know you’re not asleep. Come on in here.”
She was a grown woman and was unnerved by how much she needed her mother. So she eased off the bed, mindful of her aching head, and slipped onto the king-size bed beside Harriet.
“Roll over, and I’ll rub your back.”
She did as her mother asked, propping a pillow under her head. Her mother sat up and rubbed her back over the thin t-shirt.
“You looked quite befuddled on the way back,” Harriet said.
Alecia didn’t respond. She shut her eyes, and her mother continued as if she didn’t need a response.
“There is a cycle of abuse that continues down the line, and I saw it with you. I struggled so long in my hurt from what I survived, and I still am, but you’ve taken it on. You were born into it. Although I love you, as parents, we sometimes don’t know the harm we’re causing our children. For how long did you make excuses for Brian as he beat away all your self-confidence, your self-worth? You hid from us, and I knew deep down. I just didn’t admit it until you landed in the hospital and could no longer lie the injury away. Your father never gave you the chance. Bless him, he should have killed Brian. I know he wanted to. We all underestimated him. We thought your father had scared him away for good. Apparently, he was just lying in wait for you. Make no mistake, he did this to get back at your father, at me, because we interfered.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Alecia said. “It was mine. I didn’t understand how he could change. I loved him. It kind of just snuck up on me, and it was easier to make excuses than to admit I was wrong.” Alecia never turned to face her mother. “Brian is trying to kill me, isn’t he?”
Her mother’s hand stilled on her back. “Yes, he is. That kind of hate in a person has only one outcome: destruction.”
Chapter 16
“I want to know what you are doing to find Brian McCormick.” Patrick refused to be brushed off by the desk clerk behind the glass at the Sequim detachment.
“Sir, if you’ll leave your name and number, I’ll have one of the officers on the case contact you.” The man behind the glass partition wore a black uniform and sported a very thick mustache.
“No, I would like to know the name of the officer investigating, and then I’ll wait. So please don’t try to brush me off.” Patrick didn’t move and refused to leave as he glared at the officer behind the glass, who finally sighed before pulling open a drawer and rifling through papers.
“When was the date of the offence?” the man asked with little emotion.
“It was yesterday, and it was attempted murder.”
The officer frowned and dug through the papers before pulling out a file. “What I have is a report of a domestic dispute, not attempted murder.” The desk clerk frowned, sliding his chair back, and then glanced around Patrick. “Hey, Diane, do you have a second for this guy?”
A female cop had just come in the front door. “Sure, what’s up?” she said.
“This gentleman is asking about that domestic disturbance yesterday at the motel.”
Patrick crossed his arms and glared at the guy behind the glass, wanting to set him straight. He expected the same brush-off from the lady, but she frowned and leaned on the counter next to him.
“Can I help you?” She gazed at Patrick.
“I’m the father of Alecia, the victim. Her mother and I flew in, and I want to know what’s going on, what leads you have to track down Brian. And my big question is why it’s labeled as a domestic disturbance when he had every intention of killing her.”
Dian’s eyes widened, and she straightened. “George, open the door,” she said. The guy behind the glass pushed a button, and the door that led into the station buzzed. Diane pulled the door open. “Follow me.”
Patrick followed the short, solid cop, who was dressed casually in blue jeans and a jean jacket. She led him to a sterile office in back and shut the door. There was a table with chairs, and he looked around, wondering if the door was locked.
Diane had a file that Patrick hadn’t noticed in her hands. She pulled a small notebook from her pocket and flipped it open. She glanced up and over at the chair across from her. “Sit down. I get nervous when angry fathers hover over me.”
Patrick pulled out the chair, a ways back, and sat, stretching his long, jean-clad legs out in front of him. “Tell me, why are you labeling this a domestic disturbance when that bastard tried to kill my daughter?”
She sat up straight and pressed her back into the chair. She glanced toward the door and pressed her lips together, appearing annoyed. “Unfortunately, this is the policy when a spouse beats up his partner. It’s viewed as domestic assault, and it wasn’t my call.” She glanced down at her notes, avoiding eye contact.
He knew she was hiding something. “Let me get this straight. A man my daughter was involved with over a year ago in Boston, a man who I’ve chased away and who she’s had no contact with for over a year, tracks her down here and breaks into her motel room, and he beats her up. If it wasn’t for another man breaking in and pulling him off, he would have killed her, and you guys see it as domestic disturbance?” he shouted.
Diane glared up at him. “Watch your tone. I can understand your frustration, but unfortunately, most women go back over and over to a bad situation, and, most times, they revoke their earlier statements of assault, so most jurisdictions don’t take it seriously. They expect women to go back, for it to be a waste of time. The fact that Brian wasn’t a stranger, and that your daughter was involved with him and had many incidents prior in which she didn’t press charges against him, worked against her.” She held Patrick’s gaze with one that was equally irritated.
“Where did you get this information? It isn’t entirely true. I thought I had taken care of the problem.” He slammed his hand on the table, and Diane’s notebook jumped.
She closed the notebook and the file, then folded her hands and rested her arms on the table. “Patrick, I understand your irritation. But we need to find Brian first. Also, do you know who broke in and pulled Brian off? As Alecia led us to believe, she didn’t see her rescuer, and the maid wasn’t much help, as she’s so worried about losing her job.”
Patrick frowned and swept his hand through the air. He paused for a second before scraping back his chair. “We’re staying at the same motel as Alecia, in her room. Please call me if you have any leads.”
He was at the door with his hand on the handle when Diane said, “Now I’m convinced there’s something up with the man who rescued your daughter. First her, now you evading my questions… Who is he? Now I know it’s no coincidence.”
Chapter 17
Patrick took his time climbing the steps up to the second level of the motel. He stopped and looked over the parking lot and down the long corridor. The maid’s cart was stopped halfway down. Patrick strode toward it and frowned at the large lot and the busy street below: businesses, restaurants … places where a man could get lost if he knew his way around. But where was Brian hiding? Patrick would bet his last dollar that Brian knew he was here now, and if he were smart, he’d be a hundred miles away. Only cowards lurked in the shadows, waiting to hurt a woman, to beat her down and steal her power. Brian had almost done that to his daughter, almost, but she was stronger then she’d admit. Patrick and Harriet had spoken of their fears on the flight out, but Harriet’s troubles, when he had made her leave for five years, had scarred their daughter worse than he thought.
Patrick tapped on the open door, peering into the room where a thin maid in a grey, sack-like dress was vacuuming. She jumped when Patrick knocked louder. Her big, dark ey
es widened, and her face paled as she stared at Patrick. She pressed her hand to her chest, and he knew she was terrified of him.
He held his hands up to calm her but didn’t step closer. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m Alecia’s father.”
She stared, as if confused, and didn’t say a word.
“Alecia, the guest who was beaten up,” he clarified. “I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.… I don’t know anything.” Her face paled. “I have to keep cleaning, sir, if you’ll excuse me.”
“Now, hang on a second. I just want to talk to you. Were you the maid who let Brian into her room?” He watched the scrawny young lady tremble and purse her lips tightly.
Patrick sighed, reached into his pocket, and extracted a fifty-dollar bill. He folded the bill and offered it to her. “It’s just between you and me. No one else will know. I’ll repeat nothing.”
She glanced behind him and then stepped forward, taking the fifty. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize he was trouble. I believed him when he said he was her husband. He was so handsome and didn’t look like someone who would do what he did.”
“That’s exactly how they get you. They’re masters at making you believe they’re harmless. Did he tell you where he had come from, what car he drove?” Patrick wondered for a moment if he’d have to pay her more.
“No, he said he was here to surprise his wife. When the other tall guy told me to open the door after we heard the scream, the first guy pushed past me and ran down the stairs. It happened so fast, but he ran across the street. I heard a car squeal its tires and looked then. It was a white sedan, a brand new one. Oh, wait a second.…” She frowned and then waved a finger in the air. “I’m sure it was a rental car, as it had one of their logos on it.”
It was a place to start, as he thought about it. Rental car agencies had to keep records, and how many places could there be in this area? “Thank you, miss.”
She didn’t offer her name but picked up the vacuum and clicked it on.
Patrick wandered out and back to their room. He knocked on the door and waited, hearing footsteps and someone fumbling with the lock. The door opened, and his wife stared up at him with dark eyes, her shoulder-length brown and gray hair tousled.
“You were sleeping?” He stepped inside and shut the door behind him, but someone soon knocked on it behind him.
They both glanced at each other warily, and Patrick looked in the peephole. “What the…” He yanked open the door. “What are you doing here?”
Chapter 18
“I thought you might want to know that I may have a lead on where Brian is.”
Patrick crossed his arms over his solid chest, and his wife pulled on his arm to move him aside.
“Oh, and where would he be?” Harriet tried to move in front of her husband, but he put out his arm to block her.
“Dad, let him in.”
Everyone turned to where Alecia had wandered from the bedroom, wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants. Her long, dark hair hung loose in an untidy mess. The bruises under her eyes appeared darker, and she pressed her hand to her forehead.
Patrick held open the door and allowed Dan to enter. He hesitated and stepped in. He had long legs and solid arms that showed his strength. Patrick had seen lots of good-looking arrogant guys who kept their bodies in good shape, with well-formed muscles. They always had ladies flocking their way. He’d seen many guys like this, and not one had been up to any good. He definitely didn’t want this one messing with his daughter. Patrick gave the door a shove, and it slammed shut. He stared Dan down and waited for him to speak.
“Look … I put some feelers out. He rented a car out of Sequim, and he’s staying in Port Townsend.”
Patrick put his hand on Dan’s shoulder. “Well, you’re going to show me where he is, right now.”
“Dad, I’m coming.” Alecia hurried to grab a sweater.
“No, Alecia, you’re not.” It was her mother who stopped her and then glanced over to Patrick. “Go take care of it so it’s done,” she said.
Patrick grabbed the door and yanked it open. He motioned Dan out and then held the door as he leaned in and kissed Harriet. “Lock the door. Keep her here.”
Harriet nodded.
Dan stayed close to the wall and followed Patrick down the steps. He shoved on a pair of dark glasses. “Let’s take my car.” He motioned to a dark blue sedan with tinted windows.
Patrick glanced over at Alecia’s Jeep, with its open doors that would let everyone see them. He glanced back at Dan, who flushed. “Don’t want to be seen?” Patrick asked. “Just curious, who are you hiding from, and why?”
Dan crossed his arms and ran his hand over his cropped reddish hair. “Look, can we go? I don’t want to be standing out here all day.”
Patrick inclined his head. “By all means, let’s go.”
He climbed in the passenger side. Dan started the engine and pulled out, turned right, and headed toward Port Townsend.
“You never answered me,” Patrick said. “Who are you hiding from?”
“Some people think I’m dead, and I mean to keep it that way.”
Chapter 19
“Are you sure this is where Brian is?” Patrick sat in the darkened sedan outside a large two-story motel. It was quite nice, with large gardens, grass, and trees, and it appeared as though it would have all the usual amenities. He spied a newer white sedan with a rental company logo on it, and he felt his heart kick up a beat. He pointed to an empty spot by the white car. “Park there.”
Dan pulled in and turned off the engine. “So now what?”
“What room is he in?” Patrick asked as he looked through the windshield, waiting to see Brian.
“I don’t know, exactly. One of the lower rooms.”
“Well, let’s go find out.” Patrick grabbed the door handle and stepped out. When Dan didn’t move, he leaned down and looked into the car. “Are you coming?”
Dan didn’t look Patrick’s way as he opened the door and stepped out. Patrick didn’t miss the way he watched over his shoulder and around him, and he hesitated before walking into the vacant front office. Patrick tapped the bell and heard a rustling in the backroom, and then a young, overweight lady with short, dark hair peeked out, wiping her face and chewing something. She covered her mouth until she swallowed.
“Oh, excuse me. Sorry, I was eating my dinner.” She wiped the crumbs from her face. “How can I help you?”
“A friend of ours is staying here, and we’re supposed to pick him up for dinner, but I forgot his room number. His name is Brian McCormack.” Patrick rested his arm on the counter.
“I’m sorry, sir. We’re not allowed to give out room numbers; it’s against our policy.”
“Maybe you’d be interested in giving the room number to the sheriff.”
Her eyes widened. “He’s not a friend, is he?”
Patrick shook his head and slid twenty dollars across the counter, holding it out as she glanced at it with wide eyes.
“I could lose my job,” she whispered.
“He’s a very bad man, tried to kill my daughter. You’d be doing a service.”
The young girl grabbed the receiver. “I better call my manager.”
Patrick snarled—he couldn’t believe this one had ethics. “Just hang on a second there, darling.”
The young girl was smart as a whip. She held the receiver to her ear but didn’t hang up. “Sir, you try and slip me twenty dollars so I’ll give you a room number for Mr. McCormack so you can go and, what, hurt him, take care of business?” She waved the receiver. “Thanks just the same, but I grew up in this area and recognize trouble when it walks through the door. I’m going to call my manager and let him handle it, because I don’t get paid enough to deal with this crap from a couple thugs.”
Chapter 20
Patrick waited outside the front office. Dan had somehow slipped away by the time the manager had walked through the front do
or and over to Patrick, and Patrick was forced to tell the middle-aged balding man what Brian had done. He was sure to mention the fact that the police were looking for him, and Patrick called the Sequim detachment and left a message for Diane on her voicemail while the manager called the Port Townsend police to verify that there was, in fact, a warrant out for Brian McCormack. He’d sat on hold for a long time, which did little to calm Patrick. What he had realized was that in this part of the country, the cops didn’t take violence against women seriously, and he had worried for a moment while waiting that Brian was going to get away.
A squad car pulled in and parked by the office before the manager had gotten off the phone. Two male cops climbed out and strode in. The manager scurried around the desk after handing the phone to the young clerk.
“I was still on hold with your precinct. I didn’t realize they were sending a squad car over.”
Patrick crossed his arms and watched as the two cops frowned and glanced at each other.
“We got a 911 call that a man charged with attempted murder in Sequim is staying at this motel,” said the cop, who was over six feet tall and looked as though he pumped steroids. “Whoever called hung up before giving a name. Who called, and who is this man?”
“His name is Brian McCormack, and he broke into my daughter’s hotel room in Sequim and beat her. He would have killed her—”
The other cop, blond and shorter but just as stocky, held his arms out and stopped Patrick before he could finish. “Was it you who called 911?”
“No. I’ve been waiting for quite some time, as the manager here called and has been sitting on hold because you can’t seem to figure out how serious a crime it is when a man tries to beat a woman to death. I’m starting to get the impression that it means nothing in this county.”
The blond cop crossed his arms and adjusted his stance. The bigger cop unclipped his radio from his shirt pocket. “Dispatch, is there a warrant for a Brian McCormack for an assault in Sequim?”
Merkaba, a supernatural suspense series (Walk the Right Road, Book 3) Page 5