No One Saw

by Beverly Long

  “It’s still early in Las Vegas.”

  “Maybe she’s an early riser,” he said. He looked up the number on the email that Ferguson had sent. He dialed. Like with Peitra Jonet, the line rang four times before it went to voice mail. “Getting to be old shit,” A.L. murmured.

  “You’ve reached Dusty. Leave a message or don’t. It’s all good.” The beep sounded. He left his name and number and asked for a call back.

  “She sounds chipper,” Rena said.

  “I do love chipper,” A.L. said. “Let’s go.”

  They decided to walk since it was an especially nice fall morning. The sun was bright but the air was still cool, the temperature hovering around sixty-eight degrees. When they got there, A.L. opened the door and motioned for Rena to go first.

  She was two steps ahead of him when she turned abruptly. She had a lousy poker face and he could tell that something was very wrong. “I want you to remember that you’re in a public place,” she said, very fast.

  What the fuck. He looked around her. It wasn’t hard. He was six inches taller. And there at the counter was his daughter, smiling, chatting, looking like the beautiful girl she was. And then he realized that she was talking to the boy—no, the man—he’d told her to stay away from. Golf Course John. She’d not yet seen him or Rena. She was too busy.

  He stepped around Rena and shook off the hand that tried to grab his arm. Then he swung his body onto the open stool next to Golf Course John. He heard his daughter gasp.

  “Better hang on to that coffeepot,” he said. “Be a nasty burn if you drop it.”

  “Dad,” she said, her voice sounding squeezed. “What are you doing here?”

  “Oh no, that’s not the right question, Traci. What the hell are you doing here?”

  Golf Course John had turned on his stool and was staring at A.L. “Mr. McKittridge,” he said. “I—”

  A.L. held up a hand to stop him. “Right now I’m talking to my daughter.”

  And his sweet little girl, bless her feisty heart, pulled in a breath of air, stood straight and said, “It’s nice to see you, Dad. Regardless of how awkward the circumstances. I’m assuming you’d like some coffee.” She looked past him. “Hi, Rena. Coffee for you, too?”

  “Hey, Traci. Yeah, coffee sounds great.”

  Rena’s voice sounded far away but he was pretty sure it was only distorted by the head of steam he had going.

  Traci turned to get two cups. Rena took the open stool to his left and Traci slid coffee in front of them. The restaurant was at least half full. There were other employees moving around, carrying food, dirty dishes. Customers were chatting. Laughing. All the normal activities of a restaurant.

  Why the hell did he feel so damn abnormal? As if nothing was right?

  “I thought this—” he waved his hand between Golf Course John and Traci “—was over.”

  “Dad, can we talk about this later?” she asked. “I’m working.”

  “You should tell him the truth, Tam,” Golf Course John said.

  “Tam?” A.L. repeated.

  “Traci Anne McKittridge,” Traci said.

  Great. It had been going on long enough that they had their own secret shorthand. He turned to face Golf Course John. “You know this is not what I want,” he said, in his best hard-assed hiss.

  To his credit, the man didn’t flinch. “With all due respect, sir. I’m more concerned with what your daughter wants.”

  Traci put her hand on the counter, slid it forward so that her long fingers touched A.L.’s hand. “Dad, John has been the one telling me that I needed to tell you what was going on. I... I just couldn’t do it.” The buzzer on Traci’s hip sounded. “I’ve got food to carry out,” she said, turning fast.

  That was good. He needed a minute. His daughter...his little girl who really wasn’t a little girl anymore...hadn’t felt as if she could come to him. Hadn’t thought it was safe to tell him the truth.

  Kids lied. Told half truths. Evaded questions. It was part of the growing-up process. And Traci had been no different. But those had been mostly little things, things that didn’t matter. This mattered. Maybe not eventually but for right now, this thing with Golf Course John mattered to Traci. And how he handled it was going to affect their relationship for a long time.

  Golf Course John had pushed away his half eaten breakfast and was gripping his coffee cup with both hands. He was staring straight ahead, as if the pie case was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen.

  Rena was sipping her coffee. He was ignoring his because he wasn’t sure his throat would work.

  It took Traci five long minutes to return to the counter. When she did, she had the same look on her face that she’d had when he’d shown her how to clean her first fish. She was going to get through this, no matter how painful. “Dad, I’m sorry but—”

  “Stop, honey. You’re right. This is not the time or place. When do you get off?”

  “I work until 2:00.”

  “Okay.” He turned to the young man on the stool next to him. “Will you be available at 2:00?”

  “I can be,” he said.

  “Good. I’ll meet the two of you at my apartment at 2:30.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a ten dollar bill. “For the coffees,” he said.

  Then he turned and walked out the door. He wasn’t sure Rena was behind him until he got twenty feet down the sidewalk.

  “Good job, A.L.,” she said conversationally. “I didn’t want to be the primary witness for the prosecution on a murder charge.”

  “She’s been lying to me for months. It was never over.”

  “That’s what it looks like,” Rena said. “I have to give John credit, he didn’t fall off the stool when you glared at him.”

  John, not Golf Course John. It was probably time for A.L. to call him by his name. “You think they’re sleeping together?”

  “They might be,” Rena said. “She’s seventeen. I know what I was doing at seventeen.”

  “That’s just great,” he said. For once, maybe Rena should have shielded the truth.

  “Are you going to ask her?” Rena asked.

  “That would be fucking uncomfortable,” he said.

  “No pun intended,” Rena murmured.

  A.L. sighed. “This is a mess, isn’t it?”

  “Messy but not a mess. There’s a difference. Life is messy. But you did the right thing in stepping back from the conversation, not saying something that you’d be sorry for later. By 2:30, I’ll have locked up all the weapons in your apartment and it will be fine.”

  “You’re making jokes at a time like this.”

  “I’m not joking.”

  “I won’t shoot him. I won’t strangle him. I don’t even know his last name.” They took another ten steps. “I should probably know that. Christ, I don’t want her to have to lie to me.”

  “That’s right. You don’t,” Rena said. “Maybe you should call Tess. Get some advice from her.”

  “She’d say something like, ‘The best things happen when people listen with their hearts.’”

  “That’s nice,” Rena said.

  “Maybe. Anyway, I don’t need to call her. This is between Traci and me.”

  Rena put her hand on his arm. “You’re wrong, A.L. This is between you, Traci and John.”

  “I’m not ready for somebody else to be part of the equation.”

  “Yeah, but it looks as if your daughter is.”

  Twenty

  He had more than four hours before he had to talk to his daughter. And he very much needed to get his mind off that conversation. He was grateful when his cell rang and he saw that it was Dusty Frogg’s number. “It’s her,” he said, motioning for Rena to listen. “Detective McKittridge,” he answered.

  “This is Dusty. Returning your call.”

  �
�Thank you. I appreciate it. As I mentioned in my message, I’m a detective with the Baywood Police Department. Also on the line is Detective Morgan. We have an interest in talking with your son about an ongoing police investigation and wondered if you’d be able to assist me.”

  “Coyote?” she asked.

  The file had indicated only one child of Trapper and Dusty Frogg. But perhaps she’d had other children after she’d left Trapper. “Yes, Coyote Frogg.”

  “Coyote and I aren’t close,” she said.

  “When’s the last time you were in contact?” A.L. asked.

  “It’s always been off and on. I’d hear from Coyote once in a while when his dad was still alive. I don’t think Coyote ever told his dad. Then after his dad died, he called me a few times.”

  “So that would have been in the last couple of years.”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “When he called after his dad died, do you recall where he was living?”

  “He was in North Dakota. Fargo, North Dakota. I remember because I really liked that movie. He told me to visit but...I never did. He said he might come here but that never happened, either. It’s complicated.”

  No shit, he thought. Parenting was very complicated but he sure as hell didn’t want to be on the receiving end of sporadic phone calls from Traci or have a wedge between the two of them that was so wide it couldn’t be bridged.

  “Dusty, did he give you his address in Fargo?”

  “No. I think he was living outside of town. In a farmhouse. He said they were raising chickens.”

  “They?” A.L. repeated.

  “His roommate. Some guy. I don’t think I ever heard his name.”

  “Do you have a phone number for Coyote?”

  “No. He always called me. But like I said, it wasn’t often. Is he in trouble?”

  “We need to talk to him about an ongoing investigation. If he would happen to call you in the next few days, would you please give him my name and telephone number and ask him to call me?”

  “I can do that.”

  “Thank you,” he said. “Goodbye.”

  Rena waited to make sure the call was disconnected before asking, “Do you believe her?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Think he’s still living outside of Fargo?”

  “I don’t know. When Dawson Ladle bought the Frogg house, he said that Coyote acted as if it was a hassle to come back to Dover. Without looking at a map, I’d estimate that Fargo and Dover are at least four hours apart.”

  “There and back takes a day. Could be a hassle.”

  “Right. But we’re even farther away here in Baywood. I’m betting...” A.L. stopped. “Fuck,” he said. He scrambled through the papers on his desk and finally saw what he wanted. The list of abductions or potential abductions by non-family members. He scanned the list. It was what he remembered. “Fargo,” he said. He ran his index finger across the line. “Two years ago this past July. Four-year-old female. Attempted abduction. Suspect not apprehended.”

  “By a red-haired man?” Rena said weakly.

  “I hope not,” A.L. said. “We need more information on this case and we need it now.”

  It took them fifteen minutes to wade through the bullshit and find the person they needed to talk to. Detective Ron Baker was at home, getting ready to fire up the barbecue, but once A.L. filled him in on their case, he said that he definitely had time to talk.

  “What can I help you with, Detectives?” he asked.

  “The information we’re looking at said it was an attempted abduction and that no suspect was apprehended. What can you add to that?” A.L. asked.

  “Not much, I’m afraid. The victim was a four-year-old and she was able to tell us that it was a man and he was wearing a baseball cap. The mom, who literally chased the car and hung on to the driver’s side window until she was able to attract enough attention that the guy stopped and pushed the kid out of his car before speeding away, wasn’t able to give us much more. Perp was twenties or thirties, white and thin-faced.”

  “Red hair?” A.L. asked. “Maybe bushy or long.”

  “Nope. Neither could describe hair. In the sketch that we had rendered from the mom’s description, the hair was close-cropped, hardly visible under the baseball cap.”

  Hair was easy to cut. Easy to grow. “Was he driving a white Jeep, the kind where the sides come off?”

  “No. Four-door sedan. I think it was a Ford. My guy was pretty brazen,” Detective Baker said. “Lured the kid to his car with the mom no more than fifteen feet away. She had her back turned, looking at some flowers in her neighbor’s yard. If she hadn’t turned when she did, he might have made it out of there with the kid.”

  Brazen. Like somebody who would take a kid from a day care in broad daylight.

  “That’s all very helpful,” A.L. said. “Thank you for your time.”

  “Good luck.”

  A.L. hung up. Tapped his index finger on his desk. “That didn’t get us much.”

  “No, it didn’t,” Rena agreed. “You’ve got a lot on your mind,” she added gently. “Focus on that.”

  Before he talked with Traci, he wanted to make sure that he and Jacqui were on the same page. Given that the temperature between the two of them had been downright frosty the other night, he wasn’t looking forward to it. But this was too important. He picked up his phone.

  “Hey,” he said when she answered. “Do you have a minute?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. I...found out something just this morning. I stumbled upon it when I went to breakfast at Pancake Magic. Traci and the guy from the golf course are still together.”

  “No way,” she said. “That little shit.”

  “She admitted it. Listen, Jacqui, I think we need to rethink our approach on this. We told them to end it but they didn’t. I think we could tell them that again and we’re going to get the same result.”

  “So we just give in? Is that the kind of parenting we do now? Is that the kind of parenting that Tess does?”

  He let it go. “Traci told me that she was afraid to tell me the truth. Afraid. We cannot put her in a position where she feels compelled to lie to us. That’s when bad things happen to kids. That’s when kids dig themselves into holes that are too deep to get out of. That’s when parents lose their kids.”

  Jacqui was silent for a very long time. Finally, she said, “She disobeyed us. Both of us.”

  “I know. And we know our kid, Jacqui. She’s a good one. But this is that important to her. That she was willing to lie to both of us.”

  Jacqui sighed. “I remember being seventeen and being absolutely in love with my boyfriend. It fizzled out after senior year but...yeah... I get that this could be important.”

  “I’ve arranged for them to come to my apartment at 2:30. I’d like to be able to tell them that the secrecy ends. That they need to bring this relationship into the light of day. If John is going to be a part of Traci’s life, even if it’s not forever, I want us to get to know him better. Maybe we could all go out to dinner sometime.”

  “Just the four of us?”

  “Absolutely.” No way would he subject Tess to that.

  “I guess it could be worse. You could be calling to tell me that she came to you because she was pregnant.”

  “That would be worse. Which brings up the issue. You want to talk to her about that or do you want me to?”

  “She’s going on birth control tomorrow,” Jacqui said. “I’ll handle it.”

  “They may not be—”

  “Don’t be a fool, A.L. She’s your little girl but she’s not really a little girl.”

  Jacqui wasn’t saying anything that Rena hadn’t already said. “Okay, then. After I get done talking to them, I’m sending both of them in your direction.”

  “
Fine. I’m...” She stopped.

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m glad you called. Really. The one thing I’ve never doubted is how much you love Traci.”

  It was a bit of a backhanded compliment but he was okay with that. “We both love her. We need to tell her that. But we also need her to know that the lies stop now.”

  * * *

  It was 2:28 when he heard the knock on his apartment door. A.L. stood, took a deep breath and answered it.

  Traci was still wearing her Pancake Magic uniform of dark pants and a white shirt. John had changed from his shorts and T-shirt that he’d been wearing that morning into dress pants and a button-down shirt.

  A.L. couldn’t help but appreciate the effort.

  “Let’s sit,” he said, motioning to his small living room.

  He looked at his daughter. “I don’t want you to ever, ever feel that you can’t come to me with the truth. Regardless of how ugly it might be. Regardless of how unhappy it might make me. Regardless of whether you’re at fault or not.” He paused. “That’s the most important part of this discussion, which is why I’m saying it first.”

  Traci nodded. She’d learned a few things over the years. It generally worked out better for her if she listened first before she talked.

  “The two of you have continued dating since spring?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Traci said.

  “So this boy that you’re going to homecoming with, you are continuing to use him as a convenient date for a school event?”

  “He knows all about John. He wants to go to homecoming. He doesn’t have another date so he asked me. I talked to John before I said yes.”

  He turned to John. “I thought you were in college.”

  “I am, sir. Milwaukee School of Engineering. Home for the weekend.”

  “What’s your last name, John?”

  “Stanley. My parents live on Circle Drive.”

  Traci Anne Stanley. He’d call her Tas. Wow. He needed to slow his head the fuck down. “My daughter seems to think that you’re an okay guy.”