“Hang on… Okay. They’re sending the photo I snagged of Marla Richards and her kids in front of the house to the biological father for confirmation. We need you to be eyes and ears until further notice.”
“Wilco. Out.” Brian stared at his phone. Huh.
Brian moved to the barren flower garden and looked around to see if he spotted something the cop had missed. A footprint. Something that might have fallen from a pocket. Anything to identify who had done this. There was always the off chance that it wasn’t the psycho up the street, but someone else who wanted them to think it was. Now wouldn’t that be bat-shit crazy? In any other scenario, Brian would consider and reject the possibility. But here? In this neighborhood? There were no holds barred on the improbable.
He stooped as he checked Sophia’s tires for any new hazards. There, under the car, by the right front tire he saw a trowel. It must have slid down the drive last night. Whoever had lost it knew they couldn’t retrieve it; the lights would flash on this far from the road.
Brian went to his cargo bin and pulled out an evidence bag. Making sure he angled himself so that any watchful eyes wouldn’t know he’d found it and packaged it up. He put the bag on the floor of his car. He’d take it to forensics to see if they couldn’t pull anything interesting from it.
He glanced up as Sophia came out to stand on her porch. Her arms crossed over her chest and wearing the most unwelcoming face he’d ever seen on her. Even from here he could see the red splotches around her eyes from crying. His heart stuttered. How the heck was he supposed to deal with this? All he wanted was to warn Sophia and whisk her away to somewhere safe. It was a fantasy that formed and blew up in the same moment. He wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t do that. They’d both have to keep themselves belly to the table until their hands had been dealt, and they knew what cards they were playing.
“You’ve got one hell of a vole problem,” he said and felt like an idiot. He moved to the passenger’s door and retrieved his duffel, and breakfast. He held up the drink carrier, then sauntered down the sidewalk toward her. Before she could reject him, he sat down on the stairs and said, “I brought breakfast.”
She didn’t move.
Brian tore the bag open, using it as a make-shift placemat and laid a sandwich out for her, moved the chai over next to it, then unwrapped his food. “I also brought you a possible solution to a problem.” He took a bite and chewed slowly, giving Sophia a chance to make up her mind.
Finally, she sat down beside him and picked up the chai. Her thank you sounded suspicious.
He pulled the duffle over. “Locks,” he said. “They throw the bolt automatically when the door is shut. I have one for each of your doors. It’ll help keep Mr. Rochester out.”
“That’s too dangerous. What if I were outside and didn’t have my keys? My boys could be locked away from me.”
“It opens with a code. Actually, you can have seven different codes. You give each person their own. For example, Lana and Nadia would each have their own personal PIN. The computer saves that information. You can check your phone and see who’s been at your house while you were gone. One of the codes is a designated service code. You give that to people who might come to check your dishwasher or what-have-you. You schedule the time it can be used, and that’s the only time they can come in. It even has a face capture camera, so anyone who steps onto your porch gets a mugshot and a time stamp coming and going, whether the door opens or not. It’s an effective system.” He handed one of the boxes to Sophia.
“That’s kind of cool,” she said, looking it over. “You know what? You might be right. This might stop Mr. Rochester from getting in. I can’t figure out how he’s doing it now. I’m so careful about locking up. But if nothing else, I guess I’d have warning that he was in my house, before I got home, right? You said it tells a computer.”
“It goes to a phone app. I’ll make sure it’s all hooked up and working for you.”
Sophia handed the box back to him, and Brian was gratified to see her pick up her sandwich and take a bite. Besides adding another layer of security for Sophia, being able to work on the lock project would give him a good excuse to hang around, keeping track of the comings and goings in the neighborhood while the FBI put a plan in place.
His phone buzzed. “Sophia, I think you should go in the house and shut the door.”
She looked over at him with confusion.
“Marla and her kids are heading into the cul-de-sac. I’ll stay out here.”
Sophia didn’t need to be told twice. She gathered her food and cup and without further conversation went inside.
Brian swiped his phone. “Brainiack here.”
“You’re on speakerphone. Thorn, Finley, and Andersson are in the war room with me. We’ve got ID confirmation from the dad. FBI SWAT mobilized the second Finley made the phone call.”
“She’s walking up the road now. She’s got both kids with her. Pierre Richards isn’t in the picture. She’s looking rabid, so I’d say things didn’t go well at her house after hubby’s office peeps got front row seats on the crazy train.”
“Finley here. Tell us when she gets where she’s going. Our team is suiting up at the cars and will be moving in.”
“They went up to Kay’s. She opened the door, and they’re going inside. Nutsbe, you have the address?”
“Roger that.”
“SWAT is moving through the trees at the top of the road. They’re watching Marla’s house. Turn them around.” Brian could see one of the men clearly. Dressed head to toe in black, with a balaclava hiding his face, he had an automatic rifle slung from his shoulder and plenty of cartridges held at the ready in his vest loops.
Brian edged over to Sophia’s door and cracked it open. “Sophia, come here,” he used the combat whisper that he hoped would carry to her ears only.
“What are you doing?” she asked as she tried to jerk the door open.
Brian had a solid hold on the handle to stop just that from happening. “Sophia, get down here and listen to me.”
Thankfully, she crouched, putting her ear to the crack.
“Do you have a basement, somewhere below ground?”
“No. Why?”
“Sophia, I need you to trust me. Please. And do what I say. Go upstairs to the kids’ bathroom, shut the door, get into the tub and lay down.”
“What? No. Why in the world—”
“Sophia, the tub is metal. It’s going to be the safest place to be for the next little bit. Do it now.” Even though he was whispering, he used his voice as a weapon. It was the timbre that made even non-English speakers do what he wanted them to do when he wanted them to do it. It was the voice that said do as I say or you’re going to be in for a world of hurt.
The door shut, and Brian could hear Sophia running up the stairs and a door slamming shut.
“She secured?” That was Andersson.
“Affirmative.”
“We’ve let the team leader know you’re on site. You are not to engage. They’ve got this.” It was Finley this time.
“Roger. Wilco.” Yeah, he’d wait and see.
“Good morning!”
Brian turned his head to see Joe heading across the side yard with his arm raised in a wave. He stopped when he was standing on the driveway. He stared at the empty garden space. Brian turned back to see SWAT stacking up at Kay’s front door with a breacher in front. Second one in was a guy looking through the window of his ballistics shield with a can in his hand. Brian was assuming it was smoke and not flashbang, since there were kids in the house.
Brian made his way calmly toward Joe and put his hand on his shoulder. “Go home.”
“I’m so sorry to bother you. Have you seen my dad?”
“Go home.” Brian turned Joe and gave him a push in the right direction.
Joe turned back, his brow scrunched together in confusion. “I know we’ve been a pain. But I can’t find my dad. I put him to bed last night after you guys brought him back. I went
to find out why he was sleeping so late and—”
There was a bang as the breacher crashed his tactical ram into the door, breaking the lock’s hold, splintering the wood.
Yelling filled the air as the SWAT team shouted their orders. It was always hard to listen to terrified children shrieking “Mommy!” Brian hated the fear in the kids’ voices, no matter what language they were screaming. Brian twisted Joe’s wrist, locking his elbow out, forcing him to the ground behind Sophia’s van. He flopped on the ground beside Joe, hoping Sophia had followed his instructions and was keeping her head down. “FBI SWAT are across the street. We’re going to stay down in case anyone feels like being stupid and starts firing a weapon.”
Joe nodded his head to show agreement.
28
Sophia
Sunday a.m.
Sophia was in the fetal position with her cheek pressed against the cold surface of the bathtub. She didn’t know what was going on, but the screaming and yelling outside had finally stopped. Still, she wasn’t sure if it was safe to get up.
“Sophia, I’m coming up the stairs.” It was Brian’s voice.
The door to the bathroom opened, and there he was, reaching down his hand, pulling her up.
“Sorry about that. It was just a precaution. I was worried about stray bullets.”
“Bullets?” Sophia held her arms against her chest, protectively. She reached for the ring on her bracelet and twirled it around as she searched Brian’s face for more answers.
“The FBI was apprehending Marla Richards. They had an outstanding warrant for her arrest.” Brian put strong hands on her arms and helped her step out of the tub. He had a worried expression, and Sophia thought that look probably wasn’t about Marla, but more about if he’d have to contend with another one of her seizures. She was wrong.
“Have you seen Mr. Rochester since we took him home last night?”
She tilted her head back, so she could see his eyes. “No. Do you think he’s in my house?”
“I already looked. Joe said his dad was missing from his bed this morning when he went to check on him. Since this is where he usually shows up, it’s kind of weird that he’d wander farther away.”
“The doors were locked last night. Maybe when he couldn’t get in…”
“Has she seen him?” Joe called from downstairs, and Sophia made her way down to talk to him.
She found Joe standing by her living room couch, where the dirt from his father’s shoes had left streaks on the arms as Mr. Rochester had made himself at home the night before. “I’m calling the furniture cleaners Monday, first thing,” he said, his face a strange collage of frustration and chagrin.
Brian put his hand on Joe’s shoulder. “You need to call 9-1-1 and ask for a search and rescue team.” He used the commanding voice he put on from time to time. It left no wiggle room, no opportunity for dissent.
Joe pulled out his phone and dialed as he walked out the door with his free hand raised in a thank you and goodbye.
Sophia stood in the middle of the room feeling mildly responsible. There were actions that needed taking, but she had no idea what they were.
“There’s going to be a lot of activity around here soon.” Brian said. “Let’s finish our breakfast and wait to answer questions from the police. They’ll want you to give the searchers permission to be in your yard. When that gets going, we can go somewhere that’s quiet. Maybe to Lana’s house, so you can see the kids.” Brian seemed to understand her confusion and helped her regain some semblance of order by handing her a plan.
Sophia pinched the ring on her bracelet. “Why do they need permission to search my property? Surely they can see he’s not in the yard.”
“They’ll have people come out who can look at shoe prints and follow the tracks to get a direction. They’ll have K-9 units out, air sniffers and ground sniffers. It’s possible the dogs can pick up a trail as long as he’s alive. They won’t bring out human remains search dogs for a few days. Those teams of dogs have different jobs and capabilities.”
“They said that on the radio. There was a woman whose dog brought home human bones from the woods last Monday. They had search dogs looking for the rest of the body. The dogs found an undisturbed area where the searchers dug and found it was a recent grave. It didn’t belong to the leg bones the dog recovered. They found that grave too, later in the day. It’s pretty amazing what a dog can smell.” Sophia shifted on her feet. “You think Mr. Rochester might have passed away?”
“He’s pretty old and pretty frail. The temperatures were down in the sixties last night. I think it’s a possibility they’ll consider, depending on what they find when they start looking.” Brian put his hand on her back and steered her toward the kitchen. “Let’s eat before they get here.” He flicked his finger toward where she had put her sandwich and chai, then pulled her chair out. “That’s an unusual ring you’re using as a clasp for your bracelet. Does it have a story?”
Sophia wasn’t the least bit hungry, but sometimes going along was easier. So she plopped down at the table in front of her now-cold sandwich.
Brian sat down next to her, looking expectant.
Sophia unclasped the bracelet and laid it on the table. “This ring is from the Ugarit and dates back to around 1300 BCE. I stole it from Syria,” she said. “Well, it wasn’t my intention to steal it. I just haven’t found a way to get it back to where it belongs.”
The ring was stylized. The top was a flat teardrop-shaped piece of gold where a face and breasts could be made out. Below the indentation that could be a navel were dots that might be a pubis, but were formed to look like a root system for the tree that grew onto the torso.
“This is a Near Eastern Tree of Life. This design was specific to Ashtart, a virgin warrior-goddess. Have you ever heard of her?”
Brian shook his head.
“Legends that we’ve found on tablets and scrolls say that in the 14th century BCE, on the coast of Syria, a young god named Ba’al wanted to overthrow the river god, Yam. Ba’al took Yam captive and killed him. Ashtart rebuked Ba’al and protected the river, and thus the people survived because of the river’s water. Ashtart protected their ‘tree of life’. To honor her for this protection, there was a tradition of virgins keeping a temple for the goddess. These women were considered magically powerful. Leaders from around the Middle East sought their counsel, much like those who went to the oracles at the Temple of Apollo at Delphi. This ring was worn by one of the priestesses.”
“Did you find it on a dig?” Brian asked.
Sophia pushed her hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ears. “One day when we were in Syria, my dad and I went to see a professor friend of his, Dr. Omar. The night before, Dr. Omar had found a package at his door that he wanted my father to see. It contained a tablet, and a letter. The letter said, ‘I am so sorry I disturbed your grave, Ashtart, forgive me. Release me from your curse.’ Another piece of paper said, ‘Please return this to her grave.’ This ring was in that envelope. My father and Dr. Omar recognized the design and were very excited. They got to work translating the tablet. While I was listening, without thinking, I picked up the ring and slipped it on my finger.”
“What did the tablet say?”
“It was basically an ancient curse. You know, the stuff of legends like King Tut’s tomb or Pele’s wrath if you take anything from a volcano in Hawaii. It was a warning that was very much in keeping with the region and the time period. Nothing extraordinary. While Dad and I were at Dr. Omar’s, a haboob descended on us. I’d read about those massive dust storms, but I’d never been in one before. Even inside the house with the windows covered, we had to put blankets over our heads so we didn’t suffocate by breathing in the dirt. It was terrifying. The sound—it was like the whole house was being crushed in the fist of the devil. When the storm moved on, there was a great deal of destruction in the village. My father and I left, so as not to impose on our host.”
“And you were still wearing th
e ring.”
“I had forgotten all about it. As a matter of fact, I didn’t realize I had it on for quite a while. Dad and I travelled back to Israel that day. My dad was in a terrible mood. He was very angry with Nadia’s father, for some reason. Dr. Omar had told my dad something about Nadia’s dad. Dad sent Nadia and me out to get dinner so the men could talk. We never made it to the restaurant. We were kidnapped by our taxi driver. It wasn’t until we were saved and on our way to Turkey that I saw the ring on my hand. Dad said to keep it on so it wouldn’t be stolen or misplaced, and that he’d send it to a friend of his at the museum as soon as we were back in a village with mail service. But ever since I put that ring on my finger, life has been turmoil.”
“You decided not to send it back?”
“My dad got sick, and we had to fly home. At that point, I didn’t know who to send it to, and really it was such a low priority. Things seemed to be happening very fast. Life…” She sighed with her gaze on the ring. “When I got back to the university, I worked on translating the tablet myself. I had pictures of it. We had left the tablet with Dr. Omar, of course. I have to admit, the letter it came with had planted a very bad seed in my head.” She stopped to smile. “Crazy. Absurd. Thoroughly unscientific thoughts. The tablet said what they typically say, that bad stuff wouldn’t stop until the stolen item was returned. I’ve kept the ring on me because…” Sophia’s attention drifted to the window where she could see Joe out looking between the storage pods lining her backyard.
Brian sat silently. He obviously wanted the end of the story.
She turned back and cleared her throat. “I swore a holy oath to Ashtart, on the day Chance was born, that if she would spare my sons, I would keep the ring with me as a penance, to remember all those I loved who have fallen to the curse, and I would find a way to return this to her.”
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