Dead and Gone

by Tina Glasneck

  Not much, but something.

  “How’s the barbeque coming, Dan?” Dorothy called down from the kitchen.

  I slid off the swing and checked the grill. “Nearly done,” I answered, flipping a line of breasts and applying a further slathering of sauce.

  “Allison is almost finished feeding your granddaughter, so we can eat before long,” Dorothy called back. “I’ll put on the corn.”

  “Yell when it’s ready,” I replied, closing the barbeque lid and returning to the swing.

  Travis and McKenzie were upstairs helping Dorothy with dinner preparations. I had invited my ex-partner, Arnie, to join us, but he’d had previous plans with his girlfriend, Stacy. Ali’s husband, Mike, was on location again, so it would just be the five of us at the table. Six, if you counted Katie, although after nursing, Allison usually left her daughter asleep in the bedroom.

  “Hey, Pop. What’s new?” asked Allison, appearing at the bottom of the stairs.

  “Not much,” I answered glumly.

  Allison joined me on the swing, giving it a push with her foot to set it in motion. “Huh. That’s strange,” she said. “Considering the way you’ve been avoiding my calls, I would have guessed you’ve been really busy on The Magpie case.”

  “Ali, I don’t have anything to tell you about the investigation. On or off the record.”

  Over the past week Allison had been delivering a series of CBS news reports on the case. Unlike many of her media colleagues, she had refrained from leveling accusations at investigating agencies—no one is safe in his or her own home, police are ignoring rising crime in middle-class neighborhoods, and so on—and I was grateful for that. Nevertheless, I simply didn’t have anything to give her.

  “And that’s because you haven’t made any progress?” Allison persisted.

  “You don’t really expect me to answer that, do you?”

  “Not really, Pop. Just making conversation. By the way, how long have you known it was Captain Snead’s daughter who was abducted?”

  “From the beginning.”

  “It’s not a coincidence, is it? The kidnapping of Snead’s daughter; your being the lead investigator on the case. The killer is playing some kind of game with you and Snead, isn’t he?”

  I nodded. “With Ella Snead caught in the middle.”

  “God, that’s awful. I’ve always thought that people like Snead were the reason for middle fingers, but this has to be devastating for him and his family. I feel so sorry for them.”

  “Me, too,” I agreed, my mood sinking.

  After my first discussion with Snead at PAB, I had asked Allison to leave town until the case was closed, explaining that I had attracted the attention of a psychopath who might want to target our family, especially her. Predictably, she had refused, assuring me that she would take precautions. Nevertheless, now that she knew the full situation, I decided to try again. “Ali, maybe the time has come time for you and Katie to visit Mike on location. Just till this is over.”

  “We already talked about that. I’m not slinking out of town every time you’re involved in a high-profile case.”

  “But—”

  “I’m not leaving,” Allison interrupted. “Let’s move on. Are you going to find Ella before . . .”

  “I don’t know, Ali,” I sighed, realizing I wasn’t going to convince her. “I’m sure as hell going to try.”

  “I know you are, Dad. And I meant what I said before. If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know.”

  “Thanks. While we’re on the subject, please extend my thanks to Lauren for not running a countdown on the abduction.”

  It had been eleven days since Ella’s disappearance. The longest any of the killer’s victims had survived was twenty-seven days, and Ella’s time was running out. In a ghoulish attempt to grab attention, many in the media, including several national news networks, were running a daily register of Ella’s remaining days.

  “Dinner’s ready,” Dorothy’s voice sounded from above. “Come and get it, you two.”

  “You don’t have to call me twice,” said Allison, hopping from the swing. “Need me to carry anything up, Pop?”

  “No, I’ve got it handled.”

  After forking the sizzling chicken onto a wooden platter, I headed upstairs, checked on a sleeping Katie, and joined everyone at the kitchen table. By then Dorothy had carried over the rest of our meal: corn on the cob, baked beans, sourdough bread, and a fresh green salad.

  “I’m starving,” said Travis, spearing a chicken breast and reaching for the corn.

  “Grace first,” said Dorothy.

  “Uh, right,” Travis mumbled.

  We all joined hands as Grandma Dorothy said grace, as usual invoking a blessing for family, friends, and all our loved ones who were no longer present. As I listened with one ear, I gazed out our kitchen window, letting my mind drift. Absently, I noticed that a full moon had risen over Santa Monica, lighting the waves in a ghostly silver glow.

  “Amen,” said Dorothy, finishing a particularly long blessing that evening.

  “Amen,” we all echoed, reaching for the serving bowls.

  “Damn, Dorothy,” I observed as I forked a piece of chicken and ladled a mound of beans onto my plate. “Your dinner benedictions are getting longer and longer. We’re liable to waste away one of these days waiting for your final ‘amen.’”

  “Oh, hush, Dan,” she said. “A little religion won’t hurt you.”

  “Yeah, Dad. Mom used to say that, too,” noted Allison, dishing up a serving of salad and passing the bowl to McKenzie.

  At the mention of Catheryn, an uncomfortable silence ensued. Finally Travis spoke. “Is Nate getting home tonight?”

  “He is,” I answered. “Agent Taylor is picking him up from LAX.”

  “That would be your friend, Agent Taylor?” said Allison, her expression tightening.

  “What are you implying, Ali?” I asked, not missing her tone.

  “Nothing. Just asking for clarification.”

  “Then you’re right. Taylor is a friend. A good friend. Plus I owe her my life. That’s all there is to it—not that it’s any of your business.”

  “Actually, it is my business,” Allison countered, not backing down. “Considering what Nate is going through, it’s all our business.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Just what I said. I think your friend, Special Agent Taylor, is using Nate to get closer to you. It’s obvious that Nate is trying to fill a void left by Mom’s death, and—”

  “That’s not the way things are,” I interrupted. “Taylor isn’t going to do anything to hurt Nate. Subject closed.”

  “Yeah, well—”

  “Subject closed, Ali.”

  “Fine,” said Allison, her expression indicating that the subject was anything but closed.

  Another uncomfortable silence followed, during which Dorothy pinned me with a look I couldn’t quite decipher. Finally turning back to Allison, Dorothy asked, “How is Mike’s new film progressing?”

  “Okay, I guess,” Allison replied with a shrug. “I just wish my wayward husband would stay home once in a while and help with Katie. Give you a break, Grandma.”

  “I adore spending time with my granddaughter,” Dorothy replied. “I really do, but don’t you think your job might be interfering—”

  “We’ve been over this,” Allison broke in.

  “I know, but . . .”

  “Mom had to choose between kids and a career, and she chose being a mom—at least until we were older. Bottom line, she wound up regretting that decision.”

  “That’s not true. Catheryn loved being a mother,” said Dorothy.

  “I agree,” I added.

  “You would,” Allison replied angrily.

  “Jeez, sis. This isn’t like you,” said Travis. “What’s up?”

  “Sorry, Trav. I’m trying to have an adult conversation here,” Allison shot back. “Can I ignore you later?”

 
Travis laughed. “I’m going to miss you, Ali,” he said, shaking his head.

  “Why? Going somewhere?”

  “Actually, we are,” McKenzie intervened. “I have to get back to New York and sell that book of yours, and Trav needs to rehearse for a performance he has booked in August. You knew that, Ali. We’re leaving next week.”

  “Do you need a ride to the airport?” I asked.

  “Thanks, Dad, but we have to return our rental car to LAX anyway,” said Travis.

  “Darn,” said Allison, unable to hide her disappointment. “I didn’t realize you guys were leaving so soon. Will you be back for my birthday? We could celebrate Nate’s belated birthday then, too. Dadzilla said he’d throw us a beach party, just like old times.”

  “In August? Maybe,” Travis answered, glancing at McKenzie.

  “Please try to come back,” said Allison. “I’m sorry if I seem a little, uh, irritable tonight. I’m, I don’t know . . .”

  Just then I heard the front door open. “I’m back!” Nate called into the house. “What’s for dinner?”

  “Unfortunately, dinner is pretty much history,” I informed my son as he trooped into the kitchen, followed by Taylor.

  “We do still have dessert,” I went on, standing to give Nate a hug.

  “Vanilla Häagen-Dazs with fresh peaches and peach preserves,” Dorothy added temptingly.

  “Works for me,” said Nate, accepting hugs from Travis and Ali as well. “Everyone knows Agent Taylor here, right?” he continued, plucking a final piece of chicken from the platter.

  “I don’t,” said McKenzie, rising to shake Taylor’s hand. “McKenzie Wallace.”

  “Sara Taylor. A pleasure to meet you, McKenzie,” said Taylor. Then, to Allison, “Good to see you again, Allison.”

  Allison nodded without extending her hand. “You, too, Sara.”

  “Would you like to stay for dessert?” asked Dorothy. “We have plenty.”

  Taylor glanced at her watch. “Thanks, but I really should get back—”

  “Please stay,” Nate implored. “Grandma says there’s plenty.”

  “Yeah, Taylor,” I added. “Stick around. A couple extra calories won’t kill you.”

  Taylor glanced at Allison, then back at Dorothy. “Thanks, but I don’t want to impose.”

  “You’re not,” Dorothy reassured her. “We’d love for you to join us.”

  Taylor hesitated, and for a brief moment I sensed a subtle female undercurrent flowing in the room, an invisible web of feminine interaction that, as a man, I had long ago given up attempting to plumb.

  “Please,” Nate begged. “You can tell everybody what I learned on the river.”

  “Okay,” Taylor finally agreed. “Thanks, Dorothy. I’ll stay for a few minutes.”

  “Great,” said Nate, pulling over a chair for Taylor and taking a seat beside her.

  As McKenzie began helping Dorothy dish up dessert, Allison turned to Nate. “So what did you learn up there? Besides not drowning, of course.”

  “Well, for one thing, I learned you’re only half as smart when you’re upside down in a kayak,” Nate laughed.

  “My friend, Chad Long, says your brother’s a natural,” added Taylor. “Nate’s comfortable in the water, maybe from surfing, which is really important. Plus he has great butt-balance.”

  “Great butt-balance, huh?” said Allison. “I’m so proud of you, Nate.”

  “I can’t wait to go again,” said Nate, ignoring Allison’s gibe. “Will you take me sometime, Agent Taylor?”

  “Sure,” said Taylor. “There’s great kayaking up on the Kern River, not too far from here. The water should still be running through August this year, and there are a couple sections you could handle for sure.”

  By then Dorothy and McKenzie had placed dessert bowls in front of everyone, and the table momentarily fell silent as everyone dug in.

  Nate finished first. “Hey, anyone know why you can’t trust atoms?” he asked, pushing away his bowl.

  “Why, Nate?” asked Dorothy.

  Nate grinned. “Because they make up everything.”

  “Good one,” laughed Travis.

  “Yeah, Nate. It’s gratifying to see that your jokes have finally progressed to eighth-grade level,” Allison added with a smile.

  “I disagree, sis,” Nate chuckled. “That one had science in it, which at least qualifies as high-school humor.” Then, yawning, he announced that he was going to bed. “Big day. ’Night, everyone,” he said, giving Taylor a hug.

  After Nate had departed, Allison turned to Taylor. “You certainly seem to have made a big impression on my younger brother,” she noted coldly.

  “I hope it’s a good one,” Taylor replied. “Nate’s a great kid.”

  “Yes. He is.”

  “Is there something you want to say to me, Allison?”

  “Not just now, Sara.”

  “Please don’t mind my daughter,” I stepped in, giving Allison a look of warning. “She’s having trouble with her manners tonight.”

  “Yeah, don’t mind me,” echoed Allison, her tone less than apologetic.

  Taylor shrugged and rose from the table. “I have to be going anyway. Thanks for dessert, Dorothy. It was delicious.”

  I rose as well, shooting Allison another look of irritation. “Let’s head downstairs for a sec, Taylor. There’s something I want to discuss.”

  Taylor nodded. “Okay. But I do have to get going.”

  “It will just take a minute.”

  Followed by Callie, who never missed an opportunity to join a family member on the beach, I led Taylor to the deck outside. Overhead, the moon hung majestic in the sky, and we stood there for a moment gazing out at the shimmering ocean. “I can’t get over how beautiful it is here,” said Taylor. “And so close to the city.”

  “Catheryn loved it here, too,” I agreed. Upstairs, I could still hear Trav and Allison talking at the table.

  “Let’s take a walk,” I suggested. Without awaiting Taylor’s response, I pulled off my shoes and socks and started toward the water. After a moment’s hesitation, Taylor kicked off her sandals and followed me out onto the sand.

  Led by Callie, Taylor and I picked our way through a littering of kelp and driftwood to the ocean. Then, keeping to the firm sand at the water’s edge, we started toward the lights of Santa Monica.

  “What did you want to talk about?” asked Taylor.

  “The investigation,” I replied, absently sweeping my gaze over an unbroken line of homes paralleling the beach. A number of them still had lights burning inside, providing an intimate glimpse through unshuttered windows of other families, other secrets, other lives. I wondered whether any of them were as complex and confusing as mine. Somehow, I suspected that they were.

  “What about the investigation?” Taylor prodded.

  “I didn’t want to talk in front of Allison, but things have nearly ground to a halt on my end,” I said.

  “Ours, too. What are we going to do? Wait for him to do it again?”

  “I don’t know, Taylor. I still feel like I’m missing something. I just don’t know what.”

  “Like I said, if it’s important, it will come to you.”

  Upon reaching a string of condos marking the eastern terminus of Las Flores Beach, we turned back, retracing our footprints in the sand. By then Callie had found a chunk of driftwood and in true retriever fashion, kept insisting I throw it for her.

  “Is the investigation really what you wanted to discuss?” asked Taylor.

  “Not really,” I admitted. “Actually, I wanted to apologize for Allison’s behavior.”

  “Not necessary, Kane.”

  “Yeah, it is. Despite her spikey personality, Ali has a good heart. Unfortunately, she’s always been a little overprotective of her younger brother.”

  “She thinks I pose a threat to Nate? How? By taking him kayaking?”

  “She thinks you’re using Nate to get closer to me.”

  “What? Je
sus, Kane, you just lost your wife. Does Allison really think I would—”

  “She’s not thinking, Taylor. At least not clearly. She thinks Nate is trying to fill a void left by Catheryn’s death, and she’s worried you’ll harm him even more.”

  “You don’t think that, do you?”

  “No.”

  “Because I would never do anything to hurt your son. Ever.”

  “I know that. But Ali is . . . look, there’s something I haven’t told you.”

  “What?”

  I took a deep breath and continued. “After Catheryn’s death, Nate became seriously depressed. Not, ‘I’m sad’ depressed. Clinically depressed. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  Taylor nodded.

  “Nate hid his illness from everyone,” I went on. “At least most of the time—and none of us did anything about it. Then one night last winter, he stole my pistol and tried to take his own life. I barely got there in time to stop him.”

  “Oh, my God. I . . . I didn’t know.”

  “We’re getting him the best possible care. He’s taking meds and seeing a counselor, and he’s going to be fine. I’m sure of it. But . . . Allison can’t help being big-sister protective of him.”

  “I understand,” Taylor said quietly.

  By then we had nearly returned to the house. Taylor turned toward me. “Thanks for telling me about Nate. Now I want to apologize for something. I’m sorry for being such a bitch the other day when you asked about my bruises.”

  “I was out of line. You don’t have to apologize—”

  “I want to,” Taylor interrupted. “You were right in thinking that something was wrong. I was just too ashamed to admit it.”

  “Who hurt you?”

  Taylor looked away. “My ex-husband visited the other night.”

  “Mark.”

  Taylor regarded me curiously. “How do you know his name?”

  “You told me,” I replied, referring to a meeting I’d had with Taylor during an earlier case several months back. “At the Scotch ’n’ Sirloin.”

  “I don’t remember,” said Taylor. “I do recall having a bit too much to drink that night,” she added, seeming embarrassed. “What did I say?”

  I thought back, bringing our conversation to mind. “You said you grew up in Salmon, Idaho, and got married at eighteen, right out of high school. You worked as a secretary to put your husband Mark through college and law school. Later you returned to college yourself, then attended Chapman Law. Upon graduating, you joined Mark at a law firm in Burbank. When your marriage imploded, you took some time off, did some thinking, and decided you needed a change. You applied to the FBI and were accepted.”