Deadly Connections

by Renee Pawlish

  “No!” The same fury that she’d unleashed when discussing Eklund poured forth again. “Logan wouldn’t listen. I told him he needed to obey, but he got scared, said he was missing his mom. I was going to be his mom,” she insisted. “He didn’t understand that, and he tried to get away. He bashed the window and tried to climb out, and when I went to grab him, he cut his arm. It was his own fault.” Her mouth contorted in a mix of rage and pain. “I couldn’t do anything about it. I tried to cover his arm, to stop the bleeding, but I couldn’t. And I couldn’t take him anywhere, either. He just shouldn’t have broken that window.”

  “He bled out in the basement.”

  She nodded. “Well, then I had to do something with the body, so I waited until night, and then drove him over by Ivan’s house.”

  “And you put that poor little boy in the dumpster,” I said, not able to conceal my own disgust.

  Her eyes narrowed. “I couldn’t leave him in the basement. Dean was going to be home.”

  “So you set up Ivan.” I’d been right in that deduction. “If Logan’s body was found near the house of a man who’d apparently committed suicide, it might look as if that man were guilty. And by that time the police figured any different, you’d be out of state.”

  I thought I saw movement in a window in the neighbor’s house. I glanced over, but couldn’t see anyone. Why was it that when you needed a nosy neighbor out and about, everybody was minding their own business?

  “Dean and I are going to Idaho. We’ll rent this house for now.”

  “After Logan died, you couldn’t stand it, could you? You take another boy, figuring you’ll go out of state, making him that much harder to find. How’d you kidnap them? Neither boy yelled for help.”

  “The boys know me because they saw me when Curtis was alive,” she said simply. “I was in the neighborhood and saw Logan walking home. I asked him if he knew where another neighbor lived. I told him if he could show me, then I’d drive him home. He believed me and got in the car.”

  “What about Samuel Quigley?”

  “I asked him to help me find my dog. He was a little more hesitant, but I said I’d pay him and that I had comic books to give him, and he got in the car.”

  “And no one saw you.”

  She tipped her head. “Apparently not.”

  “How is Dean helping you?”

  “He doesn’t know anything. I’ll tell him when the time is right.” She took a step toward me. “I have to deal with you first.” She snarled again. “You saw the Batman figurine.”

  I nodded. “Did Logan have that with him the day you took him?”

  “Yes, in his pocket. I didn’t know. I found it in the basement. I should’ve thrown it out, but I just couldn’t.” She nodded her head at me. “Seeing it was your mistake.”

  “Yes, but keeping it was yours.”

  She gripped the gun a little tighter. “It will be my last one.”

  Lightning crossed the sky again, and a horrendous clap of thunder hit. Mallory jumped and turned slightly, giving me my opening. I dived left, grabbed the rake, and lifted it as Mallory turned back to me. I swung fast and slammed the rake end down on her arm. The gun went off, the bullet hitting the ground. Mallory screamed as her arm snapped. The gun dropped from her hand, and I quickly kicked it away as I snatched up my own gun.

  “Don’t move!” I said. I was breathing hard, feeling the blood pounding in my ears.

  Just then, a woman with an umbrella came around the corner. Finally, a neighbor. “Mallory? What’s going on?” Her gaze went from Mallory to me.

  I glanced at her. “Call 911. Tell them to get someone here fast.”

  Mallory was weeping now. “You’ve ruined everything. It would’ve all been fine this time.”

  The woman in the umbrella whirled around and ran back to her house. I glared at Mallory.

  “You talk about the pain you suffered, but what about Logan’s parents? Think about his mother and father, what they’re feeling now.”

  Mallory hung her head and sobbed. “I just wanted the pain to end. I wanted my family back.”

  “A kidnapped boy isn’t family,” I said.

  I reached down for my phone and called for backup. Mallory was on her knees, her broken arm cradled to her chest. I felt my body slow to normal. I kept the gun on Mallory as sirens approached.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  A moment later, two uniformed officers ran up. I pointed at Mallory, who was now sitting cross-legged on the ground, still clutching her broken arm.

  “Watch her,” I ordered one of them. “And call an ambulance.” I gestured at the other. “We’re going in the house. There may be a kidnapped child inside.” He followed me around to the front. I opened the door and hollered “Hello?”

  No one responded, and I glanced at the officer. He nodded, and we went inside, guns drawn. We quickly walked through the living room, kitchen, and two bedrooms and bathroom down the hall. No one was around.

  “The basement,” I said. The officer nodded again, and we found a door that led downstairs. I opened it and flipped on the light. Then I called out.

  “I don’t hear anything,” he murmured.

  I took a breath, my nerves tingling, and we went downstairs. It was dark, so I turned on a light at the bottom of the stairs, which illuminated a large room with a pool table and a gun safe in the corner. I noticed a short hallway and another door. I walked up to it, the officer behind me. A shiny new sliding-bolt lock was installed high up on the door, and it was bolted shut. I reached up, slid the bolt, and opened the door. Light from the hallway spilled into the room, and I saw a futon in the corner, a little body on it. My heart raced. Was he dead? Then a boy with brown hair rolled over and blinked at me. I gave the room a quick glance to determine no one else was in it. Then I holstered my gun. He sat up.

  “Who’re you?” His voice trembled.

  As gently as I could, I said, “I’m a police detective. I’m here to help you. Are you Samuel Quigley?”

  He rolled his legs off the bed. “Yes.” He stared at me, then at the officer behind me. “Where’s that person?”

  I got down on one knee. “We took her away. She’s not going to hurt you.”

  He stood up, unsure at first what to do. “I want my mommy.”

  “We’re going to take you to her,” I said.

  He hesitated a second longer, and his lower lip trembled.

  “It’s okay.” I went over and held out a hand. “It’s going to be okay,” I said. He nodded his head and took my hand. “Are you hurt?”

  He shook his head. “I’m hungry.”

  I smiled at that. “We’ll get you something to eat. Come on, let’s go.”

  The officer went first, and Samuel and I walked upstairs. When we went outside, another squad car pulled up. Two officers got out, and I took charge.

  “One of you go around back, make sure no one enters the house.” He nodded and headed around the side of the house. I still held Samuel’s hand. I jerked my head at some of the neighbors who were congregating, wondering what was going on. “You keep everyone back,” I said to the other officer. “This is a crime scene.”

  “Okay,” she said and walked toward the crowd of onlookers.

  Spats and Ernie drove up, tires screeching. They hustled up the walk to me.

  “What the hell happened here?” Ernie asked. He looked at Samuel and his face immediately softened. Whatever anger he and Spats might’ve felt about my acting alone vanished.

  Ernie bent down to look Samuel in the eye. “Hey there. I’m Detective Moore. How’re you doing?”

  Samuel leaned against me. “Where’s my mom?”

  “We’ll get her as soon as we can.” Ernie glanced up at me, knowing what needed to happen.

  “He’s okay, just hungry,” I whispered.

  He smiled at Samuel. “How about you ride with me? We’ll get you something to eat, and we’ll take you to the station, where your mom can come pick you up. You’re not in a
ny trouble, and I would love to hear how brave you’ve been. I’ll bet you have quite a story to tell. Sound okay?”

  Samuel glanced at me, then nodded. “Can I have a hamburger?”

  Ernie smiled. “You bet.” He straightened up and took Samuel’s hand. “We’ll catch up soon,” he said to me.

  I leaned over and spoke in his ear. “Mallory’s sitting around the corner. Don’t let the kid see her.”

  He nodded. “Come on,” he said to Samuel, using his body to block the boy from Mallory’s view.

  Spats and I waited until they’d gotten in Ernie’s car. The car drove away, and Spats turned to me. “I want to hear what happened. You had us scared to death.”

  “I want to hear too,” Rizzo said as he walked up. A few big raindrops pelted us, and he glanced up. “I hope this damn storm holds off until we can get finished here,” he said. “What went on here?”

  I went through everything that had occurred from the time I’d watched Mallory drive to Target to going down in the basement and rescuing Samuel Quigley. When I got to the last part, Spats shook his head at me. Rizzo gave him a look that said to be quiet for the moment.

  I glanced at Spats. “I had to act. If the Quigley boy was in there, and if he was hurt, I had to get to him.”

  He nodded begrudgingly. “I’m glad you got him out alive.”

  We edged toward the side of the house, where an officer was still guarding Mallory.

  “She confessed, huh?” Spats asked.

  I nodded. “Logan, and then Samuel, were supposed to be replacements for her own son.”

  Rizzo and Spats both studied her, then simultaneously shook their heads. If Mallory heard them, she didn’t show it. An ambulance drove up, and two EMT’s got out.

  “She’s over there,” I said to them. We followed the EMTs.

  “Hey,” Mallory looked up at me. “Where’s Curtis? Is he still in the basement? He’ll want some dinner.” Her tenuous hold on reality was gone.

  “Get her out of here,” I said to the EMTs. They nodded at me and set to work stabilizing her broken arm. Then they put her on a stretcher and loaded her into the back of the ambulance.

  “You go with her,” I said to Spats.

  “Yep, I got this. Should be an interesting interview,” he said as he got into the ambulance. The door closed, and he gave us a small wave through the back window. Then the vehicle drove off.

  Rizzo turned to me. “It’s going to be a long night for you. Once you’re finished, you go home and get some rest. You need it.” A CSI team drove up just as the rain began, tiny droplets. Rizzo spoke briefly to the team, then said to me, “Let’s go inside.”

  It started raining more heavily, and we followed the team inside. I gave them a briefing on the case and what had happened at the house so that they’d know what to look for. They would methodically take pictures of the crime scene, take measurements of the rooms, use 3D cameras to document the crime scene, and collect evidence. They started working, and after watching them for a while, I went outside for some fresh air. As suddenly as the rain had begun, it had stopped, and the air smelled clean, pure, and untainted by the horrors that had happened in the Casper house. I drew in a few deep breaths, but the calm moment didn’t last. A white SUV drove down the block and parked, then Dean Casper got out. He approached the house, and the uniformed officer stopped him. He swore at her, gesticulating at the house.

  “I’ll handle this,” I called to the officer.

  She let him past her, and I stepped off the porch.

  “What the hell’s going on here?” he said, his eyes wide with surprise and fear. “What happened?”

  “Your wife is on the way to the hospital, and then we’ll detain her for questioning.”

  “For what?”

  “We’ve just begun an investigation, and I’d like to ask you a few questions.” I formally introduced myself. “I’d like to ask you some questions about Samuel Quigley.”

  “Who’s that?” He appeared genuinely surprised by the name.

  “Your wife is a suspect in Samuel Quigley’s kidnapping, and for the kidnapping and death of Logan Pickett.”

  His mouth fell open, and he had a hard time finding words. “What?” He tugged at his baseball cap and muttered, “Mallory, what did you do?”

  “What did you know about this?”

  His eyes were wide. “I don’t understand what you mean. I don’t know a thing about any kidnappings or death. I was on the road until this last Saturday. I got back into town, met some friends, and then I was at the gun range till late.”

  “What about since Saturday? You didn’t see or hear anything unusual in your own home?”

  He shook his head. Pain filled his eyes. He ran a hand over his face. “You don’t understand. Since our son died it’s been really hard. Mallory hasn’t been herself, and when I’m home I haven’t known what to do with her. I guess maybe …” his voice trailed off. He took a big breath, then went on. “It’s been hard as hell. She’s been distant, and it just seems like we can’t hardly talk anymore. I tried to get her to get some help, but she didn’t want to listen. I didn’t know what to do. Most days when I’m home, I just go somewhere else because it’s too uncomfortable to be around her. I come home, and I go to bed. Hell, I don’t even try to eat around here.” He didn’t seem to have a lot of sympathy left for his wife, and he also didn’t seem to know a thing about her kidnapping spree.

  “When you are at home, where do you hang out?”

  “In the kitchen, the living room to watch TV, or the bedroom. Like I said, I’m not around that much.”

  “You don’t go in the basement?”

  He shook his head. “Of course not. Hardly ever.”

  “How has Mallory acted the last week or so?”

  “When I talked to her on the phone, I guess she seemed a little more upbeat. I figured maybe she was excited about our move, that she thought the change would do her good.”

  “Your militia is going out of state?”

  Now I got a hint of anger. “That’s none of your business.”

  He was right, and I moved on. “Mallory gave you no hints of what she was going to do?”

  He shook his head. “I didn’t have any idea. When we talk on the phone, she doesn’t tell me much. If you want to know the truth, we’ve been drifting apart since our son died.”

  “What did you discuss when you got home this last time?”

  “I called to let her know I was in town, but that I wouldn’t be at the house until late. When I got up Sunday morning, I guess she was a little nervous. I just figured that was Mallory being Mallory. We didn’t talk much then, and I left the house for the day.” Some of his blusteriness was gone. He glanced past me. “When can I go inside?”

  “It’s a crime scene, and we’ll be here for quite a while. And if you don’t mind, I’d like to talk to you some more, down at the station.”

  “Why?”

  “This is a serious situation, and I need all the information I can get from you.”

  He grimaced, but then agreed.

  “If you’ll wait a moment.” I found another officer, and instructed him to transport Casper to the station. “Tell him I’ll be with him soon.”

  The officer walked over to Dean. They went to a squad car, got in, and left. I went back up on the front porch, but before I entered the house, I drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. It had been a long forty-eight hours. Even so, I felt the tension release from my body. I hoped I would sleep well that night. As Rizzo had said, I needed it.

  “Are you ready for this?” Harry asked as we parked in front of my parents’ house. It was a beautiful Sunday afternoon, temperature in the seventies, not a cloud in the sky.

  “Yeah, let’s go inside.” I was in shorts and a pullover, wearing my peppiest attitude.

  We got out of the car, and Harry took a big salad bowl from me. We strolled up the walk of the two-story house that I’d grown up in. When we entered the foyer, we heard voi
ces in the kitchen. Something was baking, a cinnamon smell that made my mouth water.

  “They’ve already started,” Harry said in a low voice. He looked sexy in khaki shorts and a denim shirt.

  I smiled, and we strolled into the kitchen. My sister Diane was adding cut veggies to a plate of appetizers, and when she saw me, her look said that it was a good thing I’d showed up.

  “Well, I’m glad to see you,” she said.

  “I told you I’d be here.”

  Harry smiled. “Diane, how are you?” He set the salad bowl on the counter and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Bless him, I thought. He’s always so nice to her.

  “Harry, how are you?” And Diane was always nice to him.

  “Couldn’t be better,” he said. “I’m happy to be here celebrating your mom’s birthday.”

  Diane glanced at me. “Yes, it’s important.”

  I resisted shaking my head. She couldn’t help but dig at me any way she could. She eyed me again and went back to the veggie tray. Before she could say more, my brother Hunter came through the back door. He’s tall, with a shock of blond hair and the brightest bluest eyes. Quite the lady-killer. He saw me and smiled.

  “Sarah! I’m so glad you made it. I’ve missed seeing you.” He walked over and gave me a big bear hug. He always knows how to make me feel welcome.

  “It’s been crazy lately.”

  “I knew you’d make it for this,” he said. “I know your work is important to you, but family is too. And you’ve never forgotten that.”

  I gave him a hug and looked over his shoulder at Diane. I smiled and said, “Yes, family is everything. Right, Diane?”

  Turn the page to check out a sneak peek of Deadly Invasion, Sarah Spillman Mysteries Book 2.

  Sneak Peek

  Deadly Invasion, Sarah Spillman Mysteries Book 2

  CHAPTER ONE

  He stood in the doorway, peering into the darkness. Over the sound of his own shallow breathing, he heard the slow, steady rhythm of the woman’s breaths. He listened for a moment and watched the form on the bed. Rays of moonlight cascaded over her long blonde hair and gave her cheeks a soft glow. His nerves tingled in anticipation.