by Edwin Dasso
“They had dinner and then…”
“And then a home invasion,” the deputy said.
“Out here? Does that happen often?”
“Not often, no. But look at the scene.”
He gestured toward the overturned chair, the dishes. Lacey felt a tingle race down her spine.
“They weren’t alone.”
“What do you mean?”
“Look at the table. Four place settings, not two.”
Three soup bowls and four glasses still sat on the table, but the fourth bowl had tumbled to the floor.
“I think the dog ate the leftovers. And it looks like she used her good dishes. China.”
Her grandmother always broke out the good china for family celebrations—white with small pink rosebuds rimmed with gold trim. This set was white with blue, but it had the same feel, the kind of thing you would serve to company.
“I’m betting that if you open the kitchen cupboards, you’ll find CorningWare.”
“You think they were killed by someone they invited into the house?”
Lacey shrugged. “We need to find everything we can about their friends, family.”
“Okay, but we should wait outside.”
The deputy was right. Reluctantly, Lacey followed him out of the house. The cool air soothed her burning cheeks. She drew in a breath. The sun had sunk beneath the trees, plunging the house into shadows. Lacey headed back to her car. The first call she made was to the station. She filled the chief in on what they’d found.
“I’m going to stay onsite.”
“Copy that. Good work, Lacey.”
The chief’s praise failed to raise Lacey’s spirits. The Roberts’ weren’t much younger than her own grandparents. They should have been safe in their home, enjoying their retirement years. Instead, they’d been brutally murdered. And for what? A 2008 Subaru worth less than five grand. Sickening.
By the time she made the second call, her hands had steadied.
“Amber, can you keep the kids tonight?”
“What the shit, Lacey? I’ve never seen so many cop cars in town and Facebook is lit up. Rumor has it a cop’s been killed. I’ve been trying to call you all afternoon but—”
She sighed. “My phone’s been off. Can’t talk now. I’ll fill you in later, but the kids...”
“Yeah, of course. I’ve got them. They’re fine. Are you all right?”
Amber must have been worried sick when she couldn’t get in touch with Lacey. Unlike her parents, Amber didn’t ride her about the dangers of being a cop. Her mother made no bones about her belief that women weren’t made to be police officers, especially not one with children who was one heartbeat away from being a single mom.
“I’m okay. I’m not stomping on your plans, am I?”
Amber snorted. “Plans? Girl, you mean something other than pizza for dinner and the Bachelor on the tube?”
For the first time all day, Lacey smiled.
“Thanks. I owe you.”
“Yeah, you do, and someday we’re going to settle up, but tonight, just stay safe. Text me when you get home. I don’t care how late it is.”
“Yes, Mom.”
Amber was still chuckling when Lacey said goodnight.
It took an hour for the forensics team to arrive. The dog had returned and was busy barking at the technician who was unpacking the van. Lacey searched the yard until she found a place to tie him up. With paper booties on her feet, she stood in the living room and watched the tech work.
She spotted a cell phone sitting on the end table and called the tech over. He had finished photographing the bodies and had moved onto the dining room.
“May I?”
The tech took a couple of photos before allowing Lacey to remove the phone. It was an older model Samsung, a few generations before they had fingerprint technology. Anticipation filled her as she flicked the power button. It was dead.
Lacey searched for a charger and found one plugged into the wall beside a recliner. She waited impatiently until the phone had enough juice to power up. The display sprang to life. She breathed a sigh of relief when she realized that there was no safety code set.
Opening the email application, she scrolled through Peggy’s recent messages. Community notices, messages from friends. Nothing of particular interest. No mention of lunch plans. Next, she clicked on the photo application.
“Holy shit,” she muttered. “Look.”
She held out the phone so the tech and the deputy could see.
“That’s Bill Roberts, the man who owns the house.” She recognized him from the surveillance video. “And this guy’s Noah Hall.” The suspect she’d hauled in earlier today, who was now in the morgue.
One of his arms was slung amicably across Bill’s stooped shoulders. The other was wound tightly around a girl. A pretty redhead. Hall was beaming. Bill Roberts’ smile looked slightly strained and the girl…
There was something about the girl. Lacey zoomed in on the photo and studied the redhead’s face.
“Does she look familiar to you?”
The deputy shook his head. “Never seen her before.”
“Are you sure? She’s not a local?” Lacey asked.
“Hell, if I saw a girl who looked like that, I’d remember.”
She was pretty, yes, but there was something about her. Lacey was sure she’d seen her somewhere before. The memory tickled the back of her mind. She tried to reach for it, but it remained irritatingly beyond her grasp.
She used the same technique her grandma had taught her. She closed her eyes and stopped trying to focus on the photo. She let her mind wander instead to other thoughts. Where she might have been when she’d seen it. Places. People. News stories.
Then she had it. Lacey’s eyes opened, and she focused again on the photograph.
“It’s her.”
“Her?”
Lacey took a breath. “It’s been all over the news. The missing woman from Portland. She was last seen at Washington Square Mall. She worked at one of the stores.”
“Oh, Christ,” the deputy groaned.
Lacey’s jaw hardened as she studied the photo.
“We need to find her.”
26
Hours later, with nothing more she could do at the Roberts’ home, Lacey left the scene. The headlights of her cruiser cut through the inky dark. On her way back to the station, it had begun to rain. Bone weary, Lacey called the chief.
“What a day,” he said as she finished her update. “We’ve got press vans camped outside, OSP stationed inside, why don’t you go home? Get some rest.”
“I was going to—”
“That’s an order, Officer James.”
“Yes, sir,” Lacey said.
While part of her wanted to dig up everything she could find on the missing girl, another part of her was relieved. The combination of stress and adrenaline that had sustained her all day left her drained, and as much as she needed rest the thought of going home to an empty house depressed her. She thought about crashing on Amber’s couch for the night. Decided against it. It was past midnight and Amber and the kids would be long asleep.
Lacey’s headlights reflected off the wet roads. Rain pounded the empty streets as she drove through town, down the main drag, past the station which was lit up like mid-day. A phalanx of Oregon State Police cars were parked neatly in a row. Behind them, she saw the chief’s Jeep. She kept driving toward the blue bungalow that she and the kids called home. Lacey parked in the driveway and turned the engine off. The lonely sound of rain tapping on the roof filled the silence while Lacey checked the messages on her personal cell phone. There were dozens of calls from Amber, her parents, and a few of her friends who had heard the news. Everyone was shocked. Worried. The only person who hadn’t called was Caleb.
She knew it was late. He’d probably gone to bed hours ago, but after the day she’d had, she wanted to hear his voice. Feel close to him. If only for a few minutes.
Her finger hov
ered over his number. The rational side of her brain knew she should wait until morning to call. But Lacey was too tired to be rational. After all the horror she had witnessed today, she wanted to talk to her husband, the one person she could count on to understand. Brushing aside her hesitation, she clicked on his number. The phone rang once. Twice. Five times. An inexplicable fear popped into her mind. What if Caleb didn’t answer? What if she heard a woman’s voice? The idea turned her stomach to ice. She almost ended the call when he answered.
“Caleb?”
“What’s wrong?” His voice sounded dull, heavy with sleep.
Her eyes filled with tears as a rush of emotions swept over Lacey. The sadness of the day pressed down, crushing her beneath its weight. She thought she was strong, but right now she’d give damned near anything just to feel Caleb’s arms around her.
Lacey covered her eyes and cleared her throat.
“Nothing. It’s just been a hard day. I miss you.”
“What time is it?”
“Really late.” Though how late, she didn’t say.
“Look, babe. I’m beat. I’ve got an early wake up. Let’s talk tomorrow.”
What was wrong with him? Did he really think she’d call in the middle of the night if it wasn’t important? She was so damned tired of this—of being alone, of carrying all the weight herself, of the fact that he always put his own needs first. He cared more about his career than he did his family and now, when she needed him, sleep was more important.
Through the rainswept windshield, Lacey stared at the empty house and wondered why she’d even bothered.
“Lacey?”
“Copy that,” she said and pressed the end button.
Then she turned off the phone.
Lacey spent the remainder of the night, tossing and turning. Her thoughts were filled with Caleb, their marriage, and the nightmare events of the day. The senseless deaths of Spencer, Peggy and Bill Roberts. Even Noah Hall.
And the girl. Eden Mills.
It was the thought of Eden that drove Lacey from her bed and back into the station, determined to fight through her exhaustion, in the hopes of discovering something that might lead to a break in the case.
Her tires hissed on the wet pavement as she drove past the cutoff to the McDonald’s drive thru and into the station’s parking lot. She’d kill for coffee, but the drive thru opened at five a.m. and that was still an hour away. Dashing through the cold rain, she swiped her access badge and pushed through the double set of security doors. Few people inhabited the station this early, and Lacey drank in the quiet as she navigated through the rows of cubicles to her desk.
She refused to let her gaze stray to the interrogation room’s closed door. She wondered if there would ever come a day when she would pass by it and not see Noah Hall with his face half gone or Spencer lying dead on the floor.
Spencer.
They were never friends. He was too cocky, too reckless. A little boy trapped inside a man’s body. He wasn’t a good cop, but he was one of them. He had died here, in this station, on her watch, and there wasn’t a damned thing she could do to stop it from happening.
As she waited for her computer to boot, she looked away from the monitor, and took solace in the faces of her children. Harper, her clever girl with the sandy braids and a fiercely loyal heart. Nine years old and ready to take the world by storm. Flynn, her rough and tumble boy who loved hockey, and dogs, and adventure stories. She particularly loved this picture of him, taken last year at Christmas with his cowlick that stood up at the back and missing front teeth.
And Caleb. Just looking at the photograph of the two of them together hurt. Today was their tenth anniversary and they had never been farther apart, the distance between them having little to do with the actual miles separating Oregon from Texas. Lacey dropped her gaze to the desk.
“Tell me you went home.”
The sound of the chief’s voice startled her. He stopped beside her desk and balanced a silver travel coffee mug on the top edge of the cubicle wall. He looked like hell. His salt and pepper hair was windblown, damp from the rain. Bags, as big as steamer trunks, sagged beneath his blood shot eyes. The deep earthy scent of the coffee wafting through the open lid smelled like heaven itself.
“I did.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be off this weekend?”
The chief fixed her with a penetrating look, as if he suspected that she and Caleb were having problems. Hell, office gossip being what it was, he probably already knew about her anniversary and the canceled trip. Lacey answered the question with a shrug of her own.
“I figured you could use the extra help sifting through leads.”
“Did you sleep?”
Lacey shrugged. “Some. You?”
“About as well as I always do. Here. You look like you need this more than I do.”
Without waiting for a response, the chief set the metal cup down on her desk and began to walk away when a few of the State Police officers entered through the secured doors. The chief made introductions.
“Officer James, this is Sergeant Duvall and Officer Hansen.”
Duvall, the tall sandy-haired cop, glanced at Lacey with interest. “You’re the one who found the link to the murdered couple and the missing girl.”
“Yes,” Lacey said.
“Good work, James. We’re expecting a packed house at this morning’s press conference,” he said.
“Press conference?”
“Yeah, the press will probably be camped out here for a few days before losing interest.”
A girl was missing. What could be more important than that?
“What do you mean, lose interest?” Lacey asked.
“I don’t suppose you interact too much with the press out here but trust me, tomorrow, there will be another scandal, a riot in Portland, and everyone will forget about this case until the girl’s body is found.”
Lacey stared at him coldly. “What makes you think she’s dead?”
Duvall’s mouth twitched into a knowing smirk. The condescending look set Lacey’s blood on fire.
“What makes you think she’s not?”
“If he wanted to kill her, we’d have found her body in the bungalow beside Bill and Peggy Roberts.”
Until the words were out of her mouth, Lacey didn’t realize how true they rang.
“Is that why you’re here so early, James? Because you think that girl is still alive? Let me tell you something about Hall. Not only was he the best line we had on finding the girl, but he’s what we call a spree killer. Once he let loose on the Roberts’ he’d lost all control.
Squaring her shoulders, Lacey rose from the chair, and while Duvall was still half a head taller than she was, at least they were on more level footing. He was no longer staring down at her in that belittling way, like she was a child.
“I’m here because I have a daughter, a mother, aunts, cousins. If any one of them went missing, I would do everything I could to find them. And that girl you mentioned, the young woman abducted by Noah Hall, her name’s Eden. It’s our job to do everything in our power to find her. Not to make excuses or speculate. So yeah, I’m here early, and until I find evidence to the contrary, I’m going to believe Eden is still alive. Perhaps, in your rather limited opinion, that makes me naïve. But here’s the thing, Sergeant Duvall, I don’t give a shit what you think.”
Her eyes bore into Duvall’s for a good ten seconds, until she was sure he fully understood her point. The chief cleared his throat, breaking the uncomfortable silence.
“Okay boys, you heard Officer James, let’s get to work.”
27
Eden floated along in a haze, not knowing whether she was asleep or awake. Dead or alive. It was dark and cold, so cold, and Noah was gone. Trapped and alone, a deep gnawing hunger drove her to the surface.
She heard a voice.
“My dear girl, you really do need to wake up.”
It was a woman’s voice, wizened with age. Not he
r mother. In the darkness, Eden opened her eyes and winced as a blistering spike of a headache drilled through her skull. She moaned, allowing her eyes to drift closed as she sunk into the haze, until the voice roused her again.
“Wake up, honey. Get ready in case he comes back.”
He’d been gone a long time. She didn’t know if he was coming back.
A woman hovered in the darkness. A kind face. Peggy Roberts. But that wasn’t right. A stab of fear drove Eden to the surface. Oh, god. Peggy.
It was her fault Peggy was dead. If she hadn’t signaled her, everything would have been fine. Fine. Fine.
Eden’s mind spun. She drifted in the dark, searching for Peggy.
“Don’t go. I’m…”
Alone. Scared.
The silence around her thickened like mud until all she could hear was her throbbing pulse—a persistent resounding boom, boom, boom.
Deep in her bones she knew something was wrong. She had to wake up.
Eden struggled to open her eyes. Another figure appeared in the gloom. Noah. The sight of him jolted her from her daze and she blinked. Was he real? Was he?
Noah sat staring at the wall. His profile held a faint, other-worldly shimmer. The soulless expression on his face sent her heart racing.
“Noah, please. I didn’t… say… anything. Didn’t… betray you. Please.”
Her voice trembled. A whisper in the darkness. She ran her tongue over her dry, cracked lips. Noah didn’t move. His vacant expression remained unchanged as he spoke.
“I had a cat once,” Noah said in a flat voice that sent chills of dread racing through Eden. “My father didn’t like pets. Said he didn’t need another mouth to feed. But one day on my way home from school, I saw a streak of orange, a Tabby cat. I followed him inside.”
His narrow look darkened, as if he’d fallen through a crack in his psyche where the ugly memories from his childhood lay. Eden knew she had to say something. Had to reach him. While she still could.
“Peggy. Bill. It… wasn’t your fault. You got scared. That’s all. Noah.”
