Daddy Soda (A New Hampshire Mystery Book 1)

by Mira Gibson

  When he returned he set her water on the coffee table in front of her, glass clinking against glass, and she thanked him. Then he took up in an adjacent leather chair. It squeaked as he crossed his legs, setting his eyes on her and letting his head tilt, which made him seem friendly, interested in her, but Hannah wouldn’t allow herself to trust it.

  “So as I mentioned,” she began, feeling trite in her choice of words, “Kendra passed away.”

  “She was abducted,” he corrected, coldly.

  “Right.” She stole a quick sip of water then asked, “Were you involved in searching for her?”

  “I wanted to be.” His brow furrowed as though he were pantomiming having regrets. “Kendra and I had a short and difficult relationship. I had to assume I’d be the last person she’d want to see during her rescue.”

  He fell silent and Hannah sensed his tension. It didn't seem to be coming from his heart but rather because she was here, as though he was suspicious of her. But she begged herself to take the shot anyway. He’d opened the door. She could seize the moment, angle in with questions about what had occurred in their home.

  “I hear you work in Homicide over in Gilford,” he said, changing topics.

  Damn.

  “No. I’m only a receptionist.”

  “But you’re interested in going into the Academy.” It wasn’t a question and Hannah wondered how he knew that.

  “Ah, yeah, I’ve thought about it.” After a pause, she added, “I’m sorry, how did you hear that?”

  “Gilford’s not so far away.” He feigned an easy smile, which seemed to pain him. “The girls must be devastated.”

  “They are.” Curt, though she hadn’t meant to sound that way, Hannah leveled her tone. “Why didn’t it work out for you and Kendra?”

  “Have you been looking into things here?” he asked as if to work his way up to an answer. “Following the investigation?”

  “I have.”

  He pointed as if to seem good-natured, saying, “Cody McAlister, leading the charge.”

  “You could say that.”

  “He’s a good guy. Acts like he has a lot to prove at times. He doesn’t know he’s already earned his keep.” Walter mused, getting a bit lost in a memory he didn’t share. “Did you hear about some of her recent problems?”

  She didn’t have to venture to guess. It was clear he was alluding to Kendra’s drug use. “Yes, unfortunately.”

  “Hannah,” he started up again after a pause, meeting her gaze, “I saw her frailty and I did what I could to make her strong.”

  Chills skirted up her spine and she grew suddenly cold. “What does that mean?”

  “It means that when we were together I could see the demons behind her eyes. They clawed at her. I feared to imagine what they’d make her do. And when she got pregnant I chose to protect you.”

  Hannah realized she was shaking her head. “She’s God fearing. She spent her life in a church. What demons are you talking about?”

  “Just my intuition.” He offered a brittle smile drawing in a deep breath. “You can’t blame them, you know. There are only two things you can do, try to see it a mile away and steer clear of the person, and if you can’t do that, if you’re like me and you fall in love and it’s too late, you have to expel the demon from them.” He turned severe, as his advice got more intense. “You starve the devil out of them if you have to. There’s no other way.”

  “What was she doing?”

  “Nothing. I prevented it.”

  A cold sweat broke out across her chest. She felt like she was fighting to keep her head above water, the freezing lake hungry to devour her whole. “How did you prevent it?”

  “Do you know what her parents were like?” he countered.

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “A lot. Maybe everything. My parents were doctors. They were loving. They nurtured me. Provided for me. Took deep interest in my friends, my hobbies, supported me not only financially, but emotionally.” He smirked in remembrance then went slack, eyes sharpening with distain. “Kendra’s parents weren’t parents.” Again, he paused to give weight to his next statement. “No one’s born with the devil in them. They let the devil in. And sure he’s clever. He’ll fight to get in your heart and control you. But you must expel him. If you can’t, then humanity must expel you from the world.” He let that hang, as he studied her. “She was treated like an animal and she sought to escape her memories, turning to the devil for help. Hannah, I had to keep her locked in our cellar to cast out her demons.”

  “But she wasn’t actually acting on her demons?”

  “Eventually she did,” he said smugly.

  “And you saw it coming a decade in advance,” Hannah challenged, though it terrified her to do so.

  “And the world expelled her because of it.”

  “You don’t seem to mind she’s dead.”

  “Being a mother is a very important job.”

  Hannah knew she’d risked coming off as his adversary, but the thought of agreeing with him to compensate made her sick.

  “Mary and Candice are holding up okay.” She gauged his reaction, scanning his face for any flicker of interest he might have in them, Mary especially.

  “I imagine they’ll be doing much better now.”

  “Ever meet Dale?” she asked. If Walter had a righteous bone in his body, he’d come undone learning Dale's capabilities.

  “I know of him. I’ve seen him around.”

  She raised her brows as if to ask, and?

  “He’s a questionable man.”

  Meaning to provoke him, she asked, “How’s that?”

  Walter risked a sneer, divulging, “It seems he has a very special relationship with one of his daughters.”

  In an instant, it felt like the room was reeling and Hannah focused everything she had not to give in to sudden nausea, as bile stung the back of her throat conjured by the devastation that he, or anyone could so casually remark like that.

  He went on, "Would you agree now that some devils must be expelled?"

  She narrowed her gaze and spoke firmly. “What are you telling me, Walter?”

  He smiled. “I thought we were speaking hypothetically.”

  Firing back, she asked, “What happened to your neck?”

  His poorly composed smile fell and the sudden shift in his demeanor made her blood run cold.

  “I’m afraid I have a prior commitment,” he said flatly, rising from his chair. “It was thoughtful of you to stop by, unexpected but thoughtful.”

  She didn’t wait for him to lead her to the door. She remembered the way. When she reached it, however, he did the honors opening it for her and smiling down as though their time together had pleased him.

  “Thanks for the water.” She managed a smile, though it felt like a disgusted grimace.

  As she started across the walkway, he commented, “The fact that she was butchered like that...” Hannah turned to catch him shaking his head and it made her linger, holding his gaze.

  She couldn't believe this man was her father.

  It wasn’t until Hannah was safe behind the wheel that she felt the avalanche crash down. He’d made his demented sense of morals all too clear and all but confessed to orchestrating Kendra’s abduction and subsequent attempt at murder, which if he was behind this, he’d have to believe had been successful.

  But Hannah needed to prove it.

  Her gut told her the injury he’d suffered to his neck would be her only chance at linking Walter Warfield to all of this.

  As she drove off through the dark night, Hannah hoped like hell her mother had been the one to deliver that blow and that she would be able to explain it in detail to the Sanbornton Police.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “I need more days, Jenny.” Hannah couldn’t leave the girls. Not now. Not when they thought their mother had been brutally murdered. Not when Kendra had yet to recover. Their lives had yet to be put back together. Her fat
her had yet to be arrested. “What about sick days?”

  “You already used them through the New Year.” Jenny was firm, though apologetic.

  “How about future holidays?”

  Jenny sighed and asked her to hang on while her fingers clicked across her keyboard, sounding faint and tinny coming through the line. Hannah tried to center herself feeling the warm sun on her face, as she paced back and forth on the porch, taking in the scenery and at times glimpsing Candice through the sliding glass door. The girl was making herself a straightforward breakfast of Cheerios.

  She’d gotten virtually no sleep last night. Mary hadn’t come home and Hannah didn’t let herself doze off as she'd waited up on the sofa. Cody hadn’t come home either, but at least she’d known where he was.

  “Best I can do- Hannah?”

  “Yeah, I’m here.”

  “Best I can do is give you today,” said Jenny, her capacity to work miracles ever expanding. “But it means you’ll have to be in the Friday after Thanksgiving.”

  “Great-”

  “Hannah, I have to tell you that if you’re not in tomorrow...” she said, trailing off. Hannah imagined Jenny in her office, shaking her head and looking remorseful. “If you don't show up tomorrow the department’s going to replace you-”

  Adding the lie she was used to, she stated, “This has been a family emergency. My mother just turned up murdered.”

  “I know. And I’m only the messenger, but we’ve got murders here as well. If Holder and the other detectives don’t have the right administrative support...”

  “Okay. Understood.”

  “I should mention,” she went on, voice arching up to a pitch that precluded bad news, though Hannah got distracted when Candice slid the door open and squeezed through. “You’re working Thanksgiving.”

  “Come on.”

  “You were on the schedule. That’s why we had you off the Friday after.”

  “But I’m on that Saturday and Sunday as well,” she pointed out.

  “And you’ve taken eight days off, now a ninth. You gave us zero warning.”

  “Emergencies don’t come with warnings.”

  “Use the day wisely, Hannah,” she said, concluding their call. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  One day. It was all she had. If she could get to Cody, get him to overlook the Soap Opera perversion of the situation, convince him her biological father had abducted and attempted to murder Kendra, and push him to secure a search warrant on 74 Center Point, then Hannah had a prayer of not getting fired.

  The sound of steady trickling over wet grass lifted her from strategizing and she discovered Candice was holding her jug of whiskey upside down over the banister and watching the contents stream into the bushes.

  “Candice, what are you doing?”

  Concentrating with her eyes trained on the bushes, brow furrowed in determination to empty the jug, Hannah realized the girl's anxiety was palpable.

  She went to take the jug from her, but Candice jerked it away, glaring at her then resumed pouring until every last drop had fallen.

  “What did you do that for?” When she didn’t say anything, but pointed her eyes into daggers, Hannah knelt down so she could look up at her. “You were upset Mary was drinking last night.” Her expression opened up a fraction, but she remained suspicious. Judging her apprehension, Hannah figured the girl was unwilling to let Hannah sweet talk her when Hannah was as guilty as Mary when it came to drinking, even Dale, perhaps even Kendra, anyone who chose to escape through unnatural means. “I shouldn’t have bought her those beers,” she admitted.

  “You shouldn’t turn to that stuff,” she countered, cutting through the noise of Hannah’s apology like a laser.

  “You’re right.”

  She softened.

  “What would you like to do today?”

  “When am I going back to Judy’s?”

  Hannah cocked her head, but it had more to do with the fact Candice hadn’t asked about her sister who hadn't come home.

  “I’m not sure, but I can give her a call. Does that sound good?”

  She frowned as though considering whether or not a call would materialize into a session.

  “Look, honey I need to figure out where your sister is so she can watch you today. I have a few things I need to do. You don’t know where she is, do you?”

  “I don't need her.”

  “Well, you need supervision.”

  “I can stay here.”

  “Alone? I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

  In defiance, she crossed her arms, glancing down her nose at Hannah. “I’m not going to school.”

  “No, I know. We got you some days off.”

  “Are Daddy and Mary going to be arrested?”

  It was chilling. “Why would you ask that?”

  “Doesn’t the evidence point to them?”

  “Candice, do you have reason to believe they had something to do with Mom?”

  Fury trapped in innocence was the glint in her eye.

  “Sweetheart,” she began in a very quiet tone, venturing to touch Candice’s arms. The girl looked so fragile like she could float away on a gust of wind. “I know someone took away your clothes.” Hannah’s voice faltered. She swallowed to compose herself. “And then they put you in the woods behind the house. You remember that? Those boys?” She leaned in and spoke strictly, an edge of severity in her tone. “I need you to tell me who did that to you.”

  She leveled her eyes on Hannah and her stare pierced her so deeply she felt as though her youngest sister could see her thoughts. Then she said, “I wasn’t born with the devil in me. And I never let him in.”

  “No, I know, honey.” Her heart ached for the girl. Did she think that’s how Hannah viewed her? Did she think she was tarnished having been victimized like that? “You have the purest spirit. I’m going to tell you something but it has to stay between us for the time being, okay? Until I say otherwise.” Hannah smiled, trying to instill hope in her sister. Gradually, she indicated she could keep a secret so Hannah told her, “Mom’s alive.”

  Her eyes widened, but it didn’t look like surprise or hope. She looked stunned.

  “Don’t be scared. She really is. But we can’t say anything yet. Candice?”

  Faintly, she heard an engine growling in front of the house and jumped up, sighing, “Christ” and hoping like hell it’d be Mary. After rushing clear through the house, Hannah threw the front door open to find a black Saab idling next to her Taurus in the driveway, which caused her heart to leap into her throat, her head instantly pounding. She stalked towards the vehicle.

  The passenger’s side door popped open and Mary stepped out, and Hannah wasted no time grabbing her arm to pull her out of harms way.

  “Where the hell have you been all night?”

  “With a friend,” she snapped, trying to jerk her arm free. “You’re hurting me.”

  Hannah dropped her grasp addressing the driver, “Get out of the vehicle.”

  “Why are you bugging out like this?”

  “You don’t come home all night and you’re confused that I’m bugging out?”

  “I’m going through a lot right now,” said Mary, a little snide for Hannah’s taste. “My mom died.”

  “And there’s a killer out there!” Hannah barked at the driver again. “Get out, now!”

  “Come on, Bobby,” said Mary, rolling her eyes. “Come meet my psycho sister.”

  Hannah glared at her then watched an older man, who was not Walter Warfield, step into the driveway.

  “Who are you?”

  The man, short for his gender with a stalky build, white-blond hair and the kind of face she’d expect on an IRS auditor - bloodshot eyes, jaundiced pallor, bleary expression, an overall air of futility and self-hatred; made his cautious way towards her.

  Apathetic in her obligation, Mary afforded them a proper introduction. “This is Robert Krane, my friend. Bobby, this is Hannah Cole. She’s not always this p
sychotic.”

  “Stop saying I’m psychotic.” She turned on Bobby. “What were you doing with her all night?”

  He glanced sheepishly at Mary so Hannah yelled, “He’s four times your age!”

  “Oh, don’t get the wrong idea,” Bobby started, but Hannah was fast to shut him down.

  “The wrong idea? She cut school the other day with your help. What idea should that give me?”

  “You followed us?” Mary was irate.

  “Save it,” she said, slicing her palm downward for emphasis and again turning on Bobby. “You have some kind of kink you need a fifteen year old to pick up junkies in the park?”

  “That was his brother,” Mary cut in. “I was helping him.”

  He grimaced and ventured an explanation. “My younger brother, Mark. He’s had a lot of problems. With everything that's happened to your mother, and I’m so sorry by the way. I just wanted to get Mark off the streets.”

  Hannah felt her anger loosen. “So you approached a fifteen year old girl?”

  He shrugged, admitting, "We kept crossing paths."

  “It's a small town," Mary offered like it’d help.

  “I mentioned Mark. Mary said she had an idea,” he further explained.

  Hannah stared at her sister, analyzing. Though it was masked under a front of belligerence, she seemed sincere.

  “I should’ve never accepted Mary’s help without speaking to her guardian, but she didn’t seem to have one.” Before Hannah could gape, he added, “I’ll admit I didn’t want to risk a no. It was convenient Mary seemed independent.”

  “Well, she’s not.” Hannah said. “Is he okay?”

  Bobby lightened up and smirked at Mary. “Yeah. He had a rough night, but we got him into rehab this morning.”

  “So... It’s common knowledge, our mother’s... addiction...”

  His gaze fell as if to confirm.

  “Alright,” Hannah said softly. “You’re watching your sister today. Go on inside.” Mary stalked over to the portico, but Hannah stopped her. “No running off.”