All His Pretty Girls

by All His Pretty Girls (retail) (epub)

  She mentally shook her head and tapped her fingers against the file. All the McCormicks’ neighbors claimed to have been busy or not home during the time Callie was likely taken. Nobody saw anything out of the ordinary. The myth that every neighborhood had a nosy old neighbor lady keeping an eye on everybody’s business was truly just that – a myth.

  ‘By the way, I was able to get ahold of the Mitchells this morning before they left for work. So, whenever you’re ready, we can head over there,’ Cord told her.

  Alyssa pushed her chair back and stood, snatching her coffee and the keys to the Tahoe. ‘Why didn’t you just lead with that? What are we waiting for? Let’s go.’

  On their way out, they waved to Hal, an officer loved and respected by all. Rookies weren’t the only ones who flocked to him for advice. Alyssa had been known to bend his ear more than once, and he was always one of the first people she requested for her team.

  ‘Go get ’em, Detectives,’ he said as he rolled past them in his old-fashioned wheelchair.

  Alyssa smiled. ‘Thanks, Hal.’

  * * *

  The woman who answered the door at the Mitchell residence was petite with short blonde and red-streaked hair.

  ‘You must be Detectives Wyatt and Roberts. Please, come in.’ Alyssa and Cord stepped inside and waited as Mrs. Mitchell quieted her barking dogs and opened a door off the side of the formal dining room, telling the person on the other side, ‘Richard, the detectives are here.’ A tall man, similar in stature to Rafe McCormick, walked out and shook their hands.

  ‘Detectives. I’m Richard Mitchell. Rafe called last night to tell us what’s going on, so we were expecting your call. In fact, if you hadn’t contacted us this morning, we would’ve reached out to you. If there’s anything my wife and I can do to help…’

  ‘Thank you,’ Alyssa replied as Cord nodded his thanks.

  ‘And thank you for rearranging your schedules to meet with us today,’ Alyssa added. She noticed Terrie Mitchell staring at Cord. She was used to it. Cord was tall, about six foot two, and looked like he worked out at the gym two hours a day. His black hair, combined with his vivid blue eyes outlined with ridiculously long lashes, gave most women pause. It was rare to encounter a woman who did not do a double take. Thankfully, her partner wasn’t like a lot of men who looked like walking gods. In fact, more often than not, he was embarrassed by the attention his good looks brought – not that he didn’t use it to his advantage when he needed to.

  ‘How well do you know the McCormicks?’ Cord directed the question to Mr. Mitchell.

  ‘Why don’t we go sit in the living room? We’ll be more comfortable there,’ Mrs. Mitchell offered. ‘Would you two like a cup of coffee?’ Cord declined, but Alyssa accepted, having left her own cup in the car. After settling onto the brown suede couches, Richard responded to Cord’s question.

  ‘We go Jeeping and camping and get together for dinner and barbecues when we can. The women,’ he leaned his head toward his wife and pointed as if they could all see the McCormick house, ‘hit it off right away. Sometimes Rafe and I think they share the same brain.’ Everyone laughed, helping to break up the tension. Like waiting to speak to the principal, no one liked talking to the police, even if they were innocent of wrongdoing; it was human nature to be nervous.

  Terrie Mitchell smiled. ‘We met when their dog, Ranger, got out and dug up my flowerbed. Callie was mortified. In fact, when I came home from work the next day, she’d replaced all the ruined flowers. I knew then we’d be great friends.’ Her eyes misted over, and she shook her head sadly. ‘I hope you find her soon.’ Mrs. Mitchell clasped her husband’s hand in her own, her grip tight enough to turn her knuckles white.

  ‘Can you tell us a little about Rafe and Callie’s relationship? Did they have any recent fights about anything? Money? Jobs? Anything you can think of?’ Alyssa asked.

  Richard wrinkled his forehead, a confused look on his face. Terrie, on the other hand, shook her head. ‘No. They kind of have the perfect marriage, you know? They do almost everything together. But, come to think of it, Callie did mention the other night that she was frustrated Rafe hadn’t looked at her car yet. I guess it’d been making a funny noise for a few weeks.’

  ‘Did they argue about it?’ Cord asked.

  ‘I don’t know if argued is the right word, really.’

  Alyssa waited, but Terrie didn’t expand on her comment. ‘Mr. McCormick said Callie was involved with several charities. Do you know what they were? Was it something she enjoyed doing?’ Alyssa purposely changed the topic because the switch often threw people off-balance, making them forget to be careful if they were hiding something.

  Terrie sat up straighter, and she peeked at her husband, before glancing back at the detectives. ‘Well, to be honest, I’ve always gotten the impression that Callie does those more for Rafe’s sake than her own. He likes her to be involved because it looks good for his company, or at least that’s what she told me once. He owns The Espresso Grind cafés.’

  The Espresso Grind was one of the more expensive coffee houses, and Alyssa allowed herself to splurge there only occasionally, usually after wrapping up a particularly difficult case.

  Alyssa noticed Terrie glance at her husband again, one eyebrow raised, as if asking his opinion – or permission. He shrugged.

  Cord noticed the exchange, as well, prompting him to remind them, ‘Mrs. Mitchell, anything you tell us could potentially help us locate your friend.’

  ‘Well, lately, Callie’s been making sure she doesn’t volunteer on Rafe’s days off – he doesn’t like it. But that’s not the only reason. She’s been wanting to have a baby, and she’s been working on trying to convince him. But I guess he’s just not interested right now. Though, according to Callie, they’ve already waited several years longer than they had planned.’

  Interesting that Mr. McCormick hadn’t mentioned that yesterday, Alyssa thought. ‘Would you say this was a sore spot in their marriage?’ she asked.

  ‘I don’t know if it was a sore spot in their marriage, per se. But I do know Callie had noticed she’d gained a little weight, which she thought bothered Rafe, and she suspected he wasn’t prepared for her to lose her figure like that in pregnancy. Those were her words. Personally, I suspect it may have more to do with the fact that he’s ten years older than her and doesn’t want to start a family this late in life. On the other hand, Callie’s thirty-three now, and she was afraid she was getting too old to have a baby. So, she started becoming somewhat insistent. But she said every time she brought up the subject, he shut it down or clammed up. It was really starting to get to her. So much so, that she was considering quitting her birth control without telling him.’

  Cord jotted something down in his notebook, then piped up. ‘Did you ever witness the two of them argue about it?’

  ‘No,’ Terrie and Richard both answered at the same time. Then it was Richard’s turn to reconsider his answer and look to his wife for guidance. She nodded, and he began. ‘Well, not about that. Something else, and it was just once. Rafe and I were outside shooting the breeze one day. Callie was gone, but when she got home and walked over to give him a kiss, he kind of shoved her away. She smelled like cigarette smoke, and he kind of flipped out.’

  ‘When was this?’ Cord asked.

  Again, Richard looked at his wife. ‘Maybe a month or so ago? Maybe not quite that long. I really don’t remember. I’m sorry.’

  ‘That’s okay. You said Mr. McCormick “flipped out.” What do you mean by that?’

  ‘Well, he ranted for what felt like a full five minutes but was probably only thirty seconds or so. His face was red, and he was yelling about how inconsiderate she was, smoking behind his back, knowing how he felt about that kind of thing…’ Mr. Mitchell paused to explain, ‘His dad died fairly young from smoking, I guess. Anyway, when he finally stopped to take a breath, Callie explained she hadn’t been smoking, that the chairman of the charity had been. She said that since their meeting
had been at his residence, she couldn’t exactly ask the man not to smoke at his own house.’

  ‘Rafe made her quit that charity, immediately. I don’t remember which one it was, though,’ Terrie added. ‘Do you, honey?’ Mr. Mitchell shook his head.

  Alyssa and Cord questioned the Mitchells for another fifteen minutes before Alyssa finally stood, indicating the interview was over. ‘Thank you for your time. We’ll let you know if we have any more questions for you. In the meantime, please call if you think of anything, no matter how insignificant you think it might be.’ Like they had with Rafe McCormick, they each handed their cards to the couple.

  ‘Of course. Anything we can do to help,’ Richard said, reaching for the business cards.

  As they walked to the door, Alyssa noticed Terrie Mitchell looking at her in an odd way. ‘Mrs. Mitchell, is there something else you’d like to tell us?’

  Terrie looked embarrassed. ‘No. I’m sorry. I know I’m staring; it’s just, well, you remind me of Callie in a way. Again, I’m sorry. But we’ll call if we think of anything.’

  * * *

  Back in the car, Alyssa waited until they’d pulled away from the curb before she said, ‘Sure doesn’t sound like the perfect marriage to me. You?’

  ‘Nope,’ Cord agreed. ‘Makes me wonder if Mr. McCormick maybe got tired of being harassed over a baby. Maybe decided to do something about it? Or maybe he just wasn’t willing to share his wife with another person, even if that person was his own child.’

  ‘Maybe after we speak to the MCM folks, we’ll pay another visit to our distraught husband,’ Alyssa said.

  Chapter Seven

  Monday, March 25, 11:00a.m.

  The moment Callie saw the red marks on her arm from the man’s squeezing fist, her fight or flight instinct kicked in, and she started to shove back. He was barely taller than she was, maybe five foot eight, and so she was surprised her shove didn’t so much as faze him, as if he didn’t even register her touch. Her heart beat rapidly as she gazed up at the man’s face.

  The look in his eyes halted her movement; they were no longer those of a friendly, embarrassed gentleman, but those of a very frightening man. Again, she tried to release his grip so she could escape. Why hadn’t she listened to her inner voice trying to warn her something was off when the man had asked if he could wait inside? Oh God, what was he going to do? Her lungs seized, and she started gasping, trying to bring in more air, which proved fruitless because the man sucker-punched her in the kidney and shoved her all the way back into her house. He slammed her door shut, the sound echoing throughout the downstairs. He turned to lock her door, the click deafening in its loudness.

  The shove caused her to fall hard against a wall, hitting her head. When the man turned back to her, she tried to wrap her mind around what was happening. Her eyes watered, though she didn’t know if it was from fear or pain or a combination of both. Wetness trickled down her arm, and she risked a glance, wincing at the pain in her head as well as her back. Blood trailed down her arm, but she couldn’t figure out where it came from.

  So many thoughts raced through her mind, she barely registered her barking dogs. Unlike most dogs, they didn’t bark at every passer-by or visitor; they only barked when some type of commotion upset them, and right now, they were making quite a ruckus outside. She prayed someone would hear and come over or… or just call the police. Did people do that? Call the police over barking dogs? Probably not. Most just grumbled and complained. Maybe her crazy neighbor would drop by to request some oddball thing – but that would only put her in danger, too. Callie would have to save herself.

  The man glanced in the dogs’ direction, and then back at Callie. He watched her, observing, a Taser in his hand.

  ‘Don’t you know it’s rude not to invite people in when they come calling?’ the man said now.

  In some distant part of her mind, she noted his voice had changed. It was more gravelly, rougher, like a two-pack-a-day smoker.

  She heard a choking sound and realized it was coming from her. She was always irritated in movies when the females simpered and whined for someone to rescue them. She wanted to scream at the screen, ‘You’re not helpless, you idiot! Do something, anything.’ However, in the space of a few minutes, she had turned into the clichéd, naïve, whimpering female she so abhorred.

  ‘I have money and jewelry. You can have it all; I’ll tell you where it is. Please.’

  The man leered at her. ‘You think I want your money? I don’t care about your money or your stupid jewelry. I want you.’

  Fear coiled low in her stomach. Frantically looking around for something, anything, she could use as a weapon, Callie summoned the courage to stand, her legs wobbly. As she steadied herself with a hand on the wall, the man punched her again, this time in the stomach. Pain exploded in her abdomen, stars blinking in front of her eyes, and she was afraid she was going to puke or pass out.

  She was still doubled over, clutching her middle and gasping for breath when the man grabbed her hair and yanked her erect. His cruel smile never reached his dead eyes. He twisted her hair and whispered quietly, ‘Do I have your attention now?’

  Somehow his whisper was scarier than if he had spoken in a regular voice. ‘Y-y-yes,’ Callie cried. She couldn’t stop shaking, and the tremors sent shockwaves of pain through her stomach muscles.

  ‘Good. Now, I want you to listen carefully and do everything I ask. No questions, no hesitation. Do you understand? Nod once if you do.’

  ‘Y-y-yes,’ Callie nodded with as much movement as she could, considering he still had ahold of her hair.

  He twisted the handful of hair even more tightly and slapped her at the same time, snapping her head back so forcefully her teeth made a loud cracking noise from the impact. ‘Did I tell you to speak?’ he growled menacingly. ‘No, I did not. I told you to nod once if you understood. You will not speak unless I tell you to speak. Now, let’s try this again. Do you understand my instructions? Nod once if you do.’

  She let her head fall forward in a nod, tears streaming down her face, her fight or flight instinct abandoning her as quickly as it had arrived. Her cheek was already going numb. Shallow breaths came quickly as panic bubbled up inside her chest, rendering her all but immobile.

  ‘Here’s what we’re going to do. Are you paying attention?’ He waited for her slow nod. ‘We’re going to get into your car, and we’re going to drive. Well, I’m going to drive; you’re going to be a little, let’s say, incapacitated. But just so we’re clear, you’re not going to attempt an escape or do anything else foolish. If you’re lucky enough to get someone’s attention, I will kill you both. Nod if you understand.’

  She nodded, her eyes wide. She didn’t think her terror could escalate any higher than it was, but when she realized the man’s intent was to kidnap her, where things could only get worse, her pulse spiked. ‘Pl-pl-please… why are you doing this?’ she stammered. She understood her mistake before the words were fully out of her mouth; she didn’t need the second punch and yanking of her hair to remind her she’d spoken without permission.

  She remembered reading somewhere that if a potential kidnapper tried to take you somewhere, you just did not go. You always, always fought. Chances were the perpetrator wanted an easy target and would run off if a person put up resistance. What no one mentioned was this situation – what if the attacker wasn’t in a public place? What if someone was in her own home when attacked? What then? Another cry escaped. Oh, please, I’m not ready to die. She shivered.

  She was jarred back into reality when the man released his hold on her hair and twisted her arm high behind her back. He whispered in his deadly voice, ‘Remember what I said. Do not try to run or scream for help. And you should know that the more you struggle, the more you fight me, the worse things will be for you later. I swear I’ll make you beg for death before I’m finished with you.’

  Callie believed his words were not an empty threat, and she tried not to vomit when he pushed up ag
ainst her, forcing her to feel his obvious excitement. ‘So, please, do think about whether or not you want to fight back.’

  She noticed the dogs had stopped their frantic barking and now clawed at the glass door. Though she was beyond terrified, she was glad she’d left them outside. There was no telling what this man was capable of doing. She glanced at the front door and, despite his warning, considered making a run for it. But she knew she wouldn’t get far, and even if she did manage to make it to the door and get outside, someone else might be killed coming to her rescue, and she didn’t want that on her conscience. She didn’t want to give this monster a reason to become more violent. She could only pray she’d find a way out of this.

  ‘Where are your car keys?’

  Was she supposed to talk or point? ‘I-I… they’re hanging… by the back door.’ She moved her eyes in that direction, scared to move her head. The man dragged her along, yanking her when she stumbled. He snagged the keys off the wooden peg.

  She wanted to weep, to scream, to cry, to howl with rage as the man forced her elbow upward, twisting her arm even higher behind her back as he shoved Callie toward the garage.

  Chapter Eight

  Tuesday, March 26

  They’d just left the Mitchells’ residence when Cord’s phone rang. ‘Roberts.’

  ‘Detective, Joseph Roe here. Called MCM like you asked, and talked with Mark, the manager over there. He had his secretary pull yesterday’s invoices. Said it looks like Mrs. McCormick was there for approximately ninety minutes, give or take, while her transmission, radiator, and a few minor things were worked on. Said he’d be more than happy to meet with you this morning, if you have the time.’

  ‘Thanks, Joe. We’ll head that way right now.’ Cord relayed the message to Alyssa who made a U-turn at the intersection and headed in the opposite direction.